The 45th Parallel

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  Published by The Hartwood Publishing Group, LLC,

  Hartwood Publishing, Phoenix, Arizona

  www.hartwoodpublishing.com

  The 45th Parallel

  Copyright © 2014 by Maureen Hands

  Digital Release: June 2014

  ISBN: 978-1-62916-039-9

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The 45th Parallel by Maureen Hands

  Kat has worked very hard to suppress the visions and nightmares that followed her mother’s suicide, when she was eight. Now, as a young woman, her decision to return to Northport, Michigan has triggered the recurrence of those childhood dreams and her fear that she will become mentally unstable like her mother.

  As Kat tries to settle into life in the small harbor town, she is reunited with her three cousins who introduce her to John Warren, a handsome but mysterious winery owner whose parents vanished while sailing on Lake Michigan three years earlier.

  Compelled by her intense attraction to him, Kat reluctantly agrees to help John find out what happened to his parents using her psychic powers. As Kat begins to unravel the mystery, she will have to struggle for her sanity and her life as she discovers what the disappearance of John’s parents, her mother’s death, and the curse of the reaping moon have in common.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my husband and children. Without their encouragement, patience, and proof reading, I never could have finished this story.

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to thank my good friends, RA and MB, for suffering through my early rough drafts.

  Chapter One

  The crisp morning air made Kat’s throat tighten as she inhaled. The dream she had the night before played over and over in her mind. It was a dream she’d had many times before.

  A woman in a tattered nightgown stands on the edge of a roof looking down at the ground, seven stories below. Her brown hair hangs limply over her shoulders. She hears Kat walking toward her and turns to look. In the dream, Kat is always startled by her mother’s appearance. Her face is ashen and the dark brown circles around her eyes give them a sunken, haunted look. When she sees Kat, she smiles slightly before letting herself fall over the edge.

  Kat pumped her legs harder on the bike, making her quads ache in protest. She kept up the pace for another two miles until her chest heaved from exertion. She had not had the dream since she was a child. It started again as soon as she arrived in northern Michigan, two weeks ago.

  Why did I come back to Northport? She explained to her friends staying at her father’s house in Florida was not an option. His new wife, Betty, had two children of her own and felt the house would be too crowded. Aunt Mary offered to let Kat stay with her, rent free, allowing Kat to save enough money to pay for her last semester of college. Although this sounded logical, Kat knew, deep down, something else was drawing her back…some dark, unanswered question.

  Kat spent her early childhood in northern Michigan, her mother having grown up in Northport. After her parents married, they stayed in the Traverse City area until her mother’s suicide when Kat was eight. Kat moved with her father from job to job, and city to city, as he tried to run from his grief. Funny thing about grief, it always manages to find you no matter where you hide.

  Kat recognized the bend in the road ahead, squeezed the brakes and stopped her bike. It should be just beyond this curve, Kat thought, unsure if she should continue. She looked around at the dense woods that lined either side of the road, catching glimpses of white blooms from wild trillium scattered the forest floor. The dreams have started again, but what about the visions?

  “I’m twenty-three now, not twelve, I don’t see things anymore,” she mumbled to herself.

  Kat took a deep breath and began to ride. As she rounded the sharp bend, the woods fell away. Now, to Kat’s left, was an apple orchard, the trees still dotted with fragrant pink blooms. Kat exhaled slowly and looked ahead, to her right.

  Old Man Crowley’s farm looked exactly the same. It had not changed in eleven years…since that last summer spent here with her cousins. She let her bike coast to a stop at the top of the gravel drive and stared at the property, mesmerized. The two-story house stood quietly, its faded white paint peeling while the front porch slumped, weary from years of neglect. Behind the house an old, weathered barn rose up from fallow fields. Adjacent to the barn, dilapidated farm equipment protruded from the waist high grass. The buildings stood in silence. Nothing moved behind the darkened windows. It was like they had been frozen in time, waiting for her return.

  She could hear one of the barn doors banging rhythmically in the breeze. Kat imagined herself walking down the drive, stones crunching under her feet, past the house to the barn. The barn window would be dirty, but she could wipe it off with her sleeve and clear a spot just big enough to look in…

  A car sped by pulling Kat out of her trance. Not yet, not today. She hopped up on the seat and continued down the road. Finally she turned off on a side street that ended at the beach. She coasted on the bike and let her breathing slow. The sweet scent of pine and wet earth drifted on the breeze. When the street disappeared into white sand, Kat stopped the bike, unclipped her bottle and chugged down half the contents. She let her bike rest against a tree and continued by foot along the sandy path lined with cedar and birch trees.

  When she reached the end of the path, she stopped at the edge of a deserted beach and stared, with wide eyes, at the vast waters of Lake Michigan. The deep rumbling of the surf hinted at the lake’s raw power and potential for violence. As Kat moved closer to the water, she had a familiar rush of exhilaration and fear.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The lake air felt shifty and unstable. She opened her eyes as a cool breeze blew past her, chilling her moist skin. Then she heard a sound she had not heard in many years; the distant beat of Indian drums. Kat felt her invisible wrapping begin to loosen.

  “We all have a part of ourselves we put in a box, wrap up tight and hide deep inside,” Kat’s Aunt Mary once told her. Kat started to wrap up her box the day of her mother’s funeral.

  “You have the ability to see things other people cannot,” her mother used to tell her. The day of her mother’s funeral, the first time the dead woman in the gray dress came to visit her, this ability began to terrify her. Kat put that part of her in a box and bound it up tight for fear that, if she let it loose, it would destroy her sanity as it had destroyed her mother’s.

  Kat quickly turned away from the lake and ran back to her bike, her heart pounding in her ears. She felt fear and adrenaline course through her body. Before each visit from the dead woman, Kat would always hear the distant beat of Indian drums.

  As she pedaled hard on her bike, she could feel herself slowly regaining control. Exercise always helped. This place has shoved my imagination into overdrive. She glanced down at her watch. It
was about eleven o’clock in the morning. Between working the closing shift last night, and the dreams, Kat had managed about four hours of sleep. She was hoping the ten-mile bike ride would wear her out and enable her to take a nap, dream free.

  Aunt Mary lived a couple of streets off the quaint downtown area of Northport, which was all of about two blocks and consisted of a few restaurants, a post office, art galleries, and a harbor. Everything was within walking distance from her house, a 1910 Victorian with wood siding and a large wrap around front porch. The sunny yellow, two-story house sat back on a well groomed lot.

  Northport was located at Latitude 45.13 halfway between the equator and the North Pole. The waterfront village was near the north end of the Leelanau Peninsula on Grand Traverse Bay, which opened up into Lake Michigan. The peninsula, surrounded by Lake Michigan on one side and Grand Traverse Bay on the other, was filled with vineyards, orchards, and inland lakes. Kat had almost forgotten how beautiful the rolling hills, dense forests, and blue green waters were.

  Kat leaned her bike against the front porch and took off her bike helmet. Her light brown hair tumbled out, wet with sweat, just past her shoulders.

  “Nice ’do.” Kat looked up and saw Aunt Mary standing just inside the screen door.

  “Thanks a lot,” Kat said sarcastically.

  “I am going down to the shop. I made some coffee but from the looks of you, I think you need to go back to bed,” Aunt Mary said. Her short, thick, white hair framed her face and bounced as she came down the porch steps. Aunt Mary was wearing her signature outfit, Birkenstock sandals, jeans, and a white blouse. “I heard you call out again last night. Are you having more bad dreams?”

  “I am. I guess being back in Northport has awakened some old ghosts,” Kat answered as she looked into Mary’s soft hazel eyes.

  Mary’s brow furrowed with worry. “I will make you a special tea tonight,” she said as she hurried down the steps and started walking toward town.

  “Do you need help at the shop today?” Kat called after her.

  “That would be wonderful. With Memorial Day this weekend, we should be busy.”

  Aunt Mary owned a shop in town called Charms and Chimes with her partner, Carl. The shop sold wind chimes, herbs, charms, and knick knacks for tourists. It also carried local artwork, including Mary’s paintings. Kat always thought Mary and Carl had a special affection for each other. He seemed to keep her whole after Uncle Dennis’s death.

  “By the way,” Mary hollered as she got to the corner. “Your cousins are stopping by today. You better rest up. I think they are planning on taking you out tonight.”

  Kat had not seen her three cousins in seven years. They had played together as children during the summers in Northport. The twins, Anna and Patrick, were Kat’s age and Helene was a year younger. Kat smiled as she remembered their little blond heads and mischievous smiles. It would be nice to see them again.

  Kat went inside and walked past the small living room to the kitchen to get a glass of juice. The morning sun streamed in through the windows, making the kitchen warm and bright.

  Kat grabbed a pitcher of orange juice from the refrigerator, poured herself a glass, and looked out the window to the backyard. There were several little pictures on display on the windowsill. Kat picked one up of herself and her mother when Kat was about five years old. Her mother was holding a large toad in her hand and Kat was touching it gently with her finger. She remembered the day the picture was taken. Her mother loved to catch toads. The toad would inevitably get scared and pee all over her mother’s hand. Mom seemed so normal and happy then.

  Kat’s father told her that her mother became mentally ill, hearing and seeing things that were not there. Kat had a vivid memory of her mother, shortly before she was hospitalized. She was sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up to her chest, staring blankly at the wall, repeating “They will die by the light of the Reaping Moon,” over and over again. She jumped from the roof of an apartment building a year later, shortly after coming home from the hospital. Along with her mother’s memory came an empty sadness.

  Kat couldn’t help but think she had something to do with her mother’s suicide; that the suicide had been not only to escape the pain of living, but to escape Kat as well. She put the picture back, placed her glass in the sink, and went upstairs to sleep.

  When she entered her room, she noticed Aunt Mary had hung a charm above the bed. It was a round stone with a hole in the center. It reminded Kat of an oddly shaped donut. Hanging from the base of the stone were three little wind chimes. The charms were supposed to ward off bad dreams. If the stone wasn’t able to capture the dream, the chimes were supposed to ring and wake her up. Kat wondered if the parishioners at St. Veronica Church, where Mary attended mass every Sunday, knew what a pagan she was.

  Chapter Two

  Kat managed to get a couple hours of sleep, before jumping in the shower. As she was drying her hair, she heard voices in Aunt Mary’s living room. She threw on a robe and walked softly down the stairs. When she reached the landing she saw her three cousins, quite grown up, talking in hushed voices. Helene looked up and smiled.

  They were as beautiful as Kat remembered them. Patrick and Anna, the twins, had large, round, crystal blue eyes. Their fair skin, blond hair and full lips gave them an angelic appearance. Helene, their younger sister, had most of the same features as her siblings, but her skin had an olive tone and her hair was a light brown with golden highlights. Her soft green, almond-shaped eyes were her most unique feature and set her apart from her twin siblings.

  “I hope we didn’t wake you,” Patrick said with a devilish gleam in his eyes. He must be quite popular with the ladies now.

  “No, your timing was perfect.” Kat walked down the stairs to hug them.

  “It’s been a while. How does it feel to be back in Northport?” Anna asked.

  “It feels…somewhat surreal.”

  “Good surreal or bad surreal?” Patrick asked.

  “A little of both.” Kat smiled.

  It was so strange. Kat had not spent summers with her cousins since she was twelve, and had not seen them since their Uncle Dennis’s funeral when they were sixteen, yet she felt as though it was just yesterday. After Kat and her father moved away from Traverse City, her father would send her to stay with Aunt Mary during the summers. Even though her nights were frequently filled with nightmares, some of Kat’s best memories were of the summer days spent with her cousins. They allowed her to regain a piece of her childhood she had otherwise lost.

  “We’re taking you out tonight to a party. It’s at a house on Lake Michigan. There will be great views and lots of wine. We’ll come back over around seven-thirty,” Helene stated as though Kat had no choice in the matter. Kat glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost three.

  “Anna and I just graduated, so we have to celebrate our last summer of reckless abandon!” Patrick said with a warm smile.

  “Are you going to follow in your father’s footsteps and go to medical school?” Kat asked Patrick.

  “Not yet. I took a job working in a lab, but it doesn’t start until the end of the summer. Anna is going to be teaching art and music at a private school, and Helene has one more year of college.”

  “Are your mom and dad coming up this summer?” Kat asked. Uncle Kevin and Aunt Anne owned a three-bedroom cottage on Grand Traverse Bay. During most of the year, they lived in the Detroit area where Uncle Kevin had his medical practice. Aunt Anne would bring Patrick, Anna, and Helene up in the summers when they were children, and Uncle Kevin would drive in on the weekends.

  “They’re not coming up this summer, so we have the cabin to ourselves.” Patrick said.

  “Are you going to be here all summer?” Kat asked.

  “Yes, we are all gainfully employed. Anna and Helene are working at our friend’s winery in the tasting room. Actually, it’s the same friend who is having the party tonight. I will be teaching sailing again,” Patrick said.

>   “Those sound like fun summer jobs,” Kat said. “My job is not quite so interesting. I’ll be working at Muldoon’s Grille.”

  “I’m so glad you are here. We missed you,” Anna said.

  “I missed you too.” Kat smiled. “Can I wear jeans to this party?” Most of Kat’s wardrobe consisted of T-shirts and old jeans. Anna and Helene exchanged looks.

  “Don’t worry,” Helene said. “We will hook you up.”

  Kat got the distinct feeling Aunt Mary must have filled them in on her available attire. She didn’t have a lot of money to pay for clothes since she was paying for most of her college on her own. Kat said good-bye to her cousins and went into the kitchen to make a late lunch. When she finished, she walked down to Charms and Chimes to see if Aunt Mary needed any help.

  The center of the village of Northport was a block from the harbor. The buildings were quaint, one and two-story structures filled with small shops and businesses. Charms and Chimes was just off Main Street next to the deli. After Memorial Day, all the towns in Northern Michigan would be invaded by tourists.

  “Hi sweetie,” Mary said as Kat entered the store. “You look much better now. Did you get some sleep?”

  “Yes I did, and thanks for the dream charm. I’m sure it helped.”

  The bell to the door jingled and a redheaded woman came in with an older man. The thick cane the man used to walk with belied the physical strength evident in his large hands and forearms. The cane made a heavy thunk sound followed by the shuffling of his feet as he made his way to a chair against the wall. The old man looked up from his chair and locked eyes with Kat; his large hands gripped the cane tighter making his veins bulge. Kat felt a chill run straight up her spine as he glared at her with what felt like pure hatred.

  Kat let out a small gasp and looked away. An unwanted memory clawed its way out of the dark…the barn window. The redheaded woman proceeded over to the tea section once the man was seated, selected some tea, and brought it over to the register.