Free Garden of the Moon by Elizabeth Sinclair

there. At her bedroom he paused, looked back again, and then disappeared through the closed door.
    “Wait!” With her heart beating heavily against her bodice, she raced after him. An intense eagerness to speak to him, find out what he wanted, pushed her past any fear of danger.
    But, when she entered the room…it was empty.
    With a sigh of defeat, Sara set the mug on her bedside table. Needing time to digest what had just happened and not wanting to explain her disheveled state, she refrained from summoning Raina. Instead she stripped out of her gown and then washed away the attic’s dust and grime in the bowl on the washstand. Once clean, she slipped on a pale green nightdress, picked up the mug, then settled into a chair and peered into the darkness beyond the window overlooking the Garden of the Moon.
    Below her, the full moon illuminated the white flowers making them appear as tiny ghosts against the dark foliage. While she stared into the night, she caressed the mug. That warmth that now was familiar filled her.
    Why was Jonathan taunting her, teasing her? Why didn’t he let her know what he wanted from her? Frustration and confusion besieged her from all sides.
    Maddy can tell you .
    Her grandmother’s disembodied voice echoed inside her head. The words undulated through her mind like ripples in a pond and consumed any other thoughts.
    “Gran?”
    Sara came alert and glanced around for the ball of white light into which Gran had disappeared, but the room remained dark except for the flicker of the candle’s flame on the table beside her. Defeat again weighed heavily on her shoulders.
    What could Maddy tell her? Maddy was dead. How was Sara to get those answers if Maddy chose not to appear to her? But if Gran was right and Maddy had the answers…
    She must speak to Maddy.
    Closing her eyes, Sara concentrated. She’d only summoned a spirit once before in the bayou, so she had no idea if it would work again or if she’d just been lucky that one night. But at this point, she had to try. Several minutes of deep concentration passed without results. It was no use. For some reason, she couldn’t communicate with Maddy.
    Fatigue suddenly overcame her. Tomorrow was another day. Perhaps when she was refreshed from a good night’s sleep, she would be more successful. Standing, she set the mug on the side table.
    Thunk !
    Something hit the floor.
    Sara looked down. At her feet lay Maddy’s diary.
    Suddenly, her grandmother’s words made sense.
    Maddy can tell you .
    The answers Sara sought must lay hidden in Maddy’s diary.
    All sleepiness vanished from her body. Sara picked up the book and then returned to her chair in front of the window. Drawing the candle closer to illuminate the pages, her gaze was drawn to Jonathan’s portrait. His expression had changed to one of satisfaction. In her heart, she knew he’d lead her to the source that would satisfy all her unanswered questions. She smiled and nodded, and then opened the diary and began to read.
    Much of the first few pages of Maddy’s elegant handwriting documented her day-to-day activities: tea with her mother and their neighbor’s wife and daughter, a trip to New Orleans to do shopping, and her excitement about her upcoming birthday and the barbeque at Candlewick Plantation. The mention of Clarice’s home piqued Sara’s interest. Perhaps now she would learn why Clarice had reacted so strangely.
    She turned the page.
     
    June 17, 1805
    Momma, Katherine and I went to town for the final fittings of our gowns for tomorrow’s barbeque at Candlewick. Momma and Katherine argued again over the color of Katherine’s gown. Momma said crimson is not what a demure lady wears. However, Katherine, being Katherine, refused to change her mind. I sometimes think my sister takes delight in being obstinate and seeing how deeply she can shock poor Momma’s sensibilities.
    I chose a lovely, sky-blue silk. Momma fawned over me and showered compliments on me. She said it