Walk of the Spirits

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Walk of the Spirits Page 26

by Richie Tankersley Cusick


  "Miranda!”

  “Oh my God—”

  “Where the hell—”

  “I don’t believe it!”

  “You did it, cher. I knew you would.”

  “Just like Nathan and Ellena, the watch and chain are meant to go together,” Miranda went on, holding both treasures up so the crowd could see. “One attaches to the other. So they don’t get lost.”

  With her five friends gathered close, Miranda carefully, gently, connected Nathan’s watch to the chain of Ellena’s hair. Her fingers shook; her heart shed silent tears. And the onlookers, respectfully observing, could only wonder at this fragile, timeless moment they’d just been allowed to share.

  May you have happiness, Nathan and Ellena . . .

  May you have understanding . . .

  May you have peace.

  Somehow, Miranda knew they would.

  Wiping away tears, Ashley recovered herself and motioned to the crowd. Once more she led them by lantern light through the magical darkness and into the quiet past.

  They were nearing Hayes House now. As the group turned off the Brickway and onto the side street, Miranda purposefully lagged behind. Soft lights glowed from the Hayes House veranda and out across the lawn, and it dawned on her that she was smiling again.

  I thought I’d never be happy here.

  She stopped to gaze up at the windows. And back toward the stone wall that bordered the long-ago battlefield.

  “Help us . . . we’re lost . . . we want to go home . . .”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll help you. And I’ll listen. And I won’t turn you away.”

  Because, after all, there was time. All the time in the world.

  All the time in both our worlds.

  Miranda lifted her head into the sweet, southern breeze . . .

  And smelled roses.

 

 

 


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