Spirit Whispers

by Cadie Snow

  It was a stroke of luck that Glen Weller was on duty. Jaime hadn’t thought to call ahead. She introduced herself, and Glen showed her around. But it wasn’t a shopping visit.

  “You sold an item to a friend of mine,” Jaime said, then described the item.

  “Yes, an outstanding find,” Glen said. “We don’t get them like that very often.”

  “Can you tell me more about it? How did you acquire it?”

  Glen seemed pleased to tell her all he could, proud of taking possession of such an item. He’d been impressed that the wedding costume was in such mint condition, without any rotting fabric or torn seams. It had been shipped to Atlanta from a plantation in Blairsville.

  That got Jaime’s attention, and she probed for more information.

  “There is an interesting story behind that dress,” Glen said, then proceeded to share what more he knew. The current resident of the plantation was the great-great-granddaughter of the original property owner, William Potter. He’d been a Southern aristocrat and a bit eccentric. His bride Elizabeth May had worn the dress on the day of their wedding.

  “And what about that dress?”

  “Oh, yes,” Glen said. “Funny thing…I’m always intrigued by how antiques pass through the generations. It seems that during renovations, an elaborate garden was being created on the property. Digging began and an iron box was found below the earth.”

  Jaime listened intently, hoping for more.

  “When the box was pried open, the dress was discovered inside,” Glen said. “I must tell you that its condition is remarkable. The greatest deterioration to all textiles is light, especially the ultraviolet light from the sun.”

  “I daresay there wasn’t much of that underground.”

  “Precisely,” Glen said. “Over time, light fades colors and eventually damages the fibers of the material. Other enemies are dirt, dampness, and insects.”

  Jaime waited for him to get to the point.

  “That dress must have been quite important to someone,” Glen said. “The box was lined with cotton muslin, and the dress was wrapped as well. The iron box was sealed so tightly that it’s as though the dress had been in a time capsule.”

  “It looked nearly as fresh as the day it was made,” Jaime said.

  That explained how the dress had made it to the auction house, but not the history that preceded the box being buried on the plantation estate. Glen saw no harm in giving Jaime contact information, so she could talk to the Maggie Swenson, the great-great-granddaughter of William Potter—but only if she promised to share what she learned. He was certain that it was a story too good to pass up.

  Chapter 5

  Jaime made it back in time to watch soccer practice then take the boys home. She arranged for the kids to spend the evening with a neighbor, because Olivia had scheduled an urgent coven meeting. Harper’s condition had declined, so the family needed to come together.

  Once the kids were settled, Jaime left with Olivia for the meeting. The coven met at Cousin Sophia’s home. Her lake house was secluded in the Blue Ridge Mountains, so provided the privacy required. After driving through a thick stand of trees, Jaime turned onto the paver driveway.

  She wound up the long driveway then through the black iron gates. The large, rustic country home was ideal for lakeside entertaining. Views of the water against the mountain backdrop could be seen through the enormous picture window.

  Sophia was a good hostess, serving appetizers and drinks, while making all the cousins feel welcome. Ava and Roxanne were there, along with some distant cousins. Jaime didn’t see them very often, but they had been very supportive since she’d taken the role of coven leader.

  The meetings had an important purpose, although to an onlooker it would appear to be a party. There was plenty of food, and the noise level was already high. Jaime made the rounds to greet her relatives and taste the delicious treats.

  After catching up with each other, the family settled at a long, polished table. As the leader, Jaime sat at the head of the table and called the meeting to order. The matter demanding immediate attention was Harper’s condition.

  The women around the table listened as Jaime filled them in on what she knew. Many of the cousins had more experience than Jaime or her sisters. Roxanne and a couple of others were older, so had witnessed events over the years and had helped to protect the family.

  “Yesterday, I learned that the Potter family owned the dress,” Jaime said. “Is anyone familiar with that family or their history?”

  “I haven’t heard about any tragedies,” Roxanne said. “But Elizabeth May Potter was a Southern debutante. She was well known in the post-Civil War period, since she was heiress to a Chicago plumbing supply fortune.”

  “That certainly wasn’t a tragedy,” Sophia said. “But wealth doesn’t necessarily make a person happy.”

  “That’s true,” Roxanne said. “The war was a tumultuous period, and there are numerous sad tales. Wives lost fiancés or husbands and mothers lost sons. Many a book has been written about the romances of the period, which encompassed untold loss and grief.”

  “That doesn’t narrow it down much,” Ava said. “But from what you’ve told us, it seems the tale of one love story was a wedding proposal that lead to a cursed dress.”

  “I need to discover the history,” Jaime said, “as only then can I hope to break the spell that has made Harper so sick.”

  “One thing you can be assured,” Ava said, “is that removing the dress from the iron box activated the curse.”

  “That’s how it works,” Sophia said. “A cursed object may be prohibited from doing harm if it is securely locked away.”

  Roxanne added, “So the airtight box not only preserved the dress but served as a block to the evil.”

  “That seems to be the case,” Olivia said. “And taking that a step further, the evil lurked but couldn’t do its worst until the dress was worn. It appeared that when Harper tried on the dress the curse’s force was released.”

  “Which leads us to the problem,” Jaime said. “How do we break the curse?”

  “That depends,” Sophia said. “Curses are not all the same. It depends on the reason the spell was cast and by whom.”

  Jaime remembered what her mother had taught her. As she’d suspected, undoing a curse wasn’t an easy matter. “Curses are of different strengths, depending on the power of the source.”

  “What we have to do,” Roxanne said, “is unravel the history of that family and trace the source of the evil. Curses are created for revenge or as a result of hatred. We need to discover who hated Elizabeth enough to do such a thing.”

  The group divided up and tasks were assigned. Time was of the essence, since it was unknown how rapidly Harper’s condition would decline. There was much work to be done, including researching the history connected with the dress, aiding with Harper’s care, and supporting Jaime.

  There was one more thing, and Olivia would help with that. The Book of Shadows would be consulted the instant enough was known. A general situation was difficult to find a solution for. The better the trouble could be pinpointed, the more likely the book could offer direction.

  The evening didn’t end on a happy note. Until Harper recovered, the coven would be deeply concerned. Yet Jaime was relieved to have her family’s backup. She wasn’t sure how the situation would resolve, but the Sanders witches had thwarted evil successfully in the past—on numerous occasions. She had confidence they could do it again, so tried to block out any self-defeating thoughts.

  Early the next morning, Ian stopped by. The kids hadn’t come downstairs yet, so Jaime was at the table drinking her coffee. She was surprised to see him so early.

  Jaime had called Ian to let him know that Harper was ill. She’d told him as much as she knew, including the details about the curse. Although he didn’t believe in witchcraft, he was open to possibilities. It seemed that Ian had done some investigation of his own and had turned up information that might
be useful.

  Ian sat at the table and Jaime handed him a mug of coffee. “I dug around in old newspaper articles. Elizabeth May Potter was frequently written about during her lifetime. She was quite the socialite in that day.”

  “What else did you learn?”

  “Did you know that she was married twice?” Ian said, appearing pleased with his discovery. “She was wed to William Potter, a plantation owner. But before that she was married to Albert Weaver, a man with a reputation as a bootlegger.”

  “That seems like an unlikely match.”

  “There’s no explaining love.” Ian smiled at her. “Anyway, when her first husband was killed, Elizabeth remarried—fairly soon afterwards, I might add.”

  “Albert was killed?”

  “He was killed in a tavern brawl, then, without waiting a respectable period of mourning, Elizabeth married William.”

  Jaime widened her eyes. “Really?”

  “Yes, according to reports at the time,” Ian said. “But Elizabeth became deathly ill on the day of her wedding. She went through with the ceremony but died soon after.”

  “What was the cause of death?”

  “That’s where it gets interesting,” Ian said. “The media reported that she died of complications from scarlet fever.”

  Jaime felt lightheaded. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Only her husband—William—claimed it was murder.” Ian paused, giving Jaime time to process that new piece of information. “He claimed that witchcraft was involved yet couldn’t offer anything substantial for the authorities to pursue—not that they would have believed his claim. But I imagine they wouldn’t have objected to burning a suspected witch at the stake. Anyway…it was thought that William had lost his mind—had gone crazy from the loss of his new bride.”

  “That’s a horrific tale.”

  “It gets worse,” Ian said. “Through the year following Elizabeth’s death, any detective who pursued the murder theory…died.”

  “Died…how?”

  “There were three such deaths that I found records of. Each one was attributed to a different cause of death, but all appeared to be accidental.”

  “But you don’t believe that?”

  “Do you?” Ian waited for her response.

  Jaime tried to process that story. It led her to the obvious conclusion that the supernatural was involved. Considering that history, it wasn’t safe for Ian to be involved in all of this.

  “I appreciate what you’ve learned,” Jaime said. “But you have to stop. You realize that by digging into the alleged crime, you are at risk, just like the detectives that came before you.”

  “That occurred to me.” Ian put his hand over Jaime’s. “But we must save Harper. If my assistance puts me at risk, then that’s a chance I have to take.”

  “I think you’ve done your part,” Jaime said. “To take this further will require…magic.”

  “When it comes to the supernatural, I’ll leave that to you.” Ian looked up when the kids burst into the kitchen.

  Landon and Andrew wrestled for a seat, saying hello to Ian as an afterthought.

  Then Abigail came in and started to make her toast. “You’re visiting early.”

  “I stopped by to see your mom.”

  Abigail put bread in the toaster, then said, “I guess you’re not like Elijah. He never did that…I mean sat and talked to my mom.”

  Jaime was surprised to hear her ex-husband’s name mentioned. The kids hadn’t been on good terms with him, even before his role in Nefarious had been revealed. Abigail had especially disliked Elijah. That made Jaime wonder why he had come to mind, and why he was a topic of conversation.

  “I guess Elijah had important things to do,” Abigail said.

  “That’s not fair,” Jaime said. “Ian has very important responsibilities. In fact—”

  “It’s okay,” Ian said, saving Jaime from defending him. “I am quite the sociable fellow, and thought I’d stop by to visit.” He proceeded to engage Abigail in conversation about school.

  To Jaime’s amazement, her daughter chatted with Ian, sharing stuff about school and her friends. It was good to hear a normal conversation, without Abigail going quiet. She’d always liked Ian and accepted him. The mention of Elijah wasn’t that odd, after all—considering that he had been Abigail’s stepfather.

  Once breakfast was over and the kids were off to school, Ian put his coffee mug in the sink. “Well, I guess I’ll get going. I told my boss I’d be in late, but I’d better not press it.”

  Jaime kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  “Just be careful,” Ian said, squeezing her hand. “You might be in over your head.”

  In northern Georgia, not too far from Blairsville, was the plantation home where Maggie Swenson resided. She had agreed to meet, so later that morning, Jaime and Olivia drove up to talk to her. It was a scenic trip, but Jaime had little attention for sightseeing.

  But when the plantation came into view, Jaime’s interest stirred. The visit might provide vital pieces of the puzzle. The estate was several thousand acres, and the landscape approaching the home consisted of neatly cut lawns and groves of trees.

  There was a lovely garden along the walkway leading to the main home. The prominent building was adorned with stylish architectural features that were common in plantation homes. Jaime gazed at the columned portico, admiring its beauty.

  The huge pillars were pure white, and a balcony ran along the outside edge of the house, creating a shaded porch. The windows were evenly spaced, and the front steps led to a wide center entrance. The boxlike shape of the home was offset by the other features and had an elegant appearance.

  Jaime fully expected a servant to answer the bell, but the lady of the house opened the door.

  “I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding the place.” Maggie Swenson was tall and willowy. She had dark hair and blue eyes. Her friendly smile put Jaime at ease.

  Jaime made the introductions, then followed Maggie to a sitting room. The home had quite a history, and there were psychic vibrations of all sorts. But Jaime couldn’t focus on any specific feeling. She’d have to learn more first.

  As Jaime passed a sweeping staircase with an ornate banister, she wished to look around the historic home. Maybe another time she would. She took a seat on a sofa with Olivia next to her. Maggie sat on an adjacent love seat, then looked at them with curiosity. “I understand from your call that you are interested in my family’s history.”

  Jaime had decided that is was better not to mention the curse.

  “Yes, our youngest sister, Harper, was particularly…taken by the wedding costume that you recently sent to auction,” Jaime said.

  “Ah, that was a delightful find,” Maggie said. “I don’t know too much about my great-great-grandfather, but my mother told me that his wife wore that dress to be married.”

  Jaime hesitated on how to proceed, so glanced at Olivia.

  “It would please Harper to know more of the history,” Olivia said. “When she marries, she has dreams of wearing a Victorian wedding dress.”

  Although not that dress. But Jaime didn’t voice her thought.

  “Anyway,” Olivia said. “If there is anything you can tell us, we would appreciate it.”

  “The romance between William Potter and Elizabeth has nearly become legend,” Maggie said.

  “How so?” Jaime asked.

  “I don’t believe all if it,” Maggie said. “I’m sure that the story has been romanticized. But I do think that they were very much in love.”

  Jaime was curious but didn’t dare interrupt.

  “The part that has been embellished,” Maggie said, “was the tale of the dress.”

  “We’d love it if you would share that with us,” Olivia said.

  “Legend has it that my great-great-grandfather claimed that the wedding dress was the cause of his new bride’s death.” Maggie rolled her shoulder. “I admit that it’s a very sad story. Elizabeth died
so unexpectedly. But to blame a dress…”

  “Sure,” Jaime said. “I can understand that seems outside the realm of reality.”

  “And it got messy,” Maggie said. “I heard that William was accused of being involved in witchcraft, which is preposterous. He may have gone out of his mind with grief, but he certainly didn’t take up the dark arts.”

  “Is there anything else you know about William and Elizabeth?” Jaime held her breath, hoping for more.

  “Not really,” Maggie said. “But you might be interested in the letters. When I inherited this house and moved in, there was a strongbox in the attic. I found a bundle of letters, which I’ve saved. Would you care to look at those?”

  Jaime was ecstatic but tried to remain calm. She told Maggie it would mean a lot if she could read the correspondence. It might shed more light on the relationship.

  Maggie retrieved the box of letters, then said, “I have some things to attend to. Take your time with those, then let me know when you’ve finished.”

  The letters were handwritten. The ink had faded, but the words were still legible. The brittle paper crinkled as Jaime unfolded each letter. She felt like she was prying into another’s life—and she supposed she was—but it was for a good purpose.

  Olivia read each letter along with her. They were love letters between William and Elizabeth, some predating their marriage. It was clear that the relationship was complicated. Elizabeth spoke of the cruelty of her first husband, who had swindled her father to obtain her hand in marriage. She had realized that he was after her fortune, but her father wouldn’t listen.

  Elizabeth swore her love to William, despite the trap she was in. There were replies from William, affirming his deep love and his commitment to her. But the letters ended there. The death of her husband wasn’t spoken of, and nor was there any mention of her marriage to William.

  The letters didn’t tell the whole story. Jaime’s heart sank, as she was still in the dark about the curse. That was what she had to find out—who’d cast the evil spell and why?