The Cornelius Saga Boxed Set

by Tanya R. Taylor

  "You mean… the ghost from Cornelius's house," Sara asked curiously.

  "Yes, Mom. That's it," Wade interjected.

  "You said you've seen her several times? Where?" Sara was apprehensive. "In here?"

  Mira nodded, much to Sara's dismay. "She needs me to help her," she added.

  "Come on, Mira. What is this you're saying? You're actually saying that a ghost needs you to help her?"

  "Yes, Mom," Mira replied.

  "Help her do what?!" Sara's tone was not so gentle anymore.

  "Listen Mom," Wade started again, "I know this whole thing seems odd, but you and I both know that Mira wouldn't make up something like this. She's been having dreams about this strange woman and we were at the house today and the woman showed Mira exactly what happened to her."

  "You went back to Cornelius's house even after your father specifically told you not to?" She was looking mainly at Wade because he was older.

  "I'm sorry, Mom," Mira answered. "It's not Wade's fault; it was totally my idea. I had to go back there to find out what Karlen really wanted…"

  "Karlen?"

  "That's her name," Mira replied. "All she ever said to me was have I seen him."

  "Seen who?" Sara was bewildered.

  Mira explained everything to their mother; Wade dipped in whenever he felt he could offer something to the story. By the time they had finished talking and the shock of it all had, for the most part, worn off, Sara was reluctantly on board and said she would take the children to check the State's archives the next day which happened to be a Saturday.

  "Whatever you do kids…" Sara started, "…don't breathe a word of this to your father. He would think we've all lost our minds!"

  "Thanks so much, Mom!" Mira squeezed her mother tightly. "I can always depend on you."

  "You're welcome, sweet pea," Sara answered.

  8

  _________________

  Wrapped up beneath the covers at the Greenlight Motel where they had now adopted as their special place, Hollie wiggled her toes against Michael's. He was holding her in his arms and playing with strands of her hair.

  "Michael…" Hollie started.

  "Yes?" He whispered softly in her ear.

  "What are we doing?"

  Michael looked at her, surprised by the question. "What do you mean?"

  "Why are we doing this? Is there any future for any of us in this?" She asked.

  Michael wasn't sure how to respond.

  "Do you love me?" Hollie asked.

  "I care for you, Hollie. I care about you very much," he replied.

  Hollie looked back at him. "You care?"

  "Yes, I do."

  "Okay… well, since that's the extent of your feelings for me, Michael, when I—on the other hand—am falling in love with you, I have to say that I don't think we can go on like this."

  "Why do you say that?" Michael asked.

  "Because if you are not going to leave your wife, I can't be tied down to you in your world. I have to move on and find someone who would love me and want more than anything to be with me. You caring about me is not enough." She sat up in bed and Michael followed.

  "I don't wanna lose you, Hollie. Deep inside, I do more than just care about you. You must know that… but I can't lose my family. I can't leave Sara."

  "Then I have to go." She got up and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

  Michael walked over and stood at the door. "Hollie, we can get through this. It doesn't have to end."

  "Yes it does, Michael," Hollie answered weakly.

  Instantly, Michael felt like his whole world was crumbling. His true feelings for Hollie had not been realized until he was faced with the prospect of losing her. He never thought it would be like this; he thought he had guarded his heart.

  Hollie stepped out of the bathroom moments later, picked up her clothing off the floor and started to dress.

  Michael took her hand and said, "Look, I'll do whatever you want me to do, just please give me some time. That's all I'm asking for."

  Hollie sighed. "Michael… take all the time you need. Until you decide how much I really mean to you, we're not sleeping together anymore. It's just wrong and I can't live like this."

  She picked up her purse and walked out of the room leaving Michael alone to ponder those last chilling words.

  He arrived home at around 7:30pm and had called Sara earlier to let her know that he would be late. When Michael walked inside, he saw Sara and the children sitting in the living room watching television together.

  "Hi everyone," he said dryly, resting down his briefcase.

  "Hi, honey," Sara got up to greet him. "How did the meeting go?"

  "It went okay. We discussed a few things that were on the agenda, but will have to get to the rest sometime next week," he lied.

  "Was Hollie there?"

  Her question had caught him off guard. "Hollie? No… she wasn't. Why'd you ask?"

  "You said she works along with Dwight, so I thought she might've been at the meeting. She seems like a very nice girl," Sara noted.

  "I guess," Michael took off his coat and Sara quickly retrieved it.

  "What are you kids watching?" He asked.

  Wade and Mira looked up, both somewhat surprised that he cared to know.

  "Gunsmoke," Wade answered.

  "I like Gunsmoke myself—any cowboy movie would do me just fine," Michael replied.

  Sara, Wade and Mira all looked at each other, unsure of what to make of him that night. What they didn't realize was that he was missing them already and riddled with guilt. Michael Cullen was falling in love with a woman he might ultimately decide to leave his family for.

  * * * *

  A full moon lit the sky that night. Michael sat alone on the front porch long after Sara and the children had fallen asleep. The night was peaceful and serene—a lot like what he wished his life was like. Only, he realized it was, before he crossed over the threshold with a woman who was not his wife. There was no better time for him to clearly collect his thoughts and sift through them logically and meticulously. He thought about the times he and Sara used to spend together laughing and playing around when they were a young couple; how she always adored him. He couldn't understand her profound admiration of him—her love; her passion; her loyalty. In his heart, he was unworthy of all of that. He was not the least bit deserving. He figured it must have stemmed from his rough upbringing and the rejection by his parents. The show of affection was something alien to him before Sara entered his life and receiving it, after a while, seemed to be just as difficult as giving it. Sure, it was easy to put on a show at first while dating, but keeping the façade going proved impossible for him.

  Suddenly, he heard a creaking sound. It was coming from his left. Michael looked over and saw the other wooden porch chair, slowly rocking on its own accord. Startled, he continued to stare as the back and forth movement seemed slow and deliberate—but by what means? He wondered.

  Appearing inside the chair was the woman with the blood-stained dress. She continued the rocking motion and soon, slowly turned her head in Michael's direction. He jumped out of his seat and staggered backwards against the closed front door. She continued to rock and stare.

  "My God…." Michael was able to utter. "…what am I seeing?" He was still backed up against the door.

  The ghostly visitor got up, then in a flash, she was standing—floating—directly in front of him, just inches apart. Her stare was intensely fierce and Michael's eyes were glued to the red and green veins that covered the white of the woman's eyes. She stood there for what seemed like hours, before vanishing into thin air.

  Michael held his chest, breathing heavily to the point of gasping. He had never been so frightened in all his life. As quickly as he could, he fumbled the door knob and slipped inside the house, making sure to lock the door behind him. He joined his wife in their bedroom and lay closely beside her, his arm across her side like he used to do many years ago.
r />   On feeling her husband's embrace, Sara put her hand on his arm and smiled.

  * * * *

  "Come on kids! Ready to go?!" Sara yelled from the kitchen. Michael was still in bed, though awake.

  "Yeah. Mom," Mira advanced with a small book-bag on her shoulder.

  "Why are you taking that?" Sara was looking at the bag.

  "Safe-keeping. What we find, I want to secure—that's very important," Mira answered.

  Wade walked into the living room. "Has anyone seen my red sneakers?"

  "Look under your bed," Sara replied. "I'm sure that's the Lost and Found department under there." She and Mira chuckled.

  As Wade returned to his bedroom to look for his sneakers, Sara walked back to her room, leaned over Michael and kissed him. "We're heading out now to run some errands, honey, so we'll see you when we get back."

  "Okay," Michael mumbled. He pulled up the covers and turned onto his side.

  Sara, Mira, and Wade all piled into the car. The children always looked forward to going out with their mother on the weekends to run errands. However, this weekend, they were on a special, private mission—one Mira was really looking forward to. She sat in the front passenger seat since Wade's turn had been the last time they were out.

  Traffic was pretty much non-existent while they were en route to the Records Office. Saturday morning commutes were nothing like weekday commutes: In that town, you could get anywhere fast on a Saturday.

  Sara pulled into the parking lot and swung into one of the many empty spaces behind the Records building. Mira got out first—Wade and Sara followed. As they walked around to the front entrance, Sara playfully tossed an arm around Wade's neck. At fourteen, he was the same height as his mother and Sara could easily pass for one of his peers as she didn't appear to have aged past her teenage years.

  Upon entering the building, Sara headed straight over to an employee who had just finished assisting a mature couple.

  "Hello, Ma'am," she said to the frail-looking lady dressed in black, who sported a pair of burgundy-framed eyeglasses.

  "My name's Bertha," the lady pointed to the badge pinned neatly to the lapel of her coat.

  "Pardon me, Bertha. I'm wondering if you can help me find some information."

  Wade and Mira stood nearby.

  "I'll certainly try, miss," the woman responded, her face didn’t seem to have cracked a smile in years. "What are you looking for?"

  "I… I'm not sure where to begin," Sara glanced at Mira, before resetting her focus on Bertha. "It was during the slavery era."

  Bertha gave Sara a look that plainly read: What slavery era could you possibly be referring to??

  Sara cleared her throat. She knew from the scant information they had to work with that their research might not be easy. "I'm wondering if you have a list of slaves that might have worked on a particular plantation," she said.

  "Well…" the woman who prided herself in being prim and proper, glanced at both children, then back at Sara "…it would be nice if you had a date and name with which I can work."

  "I don’t have a date, but I do have the name of the plantation owner," Sara replied.

  The woman raised her eyebrows and lifted her chin as if hinting for Sara to provide such details.

  "The name is Cornelius Ferguson," Mira interposed.

  Bertha looked at Mira and managed a half-smile. "Okay, that's good. We're actually making headway now. Follow me."

  They followed her to the back of the large, spacious room where Bertha directed them to sit at the pine desk parked over to the side. Wade pulled two chairs from nearby for him and Mira, as Sara took the one already there. Another one was on the other side of the desk - obviously for Bertha.

  Behind the desk were rows of filing cabinets and a fairly large machine tucked away in the far corner of the room. Betty searched through the chronological lettering in one of the cabinets, then returned with a thick file in her hand.

  "What you need is information pertaining to the history of the Ferguson house. I don’t know how long you've lived here, but Cornelius Ferguson has been a household name around these parts for years. He was only the wealthiest planter in all of Mizpah. Didn't your grandma or grandpa tell you about him?" She asked Sara.

  "Actually… no," Sara answered.

  "What?! Well, where in the world have you been? I thought everyone knew about Cornelius Ferguson. Why, my great-grandma and Mister Ferguson were high-society friends back in the day." Bertha was obviously proud.

  "Really? Well then, you should be able to provide us with all the information we need," Sara returned excitedly.

  "Now, I don’t know about that… but I'll do my very best." Bertha sat down in front of them. "It's amazing how the State has preserved such documentation after all these years. Let me give you a little history…" She went on and on about Cornelius's parents, siblings and gradually made her way up to his wedding. "He married this beautiful woman, Marlena nee Johnston." She had a photograph to show.

  Upon seeing that, Mira was hopeful. They had all sat closely together to view the photograph of Marlena.

  "Would you happen to have any pictures in there of the slaves they owned?" Mira asked, interrupting the woman's chattering.

  "Why… I'm quite sure I do." Bertha flipped through the file and came across a fairly large 8x10, black and white snapshot. "This here was taken back in 1863 according to the inscription at the bottom. These were slaves that worked on the Ferguson plantation at that time."

  Mira stood up to get a closer look. Then, one of the men in the photograph caught her eye. "That's him!" She pointed, showing her mother and Wade. "That's Andy right there!" She carefully looked through, but didn't see Karlen Key anywhere.

  Bertha looked up at Mira with marked suspicion. "How old are you, child?"

  "Thirteen and a half," Mira replied.

  "How in the world would you recognize Andy Anderson? Didn't seem like you folks knew much of anything regarding Cornelius Ferguson's existence when you walked in here. Andy Anderson, after slavery was abolished, was a vocal personality here in Mizpah. Did they teach you that in school?"

  "They must have…" Mira returned, daring not to disclose the real reason she was able to identify him.

  "Do you have a picture of Cornelius Ferguson?" Mira asked.

  "Sure. He was one extremely tall, handsome man. Here he is… "Bertha blushed at the sight of the photograph.

  Sara looked at Mira whom she knew had instantly recognized the man in the image. He was just as Mira had seen him in her dreams and in the vision Karlen had shown her. In the photograph, Cornelius had been dressed in a fine, emerald green coat suit with a high collar.

  "Tell us more about this Andy Anderson person," Sara said, wanting the loquacious woman to enlighten them in that regard.

  Bertha put the file down and crossed her legs as if eager to share what she knew. "Well, the talk is that Andy Anderson was the boyfriend of this slave girl named Karlen Key. The only problem is that Karlen was apparently having relations with Cornelius behind his wife's back. When his wife found out, there was some arguing and cussing, I guess, that happened and the long and short of it is: The slaves later testified that Karlen was murdered by Cornelius and buried right there on the plantation. After Andy was a free man, he lobbied to have charges brought against Cornelius, but nothing was ever done. He even wanted Karlen's body located and exhumed from the plantation grounds, but that was never looked into nor permitted. He got arrested and jailed several times for harassment because he wouldn't keep quiet about the whole matter. Andy Anderson fought for the sake of Karlen until he had no more fight left in him. He went on to live a long life—well into his seventies or eighties—but rumor has it that he was a very sad man after Karlen was killed like that and justice never came."

  "Would you happen to know where Andy lived after leaving the plantation?" Mira asked.

  "No dear. That's where my knowledge of Andy Anderson stops. Would you like to take your time and look
through these records?" She glanced at all of them.

  "Sure. Thank you so much," Sara said.

  Bertha got up and left them to it.

  The Cullens spent the better part of an hour going through the file and reading up on information pertaining to life on the Ferguson plantation and everything else they deemed interesting. Sara purchased a copy of the photograph with the slaves for Mira.

  As they were pulling out of the parking lot onto the main road, Mira said, "At least we got a picture."

  "That's a lot," Wade replied. "I didn’t think they took pictures back in those days."

  "Apparently, they did," Sara joined. "That's amazing how they kept all those records from way back then."

  "But we still don't know where Andy moved to after he was freed," Mira commented, rather disappointed.

  "No. But what does it matter, honey?" Sara asked.

  "I'm not sure, Mom. I just feel that we need to somehow locate someone he was related to. I can't explain it."

  The three went to take care of some other errands before heading back home. As Sara turned onto their street, they saw Mrs. Constantakis, from a couple of doors down, walking her Chihuahua.

  Sara pulled up alongside her. "Hey, Mrs. C. How are you doing today?"

  "Hi, lovely lady. I'm just wonderful. And how are you two sugar dumplings in there?" Mrs. Constantakis was bending down a little and peering through the window. One could tell from the woman's features that she used to be strikingly beautiful back in the day, as she carried her pulchritude well into old age.

  "Fine. Thank you, Mrs. C." Wade and Mira answered simultaneously.

  "I barely see you people and we only live a few houses apart." Her voice was shaky.

  Sara smiled. "That's really something. Isn't it? How are your grand-kids?"

  "They're doing well. Monique was here the other day for a few hours. Didn't she come by to hail?" She was looking at Wade and Mira.

  "Yes, Ma'am," Mira answered. "Mom wasn't at home yet."