Eastover Treasures

by Dawn Brotherton

  “Good afternoon. I’m looking for information about the Eastover Manor in Surry. Do you think you have anything about it?” she asked.

  The librarian typed on his keyboard. “The internet’s down, but we have our files on the network. They aren’t as complete, and they’re only for our records, but it’s better than nothing.” The young man wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to Aury. “Try here first. Let me know if you need more. These are in the basement.”

  “Thanks, I will.” Aury read the coded letters and numbers and headed toward the stairs.

  When she emerged at the bottom, the bright lights and cool air caught her off guard.

  “What can I help you with?” an older gentleman asked.

  Aury took in the wooden tables and library carts that were lined up at the front of the room. Rows upon rows of shelves reached out into the distance in front of her.

  “I’ve never been down here before. I don’t even think I knew the library had a basement.”

  The man smiled. “Most people don’t. Some of the college kids have found it a quiet place to study—history majors or folks working on their advanced degrees. There’s a lot to be said for secret places. What are you looking for today?”

  Aury handed him the paper. “I’m interested in the Eastover Manor. Have you heard of it?”

  “Heard of it! Why, I took my bride there for our honeymoon many moons ago.” A smile lit his face. “The people were as nice as can be. The view out our window was one we talked about long after we left. Have you been out there? Is the house still standing?”

  “I was there during the storm. The house is still there but it’s in pretty bad shape.”

  “What a shame. I heard the woman who ran it got sick. Was it cancer? Can’t remember. She sure was a spunky one.” He got lost in his thoughts.

  “That was probably Scott’s mother. Scott Bell owns it now. He wants to get it fixed up. I was hoping to find some records of what it used to look like. I’m curious what else was on the property.”

  “I’m sure we have something that can help.” The man led Aury between the stacks, stopping occasionally to check the note in his hand against the signs posted on the shelves. He finally came to a halt in front of a long set of metal drawers. Selecting one, he pulled it open to reveal file folders crammed with papers.

  With practiced hands, he ran a finger along the top tabs until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a thick folder and handed it to Aury. He reached in for another, then closed the drawer and led her into the open room.

  “Make yourself comfortable” he said, setting the folder on one of the empty tables.

  Hours later, Aury had pages of scribbled notes and a stack of photocopies the librarian had made for her of maps, deeds, and land plots.

  “We’re getting ready to close, young lady.”

  Aury looked up from the document she was reading.

  “This is fascinating!” she said. “I never knew we had so much information down here.”

  “These days, if it’s not on the computer, people aren’t interested in digging. I find something satisfying about holding a piece of paper in my hand.”

  “I totally agree. Thanks for all your help with this.” Aury gathered her things and put the papers into the folders.

  “Always happy to help someone researching history.”

  “There’s a whole library out at the manor house. Scott may be willing to donate some of the books. They’re quite old.”

  The old man’s eyes brightened. “That would be quite the treasure.” He handed her a business card. “Will you pass this on to him for me? I’d be happy to come out and take a look. It would be nice to see the place again. Might even take my bride out for a picnic.”

  Aury smiled. “You might want to wait a while. The road is out leading up to the house, and many trees are down.”

  “Whenever he’s ready,” the librarian said.

  Chapter 21

  March 9, 1862

  Mary Townsend sat in her favorite rocking chair on the wide front porch. She tried to concentrate on writing in her journal. She ran her hand lovingly over the cover. Her father had slipped it into her hands as she and James boarded the carriage for their trip south.

  She thought she had glimpsed a tear on the old man’s face, but it could have been the water in her own eyes as James prodded the horses.

  A loud crack turned her head. It was so hard to focus with the bang of gunshots in the distance.

  Not for the first time, she said a silent prayer for the safe return of her husband and her darling Noah. They had been gone much longer than they needed to be to simply pick up provisions. Mary tried not to think of the many scenarios which could have delayed their travels—most with unhappy endings.

  She heard Sarah calling after the children in the rear of the house. Mary didn’t know what she would do without Sarah. Living out here, Sarah had to grow up much faster than Mary would have liked. She would have preferred to teach Sarah how to paint and embroider. Instead, most of their learning time was filled with numbers and farming. Not that those skills wouldn’t be useful, but Mary wished she could give her kids a little more luxury time.

  Hearing an uproar, Mary set down her journal and hurried through the front hall to the back porch. The boys wrestled with fierce passion as Sarah watched, baby Emily on her hip, urging on one then the other.

  Mary placed her hands on her hips, ready to put a stop to it. Instead, she slipped her hands into her apron and observed as the boys paced in a circle, looking for the right time to strike. They were dirty but smiling, engaging in harmless fun.

  A loud boom sounded from the river, followed by a thunderous crack, pulling the children from their play as each head turned toward the fierce clatter.

  “Come into the house now, children. Clean up for supper.” Mary waved the kids inside, anxious to remove them from the fighting too close to home.

  Chapter 22

  Present Day

  The next morning, Aury crawled out from under her favorite quilt—the one Gran had given her when she graduated college. The deep, rich blues were accented with brilliant, tiny, pink flowers. Aury had never been a pink-girl, but the bright spots of color on the dark fabric always brought a smile to her face.

  The morning sun shone through the closed blinds, and the blank, lifeless face of the digital alarm clock stared at her as she stuffed her feet into slippers and pulled a sweatshirt over her head. She reached into the back of the closet, pulling out an old suitcase she rarely used. She had left her good one at Eastover.

  She tossed some things in it she would need for a few days. There was no telling how long the power would be out.

  Her stomach rumbled as she emptied the contents of her refrigerator into the trash bag. Thankfully, she didn’t have much. Living alone, she tended to eat cereal for dinner many evenings.

  She carried her suitcase in one hand and the trash bag in the other as she made her way to Gran’s car. She pulled the trash can down to the road, knowing it may sit there for days before the company got on a regular schedule again.

  Aury headed to the center of town, looking for an open restaurant. Oliver’s was open, and she found a parking spot as someone left.

  As she waited for her omelet, she pondered the clues. She was excited to share her findings with Scott, but first, she’d visit the Master Gardeners. She had found one of their flyers hanging on the library bulletin board and made an appointment to see the club’s president; he might be able to help with the tree clue.

  The waitress placed a steaming plate in front of Aury and rushed off to the next table. Apparently, a power outage in the residential areas was good for business in the center of town.

  Aury ate promptly and paid her bill. A short walk brought her to the James City County office complex. She took the steps up to the third floor.

  “Welcome! So glad you found us.” Eleanor Parker was a spry, petite woman, but her smile was broad and her ent
husiasm contagious. “Come in and have a seat.” She waved at a gentleman sitting behind a computer screen. “Keith, this is the young lady who called with some questions about trees.”

  Keith started to stand.

  “No, please. Don’t get up for me. Thank you for taking the time to see me,” Aury said. She leaned over the desk and shook his hand.

  “What can we help with?” Eleanor asked.

  “Well, first I’d like to read you something. It’s a riddle I’m trying to solve.” She read the clue out loud.

  “Find the oldest variety

  That from an acorn grew

  Look under the roots

  To find the next clue.”

  “I feel a little silly,” Aury admitted.

  “Don’t,” Keith said, smiling. “You will be looking for an oak tree, but there are over ninety species of oaks. Seeds from some other trees are called gumballs, horse chestnuts, pinecones, you get the idea.”

  Aury gave him an astonished look. “How did you know what I was going to ask?”

  “It’s a common question, actually. Most people could tell you a tree grows from an acorn, but they don’t always know what kind of tree,” Keith said.

  “People see an acorn and think of two things: squirrels and trees,” Eleanor said.

  “Another fun fact most people don’t usually know is squirrels can be picky eaters. They’d rather eat acorns from the white oak group when they find them and store the red oak acorns for later.”

  “The red oak acorns have tannin, which is bitter-tasting, so the squirrels put off eating those until they have to,” Eleanor added.

  Aury smiled. “So what’s the oldest variety of oak here in Virginia?”

  “Depends where in Virginia. Most likely something from the white oak group. The Southern live oak—Quercus virginiana—lives a long time,” Eleanor said.

  “That’s the tree most often associated with Virginia and the south. You ever see those old movies with the huge trees covered in draping moss? Those are Southern live oaks,” Keith said.

  Eleanor pulled a book off a shelf and started flipping through the pages. When she found what she was looking for, she handed the book to Aury. “Look at those roots. They’re hardy trees, able to grow in salty soil so they do well around the coast.”

  Aury studied the picture, trying to envision a tree like that on the property somewhere. Then she remembered something she read in the archives the day prior.

  She stood and handed the book back to Eleanor. “Thank you both for all the help.”

  “We didn’t do much. If you have any more questions, stop by and see us,” Eleanor said.

  Keith gave a friendly wave as Aury departed.

  Chapter 23

  March 21, 1862

  Sarah presented the bag of eggs to her mother. “Not as many today as usual,” she said.

  “It’s fine. We need to give them a little more feed.” Mary ran her hand down the top of her daughter’s blonde locks to her shoulder. She’ll make a wonderful mother and wife if we ever get through these battles, she thought.

  “Is Daddy coming home today?” Sarah asked.

  “I pray so.” Mary couldn’t think of a better response. False promises were not her way. “Get the boys moving on their chores, please.”

  Sarah lightly kissed her mother’s cheek and left to do as she was told.

  Emily tottered over to her mother and hung onto her skirt. Mary swept her into her arms and spun her in a circle.

  “You are a blessing, little one. Do not ever forget it.”

  Emily smiled and pulled at the rose-engraved locket Mary always wore around her neck.

  “Shall we make breakfast? Perhaps grits this morning with leftover bread from last night’s supper.” Mary busied herself in the kitchen, chatting all the while with Emily.

  “When Daddy comes home, maybe we can take a carriage ride. Would you like that?”

  She opened the pantry door, disappointed to discover she was down to her last bag of flour. She sighed as she pushed the bag aside and reached for the remaining cornmeal. “We’ll just eat more oats. The horses aren’t here to feed anyway.”

  The boys entered the kitchen like a whirlwind, poking and punching each other.

  “Now, now,” Mary scolded. “Did you finish weeding the garden?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Frederick and Thomas said in unison, straightening up to address their mother.

  “How does it look?”

  “The plants are showing green tops,” Frederick answered. “But the rabbits have started eating them before we have a chance to.”

  “Can we pull up the radishes?” Thomas asked.

  Mary smiled. “Not yet. I’ll let you know when. Go wash up. We’ll eat soon.”

  The boys scampered off.

  “We need to put up a better fence. One more thing to add to the list, little Emily. Are you going to help?”

  Emily giggled and clapped her hands.

  “Yes, I think this is going to be a chore we can all share.”

  Chapter 24

  Present Day

  Wait until you see what I found!” Aury told Scott as she jumped out of her grandmother’s car. They stood on the dirt road halfway to where the road had collapsed. Bits of tree bark and sawdust covered the mud patches, giving them a quicksand-like appearance. Logs surrounded him in a pattern of disarray.

  His jeans were caked with mud, and his wet shirt was plastered to his chest. He set aside the chain saw he was carrying and wiped his hands on a rag from his pocket.

  “You look refreshed,” he said.

  Aury stopped, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Do you have a place to stay with electricity?”

  A broad grin spread across his face. “I’m fine, really. I think of it as an extended camping trip. We used to camp a lot when I was young. What did you find?”

  She pulled a notebook from the canvas bag flung over her shoulder. “The library had information about this area going back to the sixteen-hundreds.

  “According to Mary’s diary, the Townsend family moved here in 1846. Check out these maps I found.”

  Aury started to unfold a sizeable piece of paper she had tucked into her notebook.

  Scott laid a hand on her wrist. “Why don’t we go find a place to sit and discuss this? I’m ready for a break.” Scott picked up his saw and led the way to a cart waiting nearby.

  As they bounced their way around the fallen trees and debris, Scott quizzed Aury on the conditions in Williamsburg.

  “It’s not near as bad as here. Of course, most of the residential areas don’t have power, but the center of town does. They’ve brought in power companies from Maryland, New York, and Pennsylvania. They’re working around the clock.”

  “That’s good to hear. The folks out this way have been helpful. A few started clearing fallen trees without me having to ask. I miss that neighborly comradery living in the city.”

  They pulled up in front of one of the cabins Aury and Scott had scavenged during the ladies’ stay in the manor house. A picnic table had been set up outside the main door next to a small fire circle built from stone. Twenty feet around the area had been raked.

  “Have a seat,” Scott offered. “I’m going to wash up.” He walked behind the cabin. A moment later, Aury heard the creaking of an old-fashioned hand pump on a well, followed by the sound of gushing water. It reminded her of the days she had spent visiting Girl Scout camps in her youth.

  While she waited, she picked up rocks to weigh down the corners of the various maps. She laid one out on the table.

  “What’s so exciting?” Scott asked.

  Aury pointed at a map as she told him what she had discovered. “These maps are from different years. You can tell as the details get better and better.” Her finger traced the line of the James River.

  “Here’s the river. This is where Eastover sits.” She noted a spot on the map. “And look here.” She put her finger on a spot where the land
jutted into the river slightly. Tree Point was neatly scripted. She showed him an older map. “Here they only have an x in that spot. And going back further,” she switched maps again, “that same spot is always marked somehow.”

  “It must have been a big tree to make its way onto a map as a marker,” Scott said.

  “Do you think you could find that spot now?”

  “I think so. But I don’t remember a huge tree.”

  “It may not be there anymore.”

  “Let’s go on a treasure hunt,” Scott said. He took a shovel from a nearby wheelbarrow while Aury folded up the maps and stowed them in her bag. She held one in her hand to help guide them.

  They climbed into the cart and headed toward the river.

  Before they reached their destination, Scott slowed the cart to a stop. “We have to walk from here; it’s too overgrown to drive.”

  Aury gazed at the line of bushes and trees. Even though the chance of the tree still standing was remote, she felt a pang of disappointment that no one tree towered above the rest.

  Moving through the tree line, Aury imagined how it would have appeared in 1861. They reached the edge of the cliff overlooking the river, and Scott took in a deep breath of moist air.

  “Let me see the map again.”

  They oriented themselves with the bends of the river, then Scott headed off to the north. One hundred yards away, he stopped again. “It should be right around here.”

  Aury began a methodical search of the ground, starting at the cliff edge and working her way deeper into the trees. “Here!”

  Scott left off his search to join her. Aury stood above him on a platform the size of a small stage. She had pulled away ivy and weeds to reveal the stump of a tree. “This has got to be it!”

  He circled the stump. “Now what?”

  “We should have brought two shovels,” Aury said.

  “I’ve got it.” Scott rammed the shovel into the dirt at the base on the side furthest from the water.

  “This tree had to be large even in 1861. Would Mary have made the children dig all around it to find the clue?” Scott asked.