Paranormal After Dark

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “A private one.”

  “Susan. Do you mean a rash acquired from a gentleman?”

  She looked uncomfortable for a split second, but then returned to her haughty demeanor. “We are no longer friends, Adelaide, you don’t have to show false concern. It doesn’t matter from where the rash was acquired. I just need something to make it go away.”

  But Adelaide was concerned. She had overheard soldiers talking about the rashes they caught from the whores in town. It started out innocently enough, with a blister that caused no pain. Then it moved to rashes and fevers before turning to horrific ulcers and eventually, death. “At least tell me, is your rash in one place, or is it all over?”

  “It’s…starting to go all over.”

  “Susan, if you have caught something from a gentleman soldier, the only thing that can cure it is salts of mercury.” Adelaide hesitated. “We don’t have that here.”

  “Surely you must have something.” Her eyes frantically scanned the labels. “One of those bottles must have something in it to help me.”

  “Susan, I told you, you need salts of mercury. If you won’t listen to that, the best I can do is give you this.” Adelaide handed her a tall, dark bottle labeled laudanum. “I can’t guarantee that you will see any improvement, though, but it claims to be a curative for all ailments.”

  After examining the bottle, she asked, “How much?”

  “One dollar.”

  Susan handed her a crumpled greenback. “It’s worth a try.”

  “I’ll pray for you.”

  “I don’t think God can help me now.” She sniffed indignantly. “Oh, and I have something for you.”

  “Do you now?” Adelaide eyed her cautiously. “And what is that?”

  Unceremoniously, she dropped a paperback volume on the counter. “It belonged to David.”

  It was a small reproduction of the New Testament, well worn and water stained. “Why do you have David’s testament?”

  “Because my brother is dead.” She said simply. “He was killed at Sharpsburg, but his body was…it…it took this long for word to reach us. He always spoke highly of you, so I thought you’d like to have this. I certainly don’t.”

  Adelaide stared at the testament, too overwhelmed to weep. The thought of David Hamilton being dead, left to die alone on the field in Antietam, left her numb. She didn’t hear even hear when Susan left the store.

  Chapter 26

  May 12, 1863

  WORD REACHED THEM that on May 10th, two days earlier, General Stonewall Jackson died of wounds suffered in the aftermath of Chancellorsville. Sarah took it as a sign that the war would soon draw to a close. It stoked the embers of Adelaide’s old southern sympathies and part of her mourned his loss, but it made her fear retribution from the South. Rumors that the Rebs were swiftly drawing up from the Valley strengthened with each passing day.

  The confidence of the soldiers in the Ferry seemed perched on a rocky precipice.

  They lived as if nothing was amiss, as if the war was not constantly encroaching on the Ferry. What else was there to do? They’d been going through the same thing for the past three years. It was becoming a sort of sick routine: bake bread, sell bread, stay away from the windows, watch your mouth around the Yankees.

  “I’ve heard some of the Yankees want to rebuild Large Arsenal.” Sallie commented, breaking the silence that had fallen over their baking. “They want to turn it into a bakery.”

  Adelaide nodded and rubbed her nose with the back of her wrist. “I heard that the same. There’s just not enough food to go around with all these soldiers in town. I wouldn’t mind it, necessarily, since most of our income comes from the boarding house. It’d actually be nice to relax for a while, huh Sarah?”

  Her sister was staring into the main room of the store. Her face paled considerably. “Addy…”

  Before Adelaide had a chance to respond, two armed soldiers burst into the back room. One leveled his musket at her. “Are you Sallie Zittle?”

  Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t speak, instead shaking her head so hard her chignon loosened on the back of her head.

  Sallie threw the metal loaf pans on the floor and, with the soldiers distracted, lunged for the door. The men were faster; the soldier in the back grabbed her by the neck and jerked her backwards.

  Sarah screamed.

  The shriek broke Adelaide out of her paralysis and she dove forward, grabbing the soldier’s other arm. “What are you doing? Let her go!”

  He shrugged away from her. “She’s under arrest.”

  “Arrest? Why?”

  “She,” the first soldier motioned at Sallie with his musket, “is a spy. She’s been passing messages to the Rebel cavalry for weeks. We’ve followed her from Frederick and kept our eye on her. Caught her passing letters to Stuart just last evenin’.”

  “Lies.” Sallie spit at him. “You’re just looking for an excuse to harass the women of town. You bastard Yankees get off on it.”

  The soldier dug his fingers into her hair and yanked her head backward. “Shut up.”

  Adelaide leapt at the soldier holding Sallie. “Stop it!”

  The other soldier grabbed her, pushing her against the wall. “Don’t give me an excuse to arrest you too, Secesh.”

  “You have no proof she’s a spy.” Sarah cowered next to the cook stove, holding the poker out in front of her. “Leave us alone.”

  “We don’t need proof to arrest her.” Keeping one hand on Adelaide’s shoulder and holding her in place, the soldier fished in his pocket and withdrew a letter. “But in this case, I have it: intercepted, just last night.”

  He started reading, “My dear general: you will find the Ferry easiest to enter by the pike. The railroad bridge is too often a target and easily protected on both sides. The Federal provost here is idiotic. Plenty of times, the rumor of your closeness has been passed, but the Yankees fail to take proper precautions. It will be easy to overrun them, as Brown did those many years ago.”

  The soldier holding Sallie yanked her head backwards again. “Is that enough proof, Miss Zittle, or should he continue?”

  She spit at him, bucking against his grip. “I’ll never deny my loyalty to Stuart and the Cause. If it’s wrong, send me to hell yourself.”

  “Did she ever talk to you about her sympathies to the Southern Cause?” The soldier loosened his grip on Adelaide’s shoulder, allowing her to take several steps away from him. “You can be honest with me, Miss. She took advantage of your kindness.”

  Adelaide shook her head. “She said she and her family were refugees from Frederick. That’s all.”

  He nodded. “My apologies for the interruption to your day, Miss.”

  Adelaide stood, her feet feeling like they were rooted to the floor, and watched as Sallie was dragged out of the store. She thought the girl was their friend.

  And she was wrong.

  * * *

  AT THE END of the month, the citizens of the Ferry found out on June 20th, the votes had been cast and state secession approved. They were no longer in the state of Virginia, but the newly formed, member of Lincoln’s Union: West Virginia. Of nearly 200 voters from the Ferry, only one voted to remain in the Confederacy.

  The scourge continued. Adelaide never saw Sallie again.

  Chapter 27

  Mid-August 1863

  THE POTOMAC RIVER spilled over her banks during the middle of July, almost like the collective tears of Lee’s disaster in Gettysburg had flooded straight to the Ferry. With all the soldiers—both dead and living—pouring back into town, Adelaide didn’t have much time to dwell on what had happened to a reported 50,000 men in those three, sweltering days. She watched it: the solemn, listless, line of soldiers heading to the Armory complex.

  She and Sarah were back to baking bread every day and, in comparison to sitting up all night trying to keep dead soldiers from getting into the house and crossing the persistent into light, Adelaide welcomed the change of pace. It was g
etting easier to ignore them and just let them continue, unabated, to the entrance to hell. Only a few wandered into the house. Those they quickly dispatched.

  It had been a day since a Shadow was seen in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia.

  The soldiers proclaimed that Bobby Lee was gone for good. While the new Provost Marshall, Major Pratt, got organized in his office on High Street, several soldiers finally got the bakery in Large Arsenal up and running. With the greenbacks circulating again, even the Market House was able to provide a better selection of wares. Regardless of how many years Adelaide had been going to the market on Wednesdays and Saturdays, she was still always so indecisive of what to buy. With blockades still in place, there wasn’t as much to pick through as there had been when she was younger, but at least it was getting better.

  She loaded up her basket with several pieces of chicken wrapped in brown paper, some carrots, onions, and celery stalks, and a large wedge of cheese as a special treat. The fruit was overripe, unlike how it was on Wednesday when it was under ripe. She was fairly certain it was the same fruit from earlier in the week.

  It was the peak of summer and miserably hot. The heat seemed to have a thickness, settling around her face and body like she was wrapped in a wet, heavy quilt. Flies buzzed around the food and darted in her face, no amount of waving her hand in their direction seemed to make them subside. Although she didn’t particularly look forward to going back to their boiling brick house, it would be markedly better than standing near the stench of sun spoiled meat.

  As she walked home, Adelaide adjusted the basket to her other hand. It always amazed her how heavy the basket could get when it seemed like she bought so little. At least there had been some marginally fresh chicken left. They had been living on potato and meager vegetable soup for so long—just the thought of chicken soup for a change made her hungry.

  She pushed her way past a group of soldiers standing near Mr. Egan’s Dry Goods Store. The Yankees were typically bawdy and vulgar when they gathered in groups; commenting about her looks, her lithe, corseted figure, the shape of her mouth. As she passed, she thought she heard, instead of lewd chatter, someone call her name. Slowing a bit, Adelaide searched the faces around her, studying each for some flicker of familiarity. There were none she called friend, none who she recognized, so she continued walking.

  “Wait! Adelaide, is that really you?”

  She stopped and turned, one foot in the street as she prepared to cross. A thin, broad shouldered soldier was dashing down the street behind her, his hand pressing against his sword and sidearm so as to not lose them in his frantic run. What could she possibly have done this time? She hadn’t spoken to anyone, she simply had gone to the market and purchased food.

  His face seemed unfamiliar, though partially obscured by a patchy beard and rather unimpressive mustache. The blue uniform he wore looked like it had been drenched and then rolled through the dirt, caking mud in the wool fibers and staining the trousers. “How do you know my name? I haven’t done anything, sir, I can assure you I was just at the market. See? Just food in my basket.”

  “Adelaide.”

  “Do I know you?”

  “Of course you know me.” He pulled his cap off, revealing a mop of sweaty brown hair. His voice struck a chord in Adelaide’s soul, but it was the haunting blue eyes that chilled her straight to the bone.

  Thomas Cooper had returned to Harpers Ferry.

  Chapter 28

  ADELAIDE STARED AT him, struck mute by suddenly seeing him after so many years. He wasn’t dead or caught up in the scourge. He was here. Alive. All she wanted was to be in his arms; she dropped the basket on the ground and threw her arms around his shoulders. He smelled rank, of sweat and an unwashed body. She didn’t care. It was really him. “What…what are you doing here?”

  He laughed, lifting her up and spinning her around. “I’m with the 34th Massachusetts, we’ve been assigned to garrison duty here. God, Adelaide, you’re more beautiful than I remember.”

  “You never wrote me.” She cupped her hand to his cheek, the familiar structure of his high cheekbones and strong jaw making her fingers feel like they were tingling. “I thought you were dead.”

  His eyes were locked on hers, his hands tight around her waist. “I’m sorry, my love, I am. Christ, it’s been nonstop duty since I left. We were in Washington for what seemed like an eternity and on the move and garrison. Never mind that, tell me how you are. Can I escort you home? Where are you living?”

  “In Mr. Matthew’s old grocery store. We’ve been there nearly two years.”

  He gathered up the spilled vegetables and fruit, and carried the basket in one hand, placing his other at her low back to guide her forward. “I saw the ruins of Ferry Lot. When did you come back to town?”

  “We never left. Only about a hundred of us stayed, everyone else fled; I’d say, probably in the first year of the war.”

  He looked taken aback. “My God, Adelaide, I’ve heard what’s happened here.”

  “You have no idea.” She kept looking at him, her body already craving his touch. Her mind and flesh remembered how his hands felt, how his mouth tasted. Time wouldn’t have changed that.

  “And your family?”

  “You wouldn’t even recognize them. Sarah is nearly twenty-one, Levi fourteen. My baby sister Lizzie is four now and considers herself quite the important lady.”

  He waited a moment. “And everyone else?”

  Adelaide shook her head. “There is nobody else. Luke and Robert fight on opposing armies and my father is dead.”

  The color drained considerably from his gaunt cheeks. “I had no idea.”

  “You could not imagine the things that have gone on here; what we’ve seen.” As they reached the front door of shop, Adelaide turned to him and smiled shyly. “Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so melancholy. Join us for dinner. I bought chicken for stew. I’ll make biscuits and we can…make up for lost time.”

  He set the basket on the front stoop and took her hands in his, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “Of course. I’ll have to get permission from my major, but I’m quite certain it won’t be a problem.”

  “Until then, Mr. Cooper.”

  As he turned to walk away, Thomas stopped and quietly said, “My feelings for you never changed.”

  She ran to him and threw her arms around his shoulders. Their lips met; the kiss was hungry, desperate. He cradled her head with his hand and locked her place, his mouth prompting hers open. The bristles of his beard tickled her as his jaw moved and his tongue lapped against hers.

  When the kiss ended, he kept her head against his. “The thought of you is what has sustained me, Adelaide. Your smile, your touch. Being this close you again…I feel like this is the first real breath I’ve taken in three years.”

  And then he kissed her again.

  * * *

  SHE CARRIED ON as if Abraham Lincoln himself was coming for supper. “Sarah, sweep that floor again. He’ll think we live in a barn.”

  “Providence save us, Addy you twit.” Sarah crossed her arms, not budging from her perch atop a stool. “Are you a girl of eighteen again? He’s just a man. There’re plenty of them around here and you choose the one you’ve already had. You need more variety.”

  “I don’t want variety, Sarah Jane.” Adelaide scowled and stirred the soup vigorously. “I’ve had variety and I prefer the one my soul adores.”

  Thomas Cooper showed up for supper freshly shaven and a clean uniform, most likely borrowed from someone else as there certainly had not been enough time to launder his. Adelaide nearly tripped over herself showing him to the table, blathering idiotically how Levi showed quite a skill at woodworking; how in better days his skills may have translated to work at the now defunct Armory.

  Sarah rolled her eyes in disgust. Levi giggled deliriously and ducked away Adelaide’s ability to snap a towel at younger siblings.

  Thomas swore the soup was the best he had tasted in years, though it was Ade
laide’s opinion the carrots were too crunchy. As the meal progressed and Adelaide felt more at ease, they filled him in on all that had happened over the course of three years, from how many times the railroad bridge had been blown up to the death of David Hamilton. She related how nearly every private residence had been turned into barracks, every church a hospital, and every garden a graveyard. Everything she said, she did at a frantic, rambling pace. She couldn’t help it: it was him, really him.

  After Sarah had cleared the table and insisted she would take care of the dinner dishes, Thomas and Adelaide sat on the front stoop of the house to enjoy the somewhat cooler evening air. He sat close to her, his thigh pressed against hers. With him next to her again, she almost felt like the last several years hadn’t happened. She felt safe. Alive.

  “So many are gone.” He stared towards the river for a moment and then touched his head to hers. “I’m off pulling garrison duty while David is cut down on the field of battle. And Frederick Roeder? Your father?”

  “We have certainly had a rough time of this war.”

  “If only I hadn’t left you. If only I had stayed.”

  “The Ferry Lot would have still burned.” Adelaide sighed, melancholy at the thought of the past years. “My father still would have died, David as well.”

  “Did you see more of…ah…them?”

  “It’s only been six days since I last saw one. I face them all the time.”

  “Even your father?”

  She stared at his hands in silence for several moments, then nodded.

  He exhaled deeply and pressed his lips to her temple, trailing his kisses down her cheek. “There is so much I want to say to you.”

  “Then say it, Thomas.” She pursed her lips into a coy smile. “We don’t have any secrets, especially as familiar as we are with each other…skin to soul.”