The Dowry

by C W Lamb

  Working on one side of the pier, she could just make out the men on the deck of the boat as they moved each of the crates to a safe spot. With the rough water on the river, they had to insure everything was lashed down securely, or it would most certainly be lost overboard.

  “Almost done?” she heard one of the men shout, as the wind had picked up to the point where conversation could no longer be heard above the howl.

  “Yes!” she shouted back. She hoisted the last of the crates at her feet onto the heaving deck.

  It was then that the boat, being tossed like a toy, slapped up against her as she leaned forward with the crate. Dropping the load hard on the deck, she staggered back, trying to gain her footing on the wet planks of the pier. Even in her bare feet, she couldn’t gain a stable foothold. Stepping backward, she had run out of planking and tumbled over the side of the pier and into the river.

  Charlotte came up sputtering, as she had hit the water with an open-mouthed inhale. Thrashing about, trying to catch her breath, she was slammed against a piling by a wave, knocking the breath out of her once more and stunning her. A second wave bounced her off the same pile, this time, forcing her headfirst into the wood.

  As she slipped beneath the surface, her mind was racing, but her body unresponsive. She had a vague sense of the blackness, mixed with regret as she sank deeper into the river, and her body bounced once more off the piling as the water surged below the surface. As she was sinking, she realized she was about to die.

  Her last thought before she drowned was not of panic, but one of loneliness, the notion that there was no one there to save her. And finally, there were thoughts of leaving her beloved house, having no one to care for its future. All of this with the darkness of the river slowly engulfing her.

  Foxworth House, Present Day

  Robert was standing in the parlor, looking out the front window as the storm raged outside. With the sun setting, he could just make out the trees as they were being whipped by the wind and rain. As bad as it was outside, the storm building in the house was becoming far worse.

  “What do you want from me?” Charlie screamed at his back, tears streaming down her face.

  Turning to look at the woman, he was still struck once more by her resemblance to her ancestor.

  “I open up to you, share my fears and ask you to take me from here and you say no? My entire life has been a disaster. I can’t keep a job or a boyfriend. The money I got to come here was everything I had!”

  Robert wasn’t sure how to reply, but he needn’t have bothered as she wasn’t finished.

  “You have no idea what it’s like to live half a life. Never being able to complete anything you start. I’m not just a high school dropout, I am a life dropout!” she added.

  “And then you did all these things!”

  “What things?” Robert asked calmly, working hard to contain his own emotions.

  “First you try to make me do family stuff, you know, bringing Victoria here. And then, well, you’ve been so nice to me, no matter how bad I am!” she cried out.

  “All my life I just wanted someone to want me, just me, as I am. Protect me, keep me safe. I thought that might be you,” she said softly.

  “Now with all this talk of ghosts and split souls, you make me sound like a freak!”

  “Look Charlotte…”

  “I’m not Charlotte! I’m not her!” she screamed before throwing her glass at him and then pointing at the painting on the wall. With that, she turned and rushed out of the room.

  Looking at the portrait, Robert realized that’s exactly what he had been doing. He harbored some secret hope that she was, indeed, part of Charlotte. That she was the reincarnation that would let Charlotte return from the dead. Having spent so much time in her head, as he read her diaries and letters, he had fallen in love with someone who died over 150 years ago.

  “Charlotte, what have you done to me?” he asked the woman in the portrait.

  The slamming of a door brought him back; he realized Charlie must have gone out into the storm. Rushing to the source of the sound, he found the door through the butler’s pantry ajar. The slamming was the sound of the door as it flapped, blowing with the wind. At its base, a shoe was preventing it from closing entirely.

  Robert recognized the shoe as Charlie’s, and he passed through the open door, emerging out onto the back porch. There, he was hit with wind and rain as he strained to see her form disappearing into the darkness, heading for the pier. Sprinting to follow her, he found the second shoe just before he reached the wooden planking for the pier, stuck in the mud.

  Lined with electric lights, the pier held fixtures that were all replicas of the19th century lanterns that had once graced its length. The lights came on automatically after dark, allowing Robert to see the shadowy figure ahead of him through the rain. Following her out onto the pier, he slowed slightly on the slippery wood making his footing unsure.

  Reaching the end of the structure, he found Charlie on her knees and sobbing, both hands covering her face. By now, they were both soaked to the skin, as the wind and rain showed no indications of letting up.

  “Come back inside.” Robert knelt next to her while extending one hand.

  “No!” she snapped back, as she slapped his hand away.

  “You want me to be her, well I’m not. I’m nobody,” she replied before covering her face again.

  Robert spared a quick glance, noting that the river was in a state of great upheaval. In the glow of the electric lantern light, he could see the waves slapping the side of the pier, their spray mixing with the rain.

  “Please come inside, it’s dangerous out here,” he pleaded as the wind picked up and the waves started peaking higher than the edge of the pier itself.

  At barely a foot higher than the high-water mark, the pier was taking a pounding as each wave broke on its edge.

  “No, get away from me!” Charlie shouted once more as she pushed away from him.

  Surprised at the strength of the shove, Robert was forced to brace himself lest he fall over. In that same motion, Charlie lost her balance and tumbled backwards into the river. Panicked, Robert rushed to the edge just in time to see her slammed up against a piling and slip beneath the surface as her body went limp. Without further thought, he pulled off both shoes and dived into the river, landing as close to the spot as possible where he had seen her go under.

  Desperately searching around him in the turbulent waters, Robert discovered the blackness of the river impenetrable. Several times he found himself slammed up against the same pilings he had seen Charlie impact. Coming up for air, he immediately returned straight down to the bottom of the river, grasping out in all directions.

  At no more than seven or eight feet deep at this point, he had quickly descended to the muddy bottom, but found nothing there. Pausing, he stopped and felt the motion of the water as it drove him westward into the pilings he had been bouncing off earlier. Surging forward, in between two of the thick wooden poles, he again flailed about, using both his arms and his legs in a desperate attempt at connecting with the woman.

  It was then that he felt a vise-like grip on one ankle, pulling him back the way he had come. As he struggled to free himself, it suddenly vanished as quickly as it came. Turning in place, his leg came in contact with something soft. Spinning again to change his position underwater, he reached out and found an arm.

  Pulling it to him, he quickly recognized the feel of Charlie in his arms as he made his way to the surface. With one arm wrapped around her waist and with the other overhead, checking for obstacles on the way up, he sprinted to the surface. The trip to the surface seemed to take forever in his mind as he calculated how long she had been under.

  Surfacing under the pier, he made his way to the northern edge of the pier where he knew a ladder was mounted. A solid metal structure, firmly fastened to the wooden pilings, he wondered if he would be able to get them both up in time. Exiting from under the pier, he was now exposed to the r
iver’s fury once more.

  Fighting the waves while they tried their best to push him away, he held Charlie tight as he grabbed the metal rung with his free hand. Turning her so she was draped over one shoulder, Robert then grabbed the ladder with his other hand and began to climb. In no more than a few seconds he had them both on the pier with Charlie on her back.

  Quickly checking her vitals, he found no pulse or breathing. Military-trained, he immediately began CPR, working between breaths and compressions nonstop. Pausing every so often, he returned to his task, determined not to give up on her.

  “Come on damn you!” he swore as he paused to check her vitals once more.

  As Robert watched her, the lanterns around them dimmed and flickered, as if they were all powered by fire once more. Suddenly, they went dark, leaving him in a panic in the complete blackness. His panic was momentary, however, as the lights returned brightly, spurring him into action. Beginning again, he suddenly felt her convulse beneath him.

  It was then he was gifted with a cough, and as he turned her to one side, she expelled water mixed with vomit. A continued coughing fit was mixed with gasps of air.

  “Can you breathe?” he asked as he turned her back to him once the coughing had subsided.

  With only a nod as a reply, he sat her up first, clutching her to him in an embrace mixed with emotion and relief. He could feel her breathing against his chest, her free hand gripping his arm tightly.

  “I thought I had lost you,” he said softly as he held her tight.

  Tipping her back, in the dim light, he could see her face was a picture of confusion as she gazed about, clearly disoriented. He then gently picked her up and carried her back up to the house, taking care not to slip along the way. The entire time she had her face buried in his neck and shoulder, both arms in a grasp around his neck, weak but firm.

  Entering the house the way they came out, he carried her into the kitchen, where he set her on a stool at the island in its center.

  “Can you sit here?” he asked, again receiving not a word in reply, just a nod of acknowledgement as she looked about the room.

  In the butler’s pantry he grabbed one of the large pool towels and found an open rum bottle, pouring a small amount into a glass. Returning to her, he first wrapped the towel around her soaked form and then set the glass in front of her while pushing the blue bowl away from the center, to the edge where it would be out of the way as he checked her head where it had hit the piling.

  “Here, drink this,” he offered as he examined her.

  He watched her start to take a sip, cough, and then look up into his eyes. They gazed at each other, wordless in the exchange. Robert decided at that moment he would do whatever he needed to keep her safe. He then quickly turned away for a moment to collect his thoughts. He knew he owed her more than an apology and wasn’t quite sure where to begin.

  “Look Charlie….” he started but stopped as he heard the noise of something skidding across the marble island behind him.

  He turned in time to see her sliding the blue bowl back into the center of the island.

  “This belongs here, in the center,” she said with a smile.

  Once she had finished moving the bowl, she then turned to face him fully, looking up at him standing close by. In her eyes, he could now see something more than just the Charlie he had known. There was a sparkle he had never seen before and a depth of being that projected its presence.

  “And I think I prefer Charlotte,” she said in a firm tone

  “May I have something else to drink, please,” she asked as she extended the remainder of the rum glass for him to take.

  Accepting the glass without breaking eye contact, he set it aside before reaching out and pulling her to him. She slid easily into his arms, her own wrapping around his waist as he enveloped her with his.

  “I love you, Charlotte. We can sell this place and I will take you wherever you want to go,” he said softly but without hesitation.

  He could feel her grip tighten around him as he spoke, her face buried in his chest and a slight soft sobbing escaping from her lips. It was several seconds before she replied, her breath ragged from the tears.

  “Can we just stay here, together, forever?” she asked quietly.

  “Are you sure you want to stay here?” he asked, surprised at the change.

  “This house is my dowry. A dowry is what a bride brings to a marriage to ensure their happiness,” was her reply as she held him tight.

  Saint Augustine, FL., in the very near future

  Edith turned the key in the lock of the front door of her bookshop at exactly 9:55 am, as she had done every business day for the last 37 years. Open from 10am to 9pm Monday thru Saturday, she was a local fixture in the Ancient City business community.

  Entering the shop, she turned on the lights and began the morning ritual that started every day for her. Edith loved her bookstore, often comparing it to a living, breathing entity. She knew every book on every shelf in every row and remembered, with rare exception, everything she had ever sold. That part was easy for her because of the unusual nature of her inventory. Most of what she carried was no longer published and hard to find.

  It was with some surprise that she heard the front door open just after 10am. Looking up from her preparation work at the front counter, she noted the delivery man entering, carrying a small box. As deliveries were never received before 1pm, it was a unexpected.

  “For me?” she asked in a confused tone as the man set the package on the counter and presented his pad for her to sign.

  “Yes, ma’am,” was the only reply she received.

  Signing for the box, she watched the man depart before she examined the package more closely. It was a typical small cardboard box, like the ones she used to ship customers’ orders. The label only referenced the name of her shop and had no return address.

  Pulling a box cutter out of her drawer, she carefully slit the tape sealing the box. She dared not press too hard, less she slice into whatever was inside, damaging it.

  Opening the box carefully, she could see it held a small stack of several books. On top of the stack was a folded parchment. Removing the note, she opened and read its contents. Its message was simple and confusing.

  “Please accept our gift in hopes that it may help others in the future.

  C&R Garrison”

  Setting the note aside, Edith began to remove the books from the box, one at a time, examining each as she did so. With the very first book she remembered the young man she had sold it to. He had been quite upset about a split soul residential haunting and was looking for answers.

  She had thought about him from time to time as she had expected to see him again. As with many of her customers, she usually received repeat visits as they continued to look for answers. One by one, she pulled each volume from the box, flipping through the pages as she did so.

  A habit formed over many years, she would first examine the exterior of the book, inspecting it for wear and tear. Next, she would flip through the interior, looking for damaged or missing pages as well as the odd object left behind as a bookmarks. Every so often she would find money tucked between the pages for safekeeping, only to be long forgotten.

  As she was flipping through the last of the offerings, she stopped at the final pages of the book. Someone had written in the Leaves, the blank pages at the end of the book. Frustrated and irritated that someone had violated the tome, she paused as she read the entry there.

  “For those struggling to understand how to mend a split soul, reuniting the reincarnate and its bound half, let me offer the following.

  Only through Love and Death may a split soul become one once more. The Love must be the Love of a person, not of a place or a thing, as that is what generated the rift in the beginning. Also, the Love must be a whole Love, drawing both halves together in a unified desire. It is only then that the union is possible. Once they are willing to forsake all other tethers binding them, can the reinca
rnate and bound halves seek unification.

  Death is the road both halves must travel to find that place where they can be as one. It is in the Death of the reincarnate that the door opens where Love can bind them as one. It is in Love’s warm embrace that they can find common ground once more.

  Finally, only Love can restore life to the union, found in the desperate efforts of one unwilling to allow Death to rob them. Only in the resuscitation of the reincarnate will a united soul breathe once again, wrapped in the loving embrace of one dedicated to its return. In this way you will be able to live a joyous life, together, forever.”

  Slowly Edith closed the book in her hands, a smile crossing her face as a tear ran down her cheek. Placing her palm on the cover, she ran her hand gently over its surface, stroking it. Taking a deep breath, she gathered the books in her arms and headed into the aisles, looking to place them in their rightful spot.

  As she did so she reconsidered the offer she had received the previous day. Another local shop owner had offered to take her to dinner, despite her well-known reputation for refusing such invitations. Maybe, for once, she would close the store early this Friday after all, she thought. After 37 years alone, maybe it was time she accepted that dinner date rather than work every night. Maybe it was time to dine with another.

  Epilogue

  The morning sky was a clear blue, cloudless and vibrant, as the sun topped the surrounding trees. The greenery that lined either side of the wooden planking and rails of the pier ran straight and true, terminating at the placid river beyond. The still water had a mirror finish that reflected the sun’s light back up into the sky, adding to the brilliance of the day.

  Robert stood at the end of the pier, where they had erected a four-post arbor, draped with white gossamer fabric and trimmed out in colorful flowers. The gentle breeze caused the fabric to flutter softly, giving it a flowing, liquid appearance. The entire scene seemed alive as he soaked in the atmosphere, with his best man, RD, and the presiding Judge on either side of him.