The Dowry

by C W Lamb

  He had been quite surprised when Charlotte had asked him to wear his uniform for the ceremony, not entirely sure it still fit, thankful that it did. His dress blues had been lovingly stored away, all ribbons and badges still in place. A trip to a reputable military dry cleaner had him in fine trim and ready to go.

  His cap was placed squarely on his head with the Officer’s Saber shining brightly at his side. He avoided touching the metal scabbard lest he smudge it, the finish polished to a mirror quality. Unlike other officers, Robert had passed on purchasing the traditional ceremonial model common to most officers. His blade was a fully functional weapon, lovingly cared for and razor sharp.

  Had they more time to prepare, he was sure he could have called in a few of his former comrades to provide a proper military sword arch, but Charlotte had desired a more intimate ceremony. She seemed satisfied with what little they planned for the event, more concerned with starting their life together than showing off in front of others.

  That in no way implied they skimped on anything. He had denied her nothing in providing the trappings of a first-class wedding. The photographer floating about, capturing the moment, had been one of several top-flight professionals brought in to guarantee a wonderful experience for the couple. The dressmaker alone had been flown in from New York to provide Charlotte with a gown derived from her ancestor’s mother.

  “Lucky dog,” he heard RD say at his side as they both spotted Charlotte stepping off the back porch of the house.

  A vision in the gown he had just been thinking of, she seemed to float as she descended the steps and made her way to him. His eyes never left her as she closed the gap that separated them.

  ----*----

  “Ready dear?” Charlotte heard in her ear as the woman at her side squeezed her arm.

  A brief nod and a smile had her on her way. Descending the back-porch steps, arm in arm with her Aunt Victoria, Charlotte was careful not to tax the older woman’s balance. Victoria had been quite surprised when Charlotte had asked her, not only to attend the wedding as a witness, but to give her away as well. Her history with Charlie had been turbulent at best, however the Charlotte in her was desperate to reach out to family once more.

  Glancing out at the pier, her heart skipped a beat as she identified Robert standing between the two men at its end. There was something about seeing a handsome man, her man, in uniform that was both familiar and exciting to her. While the color seemed wrong in her head, expecting a gray uniform instead of the blue, her heart soared at what it represented. She warmed deep inside with an emotion familiar to Charlotte and alien to Charlie. In these surroundings she was finally coming home once more.

  “Lift your hem dear, or it will be soiled,” she heard Victoria whisper, referring to her wedding gown.

  Her off white, almost ivory dress had been recovered from one of the trunks bearing the CFW initials. One of the few items left from Charlotte’s mother, the garment had been lovingly stored away and only showed the slightest bit of age. The specialist Robert had brought in was amazed at its condition and together she and Charlotte had created from it the gown she now wore.

  Glancing away for the briefest moment to confirm she wasn’t dragging her gown, Charlotte locked eyes on her intended once more, the sight of him bringing a smile to her lips. Taking inventory as she walked, she recited the bridal rhyme in her head as she worked to steady her nerves.

  Something old was her dress, now almost 200 years in age, as Charlotte’s mom had worn it before her own marriage. Something new was the beautiful jeweled pendant around her neck, a wedding gift from Robert. Something borrowed was the pearl hair comb holding her hair back from her face, lent to her by her Aunt. The something blue was something only Robert would get to see once they returned to the privacy of their bedroom. Lastly, she could feel the penny in her shoe as it slid around while she walked.

  “Slowly dear, no need to rush, he isn’t going anywhere,” she heard Victoria whisper with laughter in her voice.

  She hadn’t realized she had picked up her pace once they reached the beginning of the pier. In rehearsal, she was instructed to use the music to pace her progress, but until this very moment she hadn’t realized it was playing. The sound of Pachelbel’s Cannon in D was softly filling the air all around her.

  Victoria’s hand gently steadied her own, the bouquet in her hands beginning to tremble as they took the final steps separating her from her intended. She could feel the flush in her cheeks as Robert extended his arm for her to take and Victoria released her hold on her. Her last act was to pass her bouquet to Victoria before taking Roberts hands.

  “Please face each other and repeat after me,” the Judge started after everyone had found their places.

  Charlotte barely heard the words from the Judge as she stared up into Roberts’s eyes, their hands locked together. She studies every part of the face before her, finding no fault in its chiseled exterior. As each spoke their vows, it surprised her to see the slightest hint of tearing in his eyes as he committed himself to her. In the relatively short time they had been together, she realized for the first time how much marrying her meant to him.

  When she spoke her reply, she heard her voice crack as she repeated the commitment, body and soul, to the man before her. With the exchange of rings, she felt him sweep her up in his arms, the kiss warm and soft on her lips as he held her to him. At that moment, she knew there was no one else for her but Robert.

  Author’s Notes

  Let me begin by saying that while this is a work of fiction, derived from my wife’s fear of haunted houses, many of the places and structures referenced do exist. As I began to assemble a storyline out of my flights of fancy, I discovered several of the things I made up were actually true.

  For example, I had no idea that, for a time, the St Johns River here in Florida was the second busiest waterway in America, second only to the Mississippi river. In the 1700s and early 1800s, before the railroad to the Keys was built, the main method of transportation in Florida was on the river. As many as 150 riverboats made their way up and down the St Johns, moving people and goods from one end of the state to the other.

  Landings along the river supported the local communities, acting as gathering points for those that needed to move their goods to market. There was also a huge lumber industry in that part of Florida, providing building materials for markets in the North and Europe. Multiple sawmills sprang up in and around Jacksonville, preparing the timber floated into town to be cut and loaded into seagoing vessels.

  Strawberry Plantation and Mill, part of a Spanish Land Grant to Francis Richard Jr., was purchased in 1840 by John Sammis before the Civil War. A northern sympathizer during the war, he moved north to avoid the threat of violence due to his beliefs. The family returned after the war and both he and his wife are buried in a local cemetery.

  The First Methodist Church does still stand on Duval Street and has been the victim of several fires over the decades. While today’s church looks nothing like the one built in the 1850’s, it retains parts of the original structure and resides in the same location.

  That brings us to the issue of construction and restoration. Although I have swung a hammer quite a bit over the years, working construction in the summers while attending school and on various projects since, it’s more of a hobby than a profession. Everything I reference in this story; I have either done or assisted in some fashion.

  My intent was to demonstrate the efforts required to build and restore without belaboring the point to the reader with trivial facts. It’s the details that make a difference in restoring vintage homes, and the effort required is frequently a labor of love. If you are ever privileged enough to know someone who does this for a living, you will know the paycheck is only part of the compensation for their work.

  Finally, we get to the Civil War. Not actually relevant to the story beyond its effects on the characters, it was not my intent to chronicle its activities. As I was researching the story, I co
ntacted a local historian, describing my novel and its relevance to the period. I was having difficulty finding accurate information on the 2nd Florida Confederate Cavalry (apparently there was a 2nd Florida on the Union side as well?).

  He asked me why I was going to such lengths for accuracy on a work of fiction. I replied that I try to be as accurate as possible when referring to real life events and places, as I hate to be called out on simple mistakes. He replied that when it comes to the Civil War, readers can be fanatics, and applauded my efforts. Beyond that I purposely avoided the more political aspects of the conflict.

  I should mention that all of the spiritual references were constructs of my own creation and are not representative of any known religion or belief that I am aware of. I had intended this to be a standalone tale, with no plan on a sequel. However, my editor, brilliant man that he is, pointed out the possibilities.

  It does give me a significant foundation to build on, with follow up adventures for Robert and Charlotte. I can now envision them chasing about the country and the world, her deep connection with the paranormal mated to his need to do the right thing.

  I should also mention that the inspiration for this story came from my wife. In considering the purchase of a new home, I was drawn to the most historic areas in town. I love the unique architecture and extensive woodwork so many still retain. Her resistance to the idea was strong and she finally confessed a fear of hauntings. We are still looking.

  I hope you enjoyed the story.