by Lynne, Loni
Trembling violently, like the weeds and brush around her, April sat crouched against the remaining foundation. Tears streaked down her cheeks as the scene replayed in her head. Her grandmother’s arms enclosed her, pulling her into her embrace. Small touches and gentle kisses covered her hair and face.
The scuffle of feet on gravel and dirt brought her head up from Dottie’s bosom to see James jump into the foundation pit. He looked as if he just ran a marathon. His eyes wild and skin covered in sweat, he glanced around at each woman before squatting down and brushing away a tear from her cheek.
“What the hell happened?” James once again looked to Dottie for an explanation.
Her grandmother only shook her head. “She phased. One minute she was here and the next her body just shimmered into…” Dottie looked to Vickie for a possible answer.
Vickie stood by, her brow furrowed with confusion as she waved her hands in an ancient, ritualistic manner over the area where she’d sensed the spirits. Her mother sat on the edge of the foundation cellar pit, staring down at her. An odd look of understanding and horror mixed into her normal business-like expression. April shuddered. Pure adrenaline and shock racked her body.
“Sweetie, I need to help Vickie.” Her grandma kissed her forehead and nodded to James, releasing her to his care while she went to converse quietly with her aunt.
James’s arms settled around her as he sat against the rock foundation and lifted her onto his lap. His security and strength was a balm to her shattered soul. His hand lightly pressed her head into his chest where the rhythmic thrumming of his heart lulled her gently back into a more controlled state. His lips brushed the crown of her head as his strong hands roamed over her back with reassuring strokes.
April wasn’t an emotional weakling and never allowed herself to cling to anyone. For the first time since becoming a woman, she never wanted this moment in James’s arms to end. She barely knew the man—she wasn’t even sure if he was real and yet here he was. Her rock.
“We need to get her out of here and back home,” her mother spoke up finally as she stood, brushing dirt from her pants, and offered Aunt Vickie her hand to help her out of the ruins. Aunt Vickie nodded her agreement as she was pulled up from inside the wall.
“Is the house any safer for her right now?” James asked.
Her grandmother pondered momentarily, looking to Vickie for guidance. “No. You’re absolutely right, James. The entity is probably still there, waiting to harm her.” She motioned for her daughter and Aunt Vickie to help her out of the shallow pit. “We have work to do before April can return to the house.” Raising her hand up to the others so they could give her a hand out of the foundation, grandma pulled herself up over the wall.
“What happened just now?” James asked. The hollow echo of his voice rumbled in his chest against April’s ear. “You said she phased…”
“I’m…I’m sorry,” April stuttered as the shock began to wear off. “I hadn’t expected it to be so…The last time I did it, I was caught in the image of a fire. I was unable to move as a beam fell and the house collapsed on us.”
“Us who?” James asked with confusion, putting her away from him so he could see her face. “What are you talking about?”
Shaking, April looked around at the barren ruins. “The young woman was tied up. Alive and struggling while the fire raged around us. The man was lying next to her unconscious or dead, I’m not sure which. I couldn’t move away from the wall. I could only watch. It was horrible.” April shuddered. She glanced up at the women she’d trusted since birth, searching for answers in their eyes. “Did everything I witness really happen?”
“What are you talking about, dear?” her grandmother asked gently. She turned to her sister. “Vickie, what is she talking about?”
Her aunt didn’t answer. She was busy concentrating on the area around them. April was able to get her bearings, thanks to the sturdy, solid strength of James. With a bit of assistance from both her mother and James, she raised herself out of the cellar foundation to stand beside the others. James followed, maneuvering his long legs up the field stone wall and grabbing at a protruding root. She looked at the four people standing around her. This was it.
“Lately, my gift of psychometry has taken on more than normal activity. I thought it had to do with my allergies, but I think it’s really happening. I sometimes don’t even have to touch an object—just be near an active haunting or a site of great historical importance.” She turned to her mother. “The longer I’m connected, the more intense everything becomes. I can see images, residuals of a specific past and they interact with me,” April confessed as she tried to stem her tears of confusion. The worried expressions on the other women’s faces didn’t help. They only intensified her fears. For the first time in her life April was scared of her abilities.
Aunt Vickie stepped forward taking her hand. April let her aunt’s fingers trace the lines in her palms, studying the natural etchings represented there. Giving it a reassuring squeeze, her aunt looked from her to James and back. A moment of interest crossed her face, giving way to a sad smile. “You did more than see them sweetie, you phased. Somehow you can step into their realm, like James stepped into yours.”
***
Aunt Vickie and Grandma Dottie returned to the house to cleanse the malevolent spirit while they sent James and her mother to help April shop for groceries. Still, something kept April from feeling right about her surroundings when they got home. The prickling of sensations, like being around a highly-charged electrical atmosphere, kept her rubbing the chills from her arms.
When she asked if the area was clear both women appeared doubtful. They only shrugged. Great, no one in her family knew. They were the only people in her world she could rely on for metaphysical or paranormal situations and they couldn’t help her.
As she lay across her bed, trying to focus on her research books, James busied himself with pecking questions into the internet about anything he wanted to find out. She’d spent a good hour showing him how to use the keyboard and mouse. Then she’d given him a list of historical eras he might find fascinating since his death. So far, he’d managed to keep himself amused.
April’s mind wandered. What did her aunt mean when she said, she phased? Her mother hadn’t wanted to talk about what happened at the mill site after they’d left. But she needed answers. Had she actually ‘stepped’ into another realm from the past? Was there a reason she could witness what she had?
She needed to bury herself back into her research. Besides, if she concentrated on her job, she wouldn’t think about her connection to the ghosts and it wouldn’t affect her. Yeah and the National Deficit would go away overnight, too. She didn’t need to get behind on her original purpose for being in Kings Mill though.
Again, she feared the task was hopeless. When James took a break from surfing the net, she’d taken a moment to check her messages. Kenneth’s reply from her earlier email had come through. He was ecstatic about her revelation of documents being transferred to lawyers and he would look into it from his end. But he was curious to know where she’d found the information. She hadn’t thought about that. Could she pretend ignorance and say she never got his email?
Two hours later, April hadn’t found anything more to go on. This was ridiculous! Researching through information was better done with a peaceful atmosphere. She couldn’t concentrate at all. A part of her wanted time to be alone and think clearly. The other part of her didn’t want to be left alone after what had happened in her ghostly attack.
April closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her lids, rubbing the tension away before opening them to a blurry view. Frustration and pent up energy had finally won out over her focus and intelligence. She closed her books, marking the pages with her various notes. Gathering them up, she placed them on the bedside table and began to pace.
“Are you all right?” James asked, looking up from the lap top.
She ran her fingers through her hair
, untying her braid and letting it loose. “Am I all right?” She snorted. “I’ve managed to change the laws of nature by bringing a dead man to life. I touch ruins and see ghosts who are suffering intolerable fates. What’s even more troubling is they see me and think I can help them. I can’t! And you ask me if I’m all right?” Walking to the edge of the room, April lightly banged her forehead against the papered wall in frustration.
Gentle hands enclosed her shoulders, turning her around to face a solid chest. Warm lips brushed her bangs, the edge of her temple.
“I can’t shake the images, James. They were so real.”
He stroked her back, lovingly. “It was real. You were there, according to your grandmother and aunt. I know what you went through. I’ve experienced it for over two hundred years.”
“You’ve seen it? You’ve seen the manor house like I did?” April looked up into smoky gray eyes. She loved how James’s eyes changed with his moods. Right now they were a soft, wispy color but the other night, while sharing his embrace, they were steel blue.
“No. Not the manor house. I see the fields and the workers—just as I did when I was alive. I’ve even witnessed my execution. The first time it happened I was in the same state of shock you are in and knew I couldn’t do anything to change it.”
“Do you interact with the others in your realm?”
“There are no others. I can see them but they don’t know I’m there.”
“Then why is the young woman in my sightings trying to talk to me?” April asked more to herself than James.
“Is it because of your gift? Perhaps she’s asking for help, somehow sensing you have the ability to help her. I guess we just need to find out how to help her. Who is she?”
“I don’t know. I’ve seen her twice in the manor cellar. Once when she was tied up and the house was on fire and then today when she was trying to protect the young man from the other man’s beating.”
“I didn’t have any women in the manor. A few of the men working my lands were married, but women never came out to the house…except…
His brow creased. “Describe these people you saw.”
April hesitated. What if he knew these people who’d died? What would he think? It really didn’t matter anymore. They would all be long gone, even if they had lived full lives. “The young woman was a bit shorter than me, with dainty features and blonde hair. I would venture to guess she was somewhere in her late teens, early twenties.”
April gave as much detail as she could remember about the three people. The young woman who interacted with her and the villainous man were easy to describe. But she hadn’t gotten a good look at the younger man other than to know he was younger and probably died from the knock to his head before the fire could claim his life.
She didn’t have a lot to go on and watched James’s brow crinkle as he tried to remember faces, the people from so many centuries ago. His face cleared and his eyes opened wide. “I know who your woman is. There is only one woman I would know by that description. Your ghost is Catherine Samuel, Henry’s wife.” His brow crinkled in confusion. “But what in bloody hell would she be doing in my cellar?”
***
The soft sound of April’s deep, even breaths alerted James she’d finally drifted off to sleep. He kept to his word and wasn’t leaving her side. The day’s activities had left her exhausted. His eyes adjusted to the night. He hoped to spot some clue that might tell him who or what dared to bother her. But he was met with only darkness.
Her soft hand rested on his chest. A sigh of contentment escaped her lips but damned if he could sleep with this woman so close to him. April insisted he sleep in the bed with her and not on a pile of blankets on the hard floor. How ironic she would choose a simple linen shift to wear as her night clothing. Did she think such an unbecoming piece of fabric would deter him from wanting her? Hardly! She could wear a grain sack and he would still want her.
Fully clothed in the jeans and a shirt he’d worn all day, he wasn’t comfortable. James slept au naturel when he was alive but would be damned if he did so now with April lying there, tempting him. She wasn’t one of his tarts from the local pub, nor a widowed matron looking for a reminder of sexual fulfillment. April was much more to him.
Was it because he’d been alone for so long? No, it was something deeper he couldn’t put a finger on. Was it sexual? Two hundred thirty-eight years of celibacy prompted him to say ‘yes.’ But if that were the case, he would have taken her up on her offer last night. In his past, he wouldn’t have hesitated.
You’re losing your touch, James Addison.
April shifted and sighed. She flipped over onto her stomach and snuggled into her pillow. Taking a deep breath, James groaned inwardly. Having her in such close proximity made things hard. He glanced down at the lower half of his body. He didn’t need to visualize his state of discomfort to know it was there. It ached and throbbed against the stiff material of the pants.
Think about something else.
Closing his eyes, he tried to envision the characters April described to him. The only young, blonde woman he knew was Catherine. She fit the description. But he still couldn’t figure out what she would have been doing in the cellar. Had she been lured down there by the man who’d killed her? Who was the man? Could it have been one of his field hands looking to attack her? Had chaos ensued at the mill once he was executed?
Where was Daniel during this time? Daniel would have escorted Catherine safely about the manor, like always. He wouldn’t have let danger befall her. Could the young man who’d been bludgeoned been Daniel? God, he hoped not! It was bad enough to imagine Catherine being burned alive, but not Daniel, too. James shuddered at the thought.
Who would have wanted to hurt Catherine? She was a saint. She came to the mill with her maid to purchase her flour and grains directly from him once every other week. In return, she brought her delicious, freshly baked scones, cream, and jams to share. James looked forward to those visits. Catherine’s scones and her sweet, timid disposition reminded him a bit of home and his little sister, Elsbeth. James always made sure Daniel escorted her and her maid safely back home after each visit.
Catherine being Henry’s bride didn’t sit well with James—never had. Henry Samuel was one lucky bastard to have acquired such a sweet girl. Rumors swirled of Henry having won Catherine’s indenture in a card game from a plantation owner along the Chesapeake. Henry was much older than Catherine. His tastes in sexual activities were questionable. Many a night in the taverns, Henry would boast of his pursuits. He spoke of various mistresses on the side. James thought the stories just ramblings of an inebriated sot. But many of James’s women mentioned hearing of the man’s harsh treatment of their friends.
One never questioned another man’s relationship with his wife. Besides, his association with Henry was pure commerce. They rarely conversed outside of business and casual pleasantries.
April gave a startled jolt, bringing him out of his musings. She didn’t wake but flipped over again, tossing her head frantically from side to side as if in the midst of a bad dream. Propping himself up on an elbow, James reached over to soothe her. A chilly spot of air met his hand as he went to touch her, but it dissipated as he caressed her arm.
Her brow arched and relaxed in slumber as her breathing returned to normal. Perhaps she caught a chill from the sudden breeze. Moving the pillow she’d thrown to the side in her tossing, he gave in and wrapped her in his embrace. This was strictly for medicinal purposes—he was keeping her warm with his natural body heat. Good thing Mr. Levi Strauss made a strong material for his trousers. It was going to be a long, hard night.
***
James must have dozed off. April shook him awake. She leaned over him, her eyes wide.
“Did you hear that?” she asked, biting her bottom lip.
James rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What?”
“The woman crying. It must be the ghost Aunt Vickie told us about.”
“I don’t
hear anything. Are you sure?” Of course she was sure, you imbecile! She comes from a long line of ghost enchantresses and brought your sorry arse to life. He strained his hearing to catch on to what she heard but he heard nothing, only the quiet emptiness of the room.
She reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. He blinked his eyes to adjust to the brightness. Throwing her covers off, April scurried quickly around the room until she located her lamb booties and slipped them on her feet.
“Where are you going?” He asked, forcing himself awake.
“I want to see who she is. And see if there is anything my family can do to help her. I’m surprised Aunt Vickie hasn’t tried since she’s lived here.” She threw her robe around her and pulled her long, amber hair out from under the collar. Tilting her head in the direction of the other room, her eyes widened. “She’s sobbing hysterically now.” April studied him with curiosity. “You don’t hear that at all?”
“April, you shouldn’t do this. You should wait for your mother…”
“My mother can’t handle ghosts. I don’t want to stress her out any more than she is. Just being in this house is giving her migraines.”
“What about your grandmother. We can wake her up,” James offered. He really didn’t want April dealing with a possible ghost on her own—not after what had happened to her so far. Could she bring other ghosts back to life if she didn’t know any better, like she’d done with him?
“Fine. Wake Grams up if you feel the need to. I’m going to check on our crying woman.”
James hoped Dottie was a light sleeper. April was getting in way over her head.
Chapter Twelve
The hallway was empty. Goosebumps dotted April’s arms as she neared the bedroom door. Should she knock? What was the protocol for barging in on a ghost?
A sudden creaking of the door on its hinge made April wince. Well, if she wanted to approach the weeping woman with stealth, the plan just went to Hell. Peeking around the door, with one eye closed, she was greeted by the vision of a startled woman. The young woman maneuvered quickly from her sitting position at the large secretary desk in the corner of the room, to stand defiantly in front of it. Was she trying to hide something? The ghostly vision looked directly at her.