by Lynne, Loni
“Dottie,” Aunt Vickie cautioned, “don’t add to it.” She expelled a heavy breath. “I think we are all overcome emotionally right now. We need to meditate and focus our positive energies elsewhere. I for one have a book to read before my next book club meeting.”
“I agree, Vickie. I’m going to go work on the afghan I’ve been trying to finish up for the church Christmas bazaar next month.” Grandma Dottie looked to Virginia who still had a knot of tension etched into the lines of her face. “Virginia, get out of the house. Just go find something to focus your thoughts elsewhere.”
“Yeah, this house is driving me insane. I can’t fight these damn headaches.” She rubbed at her head. “I’m going to the movies. Anyone want to go with me?” She looked pointedly at April.
April shook her head, partially because she didn’t want any more lectures from her mother right now. She was still furious with her from earlier. But she also had work to do. “No thanks. I want to go through some more of those files today.”
“I thought Beth was going to be working at the old office today?” James commented.
“She is, but she gave me an extra key to the back door to use at my leisure. I just don’t want to sit around here when I could be using the time to hunt down those documents.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You interested in helping me with the tedious task?”
He seemed to ponder his options. “Reading, knitting, movies, or keeping my eye on a headstrong, beautiful woman by doing something tedious and mundane—I opt for the latter, just because I know she’s bound to find some mischief to get into.”
“Well, it didn’t take long for him to figure you out, April,” her mother said.
She was taken aback. It might have been the first kind words her mother had spoken regarding James. Was the infamous James Addison’s charm beginning to work on the uptight Virginia Wilton-Branford? That would be the day!
***
Sitting on the floor surrounded by the various boxes and bundles of documentation pertaining to the history of Kings Mill was as monotonous as she’d thought. She did find some interesting articles and tid-bits of old information that might be of value to the society in general. Just nothing on James Addison, or Henry Samuel.
No, all the files were still too recent to help with her specific research. James wasn’t having any better luck. She’d shown him how to gently handle the documents so the oils from their fingers didn’t deteriorate the paper fibers. The violet colored latex gloves didn’t put his masculinity in the best light though. He browsed through old scrap books and documents, sorting them by year/decade/century into piles on the lower row of file drawers bisecting the room.
“There you are. Your aunt said I could find you knee deep in history over here.” Beth breezed in, removing her camel colored winter coat and hat. “Anything?” She nodded towards their work piles.
“Nothing of interest for me,” April sighed. “But there are some interesting historically sound articles and letters. I started a pile for the Civil War period. They’re mostly letters from soldiers when they were away at war. I found newsprint articles about some of the local battles and even a few recipes for ‘Johnny Cake’ and hard tack. But nothing about the mill.”
“Well, there is a heck of a lot of Civil War history in these parts, as close as we are to Gettysburg and Antietam, not to mention various smaller battles around South Mountain. I’m thinking of dedicating at least a good portion of the exhibit to the era. But nothing on James Addison?”
“Nope.” April shook her head.
Beth pulled over one of the brand new folding chairs and sat down heavily. “Sometimes I wonder if the man really existed.”
“Oh, he did. Trust me,” James piped up from his corner.
“Hello Jim. I didn’t see you over there.”
He waved at her and returned his interest to some black and white photos of stone-faced families.
“I’m sensing some negativity, Beth.” April looked up from sorting through another loosely tied bundle of random letters. “Long day? Trouble with more contractors?”
“How about ‘no James Addison’?”
“What?” April perked up. What did this mean? Was Beth trying to tell her he never even existed?
“It’s the festivities. We have no re-enactor to play James Addison for the next few weeks. The man I had on retainer from last year called me today to inform me he’s been offered a job out in Texas and won’t be able to do the job. He leaves for Dallas this weekend.”
“You had him on retainer and he’s leaving? How crappy!”
“It’s in his contract he has to pay back any wages he was offered if he couldn’t honor his obligations. What I am worried about is I have tours, social teas, and of course the ‘execution’ of our local legend, and no guest of honor,” she sighed heavily. “It kind of defeats the whole purpose of the event.
“This is a major highlight to Kings Mill’s economy. The stores downtown are open for business, there is an influx of interest in the history, restaurants hold special events where James Addison makes special appearances—it’s phenomenal the turnout. For the past few years since we put this event into place it’s grown in stature and grandeur. We have some pretty influential people attending this year.”
Including one Kenneth Miles, April thought to herself. But she wasn’t allowed to announce anything for fear of too much paparazzi and reporters.
“It does sound rather entertaining. I think James Addison would have enjoyed himself at such an ado—taking tea with the local ladies, drinking ale at the taverns with his local business acquaintances, offering toasts to the tavern wenches…” James relayed knowingly as he rose from his cramped confines, stretched out his legs, and cracked his back with a twist or two of his torso. His voice trailed off though as Beth eyed him inquisitively.
“Did I say something wrong, Dr. Freelane?”
“No Jim, I think you said everything just right.” Her eyebrow quirked mischievously as she looked at April. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Dr. Branford?”
April looked at Beth who was accenting her professional moniker for a reason. She followed Beth’s interest back to James.
“Wouldn’t he be ideal for the role?” Beth gushed. “He has the accent down pat, his manner and physique are perfect. I might have to have Ana let out some of the costumes though as the other guy was a bit thinner, not as muscular in build.” She walked around James, inspecting him as James looked helplessly to April for direction.
“Actually, if you were to compare the portrait of James Addison we have on file with Jim, there is an uncanny resemblance.”
April stood up from her position among the papers and folded her arms across her chest. “Are you saying Jim could play the part of James Addison?”
“That is exactly what I am saying!” Beth turned to Jim. “How about it? What do you think?”
“Umm…I’m…kind of at a loss…”
April stepped in. “What Jim is saying is he is without papers right now. He can’t actually work in the states—he had his wallet stolen when he arrived. I’ve taken him under my wing until we can get things sorted out and new identification cards, visas and such taken care of.”
“…and I’m unsure how long I will be here truthfully,” James added.
“It’s a temporary position. Only until the seventeenth,” Beth said. “As it is, your situation works out perfectly. I’m going to have to do this out of pocket because until the other guy’s contract is voided out legally and financially, the historical society doesn’t have the funds or approval of the board to pay another employee.”
James looked to April, still unsure. She shrugged in a positive way.
“I won’t be able to offer benefits, and it will be strictly in cash. Consider it a bit of spending money until you get your wallet replaced.”
James piped up. “How much for the position?”
When Beth gave them the numbers—a more than generous amount for taking on an
unknown for a two-week stint—April wished she could play the part of James Addison.
But this would work out very nicely. She knew James was having a difficult time dealing with his lack of funds and living off of her. Though truthfully the man wasn’t much of an expense, she could claim him as a business write off—historical research.
“So what does the job entail?” James asked as the deal was struck.
“You’ll wear period costumes we’ve designed from the time period—something compatible with what a man of James Addison’s character would have worn. Attend three social afternoon teas at the historic Kings Mill Inn, give two tours a day, once in the morning and once in the late afternoon, and then there is the final event, of course, the dramatization of James Addison’s execution.”
April noticed James’s body quiver involuntarily. “Nothing is going to happen—it’s just for pretend. You don’t have to do this, Jim, if you’re not comfortable.”
He nodded for her benefit, sharing the knowledge he understood. “No. James Addison would have wanted to support Kings Mill. He always did. I should honor the tradition, in his name.”
Beth’s smile couldn’t be blown off with a bazooka. She clasped her hands together tightly and did a very unprofessional little dance of gratitude. The older woman looked like a contestant on a game show winning an all expense paid trip to Europe.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You have no idea how much this means. This is going to save my butt! I owe you guy’s big time,” she gushed and began to pace. “Okay, I need to make arrangements with Ana for your fittings, see to the events at the Inn…” She began ticking things off an imaginary list in her head. “Wait! We need to go over your historical information on Kings Mill from the colonial period. I want to make sure you authenticate the tour with the history. Are you available?”
April wanted to laugh. James could teach Beth about the history of colonial Kings Mill. After all, he’d lived it. Tilting her head in Beth’s direction, she nodded to James. “Go ahead and do what you need to start your ‘job,’ James Addison. I’m just going to be here looking for your signature on some old documents of yours,” she teased.
Oh, this was going to be an interesting couple of weeks for Kings Mill!
Chapter Fourteen
“…All I am saying, Dottie, is April should let us know every detail she encounters.”
Dinner was sitting heavy on her now that they were walking to the city park. She was actually going to do this. She was going to ‘touch the tree’ and see if it would transport her into the other realm. April had finally convinced her grandmother and great-aunt to listen to reason. The elm tree was the only way she had to connect with the past, to find the truth to James’s execution.
With James heavily ensconced in his role of himself for Kings Mill’s festivities, now was the perfect opportunity. He was out and about, enjoying an evening entertaining the guests of some of the older taverns he’d frequented back in 1774. She’d attended one to see him at work last night, the Old Town Tavern, in which he told the story of Millie…and the other maid.
He’d done an excellent job, she had to admit. The guests had found his tales and details of the past so realistic many of them had stopped eating and conversing to follow his every move. He hammed it up the more the audience responded. Being able to share his life with others, James glowed with happiness. He was a great story teller and stand-up comedian as he reflected on a bygone era. Not to mention he had every female eye on him in the traditional costume he’d been wearing when they’d first met.
April found herself just as immersed, until he spoke of the ménage. The other guests laughed at his humorous pride at having two women fighting over him. He preened and flaunted his charms—revealing the James Addison of the past, no doubt, and his great conquests.
As much as she’d found his telling of the stories fascinating, she’d been jealous as hell. How could she compete with the bawdy act he’d been famous for? Had it actually been true? Did he follow through? He never said. If it was, was he still into such things? When they got home, she took it upon herself to try to impart, in vivid detail, that he would no longer need another woman as long as he lived. Her face flamed at the memory of last night’s escapade. She’d never made love against a wall before.
She turned her attention back on her aunt and grandmother who were arguing over her paranormal issues. This was not how she wanted this night to go. She had a limited window of time to get this done without James finding out. Her mother was staying home suffering another migraine and didn’t want to be bothered.
It bothered April though. Why didn’t her mother accept her gift and try to work with it—if not for the ghosts, then at least to relieve the damn headaches. Grandma Dottie was running out of her potions and herbs and they weren’t going away.
“I am not saying anything to the contrary, Vickie. But she’s not aware of what she’s seeing. Her realm is different than ours. We can’t see her ghosts, except for James, but he’s a solid entity now.” Dottie got side tracked but came back. “All we can do is feel the energy of our surroundings. Most of what we’ve encountered has been malevolent, from the house to the ruined remains. April is actually witnessing and being drawn into the past.” She stopped walking and focused her attention on April.
Her aunt stopped too and was looking from Dottie to her, trying to clue in on why her sister stopped with sudden interest.
“What?” April looked from one mentor to the other. “What did I do now?”
“I’m wondering.” Dottie turned to her sister. “Victoria, do you remember mother mentioning someone with a similar situation? Wasn’t it Mother’s friend Maggie? They ended up institutionalizing the poor soul. Maggie had the ability to see the past play out before her at certain times but could never interact.”
Great! Was she going to end up being institutionalized, too?
“This might be what’s happening to April.” Vickie nodded. “Then perhaps the key would be to find someone in the other realm able to ‘see’ you and interact with you.”
“What then? Wouldn’t it disrupt history? Think of the dire impact it would have,” April added.
“You’re right about disrupting history, dear. But there might be a way to document certain incidents for the history books without changing the past. That is what you want, just to find out the actual truth behind history’s greatest mysteries,” Dottie replied with a thoughtful look as they continued on to the park.
“Grams, someone from the other time period would have to be the one to document it.”
“Or they would have to leave enough clues for the historians and archeologists to piece together the truth. You say Catherine Samuel is somehow trying to communicate with you? Would there be a way to get her to leave clues?” Aunt Vickie smiled deviously.
April thought about the chatelaine Catherine had tried to throw to her at the ruins. The ghost was trying to tell her something. She needed the chatelaine. “I think she already is.”
***
The mood turned somber as the elm tree came into view. As much as April needed to do this, how would it affect her relationship with James? If he were to find out, how pissed would he be? Did the man have a temper? Other than his bluff and bluster over forbidding her to do this, he really didn’t seem the type of person to harm another. But if she could find some clues, maybe talk with Catherine’s ghost, if she was there tonight, then it would be worth it.
“Now, we will be here with you but try and stay in the past. Don’t lose your connection. Listen to us if you can and follow our orders. We may or may not be able to sense what is going on,” Aunt Vickie lectured.
“I know. I’m ready.” She gave her aunt and grandmother a nervous smile. Now she understood what her mother dealt with. The uncertainty frightened her. If it weren’t for James needing her help she might be running in the opposite direction, too.
Removing her glove she studied the tree. April turned to her family one more tim
e. Aunt Vickie nodded, indicating they were ready as she and Grams joined hands and closed their eyes, preparing themselves for their own interactions. Placing her bare hand on the tree, April took a deep breath and held on.
A shock of pain took hold as her body was physically forced to turn and view what her ears couldn’t hear. The image of Catherine Samuel flashed before her. The ghostly figure seemed momentarily indecisive and then stepped into her. April twitched with the woman’s soul manifesting in her, taking over her physical form.
A strong scent of spring time lilac, even in the midst of winter’s death surrounded her, became a part of her. April could hear and see everything happening around her! The sounds of the past came to life. April could hear the roar of a crowd, the vibrations of feet stomping as the people egged the prisoner forward to his ultimate demise. History was actually taking shape before her eyes.
Mobs of people crowded around them. Torches and bonfires in the middle of the town square and along the streets lit the night. A figure cloaked and on horseback, wearing black breeches and a white shirt caked with dirt was bound and brought under the outstretched branches of the tree. The hood obscured his identity but she could tell by the proud stance he could only be James. Even facing his death he sat tall, defying those who sentenced him on the block. They placed the noose over his hood and cinched it tightly to his throat. April gasped internally. Her physical host, Catherine, gave a startled scream.
A harsh voice whispered into her ear as she was held firmly in place. “Silence, wife! Look at him! See what you have done! It’s because of you, whore, that the man sits and awaits his ultimate dishonor and death.”
April could actually hear her assailant, his hot, fetid breath on her face. She knew the stench—from the day in her bedroom and again the other night. Her hand remained attached to the tree, and just like at the manor house, she couldn’t move it. Henry Samuel was actually forcing her, holding her jaw steady, to watch the gruesome event about to take place.