by Lynne, Loni
Her mother didn’t get far before her grandmother came out of the house, looking faint and weakened. April tried to step forward to go to them but her legs were so unstable she ended up clutching a ‘No Parking’ sign for support. She watched as the two women she loved the most embrace each other and hobble over to where she tried to stand on her own.
Her grandmother took a deep, cleansing breath before she tried to talk. “He’s alive in his realm…and he’s pissed. I suppose I would be too, having just witnessed my own death.” She looked to the house as if she wanted to beat the entity messing with them with her fists, and then glared reproachfully at her.
April didn’t want to comprehend what her grandmother was saying. But somehow she knew this was in direct connection to something she’d done. Her grandmother wasn’t happy at all. What had she done though? Was it Henry or someone else causing all the commotion in the house? She didn’t do anything!
“Who’s dead, Mom?” her mother asked, looking from one to the other.
“Henry Samuel. He was the man who fell down the stairs. He died of a broken neck. But his residual spirit just witnessed his own death for the first time in two hundred and thirty-eight years and he is pissed! But he’s even more angry over having been disturbed from his eternal rest.” Her grandmother looked directly at her. “What did you do to wake his spirit, April Branford?”
***
“I didn’t know I brought his spirit back to life! I was just taking a sketch of his tombstone and…wait! I felt a shock, like a charge of static electricity. James showed up about the same time as a ghost and I forgot all about it.” She looked up in terror. “I didn’t know I released his spirit by touching his tombstone.” April stumbled over her words as her family and James sat in the round, secluded booth of a sports bar sharing an appetizer platter. “You’re saying I released him into his own realm? How is it even possible?”
Her grandmother looked to Aunt Vickie. “You explain it, Vickie. You have more knowledge on the intricacies of live energy.”
Aunt Vickie thought for a moment, swallowing her bite of chip and salsa and washing it down with a margarita. “Ghosts exist in a realm of their own time. Take James, for instance. He was in a specific space of time for two-hundred thirty-eight years where he couldn’t interact with others. Don’t ask me why. I don’t think anyone knows. It might have something to do with exact times of death.” She waved the thought away, trying to focus on the topic at hand.
“But when ghosts come into contact with high levels of live energy, they soak it up and use it to manifest, either into a higher level of consciousness and physical awareness or…possibly back to life.” She motioned to James.
Up to this point, April wasn’t aware of anything she’d done. Everything, touching the manor walls, taking etchings of tombstones, they were a part of what she’d always done in her research. But what Aunt Vickie told her made sense. How could she have known just a simple touch, something she’d done all of her life, would turn history upside down?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I’d done anything wrong.” April slumped smaller into the booth as she shredded her chicken finger into stringy bits. “But why now? What is so special about this point in time where I’m suddenly making ghosts come to life and phasing into history? I just don’t understand.”
“I, for one, am glad you didn’t know what you were doing at the time,” James piped up, giving her a reassuring smile. His hand rested warmly on her thigh, caressing and giving her his blessing.
Grandma Dottie glared warily at her. “Yes, well—we take the good with the bad. Unfortunately the bad is really bad since we don’t understand the entity we’re dealing with or the world they reside in. Because many don’t have a social conscience any more, they play by their own rules.”
Aunt Vickie nudged her sister. “Dottie, give the girl a break. We were given our entire life to understand our gifts. She’s only had a week. I remember you playing tag with childhood ghosts when company came over. Mom would sigh and explain you had imaginary friends to people who questioned your behavior. You blamed them for small incidents, like breaking Mom’s favorite vase.”
“This is different! Henry doesn’t give a damn about vases and playing practical jokes. He’s angry. My guess is he did something he doesn’t want the history books to know about and April is getting too close to the truth.”
Her mother sighed heavily, shaking her head and wiping her face with her napkin. “This is why I had to slap your hands every time you went into a museum, April. You were compelled to touch objects from the past no matter what significance they had. Now do you understand why I was a basket case?”
Aunt Vickie cut into a mozzarella stick and dipped it in the marinara sauce. “Virginia, you had no more idea of her ability than she did. None of us knew what to expect from April,” Aunt Vickie defended her against her mother. “Well, now we know. Unfortunately this whole situation is not good since none of us really know what we are dealing with.”
April took a healthy sip of her margarita. It was going to take more than alcohol to calm her nerves. The three women had peppered her with questions since Aunt Vickie came home shortly after the incident and they were still at it. The questions had stopped briefly when they picked James up from the Historical Society, but he’d wanted to know what was going on when the silence in the car finally grew awkward. After filling him in, the questions started all over again.
Embarrassment and frustration ate through her gut. She hadn’t done anything intentionally. All she was trying to do was her job. How was she to know her gift would get in the way—now of all times! But it was nothing she could control. Suddenly her life seemed to be going in a direction guided by something or someone else. Her episode with Henry’s grave had led to finding out about James, which led her to his grave and bringing him to life. Would she change what she’d done?
She glanced over to see James biting into a jalapeno popper. He was trying to figure out how to bite off the string of melted cheese inside in a delicate manner. The hot, stringy mass broke off between his teeth and landed on his hand. Dropping the popper onto the plate, he tried to wash down the heat scorching his tongue and making his eyes water with his lager. April fought back a smile and lost. No, she wouldn’t change a moment of time.
“It’s a bit spicy,” James whispered as he regained his ability to speak.
Grandma Dottie shook her head with mirth and continued on with their situation at hand. “When I saw the whole ghostly encounter today I was able to catch glimpses of what Henry was dealing with. He was frightened upon seeing his death take place. I watched him staring up at the top of the stairs from where he’d fallen with a look of fear. I think his entity is trying to comprehend his death, like James must have the first time you witnessed your death scene. He was content in his afterlife until he was forced back into a realm he doesn’t understand. Now he’s angry about not knowing how or why he died.”
“So what does he want?” Aunt Vickie asked, sipping her margarita.
“Justice, whatever that means,” Grandma Dottie replied.
James scoffed. His face flushed as his lips thinned out. “You tell the bloody bastard to bring it on! He wants justice? I’ll give him a piece of my justice.” James punctuated every phrase with his finger poking violently into the hard wood of the table. He looked around and lowered his voice.
“I don’t think he knows you are here, James. It’s probably better if he doesn’t. Still, I got the feeling he didn’t like seeing the paperwork spread out on the table either. He threw the tantrum and sent the energy vortex. I would have a care around him, April. He knows what you are up to. But he’s not only angry about that, more, he wants revenge on whoever shoved him down the stairs,” Grandma Dottie continued.
“Could it have been an accident??” April asked. She sat back in the booth, trying to comprehend everything. “He could have tripped and fallen.”
“No, from the look on his face, he was terrified w
hen he looked up the stairs, as if seeing someone unexpectedly.” Grandma Dottie reached across the table and took her hand. “You need to take it easy, April. I don’t know what we are truly dealing with around Henry Samuel. You will not be left alone at all. I don’t want you near his tombstone or anywhere else Henry might manifest from.”
“I need to solve this case, Grams. Everything happened because of me. If I have to face Henry Samuel to get to the bottom of James’s death and to find out the truth on his property then I will just get it over with. Henry will just have to deal. James is relying on me…”
James stopped her with an adamant shake of his head. “Not at the risk of your life or health. I won’t let you do this unless you are positive you’ll be safe.”
“Your future is at stake. My future is at stake. I’m supposed to have something positive to report to Kenneth Miles.” April threw her hands up in frustration.
“Kenneth Miles can go to the devil for all I care! If he’s so damn rich, he can buy something else. No job is worth your life, April. We’ll be fine as long as you promise to stay away from Henry. If he can have me killed, I’m afraid of what he may do to you.”
Aunt Vickie held up her hand for calm. “There’s no need for anything to be changed right now. April is right. The best thing is to continue solving this case. Otherwise if we walk away now, having brought forth all the spirits, we could leave a mess no one can handle. April, Virginia, you’ve both been in contact with Catherine, right?” she asked.
“I can only see her. I can’t hear her,” April commented with a bit of frustration.
Her mother piped up, sharing a smile with April. “But I can hear her. Between the two of us, we’ll be able to communicate.”
Her mother was willing to face her fear to help her? April couldn’t help but feel as if a possible bond was forming between them after years of silent animosity. The one thing tearing them apart was now going to bring them closer together. Remembering her confession the other night made this moment extra special. The pause of shocked silence from her grandmother and aunt made sharing a smile with her mother really special. It was their secret.
“Really, Virginia? Are you ready to focus on communicating with a ghost?” her aunt asked.
“She did pretty well with her focus and separation today out at Lilac Grove.” Grandma Dottie beamed proudly. “I think she can. If she’s ready.”
April knew it would be difficult for her mother and didn’t want to put any undue stress on her. Her mom’s offer of assistance really was a first step in acceptance. “Mom, I don’t want you to do this if you’re not comfortable. I can find another way. I can rent the electric voice phenomenon recorder over at the ghost tour shop. I can use it to communicate with Catherine.”
“April, you wouldn’t be able to get a clear understanding of what she’s trying to say. You would have to ask direct yes or no questions for her to respond to. EVP recorders are good for finding out if there is an entity present, but we already know she’s there. No, I recommend we communicate with Catherine directly.”
“But if Henry is being an ass—he won’t let us anywhere in the house again,” James commented.
“Leave that to me,” Aunt Vickie said finishing off a buffalo wing and wiping her fingers. “He wants to fight—I’ve been known to kick a few balls in my time. Ghost or no, he’s never dealt with Victoria Snyder. I don’t care if it was his house. It’s mine now.”
April noticed James squirming in the booth at the mention of having balls kicked. She could tell he didn’t wish the injury on anyone, friend or foe. “It’s all right, James. It’s just a figure of speech. She’s not going to kick him in the balls.”
Chapter Nineteen
James was thankful they weren’t returning to the house tonight. Not with an insane ghost lurking. Vickie insisted on purchasing two suites at a local inn, making sure he and April had their own room. They had all spent the better part of an hour going over how they were going to try and make contact with Catherine and what they would do if Henry came along, too. Actually, James didn’t want to let any of these women deal with Henry on their own, or collectively. He just didn’t know how to stop them without getting kicked in the testicles himself if he tried to get in their way.
“I forgot,” April gasped as she readied herself for the night.
James let her borrow his colonial shirt to wear for bed and it hung off of her, dwarfing her small, delicate frame in white muslin. She looked so damn cute. She’d untied her braid and her auburn hair cascaded around her like a flowing cape. James lost himself in viewing her sitting on her knees in the middle of the bed, looking so sensual. One creamy shoulder became exposed as the material slipped down, off of her arm.
“What’s wrong?” He smiled, taking a cautious sip from the cola April retrieved from the nearby soda machine for him. He still wasn’t quiet used to the fizzy concoction, but he liked the taste.
“I forgot I was going to stop in and see Beth about the chatelaine she found in the excavation. I think it might have been Catherine’s.” April tapped her finger against her lips. Her eyes took on a faraway look as if deep in thought.
“Chatelaine?” What the hell was a chatelaine? He didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.
“They weren’t called chatelaines in your time. A woman kept small instruments attached to a brooch or pinned on her ladies aprons. Usually keys to the house or pantries, sewing needles…”
He didn’t want to talk about keys, or ladies aprons, or ghosts. Truthfully, he could care less. He placed his soda on the side table and sat down next to her on the bed. Damn but she was fetching in his shirt! He tugged at the criss-crossing laces at the collar.
“You mean those keys Catherine had dangling from her apron strings? I used to tease her and call her Henry’s Keeper. I should get a chatelaine for you because you hold the key to my heart.”
“You are a smooth talker, James Addison.” April smiled teasingly. She sat on her knees, the length of his shirt hiding her thighs. “How many women have fallen for that line?”
“None so far.”
April cocked a brow. “How many times have you used it?”
“In which lifetime?” James asked as he began stalking her across the large bed on his hands and knees. He was feeling animalistic tonight. They hadn’t followed through with their session last night but he was more than ready tonight. No ghosts, no papers, nothing but her naked beneath him.
April backed up warily towards the pillows at his approach, her green eyes wide with coyness. He was a fierce wolf, stalking his mate. He growled, low in his throat.
“Both,” she whispered on a gasp as he slid his hands up under his shirt.
Dear God, she wasn’t wearing any drawers! He groaned inwardly.
“Once. Just now.” James’s mouth came down on hers as his hands removed the linen from her body. This bed would be their mating ground for the night.
***
Going back to Aunt Vickie’s was their first item on the morning agenda. The women felt more secure going into the house with a man’s presence, even though James couldn’t do much to help.
Vickie took it upon herself to cautiously check inside. After what seemed like forever she emerged saying the coast was clear. She placed a protective spell on the immediate area but couldn’t promise how long it might last if Henry showed up again.
April gathered the notes and documents scattered about the main floor of the house. James grabbed a pair of latex gloves and tried to help her organize them into some order but he could tell she was still a bit on edge after yesterday.
“Did you find out anything more?” James asked, trying to get her to focus on her job.
Lowering her voice, April looked around. “Nothing much. I did notice a pattern though of the land Henry was buying up.” She retrieved the wrinkled map still dangling half off the dining room table. “I wanted to ask if you might have known why he was so interested in purchasing all this land around your
mill site.”
“I’m not sure.” He moved closer to where she had carefully spread it on the floor. “I was thinking yesterday about the deeds he purchased. I remember talking with him once, early on when I first came over to the colonies, about how valuable the land I purchased was. The water rights, fertile land near the base of the mountains.” James sighed, holding his head as the truth hit him. “I may have bought it not realizing his intent. I didn’t think anything about it. He made mention years later he’d been thinking about purchasing the land himself.”
“Why hadn’t he?”
James shrugged. “Any number of reasons I suppose. Maybe he didn’t have enough collateral at the time. Henry Samuel wasn’t from a wealthy English family. He worked his way up and was hoping for a seat in the House of Commons upon his return to England or a title. He—catered to everyone who could put a good word in for him. He’d tried to get in good with Lord Calvert, but he didn’t care for Samuel. At one of his socials when I first came over from England, I remember his lordship mentioning how he just didn’t trust the man.”
James shook his head. “I don’t know why I didn’t see Henry for what he was when I was alive. Perhaps I was too trusting of a man. He gave me no need to doubt his abilities as a local official. We had many of the same peers. As the unrest broke out among the colonies, we Loyalists stuck together.”
April laughed. “I keep forgetting you were ‘one of them.’”
“Yes, well—there’s always good and bad among both sides in a battle. I didn’t want to stay neutral but I knew eventually I would have to either head back to England or take up a post as a commander in the British Army.”
“What would you have done with your land?”
“Daniel was in line for over-seeing my properties. I’d already discussed the possibility of having to leave if the skirmish took a turn for the worse and wanted him to have the lands and manor house. He was a good man, like a younger brother to me. I miss him terribly at times.