by Lynne, Loni
“I remember taking Daniel out to the tavern one night. The man couldn’t hold his ale. He was as sick as a mongrel dog. I took over in the mill the next morning and let him sleep. He may not have been able to drink worth a damn, but Daniel wouldn’t have let anything happen to the mill if he could have helped it.”
April studied James when he turned quiet. A sad, melancholy lingered over him.
“I think he was sweet on a girl in town. Maybe they settled down and had a long, happy life together,” James said.
“I’m sure they did.” Trying to look busy, April fought to hide her thoughts. A part of her somehow knew Daniel hadn’t settled down with his girl.
But James saw through her. “You’re thinking the man in the cellar with Catherine could have been Daniel. Aren’t you? Don’t think I haven’t thought of the possibility. I guess I just don’t want to accept it.”
She squeezed his free hand. “I don’t know any more than you do, James. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. All I hope for is that he is at peace wherever he is.”
James nodded, and together they finished sorting and compiling the documents littering the room.
***
“April, it’s time. Your grandmother thinks this is the best opportunity to try and get across to Catherine. We need to work fast. She’s not sure how much longer she and Aunt Vickie can hold off Henry’s ghost.” Her mother walked into the room, trepidation in her stance.
“Mom, if you’re not ready…”
“Honey, if I don’t do this now, I never will. Am I scared? Hell yeah—but having seen what you can accomplish and knowing what you are going through is twice as difficult. I’m pretty sure I can handle listening to a couple of ghosts and try to sort through their chaotic thoughts.”
April studied her mother. Somehow she wasn’t the same up-tight, non-emotional woman she’d known all her life. With a chink in her protective armor now, she was willing to pick up a sword and do battle the best she could. April threw a subtle smile her way as her mother approached James. He stood and was ready to go with them upstairs.
“I want to apologize to you, James,” her mother started sheepishly. “I’ve had a harsh relationship with ghosts in the past, always hating them for what they mean to me. Well, not so much hating—but fearing. Yes, I have a fear of ghosts and considering my association with them, whether or not I want it—well, I guess it’s time to start realizing they are people too…or were…or whatever. Oh, hell.” Sighing, her mother gave James a quick, unprofessional hug. “I’m rambling.”
James returned the hug, a bit awkwardly. “Yes, well…I’m honored, Virginia. I will do whatever I can to not give you reason to doubt ghosts anymore—at least this one.”
“I know.” Her mother smiled weakly again and turned quickly away, adjusting the cuffs on her sleeves as if it was the most important thing she had to do.
April tried hard to suppress her grin. Her mother was trying to compose herself after such a show of emotion. Virginia Branford was not a woman to give in or surrender to anyone. And yet, here she was, trying to make past amends to a man who had been a ghost. Would wonders never cease?
“Whenever you are ready, April, but make it quick, your grandmother is upstairs getting antsy.”
April watched her mother retreat up the stairs with her demeanor once again intact. Like the proverbial knight preparing for battle, her mother was trying to find the armor and weapons within herself, so she could forge into the unknown.
James reached for April’s hand, pulling her close. They were at a moment of time where anything could happen. Parts of history could be revealed, his history. They could be moments closer to the truth. April had rehearsed in her head what she wanted to ask Catherine since early this morning. Now was the time to put all the questions to work and hopefully find the right answers.
“April, I meant what I said last night at supper. I don’t want you to risk yourself for me. In reality I shouldn’t even be here. My eternal rest isn’t worth your safety and well-being, nothing is. You are so precious to me.”
The sincerity in James’s eyes told her if she walked away right now from everything, he wouldn’t fault her one bit. But she couldn’t. Not because she had anything to prove, and not because of her duty to Kenneth Miles or anyone, but because she knew this was where she was meant to be. Her gift had been finally revealed to her. Life had prepared her for this one moment in time. She leaned into him and kissed him soundly. “I need to do this,” she said, tugging at the front of his shirt. “Let’s go kick some ghostly ass!”
***
The atmosphere hung heavy with tension and the scent of eucalyptus and honeysuckle oils. Grandma Dottie, her mother, and Aunt Vickie all reeked of the scents, enhancing their psychometric powers and intuition for the task about to be performed. Two strong points needed in their endeavors if they were going to be successful in contacting Catherine.
The shades were drawn closed against the afternoon light. April didn’t have to possess her aunt’s psychic gifts to sense the spiritual energy around them. Her muscles bunched tightly beneath her long-sleeved t-shirt, as she waited for the unexpected to jump up and bite her in the ass.
Her grandmother sat quietly on the floor in the corner of Catherine’s bedroom dressed in a loose caftan of vivid purples and pinks. Something reminiscent of the 60’s and 70’s. It looked comfortable enough for her to be able to maneuver in ritualistic movements. April’s muscles loosened a fraction. She had the support and guidance of those she loved around her. She could do this.
Once again her mother sat in the middle of the high, four-poster bed, legs crossed and arms out, resting on her knees. She was taking the deep, cleansing breaths Aunt Vickie had taught her to use in preparing her mind and body for accepting and focusing on her phantasms.
Aunt Vickie waved her over. Taking a deep breath, April approached her aunt and held out her hands when she was motioned to do so. Aunt Vickie anointed her palms. Having ‘the touch,’ her palms were the high-energy contact, chakra points for her. They would be her tools. The strong combination of eucalyptus and honeysuckle should attract the dead! The slight tingling of the non-diluted oils bothered her, but she knew at a moment like this, the heavier the strength the better! At least she hoped. She pressed her hands together in a prayer-like stance, heating up the oils and focusing her chakras on the atmosphere.
April understood the intricacies of what she needed to do. She needed to be open to the live energy, not only her own but also the energy her ghost would manifest from. Still, she tried to grasp her own sense of power and accept it slowly without letting it overwhelm her. She hadn’t been this involved in a situation since she’d presented her oral thesis to the history department. Hey, if she could face down four of the top history professors in the country and survive without puking, crying, or passing out, she could take on a ghost.
James’s hands rested lightly on her shoulders, giving her additional support. His comfort and personal energy brought her strength. Praying what they were about to endure would help solve all their questions, April was ready to proceed.
“James,” her aunt spoke softly from the floor, “I will need you to monitor all activity in real time. I’m not sure if you will be able to see or hear what we are going through, so keep in mind how we are being affected by what we witness. Especially April and Virginia—April more so since she’s going to be viewing the past and possibly phasing into it. April, you let James know immediately if you are in danger, if you can.”
April turned to James. She was about to discount the idea, but the dark look he gave her made her nod in response.
James looked her deep in the eyes. “I want you out of there if Henry shows up. He’s capable of anything.”
The possibility of encountering a vengeful Henry Samuel at any moment of their séance hung between them. April gave him a subtle nod.
“Let us begin,” Aunt Vickie chanted on an exhaled breath.
Finding an object of history
for a conduit to her natural psychometry was easy. Catherine’s writing desk was a piece of the woman’s past. April could make immediate contact with it and prepared herself for the burning sensation to race through her. The shock always frightened her at first. Still, she held onto the desk, focusing her energy on it, to channel the past, as she did with various pieces of artifacts in her studies.
April picked up her mother’s voice coming into play, bringing forth Catherine’s gentle spirit, as she stayed focused on the desk’s natural history. Soon, April felt the calming presence of the past before the atmosphere became charged with the exchange of energies. Her hand stuck to the desk, keeping her in the moment. The temperature around her suddenly dropped.
“Catherine, are you here?” her mother’s voice asked softly, calling out to their host. It sounded muted though, as if coming from far away.
The powerful scent of lilac and a shimmer of unearthly light glowed beside the window and manifested into the familiar shape of the young woman. This time she was attired as the mistress of the house. Her hair coiffed perfectly and her wardrobe consisted of a day dress. She looked to April beseechingly.
“I’m here to help you. But I need answers,” April said desperately as time was always an issue.
She didn’t expect to hear anything from the woman, but her mother’s voice echoed in the recesses of her mind, only moments after Catherine’s mouth formed words and thoughts she wouldn’t have been able to hear otherwise.
“He’s in trouble and it is my fault. I need to go to him!” Her mother’s frantic words echoed the thoughts and emotions of their ghost.
“Who is in trouble? Is it James? What did you do?”
Catherine only looked confused and shook her head sadly. “No. I need to go to him. Henry locked me in, and I can’t go to him.”
“Who? Who can’t you go to?”
“Daniel. Oh, my love! What have I done?” The ghost paced, frantically wringing her hands and toying with a mass of chains and keys attached to her apron. She turned on April, desperate and eager. “I must stop him. He’ll kill Daniel like he killed Mr. Addison! It’s my fault.”
Daniel! Of course! It all made sense. James had told her Catherine used to come out to pick up her own milled flour and drop off scones. Then he would send Daniel to escort her back to town. Catherine was having an affair with Daniel, not James!
Catherine buried her face in her hands and wept. The sound was so familiar now. April wanted to comfort the woman but couldn’t because of her connection to the desk.
“Catherine, help me,” April pleaded with her ghostly friend. “Did James commit treason? Was he executed justly?”
“I did it. It was my fault. Henry thought…me…Mr. Addison.”
“He thought you and Mr. Addison…what? That you had an affair?” She smiled knowingly at Catherine. “It wasn’t James. It was Daniel you were in love with.”
“My journal. It’s all in my journal.” Catherine came rushing toward her, grabbing for the chatelaine dangling from her waist. It held the key to unlock the desk! A journal. Of course, if Catherine kept a daily account of all activities, it would contain the information April needed.
Catherine raced towards the desk, eager to get to her journal inside, and her spiritual form merged with April’s. An icy chill enveloped her body but she had little time to regain her own senses when a slam of the door caught her off guard. Henry Samuel stood in solid form before her. He grabbed her harshly, his beefy hand encasing her jaw with a vise-like force. This wasn’t a ghostly presence. She was in his time, like at the tree.
“You were spying on me and Peter Hyman downstairs earlier! You think you can stop me?” His face grew closer, his eyes flared with beady hate. “I want that mill, Catherine! The land should’ve been mine. I was about to purchase the land when James Addison came and took it right out from under my nose. Years of working for mere pittance for the crown and then to have my future ripped from my grasp by some royal bastard! And now, I still can’t possess it. According to Peter Hyman, Addison deeded his lands over to his foreman, Daniel Smith.”
He let go of April’s jaw and stepped away, studying Catherine. She should have taken the opportunity to let the others know Henry was here, and he had possible intentions to hurt her. But instead, she wanted to know what this scene might reveal.
“I’ll have the land, Catherine, by God. If I have to go through every man standing in my way—I will have that land!” Spittle flew from his lips as he punctuated the threat with his anger.
“No! Leave Daniel alone. He’s done nothing to you.”
April didn’t need her mother to translate. Every word was spoken through Catherine. Her heart pounded erratically with her heartbeat and Catherine’s rush of adrenaline coursed through her. What was going on? This was about to get ugly. She was a participant in a historical time loop. She was no longer viewing the proceedings like at the manor ruins. She called out for help, but her voice died in a gasp as she took in the menacing form looming before her.
Henry turned his beady eyes back on her. Acknowledgement and understanding showed in their black depths. His chest rose and fell in great heaves beneath his over-extended waistcoat. Air rasped in and out of his inflated nostrils.
Oh shit, this wasn’t going to be good!
The sharp sting of his hand crossed her face. April didn’t even have time to flinch. He’d slapped Catherine and now they were on the floor, cowering in the corner between the desk and wall.
“You whore! On familiar terms with him are you?” He grabbed a fistful of Catherine’s hair, pulling her up, right in front of his face. He shook her. “You weren’t having an affair with Addison, you were fornicating with his foreman!”
April’s feet fought for stability as she was dragged across the room. Every time she tried to get her footing she was knocked back down, her senses reeling. Henry Samuel could pack a punch with his beefy fists. She tried to call out for help, but her voice didn’t carry outside of her inner thoughts. She was Catherine Samuel in this realm.
“I’ll make you pay for your infidelities! We’re going to pay a visit to your lover, my dear wife. He’ll give me the mill or so help me God you’re going to wish you’d never thought to play me for the fool!”
“Daniel will never give up the mill. He loves that mill as much as Mr. Addison did,” Catherine spat out at her husband.
“Oh, he’ll give it up all right. I’ll kill the bastard for his adulterous nature. If I can’t have it, I’ll make damn sure no one ever will.”
Catherine struggled and cried, begging and pleading for Henry’s mercy. To leave Daniel alone. April was along for the ride, being pulled across the bedroom, fighting herself to get out of this realm. Her chest heaved from fear, adrenaline—fight or flight taking over. Was this the day Henry had killed his wife and Daniel in the cellar? Was it her punishment for being unfaithful? She had to break free of Catherine’s spiritual hold on her so she could get back to her realm. If not, would she be subjected to the same gruesome death?
The rancid breath on her face was real, a mixture of alcohol and stale tobacco, his eyes blood shot and evil as his cheeks burned with fury and hatred. His burliness was not only fat but muscle too, as his strength kept her in check. She didn’t have any leverage this time to knee him or do any damage to his shins. Internally, she fought Catherine’s fear while trying to find her own strength to defend herself against the ghost-man.
Catherine and April pelted Henry with cries and curses as he grabbed them by the upper arm and forced them toward the door. April battled against Catherine’s weakness as she fought to get away from Henry’s hold on her. How could she still be in this realm? She was no longer attached to her conduit. She should be phasing back to the present now!
She struggled and kicked out with her feet as he pulled her closer to the door. A quick backhand to the face silenced her. April felt the sting, realizing how much force the man projected. This wasn’t a ghostly form. This was a solid hit.<
br />
Oh hell, I’m not in Kansas anymore!
Before he could lead her out through the bedroom door, an outside disturbance caught her off guard. Her assailant stumbled backward as if attacked by an unseen force. April phased between the two worlds and thought she saw James shove the ghostly form of Henry before he drifted into mist.
Her aunt’s voice commanded, “Be gone!” before she passed out.
Chapter Twenty
Gasping for breath and shaking, April tried to relax. Her Aunt Vickie doused her brow and hands with a cloth soaked in gardenia essence to help her recover from the emotional shock and strain to her system. Her family and James surrounded her, providing comfort as she lay on the bed in Catherine’s room, trembling.
“Calming breaths. Breathe in the essence, dear,” her grandmother’s voice soothed, as her fingers combed back her bangs from April’s face. The washcloth was placed along the nape of her neck and jawline where she still felt the pressure from Henry’s massive fingers.
“She’s going to have bruises. Look at the red marks he left,” her grandmother said.
“I’ll kill you the next time you touch her, Henry!” James’s voice echoed throughout the small room as he punched his fist through the air.
“Don’t provoke him, James. This isn’t the time,” Aunt Vickie warned.
“I’m grateful to you James.” Virginia breathed a sigh of relief and turned to April. “Between your grandmother’s ability to see where Henry was and James’s brute strength we were able to get Henry’s entity to leave.”
“Could you see me, Grams?” April asked warily.
“Not exactly. It’s more like I could sense you. Catherine is using your physical essence to try to manifest. I’m not sure if I like that or not. I don’t think she’s doing it maliciously though.”
“Maybe she’s desperate and using me is the only way she can relay her actions.” She thought for a moment. “It’s not me Henry is hurting. It’s Catherine.”