by Lynne, Loni
Aunt Vickie’s car was parked in the drive. She didn’t want to go in the front door. She would see if her aunt was in her apartment in the back. The sooner she did this, the faster she could get on with her job of finding the information she needed. Besides, the journal could hold any number of clues helpful to her in locating the document.
“Aunt Vickie?” April called out as she knocked on her door.
Vickie pulled the curtain back to peek out, and then opened the door to usher her in. “How did it go with Beth?”
“Fine. She let me borrow the chatelaine,” April gushed excitedly. Unable to contain her excitement, she hugged her aunt.
Her aunt held her at arm’s length after their hug fest, studying her seriously. “I suppose you want to go try it?”
“Could we? Time is running out with Kenneth Miles coming in a few days. Anything I could send him before then would only be a plus.”
“How did James take the news? I would have thought he would be with you.” Aunt Vickie stopped talking to glare at her. “He doesn’t know, does he?” Shaking her head, she started to walk back towards her small living room.
April bit her bottom lip and followed. “I didn’t want to worry him. He’s working, and I shouldn’t have to get his permission. He knows I have a job to do.”
Aunt Vickie turned on her, startling April. “Bullshit! You snuck in my back door so he wouldn’t accidentally see you while giving tours.” Aunt Vickie eyed her knowingly, tapping her foot. “And now I suppose you want me to try and hold off Henry’s entity if he happens to be lurking about in his realm while you try out the key?”
She could feel embarrassment flush her cheeks. She was dealing with her aunt. Did she think she could pull one over on her? “You don’t have to…”
Her aunt sighed. “No, I don’t have to but if I don’t, you’ll go up there and be attacked. I’ll be responsible for your death and your mother and grandmother will have my ass. Okay, let’s get this over with.”
***
Waving a smudge stick of white sage to ward off evil spirits and negative energies, Aunt Vickie led them up the stairs to Catherine’s bedroom. The room was the same as when they left it earlier, except without the heavy feeling of evil. Bright sunlight soaked the room, revealing every shadowy nook and corner.
“All right, dear. Let’s see what we find.” Vickie motioned to the desk as she continued to wave the pungent smudge stick.
April removed the chatelaine from the pouch, letting it fall on the bed’s coverlet. She was still hesitant to touch the antique accessory for fear of what would happen before she could use it in the lock. Her excitement suddenly turned to trepidation. The unknown effects of what this simple piece of jewelry could reveal hit her. Could she do this? She had to!
“You haven’t touched it yet, have you?” her aunt asked. At the shake of her head her aunt picked up the large key and went to the desk. “Can’t have you phasing without knowing where and when you’ll be going,” she harrumphed.
Chills traveled up April’s arms. These were shivers of excited energy as she was about to find her buried treasures. Like Indiana Jones opening the Ark of the Covenant, she prayed it didn’t do anything to harm her or her aunt.
Closing her eyes, April heard the small snick of the key turning in the lock for probably the first time in over two centuries. She took in the squeak of rusty hinges as the desktop came down with Aunt Vickie’s guidance.
“Well stop meditating and come take a look,” her aunt said.
April jumped from the bed. The only things in the drop down alcove of the desk were an old piece of writing quill, a pewter inkwell of dried up ink, a small piece of ancient sealing wax, and a brass stamp engraved with the letter ‘S’. Her heart dropped. They would be interesting items for the society, but not what she was looking for. No, there must be something she was missing.
Touching the desk, April was taking a risk of having her gift manifest but she let her hands roam over the piece of furniture quickly, searching around and under it. “There has to be a secret drawer or panel. What about the drawer with the lock? And the smaller key, it has to go to something.”
“Let’s give it a try.”
She had her aunt unlock the drawer beneath the desktop and it popped out as if on a spring mechanism. But when she reached in to feel around in the back, it was empty. Disheartened, April was about to give up when her hand caught on a latch to a false compartment in the inside of the drawer. A small keyhole, slightly hidden from normal view caught her attention and excitement sluiced up her spine. A secret hiding area!
“Yes! I found it!”
Without thinking, April grabbed the chatelaine from the keyhole in the drawer so she could use it to unlock the secret compartment. She collapsed against the desk as wave after wave of nausea hit her. She closed her eyes to ward off the intense vertigo she was suffering.
When she opened her eyes she was in the room but her aunt was nowhere to be seen. The door opened and in walked Catherine. She was beautiful and glowing, her face animated as she tugged someone into the room along with her. She was giggling.
“Henry’s gone for the weekend to Annapolis. Probably to see his mistress again.”
“Are you sure about this? What about your maid?” A young man appeared, somewhere between his early to late twenties. A crop of reddish-blonde hair topped his head.
“I sent her to see her family in Baltimore for the weekend. We at least have a few hours tonight.” Catherine hugged the man and he returned the embrace.
“I’ve waited for this moment for so long,” he said. “Each time I see you I can’t help but remember how it used to be. I swear we will be together again soon. I won’t let Henry have you when you’ve always been mine.”
“Oh, Daniel. I just don’t know how. I’m married to him now. It’s all so unfair. I hate having to sneak around. If we’re caught I don’t know what will happen. But I want to be with you. Since your servitude with Mr. Addison is over and he’s offered you land and a job, will you take it so we can still see each other or will you leave and head back to England?”
“I’m staying here until I can have you by my side. I’m building a house for us. Not going to be as fancy as what you’re used to.”
“I wasn’t raised to be fancy, Daniel. I want you and a family.” Catherine’s voice became sad. “I lost our baby. They never even let me see her when they took her from me. I was so distraught when you left to go work for Mr. Addison. I thought we’d never see each other again. When Henry won me in the card game and brought me to Kings Mill, I never thought I would have to marry him. But it was my only chance of escaping the tobacco fields and to be close to you.” She buried her face in his chest.
Daniel stroked her back with tender touches. He brought her face up so he could see it and kissed her troubled brow. “I know. I don’t blame you, sweetheart. We will be together somehow, we just need to wait and the good Lord will let us know when it’s our time.”
April listened to the conversation and watched as they kissed. Did they not see her standing only a few feet away? Was she not in their realm? She tried clearing her throat, waving her hand—nothing seemed to attract their attention, except each other. She was a ghost in their time. Studying the couple, they seemed very much in love. She hoped to move on. Voyeurism was not something she was into. She turned away to give them a moment of privacy.
She glanced back one last time. Daniel seemed familiar and upon taking a closer look, she noticed the clothing and height. It was the same man from the cellar fire. The one she couldn’t see. She knew the truth now. Henry had killed both Catherine and Daniel that day.
She needed to get back to her time. She called out to her aunt, hoping she could hear her and tell the spirits to ‘be gone.’ When nothing happened, April called out ‘be gone’ and felt herself whirling back through the cataclysmic cycle of time, closing her eyes as time spun around her, making her dizzy.
When she opened her eyes, her aunt
stood over her waving a weathered black book tied with a piece of leather. “Welcome back.”
“How long was I gone?”
“Long enough to have your mother and grandmother join us.”
April looked up from the floor where she’d collapsed to see her mother and grandmother standing at the end of the bed. And boy did they look pissed!
***
“What part of ‘don’t come back here until its safe’ do you not understand, April May Branford?” her mother scolded as the women converged in Aunt Vickie’s living room.
“I wanted to see if the chatelaine worked in the desk. It does!” She looked at her aunt, still holding the aged book. Aunt Vickie had taken time to wrap it in a clean flour sack dishtowel to keep oils off of it until April could take a look. “Is that Catherine’s journal?” she asked with wide-eyed awe.
“Don’t change the subject,” her grandmother added waggling a finger at her. “Your mother asked you a question. Did you not understand it’s not safe for you to come here until we all made sure Henry was out of the house?”
“But Aunt Vickie was here—“
“And you’d risk her life against Henry Samuel to find out if a key works in a desk?” her grandmother asked.
April hadn’t thought about her aunt, she’d wanted to get to the desk. “Sorry, Aunt Vickie, I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’ve been so focused on my research I’ve not thought things through.”
“No you weren’t thinking clearly, young lady!” her mother reiterated pacing the length of the room.
“Would you two give her a break? No harm was done. The keys worked, she found the journal, a good time for all.” Her aunt shrugged. “So what went on while you dozed?”
“Dozed?” April gave her a quizzical stare. “You mean I didn’t phase?”
“No, you collapsed instantly against the wall when you touched the chatelaine. What happened?”
April quickly filled in her family on the lover’s tryst.
“How tragic! Two lovers so close but forced worlds apart,” Aunt Vickie said, sounding like a movie trailer.
“Yeah, it sounds like she bore a child out of wedlock after Daniel went to Kings Mill with James. I might research the ancestry of indentured servants in the colonies just to see what comes up. Some states and counties kept records of births and deaths of slaves and servants.”
“Maybe she wrote about it in her journal,” Vickie said, finally handing the towel wrapped book over to her. “Before you get involved with this ghost, don’t you think it’s time you went to get your other ghost?”
April looked at her watch. She’d forgotten about the time. “Crap! Yeah, I guess so.” She grabbed her coat, tucked the journal into her purse, and made sure the chatelaine was carefully tucked into its pouch and secure in her purse. “What are we doing about a place to stay tonight?”
“We’ll work on cleansing the area thoroughly while you take James out for dinner,” Aunt Vickie said.
“Okay.” April started to open the door but turned back at the last minute. “You won’t tell James about this afternoon, will you?” She didn’t want to get him all worked up. He would probably get angry with her. But then again, she’d enjoyed it the first time.
“No, dear. We won’t tell him.”
“Thanks Grams, I appreciate it.” She could always count on her.
“We won’t tell him,” her grandmother restated. “You will.”
***
April was eager to read Catherine’s journal. She would start after dinner. Catherine would have the knowledge of what happened to put her husband in such a mood as to have someone executed publicly. The actual documentation of his death would provide the evidence for the history books and finally explain to James what happened. He would be able to move on.
Her heart fell. He would be able to move on. Would it be instant? Would he fade right before her eyes, never to exist again? She didn’t expect to fall so hard for her subject. She’d known him for less than two weeks. How could she have fallen in love in such short time? Now she couldn’t fathom how she would live without him.
Pulling up in front of the Historical Society she didn’t see James waiting for her as he usually did if she was running late. Parking, she got out and put a quarter in the meter. Her over-active imagination played tricks on her. Was he already gone? Without her getting a chance to say good bye? With her heart palpitating and the worst-case scenario playing in her head, she raced up the steps and beat on the Victorian glass framed door.
After frantic, nerve wracking moments, James came to the door, still in costume but with an odd look of guilt and worry clouding his features. The lock tumbled with a hollow click and he opened the door.
“What’s wrong?” April touched his face, running her hands over him to make sure he was really alive. His chest was solid as she frantically ran her hands down to feel the beating of his heart.
He didn’t say a word, only led her into the empty front office. Beth Freelane was slumped against the wall, a wet paper towel on her forehead.
“Oh my God! What happened? She looks like she’s seen a ghost.” She bent down to check Beth’s vitals. She was alive, just fainted.
“Well, she did, kind of.” James said with a bit of chagrin and embarrassment.
April shook her head. No, he couldn’t have? Please, tell me you didn’t tell her, James.
“Who?”
James rubbed at the back of his neck and closed his eyes. “Me.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“What do you mean, you?” April asked James and looked back down at Beth who was starting to come around. She knelt down to help the woman. “It’s all right. I’m going to sit you up, Beth.”
“I’ll get her some water.” James hurried to the water cooler in the hallway.
Beth groaned and struggled into a sitting position with help from April. “I’m fine. I just need…” She stopped mid-sentence as James came back with a plastic cup of water. She moaned, holding her head. “Please tell me it’s a bad dream?”
April took the cup from his hand to give Beth.
James looked at the piece of parchment in his hand. Chagrined he ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair. If a man could look guilty, James’s appearance spoke in volumes. He handed her the piece of paper.
April should have been ecstatic. The original deed to the mill site, signed by James, paid for and counter-signed by Henry Samuel on May 5, 1763 lay between her fingers. She now possessed the documents Kenneth Miles needed for his proof. But Beth’s condition and the guilty look on James’s face took away her joy of the moment. “What happened?”
Beth recovered enough to stand. Her eyes warily traveled between the two. “I’ve been searching through some of the boxes the staff brought over from the basement of City Hall. I came across a case of ledgers from Peter Hyman’s historical files. I opened one of the files and this fell out. I realized it might be what you’ve been looking for so I came down stairs to share the news with Jim.”
James sighed heavily. “I got a little excited at seeing my original deed after all these years.”
Beth stopped and became pale again. Her lips trembled and she shook her head. “Please, April— tell me. This man really isn’t James Addison…is he?” she whispered.
They sat Beth back down in the small settee in the hallway and explained the situation. “So you brought him to life by touching his grave? And you saw him as a ghost?” Beth asked, trying to comprehend. “All because of your psychometry and the live-energy between the two of you?”
April nodded slowly. “According to my Aunt Vickie, we’ve come to believe it’s the only possibility.”
Beth tentatively reached out and touched James’s face. “But is he truly alive?”
“Yes, he is alive. To what extent, we don’t know. We’re just taking it one day at a time.” April looked to James, her heart racing all over again at the thought of how close they were now to the truth being told and what it w
ould mean for them.
April reached into her purse and retrieved the pouch with the chatelaine in it.
“Did it work? Does the key belong to the desk?” Beth asked excitedly and took the pouch.
April looked from Beth to James and nodded solemnly before retrieving the towel wrapped journal.
***
Beth invited them to stay for dinner and they retired upstairs to her apartments. James sat numbly, staring at the document he’d signed with Henry two hundred forty-eight years ago. His chest felt tight. The document would free April from her task, but he was unsure of what he felt looking at it. Unlike the other documents they’d found, this one proved he’d owned the land the mill had stood on. Beth would record the truth for Kings Mill history. But the mill and his house no longer existed. Only a piece of antiquated paper revealing the grandeur he’d once owned.
Beth went downstairs when the Chinese take-out they’d ordered was delivered. April told him of her incident with Catherine and Daniel when she’d made contact with the desk and journal. He wasn’t happy with her going behind his back, doing something so dangerous. But she was here, with the evidence she’d been seeking. She sat on the sofa and carefully pored over the journal’s later entries. The only clues of his time frame from someone who knew him.
Would the book reveal the reason behind his death? What then? He didn’t want to lose April, but a part of him understood being in this time frame may have only been an accident.
Beth returned, set the table and arranged the food from the little folded boxes onto her good dinner plates.
“Listen to this,” April said as she stood and came to sit next to him at Beth’s small drop-leaf dining table, the journal in her hands. “Friday, December 9, 1774—Henry locks me in my room every night. Ever since he made me watch poor Mr. Addison’s execution, he’s kept a close eye on me. He’s afraid I will reveal the truth of what I know. But I’m too weak. I’m scared of what he could do to me. He’s insane. I overheard him tell Mr. Hyman this afternoon, he planned to oust Daniel from the mill. Henry’s always wanted the mill for himself. I never thought he’d resort to such a horrible crime in order to get it. I fear Daniel’s life is at risk. I must let him know of Henry’s plans. I am due to go to the mill tomorrow for grain. Perhaps we will have a moment to talk.”