Chapter 9
Arabella opened her eyes and gazed into the shadows. She was alone with only the embers of the fire in the hearth.
She’d been dreaming then. She’d sensed someone standing over her. Pulling the blanket under her chin, she gazed into the fireplace.
Her great-grandmother would have a fanciful explanation, but Arabella would have none of it. Dreams were merely her brain’s efforts to prune itself of unneeded cells. Housekeeping of the mind. Her scientific studies had stripped any fanciful notions her great-grandmother had given her growing up and left her with streamlined, no nonsense thinking. Neurons and hormones. The brain only did what it was told.
Nonetheless, she couldn’t deny the sensation that someone had stood over her.
I don’t believe in ghosts.
If she did believe in ghosts, this house would be the place to see them.
Villars’ words played in her head. Your mother, Ericka lives here.
Her great-grandmother had spoken often of Arabella’s mother – Ericka. She shivered. Ericka had died when Arabella was an infant. Of course she didn’t live here.
It was nonsense.
The man was old and had some difficulties with his memory. It was common at his age and nothing to be concerned about.
Arabella was exhausted. She rarely slept this much. As a psychologist, she was used to the erratic schedule of the ER where she worked. She thrived in the fast-paced environment and caught sleep where she could.
But for some reason she was feeling exhausted lately, especially since arriving here at the house.
It’s stress. Between the death of her great-grandmother, learning that she owned a southern plantation house built in the 1800s, and the drive up to Natchez, she’d had a lot to deal with in three weeks. It was perfectly normal to feel stressed. After her great-grandfather, Jonathan had died last year, Arabella had taken a week off from work. Other than helping her great-grandmother with arrangements and things at home, Arabella had slept more than usual then too.
Sleep was a perfectly normal stress reaction.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she told herself, she would have ample time to sort through everything. The first thing on her list was to move some of the furniture back into a bedroom upstairs. Even though she was accustomed to catching sleep at the hospital in the break room they had set aside for physicians and other critical staff, but sleeping on a couch in the middle of this unusual chaos was definitely not her first choice.
And tomorrow she would determine what was going on in the world that required a handsome military officer to be here.
He’s probably just part of the shared psychosis.
Chapter 10
Augustus worked side by side with his men. After they dropped another tree, he took a moment to watch the sun coming up. Dawn was his favorite time of day. He liked watching the world ever so slowly wake up. Of course, since the war started, there was always the possibility that the day could bring destruction and death.
Augustus had more responsibility than he cared to think about. He was responsible not only for sending his men into battle, but also to mend them after they were wounded. The irony was not lost on him.
He’d been a soldier first, then barely out of medical school when the war started. He’d then been quickly promoted because he was one of the few doctors who was also an officer. It had gone well, until he’d been sent on this latest mission to Vicksburg. He was supposed to simply lead the men there, then hand them over to Pemberton and go back to practicing medicine. Such was the way of best laid plans.
A movement caught in the corner of his eyes had him turning his attention to the house. He shaded his eyes with a hand and squinted enough to see Arabella standing on the front steps. Her hands were on her hips as she gazed around. He watched as she went down the front steps of the house and walked around toward the back of the house. A couple of minutes later, she was back, still looking around as though she searched for something. What was she looking for?
She was wearing the same outfit he’d seen her wearing last evening – the denim trousers and undershirt. A black woman came out onto veranda and said something to her he couldn’t make out. Arabella went back up the steps to follow the woman inside, but just before she went inside, she stopped and turned. Though it was hard to tell from this distance, Augustus was fairly certain her gaze was on his. He smiled.
She promptly turned and went back inside.
Augustus picked up a shovel and shook his head.
“Who was that?” Beau asked.
“I have no idea.” Augustus didn’t want the other men concerned with her.
“Maybe you should find out.” Beau picked up his ax and split a log cleanly in two.
Yes. My thoughts exactly.
Augustus waited all of five minutes before he set off toward the house.
Chapter 11
Arabella followed a voluptuous black woman wearing a long costume to the kitchen. The woman muttered while they walked, not pausing for an answer.
“A lady ain’t got no call to be walking around out there with all them soldiers running about. Them soldiers probably ain’t seen no woman in months and most of ‘em probly ain’t ever seen a lady looks like you. Besides…” They had passed through the foyer and were heading into the back of the house. “you not wearing something you should be wearing. It just ain’t fittin.”
“Sit,” the woman instructed when they reached the kitchen.
Arabella sat at a little table and watched the woman fill a plate with biscuits, bacon, and eggs and set it on the table in front of her.
“Eat.” The woman nodded at the food. “It just ain’t fittin. Them soldiers don’t got no manners and they be getting the wrong idea. But don’t nobody ever listen to Minny.”
Deciding the woman’s name must be Minny, Arabella broke off a bite of biscuit and tasted. Her usual breakfast, if she ate at all, usually consisted of a quickly grabbed carton of yogurt. Not that she was opposed to a hearty breakfast. Arabella just didn’t like to waste calories on non-nutritional food that didn’t even taste good.
The only person whose breakfast Arabella typically would eat was her great-grandmother’s. Since no one else could cook the way her great-grandmother could, Arabella stuck with nutritional foods.
She broke off another bite and chewed.
This biscuit tasted unexpectedly like Vaughn’s.
Arabella swallowed and stared at the plate in front of her.
Something was definitely odd.
This morning she couldn’t find her overnight bag with her toothbrush, soap, and other toiletries. So she’d gone to her car to bring in her suitcase only to see no sign of her car. Stolen? Here, in the middle of nowhere?
In fact, there had been no modern vehicles in sight. Just horses and a wagon.
No cars. The costumes.
Perhaps they were filming a movie. It was a plausible explanation. Except for the fact that she was the owner and she hadn’t given permission. Maybe Vaughn gave permission before…
There was still the mystery of how her car had gotten moved. Arabella couldn’t find her handbag or her keys. She circled back around to her first thought that it had been stolen.
Absently, she picked up a slice of bacon and bit into it. She closed her eyes. Geez this was good. Bacon was something else she only ate on rare occasions. It was so damn unhealthy. Why were the good things in life always the things that were so bad?
Minny continued to talk. “And now we’s stuck here with those men for who knows how long. So much for getting out of here and to safety of the town.” She stopped long enough to raise a spoon in the air. “The good lord gonna have to look after us now.”
Taking a deep breath and shutting off her racing thoughts while trying to ignore Minny’s discourse, Arabella dug into the breakfast. The black woman glanced at her and grinned to herself as she continued to mumble. “I likes a lady with an appetite. Ladies always worrying about their waistline. Don’t no man w
ant no skinny girl. Haven’t seen a lady with this good an appetite since…” Minny paused in mid-sentence, holding her spoon in one hand, the other hand on her hip, and stared at Arabella.
Arabella stopped eating long enough for a sip of water. She smiled at Minny. “This is good. Thank you.” She hadn’t realized she was hungry. But then working in the ER, she’d learned to ignore hunger cues.
Minny narrowed her eyes at Arabella and turned back to the stove. Thankful for the quietness, Arabella finished her breakfast in peace. Last night, someone, perhaps Minny herself, had warned her that they needed to leave. Now she’d just been told that they would be staying.
Not that Arabella planned to go anywhere anyway just yet. She wiped her hands on the cloth napkin and pulled her phone out of her pocket. Still no service. And only twenty-six percent battery left. She turned her phone off, something she never did, in order to conserve power.
Maybe there was a television around here. She needed to check the news. If anyone knew, Minny would. She appeared to have a pulse on things. “Do you have a TV?” Arabella glanced around the kitchen, but didn’t see anything other than cookware and stacks of flour and potatoes.
Minny looked at her again, over her shoulder, eyes wide. Then turned her gaze back to the dough she was kneading. She mumbled to herself, but Arabella couldn’t make out her words.
Perhaps a better idea was to find a landline and call the sheriff’s department. At the very least, she needed to know what, if anything, was going on around here. Especially since she hadn’t seen Jerry all morning. Maybe he was part of a scam and had just allowed her to assume he was the caretaker with permission to be here.
Deciding that searching for Jerry was the most logical first step in figuring out what was happening around here, Arabella left Minny and the kitchen behind to set off upstairs.
As she reached the stair landing, the clock chimed six times. The delicate chimes were soothing. She knocked on the first bedroom door on the left where Jerry had set up a sleeping area. When there was no answer, she knocked again and called his name. Still no answer.
She pushed the door open slowly and peeked inside the room.
Though she froze and her hand dropped from the knob, the door continued to swing open.
Arabella stared into the room, her mind blank with shock. This was the room where all the furniture had been stacked. The room where Jerry had a kept a bed for himself. There had been a little television next to the daybed.
Instead, the room was elegantly furnished with a four-poster bed standing in the center of the room. The bed was made with white linens and a pale pink blanket was folded across the foot of the bed. A bureau was on one side of the room and a vanity on the other. An open trunk sat at the foot of the bed. A little sitting area had been set up on the other side.
Arabella glanced over her shoulder, then stepped forward, drawn to the open trunk. She knelt in front of it and put her hands on the edges. There were what appeared to be infant clothing stacked on one side and a stack of papers on the other. The corner of a photograph caught her attention and she gently pulled it from the papers. It was actually a small piece of tin – what her great-grandmother called a tintype.
Arabella took the picture with her to stand at the window and held it up to the morning light.
The image was one of a young couple – a man and a woman – dressed in antebellum clothing. They both smiled, untypical for the period. An infant sat in the woman’s lap.
Arabella squinted, pulling the image closer.
Her heart slammed against her chest and she grabbed hold of the drapes to steady herself.
The lady in the picture was Arabella.
Chapter 12
Augustus covered the distance in two seconds flat. The lady he’d admired from a distance was about to faint. He should know. With two younger sisters and their bevy of friends, he’d spent enough time with the female persuasion to have a decent sense of what fainting looked like. It was especially prevalent in the summer months with their tight corsets. They called it swooning and typically blamed it on whatever handsome man happened to be standing nearby.
Whatever they wanted to call it, the young lady was about to be passed out on the floor. Just as he reached her, she took two quick breaths. Putting one arm beneath her knees and the other beneath her shoulders, he swept her from her feet. She gasped.
As he carried her to the bed, he was aware that her arms were tight around his shoulders.
He’d reached her in time to prevent her from fainting. Relief rushed through him as he laid her on the bed and sat next to her.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes were wide open and focused on him.
“You were about to faint.” She was even beautiful up close - her emerald eyes trimmed with thick black lashes and her kissable rose-colored lips. All framed by luscious smooth brunette hair.
“I most certainly was not.”
“I’m a doctor. I can tell these things.” There was a flush to her cheeks now and her eyes narrowed.
“In that case, perhaps you should return to medical school.”
He stared at her a moment, then he laughed. “Perhaps you’re right. Since obviously you didn’t faint.” He picked up a long strand of her soft hair and wrapped it around his finger.
“Who are you?” She pulled away, and he let the strand of hair drop. Her voice was soft, but laced with distrust.
Augustus stood up and bowed. “I apologize for my lack of manners. My name is Colonel Augustus Townsend.” He stood up straight. “Or Doctor Townsend as the occasional may present.”
She looked askance at him. “No. Really. Who are you?”
“Augustus Townsend.” He said helplessly. “Of Jefferson County.”
Her lips curved up at the corners. “Are you an officer or a doctor?”
“Both… Mostly a doctor.”
She wrapped her arms around her knees. “Then you’re a doctor in real life?”
Real life? When was life not real? “Of course.”
She stared at him. He wondered what she was thinking. Her expression was calm, but probing as she watched him.
“May I be so bold as to ask your name?”
He didn’t think she was going to answer at first. “Arabella,” she said simply.
“Such a lovely name. It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Arabella.” He held out his hand, palm up. When she put her hand in his, he bent and kissed the back of her hand.
She was holding something. “What do you have?”
“A picture.” She glanced toward the photograph as though she had forgotten she was still holding it.
“May I see it?”
Again, she hesitated as though she weren’t sure if she trusted him enough to share the picture. Yet she handed it to him. He took the photograph and held it toward the light. It was too dark to see. He nodded toward the window where she had been standing. “May I?”
“Sure.”
Moving toward the light of the window, he studied the image. It was common enough – a man and a woman holding an infant in their arms.
Yet… He peered closely. The woman in the image was Arabella. He glanced toward her, still sitting on the bed. She was married, then, and had a child.
His heart sank. It was only to be expected. A woman as beautiful as Arabella would not go unwed. He went back to stand in front of her. “Again, my apologies, Madame. Is your husband a soldier in the war then?”
Chapter 13
Arabella sat in the middle of the bed, not daring to move. Colonel Doctor Augustus Townsend had been partially right. She had been about to faint. Fortunately, avoiding the quick decrease in blood pressure was second nature - sniff twice through her nose and gasp for air. The gasp had come natural enough when he’d swept her off her feet.
Arabella had a blood phobia, yet had made it through biology using that simple technique. She learned to inhale quickly and squeeze her fists to avoid falling out of her desk in the classroom. Fortunately, she’d
only fainted in class once. The professor had kindly taken her aside and taught her how to avoid fainting. The technique had served her well through her internship allowing her graduate with honors.
Even though she hadn’t fainted, there was still the problem of the picture. Arabella had not sat for that photograph. There must be someone who looked similar to her – a cousin perhaps. It explained the odd reaction she’d gotten from the elderly man as well as the woman who’d made breakfast for her. They’d simply mistaken her for the woman in the picture. Though it didn’t explain everything, Arabella had no other explanation at the moment.
The man knew my name.
The thought darted at the edge of her mind, but bounced away.
“That isn’t me.” She insisted.
She watched as a mixture of confusion and hopefulness crossed his features.
Then he turned the photograph over. And looked back at her with something akin to pity.
She held out her hand. When he placed the cool tintype in her hand, dread washed over her. She took her eyes from his and read the names written on the back of the picture. Charles. Ericka. Arabella.
Arabella pressed her fingers against her forehead. No! Her mother’s name was Ericka and her father’s name was Charles. They had died when Arabella was an infant.
Of course. They’d had this photograph taken before…
Exhaling, she looked down at the picture again. When she moved her thumb aside, she saw a date written in the corner. 1840.
She handed the picture back to Doctor Colonel Augustus Townsend and rubbed her eyes with her palms. This was too much to think about. “Are you filming a movie?”
There was that look again. The one that she’d used so many times before. Most recently before she’d told a patient. I think you need to go to the psychiatric hospital for a few days.
Once in a Blue Moon Page 3