by S. A. Glenn
“Whooo, whooo, whooo!” cried out an owl.
“I am now going to report to the gloom of darkness, an incantation to awaken the dead,” stated the oldest in his spooky, quiet voice. “Everyone hold hands—but do not…” he spoke loud then quiet again—“. . . let go of the person next to you, or the apparitions will, without warning, pull you straight into the earth, down into the depths of the unforgiving, and fiery hell! Is everybody ready?”
“Yesss,” all responded, some smiling, some not…
A wolf howled. “Aaaruuu…”
All smiles vanished.
“Then let us begin. Repeat in you minds the words I call out:
“Of all them witches
Witches of the mall
Elf shot lame witch
Comes with the fall
Mitchell shot a few
The smell of a witch
The witch Selma Flo
Witch flames hotel
Cow met fish at hell
Hot hell came swift
Watch hot elf slime
The last wolf chime
We call of them this
Hells watch of time.”
As he completed the spell, a rustling within the leaves took place behind one of the tombstones. The kids directed their attention to the area, frozen in fear. While they stared with unblinking, wide-open eyes, a grayish form rose above the low laying fog and grave sites, uttering a deep moan of pain and grief—then it floated toward them at an alarming rate, producing a hideous shrill.
“Ahhh!” screamed the youngsters as they let go of one another. Lacking courage, they ran away for their precious lives.
“Ha ha ha! Ohhh, boy! Hee hee hee,” laughed the oldest boy and his accomplice who was masquerading as a ghost.
“We got ’em good,” shouted the one removing a sheet from his lengthy body. “It’s all in fun, ay?”
“They wanted fear. Well, we gave ’em what they asked for,” stated the other.
“Boo!” yelled Louis Pierre at the boys. He and Sara Jones had dinner at the mansion then were chauffeured into town. Taking a stroll, they had come across the children. He and Sara had heard the prank and the devilish spell.
“Ahhh!” shrieked the two boys.
“Gee, mister. You done ’bout scared my britches off me,” said the one holding the sheet, peering at the man from France.
“It is all in fun, ay?” announced Louis Pierre. “What was all that nonsense about witches, elves, and hell?” he inquired.
“Oh! It’s really neat, mister,” replied the one who had spoken the words. “You see, they’re all the same 16 letters… just rearranged different like… and they make all those sentences. Neat, ay?”
“Well, you know, boys, if you meddle with things like that, you may just conjure up something you wish you never did.”
“Nah! That’ll never happen!” replied the spell speaker, wagging his head.
“Very well, son. Do not say that I did not warn you. Now, run along, it is getting late,” instructed Louis Pierre, gazing at his timepiece.
“Yes, sir,” they replied, scampering off into the festive night.
“You handled them nicely, Louis,” Sara told him, placing her arm through his to keep warm. “Do you have kids of your own?” she questioned as they walked.
“A son and a daughter… but their mother took them away from me. She said that I was not a good person since I spent such little time with them, or her. I came home from work one day and they were all gone. All that was left was a note telling me that she needed to move on and find a man who could love her and our children like they deserved. I did my best, Sara. You must believe me,” he said, stopping their trek, turning to her. “It is just that my job was so demanding and that I was greatly needed to serve my country—vive la France!” he yelled out. “I did not realize I was neglecting my family. I miss them dearly. My children, mostly. It is hard to think about them. I have not seen them in over twenty years.” He breathed deep and released it with a sigh.
“I’m sorry, Louis. Come on, let’s walk.”
“Oui, Madame.”
As they traveled down the streetlamp-lit road, Sara pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. A few passersby tilted their hats as they made their way home from enjoying the holiday at the saloon. Louis developed a daunting look upon his face, a distant stare in his eyes.
Sara glanced over at him. “What’s on your mind, Louis?”
He turned his head and met her eyes. Coming out of his trance, he replied, “I was thinking about how you have been here for me since Emily’s passing, and about how the marshal told me that the case is cold, not having any leads as to who the murderer is. Though the first thought is quite comforting… and I thank you dearly for that… the second concept is very frustrating!”
“I’m sorry that you hurt, Louis. And you are entirely welcome for me being here for you: I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now, let’s talk about what on Earth it was that we ate that Fréderic served us. It was divinely scrumptious. I just can’t, for the life of me, remember what it was all called,” she admitted with a ladylike chuckle.
“Well, Madame Jones,” he spoke with a glimmer of bravery, “first he served us baquette (bread). Then he brought us hors d’oeuvres which were canape’ (crackers topped with a minced meat and vegetables fried in deep fat). Then he served us the soup: potage de mouton à l’Ecossaise (sheep). But I do not know the other ingredients; Fréderic keeps that a secret. And the side dish was cavolofiore (cauliflower). And last, but not least, dessert: chocolate mousse.”
“Again, it was all extremely delightful, Louis. We must do it again.”
“I admit, we must do it again, but all the food in the world shall never compare to the treat that you are to me with your laughter, compassion, understanding—and your beautiful, blue eyes that light up my life every time you are near me.”
“Are you getting fresh with me, Monsieur Pierre? Because if you are, don’t stop.
CHAPTER 22
WINTER
1869
The winter solstice had come once again, but unlike the previous year, this one had been plentiful with snow showers and frigid temperatures, allowing 30 inches of powder to accumulate, creating a white wonderland. A howling wind found its way in through the cracks and crannies of the restaurant, bringing an uncomfortable iciness to the place. The blizzard had caused white-out conditions, and not a soul dared to venture away from one’s home.
It was Christmas Eve and there was a rapid knocking on the back door at the restaurant. Katherine sat down a pot of boiling water, and hurried to open the doorway. Samuel was there with an armful of logs to feed the roaring fire inside. With his red nose, frozen eyebrows, and body covered with ice crystals, he darted in, kicking the door closed behind him. “Holy smokes!” he exclaimed as he sat down the unwieldy bulk of wood. With his teeth chattering, he shook off the cold. “It must be twenty b-b-below zero out there!”
“Take off your hat and coat, Sam. Let me help you.” She removed his hat and tapped it on the counter to rid it of the snow. She took his coat from him and placed it and the hat next to the stove to dry. She warmed some milk, added some sugar and cocoa. Stirring the concoction, she poured it into a mug, then handed the earthenware to Samuel.
Accepting the hand-warming blue with black lettering stein, he brought it carefully to his frosty lips, sipping the sweet chocolaty quencher. “Mmm, that’s good ’n’ hot, Kat. Thanks.” He eased down into a chair next to the radiant stove. Ready to take a second taste of his drink, he noticed his name on the mug. He relaxed in the seat, put his feet up onto a footstool then projected a big grin. “Where’d this come from?”
She poured hot cocoa into a mug with her name on it, stirred it and sat next to him. She displayed her cup for him
. “I made these for Christmas presents for us. Do you like them?”
“I love ’em! You did a great job on ’em, Kat. Thank you. And I love you, too,” he added.
“And I, you, my love.” She rested against him. “So what do you wish for St. Nicholas to bring you?”
“Hmmm,” he wondered, setting down his mug and cupping his chin. “I don’t know. Never really thought about it, I s’pose.”
“I think that you’re gonna be presently surprised by what he brings you.”
“Really! And what would you like for St. Nicholas to bring you for Christmas, little girl?”
Quietly sitting with a modest look, she twisted her hair around her fingers. “I don’t know. I don’t really need anything.”
“Well, you’re gonna get something rather you like it or not, young lady. You deserve the best! I think you are going to be pleasantly surprised, too, Kat.”
An enormous smile erupted from her humble expression. Like an anxious child not being able to wait till Christmas to open presents, she jumped into his lap and begged. “Please, tell me what it is, Sam. Please, please, please!”
“Not till tomorrow,” he explained with a stiff upper lip.
“Oh, come on. Give me a hint.”
“Huh-uh,” he mumbled, crossing his arms, standing his ground.
“Just a teeny, tiny one?” she begged in baby talk, showing him a gap between her finger and thumb in front of his face.
“Nope!”
“Urrgh!” she uttered, playfully slapping his arm. “God, Sam. It’s gonna drive me bananas. How’m I gonna sleep tonight?”
“You better sleep, or St. Nicholas won’t stop by.”
She took in a deep breath then let it out. “Okay, Sam. You win.”
“Speaking of sleep, Kat. We best be gettin’ to bed. It’s near midnight.”
“You’re right. Would you like me to sing a carol before we turn in?”
“Please! It’ll be a nice way to end the night. I’ll be up in a minute, need to put a couple logs on the fire.” He watched her go up the stairs, then he hurried over to the fireplace in the dining area to feed the flames. Going to his hiding place, he gathered his gifts for Katherine and Sara and placed them under the majestic blue spruce he had cut down just before the big snowstorm hit. He made his way upstairs, excited about Christmas morn, imagining the joy it would bring to all in the Jones’ home.
He knocked on Katherine’s door then pushed it the rest of the way open. He stood behind her as she sat in front of the looking glass brushing her hair. With a content look upon his face, he smiled as he gazed into her reflection.
She peered into his eyes, returning his warm gesture, placing her hand atop his on her shoulder. “What’re you so happy about?” she asked, setting down her brush, turning around to him and taking his hands.
“You, Kat. Just you. That’s all.”
“I’m glad I have that effect on you, Sam.”
“Are you ready for bed, my love?”
“Yes, my dear.”
He picked her up in her silken white negligee and carried her over to her bed. She giggled. Pulling down the covers, he fit her under them, bringing them up under her chin and tucking her in tight. “There… are you cumphy?”
“Uh-huh,” she responded, grinning like an angel. She shifted her hair away from her face. “Since it’s so quiet, I think I’ll sing ‘Silent Night’.”
“That’s a good song. Ma used to sing it to me on Christmas Eve to help me sleep. Will you start singing it after I climb into bed?”
“Sure. Hurry up now and get to your room—but kiss me good night, first.”
He kissed her then scooted off to his room, stripping down to his undergarments and covering up with his wool blankets. Though it was freezing under the covers, he got a warm, fuzzy feeling, thinking about Katherine singing to him. “Okay, Kat. I’m ready!”
“Okay! Here it goes: si-li-ent night… ho-l-y night… all is calm… all is bright… round yon vir-gin Moth-er and child… Ho-ly in-fant so ten-der and mild… sleep in hea-ven-ly pe-ace… sle-ep in hea-ven-ly peace. Good night, Samuel.”
“Good night, Katherine.”
Katherine arose early before the others woke up. She quietly trekked downstairs, holding gifts for them. Reaching the Christmas tree, she placed the presents neatly under it, noticing three beautifully wrapped packages with yellow, red, blue and green colors. The three presents, addressed to her were topped-off with golden bows. Picking up the biggest one of the two gifts from Samuel, she gently shook it, trying to decipher what it was. Not able to suppress her curiosity and longer, she yelled out, “Everybody! It’s Christmas morning. Come see what St. Nicholas brought us!” Katherine stirred up the coals in the fireplace then added a few logs to the embers as she heard bumps and creaks upstairs. She rushed around, lighting candles then hurried into the kitchen to start the coffee brewing. Returning to the dining room, she sat on the floor next to the tree, absorbing the warmth of the growing fire. She placed a red bow on her head and waited for Samuel’s smiling face to appear.
Samuel popped his head in through the swinging door and viewed her sweet smile and red bow on her head. Raising his brow, he grinned and walked toward her. Sitting down at her side, he stole a kiss from her. “Just what I wanted: a Kat,” he murmured as he pulled the bow from her hair and began to unwrap her clothing.
“Stop it, you goof! Later for that!” she giggled.
He plucked a present from under the tree and handed it to her. “Merry Christmas, Katherine.”
She accepted the gift with a sparkle in her eye. Gently biting her lower lip, she chose a gift from her to him and placed it into his hands. “Merry Christmas, Samuel.”
Sara backed out through the swinging door, holding a tray with piping-hot coffee. The ravishing tree behind Samuel and Katherine had been decorated the night before with Katherine’s ornaments she had made as a child. They three had also hung shiny gold and silver balls bought from the store. Samuel had topped it all off with a large star that sparkled when the light hit it. All of it stood out against the frosted picture window.
“Why’re you two looking so blamable?” Sara inquired, as she sat down the tray onto the bar, grinning with a dubious stare. “You weren’t going to open presents without me, now were you?”
“No, ma’am,” they replied together, knowing damn well that they were.
“Yeah, I bet!” she uttered, scolding them with a tease. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” they responded together.
“Come, Mother, sit. Let us open presents now. Oh, wait!” Katherine jumped up and removed the stockings hanging over the mantel. Giving each one to the rightful owner, she exclaimed. “But first, we must find out what’s in these.”
All three dumped out the contents, discovering that each had gotten an apple and an orange from Samuel, two colorful and scented candles from Katherine, and rabbit-fur mittens from Sara.
Katherine handed her mother three multi-sized boxes with red velvet ribbons. With zeal, Sara accepted her gifts. Setting the smallest one onto her lap, she painstakingly opened it.
“Mother!” Katherine uttered sharply, rolling her eyes. “Just tear it open!”
“But the paper’s so pretty. Very well.” Sara ripped it apart and then opened the box. Digging through the packaging of crumpled-up paper, she pulled out a dragon made of crystal. “Oh, my. This is beautiful, Katherine!” she declared, gazing at it from many angles. “Thank you. I’ll add it to my collection.”
Sara opened her other presents, receiving a scarlet, silk scarf from Katherine, and a set of fine china from Samuel to replace what was broken last summer.
Katherine handed Samuel his gifts. Without seeming to care about the damn paper, he shredded the wrapping apart on the first box. Digging into
the smallest of his three mysteries, he pulled out a lucid, silver jackknife. “Ohhh! Swell, Kat. Thanks.” He swung out the blade then flicked his wrist to lock it open, testing it with his thumb. “Sharp, too,” he admitted as he retracted the 6” blade and placed the knife into his back pocket. With his second gift in his lap, he wasted no time getting to the prize inside. He pulled out a pair of snake-skin boots. “Oh, ma’am. These are nifty! I gotta try ’em on right now!” he exclaimed, kicking off his worn-out boots. With the new ones on, he stood and walked, testing them out. “They’re snappy… a little stiff… but snappy. I’ll hafta wear ’em in. Thank you, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome, Samuel.”
Sitting down, he opened his last present. As he pulled out his gift, he seemed to glow with excitement. “Kat! This’s so—I don’t even know what the word for it is.”
“You like it? You said if you ever own one again that maybe we could play together. Well, now you have the chance.”
He rested the violin on his shoulder, his chin on the violin. Picking up the bow, he drew it across the strings, playing a song he knew. “I love it! I need a little practice, though.”
“It’s used, Sam. A musician played it in the 18th century at Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens in London. It’s a collector’s item.”
“I’ll take real good care of it,” he promised her. He handed Katherine her gifts. “Your turn.”
“Ohhh. I’m so thrilled to see what I got from you two,” she confessed as she cautiously unwrapped a gift.
Sara rolled her eyes at Katherine’s meticulousness, then laughed at Samuel’s expression as he gazed upon her daughter.
“Kat!” he exploded. “You gonna get this done before next Christmas? Rip the paper off.”
“But the—”
“Yeah, I know! The paper’s so pretty. I’ll give you wrapping paper as a gift next Christmas. I don’t know what it is with women and wrapping paper!”
“Very well.” She tore into it. Opening a small container, she pulled out a porcelain music box. Flipping up the lid, she found a statuette of an angel with its wings tucked in, praying as it peered up into the heavens. She wound the key and a beautiful melody played as the winged figure slowly turned. With a tear nearly coming to her eye, she said, “Mother! It’s exquisite! I’ll add it to my collection. Thank you.”