by Blaire Edens
“I’ll make a copy,” Campbell said. “We can add it to the notebook.”
Copy in hand, the left the building and decided to grab a late breakfast at the café across the street. After they ordered two BLTs and two iced teas, Maeve took the copy and looked over it again, scanning for any details, any hints she might have missed.
“This was your great-great-great-great-great grandmother. Amazing.”
Campbell took a sip of his drink and played with the straw wrapper. “I thought I didn’t want to know but now that I do, I feel better. Relieved.”
“It doesn’t change who you are.”
“No, it doesn’t. No one bit.”
*****
“She didn’t shoot him. She couldn’t have!” Maeve jumped up from her chair and waved a piece of paper in the air. After the trip to track down the birth certificate, she’d gone back to her table in the back of the Avery County Museum and reopened the box, searching for any details she might have missed.
Mrs. Hightower ran into the room. “Maeve, what in the world?”
“Delphine. She didn’t shoot and kill Jenks. It’s impossible.”
“Why?” Mrs. Hightower slid into a chair. “What did you find?”
Maeve handed her a yellowed paper across the table. “This. It’s a transcript of Bessie’s testimony at trial.”
Mrs. Hightower put on her reading glasses and glanced at the document. “How does it prove Delphine’s innocence?”
“Right here,” Maeve sat next to her and pointed to one paragraph with her index finger. “Read this line:
“Paulson, Esq: When you saw Mrs, Whitson in the clearing chanting, did you notice any physical details that seemed out of the ordinary?
“Bessie Vance: That hand of hers, marked her as a witch from birth. Her mother should’ve smothered her in the crib. That’s what any God-fearing woman would’ve done with a marked child, especially one with the claws of the devil.”
“It was a different time then, that’s for sure,” Mrs. Hightower said.
“Now read this one,” Maeve said.
Mrs. Hightower read aloud, “Paulson, Esq.: Did you see her shoot your husband?
“Bessie Vance: I seen her load the rifle, place it on her shoulder and fire. She aimed right at him.”
Mrs. Hightower looked at Maeve in confusion. “Didn’t we already know that?”
In that moment, Maeve remembered the best part of being a lawyer. The moment, where by the virtue of hard work and dogged determination, a long-buried detail came to light and busted the whole case wide-open.
“The Springfield Rifle used to shoot Jenks was a common firearm produced beginning in the 1850s. It was issued to a lot of Confederates during the war. While the gun in Delphine’s house might have been the one that killed Jenks, there’s no way to be sure,” Maeve said.
“I still don’t understand,” Mrs. Hightower looked over the transcript again. “It doesn’t really matter which gun she used. Bessie saw her shoot.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Read this,” Maeve pulled a copy of a newspaper article from a folder and passed it across the table. “The highlighted part.”
“She was a small woman, thin and gaunt. Her eyes were glassy and she stumbled toward the wagon hired to carry her to her macabre destiny. Sheriff Josey Johnston, a tall man with a beard and eyes as sharp as glass, had to help the condemned woman into the wagon as her right arm was shrunken and deformed with no real hand, and she was unable to use it to climb.” Mrs. Hightower read aloud. “I still don’t understand.”
“That gun weighed over nine pounds and was nearly five feet long. Delphine was petite and she had a very significant birth defect that would have made firing a 19th century rifle very difficult, if not impossible.”
Realization dawned on the older woman’s face. “She couldn’t have held up the gun.”
Maeve shook her head. “There’s no way.”
“If she didn’t do it, then who did?’
“I have no idea but I intend to find out.”
*****
Every day she gets closer to the truth. Little by little she’s chipping away the layers, cutting the ties that have bound me to these mountains for so many years.
I’d love to see Jenks again, my mother, too. I’d love to see the baby I delivered two days before they hanged me on the town square.
When she was born, I held her in my arms and saw that she was perfect. Pink and small, with her father’s jet black hair and my heart-shaped face. She was the only hope I had left and I had to make sure she had a life that was better than mine.
The jailer was an old man, way too soft to be a jailer, and I begged him to help me. I threw myself on his mercy and good-nature and by God’s Grace, he helped me. My baby girl would grow up with Evelyn Hyatt, an earthly angel if there ever was one. The jailer took her from my arms and assured me that he’d keep her safe. I couldn’t bear to name her. Instead I told him I’d leave that to Evelyn.
She wouldn’t have my name or Jenks’. She’d be free to live a life without the brand on her.
I couldn’t save my own life, but I saved hers.
*****
“I’ve got to talk to Delphine,” Maeve said.
She and Campbell were sitting on the front porch of the cabin while Granny took a nap in her chair. Soft rain fell on the mountains in a soothing rhythm. They held hands and rocked in time with each other.
“Now you’ve lost it, gone completely around the bend.”
“It’s the only way to find out who really killed Jenks.”
“Isn’t it enough that you know she didn’t?”
She shook her head. “I want the whole story. I’ve come too far to give up now.”
Campbell shivered. “I hope you don’t want me to be there when you talk to her.”
“Still scared?”
“Yep. Because I’m sane.”
When Campbell left, Maeve watched the clouds move out over the mountains and tried to figure out how she could talk to the ghost who’d been the center of her life for the past few weeks. As a lawyer and a very logical person, she wasn’t exactly familiar with the best way to summon a spirit and with all the time and energy she’d put into the case, Delphine seemed more like a friend than a spirit.
The only place she’d seen Delphine was on Roan Mountain. Maybe that was the best place to start.
The next morning dawned clear and sunny. Maeve packed a sandwich, an apple and a couple of water bottles. She tossed them in a tote bag with the growing notebook and kissed Granny on the cheek. “I’ll be home in a few hours. Got everything you need?”
“I’m just fine. You take your time, honey.”
Maeve hadn’t told Granny why she was going to Roan Mountain but she was quite sure the older woman knew. “Call Campbell if you need anything.”
“I will,” she said.
By the time Maeve parked and began walking to the overlook, her heart pounded in her chest. After all the documents she’d read and the story she’d built from scraps, the idea of seeing Delphine still scared her.
She sat in the same place she had before and watched the sun make its way over the crests in the distance. The place was busier than it had been the last time she’d been here. While the presence of other people comforted her and helped to ease her fears, it also frustrated her because she was certain Delphine wouldn’t appear around all these tourists.
The leaves were gorgeous. Gold and copper. Red and russet. Maeve tried to concentrate on the colors, the smells of fall, and the incredible beauty that spread before her. By noon, the tourists had thinned. Maeve concentrated on Delphine, tried to send her a message that she needed answers.
Just when she was sure Delphine wasn’t coming, Maeve felt a change in the air. Like a subtle breeze, the air moved and changed. She looked toward the balsam tree where she’d seen Delphine the last time. A shape was beginning to form, from particles of white-gray fog, a woman in purp
le appeared.
Since she was half-expecting Delphine, Maeve was able to look more closely at her features. She was a tiny woman, her waist impossibly small. As she became clearer and clearer, Maeve concentrated on the sleeves of the dress and was finally able to see the deformed hand. With the passing seconds, Delphine became defined, looking as solid as living human being.
“Can you hear me?” Maeve asked.
Delphine nodded. “I can.”
Delphine’s eyes, a bright blue that reminded Maeve of Delphiniums, were pained. “My mother named me after those flowers. Saw them from her window the day I was born.”
Maeve shook her head trying to clear it. Had she said that aloud?
“We’re connected, you and I,” Delphine said. “Have been for longer than you’ve been alive.”
“What do you mean?”
“I knew you were the only one who could help me.”
“Why?”
“You know what it’s like to be branded.”
Maeve nodded. “I need to know who killed Jenks. I can’t clear your name until I know where to look for the real killer.”
“It was Calvin, Bessie’s brother.”
Ah. Calvin had been mentioned in more than one of the documents. Always popping up to defend his delicate sister’s honor. “He killed him because you were having an affair with Jenks?”
Delphine nodded sadly. “He tried to make me do it but, with my hand like it is, he finally gave up and did it himself.” She held up her hand so that Maeve could see it. It was shaped like a lobster claw with only two appendages that didn’t even really resemble fingers. They weren’t jointed and Maeve saw no fingernails on them.
“And framed you?”
“Bessie already told them all I was the cause of the pox, that I was the one making every one sick. She knew they’d believe anything about me after that.”
“Why was the rifle at your house?”
“It wasn’t the same one. The one at my house was Hoke’s. I never fired a rifle in my life.”
Maeve shook her head. “And they hanged you for it.” It was sadly, not a unique story. One of the reasons she’d gone into criminal law was to make sure that no innocent person was jailed or executed.
“What can I do to prove he killed Jenks? I want to clear your name.”
“I don’t know if it’s still there.”
Maeve wrinkled her brow. “What and where?”
Tears welled in the corners of Delphine’s eyes. “Afterwards, when I saw that Jenks was mortally wounded, I fell on the ground beside him. My candelabra, the one my mother had carried from Charleston when she’d married my daddy, was right beside me. I wanted to see Jenks’ face, I wanted him to know I was with him until the very end.”
Maeve wanted to touch Delphine, wanted to take her hand and comfort her. She took a couple of steps closer to the ghost. “He knew he was dying?”
Delphine nodded. “He knew he didn’t have much time.”
Maeve couldn’t imagine what a moment like that must feel like. Her mind darted to Campbell.
How would I feel if I had to watch Campbell die? Holy shit. She was in love with Campbell. Again.
Tears welled in the corner of Maeve’s eyes. “I can’t imagine what that moment must have been like.”
“I told him that I’d always love him, that I’d make sure our child had a good life. He smiled and then,” she sobbed softly. “And then he was gone. When I stood, Bessie and Calvin were gone. They’d taken the rifle and left.”
“Why didn’t they kill you?”
“Bessie wanted me to suffer.”
“What did you do?”
“I stayed with him until the Sheriff found me there the next morning.”
“And by then he’d found the gun at your cabin?”
Delphine nodded. “I never went home again.”
“So how can we prove that you didn’t kill Jenks?”
“The candelabra.”
Maeve knitted her brow. “How could that help?”
“I had a piece of paper. One I’d shoved down into the hole beneath the candle to keep it upright. He wrote out what happened right before he died. He didn’t want me to be blamed.”
“How come you didn’t show it to the Sheriff? Why didn’t your lawyer?”
“No one believed me, and I was in jail.”
“You think the piece of paper is still in the candelabra?”
Delphine shrugged. “It’s the only thing that can really clear my name.”
“Where is it?”
“I asked the jailer to make sure Evelyn Hyatt got it. I wanted my baby to have the one thing that was my mother’s.”
“I’ve got to find it,” Maeve said.
“Please do, Maeve.” When Delphine said her name, a chill ran up her spine. “I want to leave this place. I’ve been trapped her for so long. If I make it to heaven, maybe I can see Jenks, my little girl, those who came after her.”
“Campbell? The man that’s been helping me? He’s one of your descendants.”
Delphine smiled. “He looks a lot like Jenks and he looks at you a lot like Jenks used to look at me.”
Maeve blushed. “I don’t think we’re meant for each other.”
“Then you’re blind.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Maeve doesn’t know what losing Campbell would do to her. She’s too young to know that true love, the kind where you don’t know where you end and your lover begins, is as rare and beautiful as an April snow. They have the real thing. I can see in the way her eyes sparkle when she looks at him and in the way he grins when she speaks his name.
If she has any sense, she’ll grab onto him and never let go but I have little confidence in the living. They think there will always be one more day, one more hour. Not always.
One minute you’re holding your lover in your arms and the next you’re on the gallows for something you had nothing to do with.
Jenks didn’t give anyone the pox. If he had, it would’ve been me. I was the only woman he loved, and after Hoke died, I was the only woman he ever lay down with. I know that as sure as I know my own name.
The pox came to the mountains with someone else. Who? We’ll never know. The truth is lost to time.
*****
Maeve’s conversation with Delphine had forced her to reflect on her feelings for Campbell. She was in love with him. She’d never stopped loving him.
She hoped he’d never stopped loving her.
As soon as she had cell service, she dialed him. “Can I come to your house?”
“I guess. What’s up?”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” She couldn’t explain everything on the phone.
His house was located at the end of a gravel road. It was a small wood-framed house, painted a brilliant white. Maeve drove across the wooden bridge that spanned the large creek that ran along the edge of his property and parked near the side of the house.
Campbell, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, was standing on the porch, leaning against the beam that supported the porch roof. He looked delicious. If she didn’t have to find the candelabra and help Delphine move on to another realm, she’d jump out of the car and run into his arms. Not say a word to him until they were snuggling in his bed. Afterwards.
Instead she focused on her mission. “Do you have an old candelabra?”
He wrinkled his brow. “There’s an old silver one mom gave me before she passed away.”
“Where is it?” Maeve asked, brushing past him toward the front door.
“Whoa.” He stepped between her and the door, blocking it. “What is this all about?”
Maeve was so keyed up, so determined to find the scrap of paper that would clear Delphine’s mane and so damn attracted to Campbell, she couldn’t think straight. “I need to see that candelabra.”
He relented and stepped back from the door and opened it for her. “It’s on the mantle.” He pointed to the fireplace on the far wall.
Maeve rus
hed over and grabbed it. The four candles were old and dusty. She yanked them out one by one and peered into the holes. It was very difficult to see, but in the fourth well, she thought she saw something. “Get into my purse and hand me the tweezers.”
Campbell stood behind her. “Not until you tell me what in the hell is going on.”
She turned to face him, candelabra in her hand, “The only thing that might free Delphine is a piece of paper that might be stuck down in this.”
He grabbed her purse from the sofa where she’d tossed it on the way to the fireplace. He dug around until he found a pair of tweezer and handed them to her. “Be careful. If there’s anything in there, it’s pretty old and probably brittle.”
She tilted the candelabra on its side and held it up the light. Inserting the tweezers into the hole, she gingerly teased out a piece of paper. Rolled tightly, like a cigarette, it was yellowed with age. Maeve looked up into Campbell’s eyes. “This might be it.”
“I had no idea anything was in there. Let’s sit at the table and see what it says.”
After unrolling it, Maeve squinted to read the words. Written in loose cursive script, it read:
Calvin and Bessie done this. Delphine is innocent.
Jenks Vance, 1867
“This is it. Just where Delphine said it would be.” She ran the tip of her finger along the script and savored the feel of the rough paper. “It didn’t save her life but maybe it will clear her name and she can finally see Jenks again.”
Campbell and Maeve looked up at the same time. Their eyes met and Maeve couldn’t stop herself. She reached across the table and pulled him into her arms. She wanted Campbell more than she ever wanted anything.
He rose, lifting her to her feet. The kiss has all the heat of the one in the rain and all the softness of the one on Granny’s front porch.
Campbell took her hand and led her down the hall toward his bedroom.