“I’m sure he could arrange for you to tour the place. Mind you, it’s been closed for quite some time so I’m not sure it will be pretty to see. He should be here sometime in the late afternoon.”
“Thank you, Barbara.”
“Well, I’ll let you get on with it then. See you later, Tess.” And she was off.
I pulled a suitcase up onto the bed and began the monotonous task of unpacking. An urgency to "hurry up already" spurring me on. I needed to go on that walk. Now. The sense of urgency increased to an excited degree, making me feel anxious though I had no idea why. Who was I to question it? I learned my lesson about not ignoring my feelings the hard way. If I was being urged to take a walk, then take a walk I would do. Without further delay, I turned and headed out the door. My heartbeat kicked up a notch and I wondered with anticipation what was going to happen next?
CHAPTER THREE
Barbara was on the phone when I reached the bottom of the stairs. She indicated with her hand that whoever was on the phone with her was quite the chatterbox and I gave her a sympathetic wave as I headed out the door. Good. I didn’t want any delays. Though what my hurry was, I couldn’t say.
The sky was beginning to clear enough to allow the sun to poke out. Its glorious rays made the wet world around me glisten with vibrancy. The air smelled crispy fresh and clean. What I found most invigorating was the feeling of anticipation that hung suspended over the town. What, I wondered, had everything all stirred up or did it always feel this way around here? Maybe it was me causing the excitement. That little thought jolted me a bit. Surely, I wasn’t important enough to generate this level of psychic energy? For that’s what it was. Spiritual excitement fluttered everywhere. Bucksport’s ghosts were stirred into something of a tizzy and I wanted to know why. One thing for sure, I wasn’t leaving until I had an answer.
The urge to call Kade came over me and I felt around for my cell phone. I needed to hear his reassuring voice. He could ground me into a calmer state better than I could. There was a solidity about Kade, a sense of comfort and security that I needed and welcomed. I missed not having him around. Funny how one month with a person can seem like a lifetime.
My cell phone was not on me. Then I remembered tossing it on the bed. My intention earlier was to call Kade as I was unpacking. But I got sidetracked. It would have to wait. There was no time to go back and fetch the phone. Though what that meant I had no idea. Why this sense that time was of the essence? That I would ‘miss the boat’ if I did not hurry? Hurry! My steps quickened. I crossed the busy street, turned right and headed a short distance down the sidewalk until I saw the access stairs to the river walk. Great. Almost there. Maybe this puzzling sense of urgency would calm a little.
As soon as I stepped onto the nice walkway paved in brick, I turned right toward the paper mill. It took up a huge tract of land and seemed to be the path’s termination point. From the looks of it, the scenic river walk ended at a graveled pier outside the mill property. Even from here I could see it was secured from access by a chain link fence. One step in that direction and I turned around. No, that wasn’t right. I needed to go the other way.
The view was lovely. The expansion bridge, newly built from what I was told by Nancy, stretched in majestic splendor from the island of Verona just across the way to the mainland directly across the river from where I stood. The old bridge stretched alongside it, smaller, lower and looking quite dejected. Another bridge, one like many others, functional and unimpressive, connected the island of Verona to Bucksport. It was toward that bridge that I headed. Along the way were plaques that gave information about the area. I started to stop and read one but knew immediately that I must not. No time! Must go. So I kept walking.
Wondering if Sheila could shed some light on this compelling feeling to hurry, I tried to calm my questing mind and summon my spirit guide to me. She glided into my thoughts almost immediately. The feeling of cobwebs brushed across my face and I smiled at the sensation. Though I didn’t know why this phenomenon occurred, it was my signal that Sheila was with me. My harried psyche began to calm and my steps slowed to a more reasonable pace.
What’s going on, Sheila? Why the hurry? Thankfully, Sheila and I needed no spoken words to communicate. She mingled in my thoughts like a separate presence, her voice distinctly different from mine.
Be calm, Tess. Be open and aware.
Not all that helpful. Surely she could do better than that? Is that all you’re going to give me? Is Jonathan Buck stirred up because I’m here to investigate his curse? Sheila’s laughter was warm and light, making me smile. She always brought with her a feeling of security, much like I felt with Kade. There was also a strong sense that I had nothing to fear. That did not, however, always stop the fear from rising within me on occasion. It was a human trait and one I was determined to conquer.
Fear also helps to keep you safe, Tess. Sometimes, fearlessness spurs careless actions. Fear not, but fear enough.
That’s pretty cryptic, Sheila, thanks. I gave a heavy sigh. I loved our communications, she was such a loving spiritual being, but she spoke often in riddles. Why couldn’t she just be frank for once?
Because it all must come from you, Tess. How are you to learn if you rely on me to tell you all?
I could no more stop the scowl than I could contain my admiration. You are a clever woman, Sheila. But I seriously think I could learn just as much by you giving me information as I can with me going out and discovering it all on my own!
The tinkling laughter rang again through my mind and I laughed softly with her. Many people have been told the truth, Tess, and yet they did not believe. So now you must discover the truth without being told. It’s the only way.
Feeling a tad bit glum for the stubbornness of the human race, I had to agree with Sheila, though I did so reluctantly. Still, it didn’t hurt to try one more time. But I would believe you!
Believing and accepting are two different things and both must be accomplished to learn. Two years ago, you did not accept. This is the only way, dearest. You must understand that.
A ripple of displeasure for my own stupidity shivered along my nerves. When Mike and Tootsie were killed by that drunk driver, it wasn't only Mike and God I was mad at. I was pretty angry at Sheila too for not warning me. Had she done so, I reasoned, I could have saved them. Her silence was looked upon as a betrayal of my trust. Feelings of betrayal do nothing more than feed anger and I had plenty of it to go around. Those feelings quite effectively shut me off from my gift of communicating with the spirit world. Sheila, I thought, had abandoned me. The loss of it all was too much to bear and I held a terrible grudge for two whole years. It ate at my heart and blocked my connection to the light of my soul.
It really bothered me that I let anger throw me into the dark world of sorrow. Leaving my house and going to Sea Willow Haven was the best thing I could have done. Honestly, it was quite the pity party I had going on and the beautiful resort, ghostly inhabitants and all, helped my light grow strong and bright. I was determined to never let anything like that happen to me ever again. No matter what.
I didn’t even get a chance to thank Sheila for coming to me when I felt her suddenly fade from my awareness. I was nearing the end of the walkway and approaching a small park where a monument of some sort was located. It consisted of a curved granite wall inlaid with plaques. Flags fluttered in the wind above and once I was close enough, I could see it was a veterans' memorial. The flags were those of the different military branches, the State of Maine and our great country. A subdued but dignified air hung over the memorial and once I was close enough to read the plaques, I saw that the impressive monument was erected to honor those in the local area who had entered the military. Veterans' memorials certainly were connected to death and sacrifice but that wasn’t why the air had a heavy feeling to it.
A woman sat on a stone bench to the left of the monument wall. She looked to be in her late thirties or thereabouts. Her head hung low as her mind wa
llowed in deep, soul wrenching thought. A dark aura of sadness surrounded her. I wondered if she lost a loved one in the war or suffered through some sort of traumatic event. I thought about Kade and all he had to deal with. I truly believe the hurt in his heart from the loss of his comrades was more damaging to him than his accident. Perhaps she suffered similarly?
It was a tough decision for me. Do I bother her or not? Could I help her? Would she even want my help? Again I thought of Kade. He was in a better place about things, I believe, because of the connection my gift had given him. I was quite thankful to have the ability to connect people with those who had physically died. Such connections often helped to heal broken hearts. Thank God. Kade and I had so much healing to do and together we were getting it done.
So. What to do? As much as I wanted to help her, I had no way of knowing how this woman would react to my offer of help and I wouldn't give it without her prior approval.
The woman lifted her head, stared at the monument for a few seconds then turned to look in my direction. Our eyes met and held. The pain in their depths called out to me. Giving a small shrug, I offered a smile. “I don’t mean to interrupt. So sorry.” I turned to go but she stood and held out a hand in entreaty.
“No, please. It’s fine.” She turned and swept an arm toward the monument. “Did you come to see the wall?”
No. I came to see you. I knew instinctively this was why I was urged to come. “I just arrived in town and had to check out this delightful river walk. I had no idea this memorial was even here.”
The woman gave a small wan smile as she made a visible effort to shake off her sad thoughts and concentrate on me, a welcome distraction. “You just arrived? Are you visiting relatives then?”
“No. I’m passing through actually. I just finished a vacation in Poke Harbor and am making my way slowly back home to New York.”
The woman’s eyes, which I must add were disturbingly black, widened just a tad. “Poke Harbor? I just read something in the news about that place. What…”
Not wanting to discuss what I knew very well she had heard in the news, I hurriedly cut in. “I heard about the Jonathan Buck curse and had to come check it out.”
Some more of the sadness let up as the woman gave a small chuckle. “The witch’s cursed tombstone? Everyone is always so interested in that old legend.” She turned slightly away, her thoughts having gone elsewhere for the moment. Then, giving herself a mental shake, she took a step away from the bench. “I should go. My mom wasn’t expecting me to be gone so long.”
An odd statement. My thoughts must have been quite clear in my expression for the woman hesitated and worried her bottom lip. I knew she was contemplating a delay in her departure and I waited quietly for her to decide. After a couple more seconds of internal argument, her poised-for-flight stance relaxed. “She’s not doing so well right now. I needed some fresh air.” Her eyes glistened with the threat of tears. Giving an impatient sniffle, she shook her head vigorously, as if that would shake her free of the thoughts charging through her mind. “I’m sorry…”
I took a step toward her. The air around us thickened with thoughts, feelings and spirits. The Tri-State was in a flux. I needed to keep her here for just a little longer. “Please don’t rush off. It helps to talk sometimes. I’m a great listener. My husband died two years ago and I’ve been talking the ears off anyone who would listen. Now I’m better, I am all ears.” Giving her a gentle smile I gestured toward the bench. “Shall we sit down for a bit?”
Indecision warred within her and finally, heaving a long tired sigh, she sank back down onto the bench. I approached slowly and when she scooted aside to give me room to sit, I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God. Now to find out what this was all about. “Are you from Bucksport?”
The woman was staring at the monument again and although her head no longer hung down with the weight of the world, her thin shoulders were slightly hunched over as if her strength was nearing its end. “Yes. I think my family probably helped Jonathan Buck build Bucksport.” She gave a small laugh when she saw my eyes widen with interest. “I’m just kidding." Then giving a slight frown, she added, "I think.” When I lifted my brows in inquiry, she went on. “The Rowans have lived here forever it seems. I’m not all in the know on my family history, I’m afraid.” She thought about that for a moment then went on thoughtfully, as if the idea was now taking hold. “Maybe I should look into it. It’s so much easier these days with the internet.”
She didn’t seem so sad at the moment and I was glad that her melancholy had lifted some. Even so, there was a heavy aura around her. It wasn’t something I could see but I could sense it. Something dark loomed in her thoughts, blotting out the light within her. As I'd just mulled over my own dark period only moments ago, I wanted nothing more than to help her through hers. I turned a little sideways to better see her and noticed that she kept her long black hair, containing only a few strands of gray, in a ponytail. It was my style of choice during my two year mourning period. I just hadn’t cared enough to do anything with it. Now, more often than not, I let it hang loose about my shoulders. Kade, I discovered, loved long hair. A pang of longing hit me but I pushed it aside. I’d deal with that later. Right now I needed to concentrate on the woman sitting beside me.
“I think looking up your family history is a great idea. Especially if you have strong ties to the area. You’ll probably find a lot of information right here in town. I hear there’s a really nice historical society with lots of great information. My name is Tess, by the way.”
“I’m Mary Rowan.” She turned to smile briefly, and I was at once caught in the dark depths of her eyes. They were the blackest eyes I’d ever seen and disturbing only in their depth of feeling, as if there was so much going on behind their gaze even she couldn’t comprehend. I felt such a strong urging to know her better that I immediately began to wonder how she factored into my reason for being here.
“Did you lose a family member in a war?” I indicated the Veteran Memorial and Mary’s eyes flashed with remembered pain.
“No.”
Hmmm. I wasn’t expecting that answer. “You just seemed so sad while you were looking at it…?” I let my explanation drift off in a silent question. Yes, I was shamelessly prying for information. It was obvious to me now the Tri-State urged me to come here to ensure I met her. I needed to know why.
“I was in the military. I retired earlier this year.” Mary closed her eyes briefly then continued on. “I swore I was never coming back here to Bucksport and yet, here I am. My mother is here and…well…things aren’t going well. I had to come back.”
“Is she ill?”
Mary gave a short bark of laughter. “As pathetic as I’m acting, you might think so. No, she’s not ill; she’s financially ruined and losing her home.” Mary’s head bowed under the weight of a looming future she could not bear. “It’s been in the family for generations, since Bucksport’s inception in fact. It will kill her to lose it.” And then she added softly, her voice hoarse with sorrow, “It will kill us all.”
“I’m so sorry. It’s tough times for many people right now.”
Mary’s eyes closed and her breathing went slow and deep. I knew she was trying hard not to break down in tears and remained quiet while she collected herself. I wanted to reach out to her but I knew how fragile a hold she had on her emotions. Sometimes a caring touch was all it took to break the dam. She wasn’t ready for a good cry. To encourage it would only make things worse for her right now.
“It all just seems so hopeless, you know? I keep wondering what the point is.”
“The point?”
Mary’s eyes opened and narrowed on the monument wall before us. “Life. What’s the point with life? We work our asses off, we fight stupid wars, we kill…”
My heart did a little lurch. “Kill?”
Now the tears did form and spill down her cheeks. “You’ll have to forgive me, Tess, but I’m a mess right now. I’m dealing with post tra
umatic stress syndrome. PTSD. Have you heard of it?”
“Yes, I have. I’m sorry. Is it from your military experience?” Again thoughts of Kade sprang into my mind. The military life was hard on people, especially to those who fought in wars. For anyone who hadn’t experienced it themselves, it was nearly impossible to know what they went through. With Kade’s help, I was coming to understand their difficulties and challenges just a little.
Mary pressed her hands to her eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about it, the deaths…” She broke down for just a moment, drew in a breath then continued on, her voice shaking with emotion. “I was part of a medical team. We often accompanied troop movements or were sent in after an attack.” She lifted tortured eyes to me. “I killed a man.”
“What happened?” She needed to talk about it, get it out. I kept my eyes steady knowing how important it was to her that I not appear appalled or disgusted. As I was neither of those things, it was easy to do. Of course I was appalled that those things occurred but I was not appalled with her.
“Our convoy was attacked. We all carried guns, were trained well in using them. Shooting at a paper target is nothing compared to lifting a gun and aiming at a person.” Her hands dropped to her lap and twisted together in nervous tension. “He was carrying an explosive device; I couldn’t let him get near us. I didn’t even pause when I lifted my gun and shot him. I can’t get it out of my head the way he looked when he realized he was shot.”
“Was it a quick death for him?”
Mary’s head bowed low, as low as it was when I first came upon her. “He died almost instantly. Just that split second and then it was over.”
“I’m sorry you had to experience that. He’s in spirit now and I can assure you, he harbors no feelings of resentment for what happened. He knew the score when he started at you with that explosive device. He knew what could happen and he accepted those conditions.”
“But he was someone’s son, maybe someone’s husband or a father to some child who now no longer has a daddy.”
Hidden Voices (Tess Schafer-Medium) Page 3