Evangelina Green

by Susan Firtik

  Lina slept poorly that night. She wasn’t afraid of a ghost for heaven’s sake, but she couldn’t clear her mind and rest. Then there was also the sound of the wolf calling out in the swamp. She knew Keaton’s special vocalizations. His voice had a soothing quality. This one was aching, longing, lost, and so sad it made her cry. She didn’t know if she should help or even if she should mention it to Keaton, when...not if...when he got back.

  She’d had her second cup of coffee when Netta wandered down to the kitchen the next morning.

  "You seem in fine spirits.” Then she laughed and almost spewed her coffee across the table, when she thought about the pun.

  "Spirits, ghosts. Get it?" Netta didn’t think it was funny, indicated by the scowl she wore. She got her pills and her juice and sat at the table, gulping down one at a time.

  "Damn horse-pills!” she groused.

  "Didn’t you sleep well?" Lina asked her grumpy sister, actual concern in her eyes.

  "I slept fine, when I could sleep. What was with that damn dog howling all night? I have a headache. I think I’ll take a long hot bath, that usually helps.”

  Netta pushed herself from the table, rinsed her glass and dragged her feet as she walked to the stairs. Lina was concerned but she decided Netta would tell her if she was in more pain or had problems that necessitated a visit to the E.R. She hoped so anyway!

  Better to dive into the work at hand. Nobody else was going to do it. She walked into the dining room and before she could open the first box of documents...she felt that familiar chill.

  "You’re the one.” he sighed the words.

  "I’m the one what?" She questioned.

  He was so shocked he actually stumbled and when she turned to him and asked, “Aaaaand...?”

  Then he did stumble over his feet and his entire world became undone and unglued. He felt dizzy. Wait just a darn minute. Centuries of empty nothingness, and now his first tactile response was dizziness? He fell through the wall behind him and actually felt his backside collide with the marble foyer floor. He was grinning like a fool. He felt that! He was corporeal and yet not. She sat down hard into the tiny desk chair.

  "Well." She brushed her short hair out of her eyes. "That was different."

  Time had momentarily stopped, until he moved around the doorjamb and just stared.

  "You never did answer my question, although now, I believe we now have more to discuss.”

  She smiled as she stared back at him. He only stood there with his mouth agape and shaking with disbelief. She was smiling at him. She could hear him. She could see him. And instead of panic or fright, she took it all in stride. Just another day. As long as he’d been watching her, he had noticed her sense of calm. She just took things as they came, never questioning the why of it, because it just was. He really liked that about her.

  "Well, I guess we should introduce ourselves,” she started toward him with her hand outstretched.

  "You can hear me. You can see me. Amazing." His voice still weak, and now he was backing away? Why? He couldn’t explain his sense of panic at her approach. He was afraid for her, not of her.

  She extended her hand toward him however, it went completely through his and hers tingled up to her shoulder. She'd almost forgotten he was a ghost having seen him around so often. Okay, now what?

  “I’ll go first then. I’m Lina, but I think I know who you are. After reading the old records, I've come to the conclusion that you used to live here, in this house." She waited for him to reply, but continued when he just looked puzzled. His confusion stemmed from not talking for so long, he'd actually forgotten how.

  "You’re Mr. Jackson, my sister’s uhhh...friend, aren’t you? My sister, Netta? You know the one you share dreams with and a few other things.” He interrupted her before she went too far.

  "Yes! That is me." His voice was scratchy, but stronger by the minute. "Please go no further, lest we soil your sister’s reputation!"

  He looked pained and amazingly...embarrassed! Laughing out loud, Lina couldn’t believe ghosts could blush!

  "Mr. Jackson, apparently you are not aware how close my sisters and I really are.” She almost giggled, but spared him the embarrassment.

  He had thousands of questions for her but didn’t know how long he had to ask them.

  "How is it you can see and hear me, while no others can?"

  He sat, or hovered, on the only other chair in the room, waiting and looking anxious. She was the one. He knew he had found his gateway. He felt her magic and her goodness. She would help him find his family, restore the family name and fortune.

  "I’ve always been able to see and hear ghosts, even as a child. I saw you more than once before this, but sometimes ghosts appear to be just another person on the street. It’s not until they haunt someone that they become less...shall we say flesh and blood and their corporeal bodies fade somewhat and they look, well...for lack of a better phrase...ghost-like."

  He became thoughtful and wondered if by haunt, she meant visiting with her sister, Netta. He smiled at the thought of her.

  "What are you thinking Mr. Jackson that makes you smile?" He sat straighter and tried to change the subject.

  "If I haunt, as you say, a person and it’s only when they sleep...are they aware...after sleeping...what took place in that dream...and if I may ask another, does it do the other ill?"

  Now he genuinely looked concerned and worried. Was he involved with Netta and Lina really hadn’t known? She could usually feel when a ghost or spirit was around...she hadn’t had that prickly feeling in quite a few years. Did Keaton sense Mr. Jackson’s presence? Could that be the electricity he'd felt? Either way this house was getting crowded!

  "The way I understand it, not being a ghost or a haunt-ee, the longer the ghost is in contact with his or her object of desire, the ghost...well...kinda loses himself or herself. Some ghosts have sought riches or possessions and the more they search for this or the more they try to hoard, the less of a ghost they become and they kinda fade, I think." She really wasn't sure how to phrase it any better.

  "I’m not sure what happens to them after that. But my experience has been that they just don’t come back. At least I never see them again. Some spirits can manipulate the living, making them steal, hurt, and even try to kill others. Not all ghosts are nice spirits, and I’ve heard people have died because of these spirits, but I’ve always felt those individuals were near death’s door to begin with. That is part of why people are afraid of ghosts." She paused for him to speak.

  "May I ask you a question, Mr. Jackson?”

  He was mulling all the information away and not really paying attention.

  "I beg your pardon. Did you ask something of me?" She grinned at him. A flustered ghost?

  "Yes, Mr. Jackson. You are he, aren't you?” She tried to remember more of what she’d read in the newspaper documents.

  “Tomas Jackson? Weren’t you one of the owners of this home?”

  He was lost in thought, remembering another time, long ago, although he nodded in the affirmative.

  "Can you tell me, Tomas? What was your life like? Can you remember what happened to you?"

  He looked directly into her gorgeous, green eyes and began his story.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  "I was a young boy when my parents moved here. The mansion was owned by my maternal grandparents Eugene and Theodora Treadwell. In early 1867, after the war, my father Zacharia Jackson had nothing to his name, and to add injury to insult, he had left his home in Mississippi to fight with the Union. His family disowned him and therefore he had no inheritance. My mother Beatrice Jackson, was humiliated, but she also knew if my father could no longer provide for her and the children, she had no choice but to return home. I was the eldest boy, at 14, with two younger brothers, Jonathan and Byron, and one younger sister, the baby, Elizabeth. Father didn’t take the move well. He began to withdraw from us and he drank often. Mother became saddened at the loss of her best friend and husband
. She doted on us for the first few years we lived here. Then realizing we needed her less and less, when the Treadwell’s hired two nannies and had maids and servants for every task, she withdrew. My parents died within two years of our moving to the mansion and within a week of each other. They just went. There was no warning, no sickness, and no outward signs of anything but sadness. Seems they didn’t want to live without the other. Elizabeth said they died of broken hearts and I must agree.

  "We managed—the four of us children, to stay close and avoid the grandparents. They’d become tyrants and blamed us for our mother’s death. They claimed if we had shown her more love, she would not have gone on. They couldn’t fathom loving someone that much they’d die to be with them again. They were incapable of love. I only discovered this on the day I died. I’d always thought they just didn’t know how to love us kids. But they hated us. They could have killed us all, buried us far away and be done with it, if it hadn’t been for two house slaves. I realize that’s not a term used now, but they were intelligent and caring individuals who took us to church, and school, and they made trips to shop in town with us in tow, all to make sure the entire community knew of us and that we were wards of the Treadwells. They couldn’t very well do away with us with everyone knowing about us.

  "I actually died a full grown man, I had just turned 21. But after death, I was cursed to stay in this house until...well I’m not sure, but I assumed that as the oldest and the first to go, I was left to watch over the mansion. I don’t know what I might do if the old girl was threatened but since that hasn’t come up I haven’t had to find out. I don’t have an answer to any of those questions. My portrait hangs at the bottom of the stairway. I think there are times when it shows me as a lad, and at others I seem to age day by day until I appear as an old man. Currently, it shows me as I looked at twenty-one. The portrait painter, well known for his black magic, was often a guest at the mansion and therefore the one commissioned to paint one of each of us. Then one by one my family, my siblings, at the age of approximately twenty-one, either died or disappeared, almost as soon as the paint dried on those portraits. We were cursed by our own grandparents.

  "I was cursed to watch my family die and their deaths were not peaceful. I know not what has become of them afterward. It all seems so long ago, and memories fade, even for spirits. Why would I be the only one cursed to remain here? They all died at age 21, after they supposedly left home to find their fortunes or after marrying someone in another state. Of course, no one here knew of these marriages or husband or wives, or what ever became of them. No one ever saw my siblings again. No one questioned why they didn’t come home for holidays, or summer vacations and the like. With time, memory fails and after a while, we were forgotten by everyone around us. Our killers and I were the only witnesses to these vulgar acts of violence."

  He stopped speaking, waiting for Lina to say something. She was staring out the window, shoulders slumped, crying softly for his lost family. She knew the pain of losing those you love and she could hear it in his telling of the tale. She turned to him, wiping her face, not knowing what she could say. She hadn’t felt any other presences in the house, but she hadn’t known he was there either. Who could say?

  "I think I’d like to try reaching them if they’re near. No promises, but I have done it in the past.”

  His eyes lit with excitement.

  "Do you think they might be here and I might not know? They might be on a different plane or lost somehow?”

  She didn’t know, and wouldn’t know until later when she tried to hold a séance. She had held séances in the case of a reluctant “left behind” as she called them. The living sometimes needed some convincing before they believed. Usually it was a spouse or a child who desperately needed to tell their family or “left behinds” that they were happy, safe and they wanted their loved ones to move on, to continue on and love someone else. It was all okay. The ghosts she spoke with could put on a good show if needed and convinced every single doubter she’d ever invited to her sessions.

  She’d need a few supplies, a few people to sit with her...hmm? Netta would help, but whom else could she trust? She thought of the workmen and dismissed all but one, Jason, as she’d seen him talking often with Keaton and he did help her in the garden. She’d ask him later. Three would have to be enough—besides three was a lucky number with ghosts. She was hopeful that she could help Tomas and his family finally fined some peace. They deserved that.

  Tomas wondered how a kind and pretty girl like Lina was alone and not married with a bunch of kids. She’d be a wonderful mom. She was very empathetic. He’d known she was the one when he first felt her presence in the house and now he could find his family and let them rest. He just knew they hadn’t moved on yet. He needed Lina to make that happen.

  He knew there was a treasure to be found. He also knew Elizabeth knew more about it than he did. He needed to speak with her, one last time. He didn’t want the fortune for himself. He thought Netta could use the funds to find a doctor that would cure her. He loved her enough to let her live. He would be patient.

  It was still early in the afternoon, so Lina continued her work in the dining room and talked a bit with Tomas. He was an interesting man. She didn’t seem to mind that nobody but she would see him. Most would figure she was talking to herself. Again. He had ideas and plans that had never come to be, but still had merit in this day and age.

  As she watched him pace the floor, she could see he was a handsome man if not for his old fashioned hair and clothing. Could ghosts get makeovers? She almost giggled at that thought.

  He was tall and broad of shoulder and had a slim waist with a nice behind! She laughed at herself and shook her head, thinking Keaton would not approve of her ogling some other man's backside. But, hey! He left her, so if he wanted to approve or disapprove, he’d have to be in her life to begin with. Even then, she doubted she would let him dictate who or what she could look at!

  "It doesn’t matter, he’s not here. So why can’t you stop thinking about him?" She was muttering to herself but when she felt comforting warmth and a pair of arms slowly hugging her from behind. She stopped and took a deep breath.

  "Thank you,” she whispered. She knew it was Tomas as she could feel his transparency...there really wasn’t another way to describe it. She did feel better and dusted herself off.

  "I’ll need you to be with us this evening if you can."

  He hesitated, and with a worried look on his face, nodded then vanished.

  She started gathering items together. Candles of course. What séance would be complete without those? She had holy water left over from when the local priest had blessed the house. She then needed a bowl, clean white napkins, an apple, a sharp knife and some straight pins. Sounded like hoo-doo-voo-doo, but it was just a way to purify the air or cleanse the way for spirits to enter into our world.

  The holy water would be poured into a clear, glass bowl and placed in the center of the table. This was protection for the living. The apple would be cut into thirds, one piece for each person at the table, covered with one of the napkins and pinned in place onto the table. This was food for the spirits, it was one of the pure and natural foods and if they were fed, the ghosts or spirits would be less likely to hurt the living. Or at least less likely to attempt a takeover.

  She’d seen that only once when younger and did not want a repeat! A woman speaking as a man and even sprouting facial hair! Brrrrr! Gave her chills just remembering that night. That was why she was especially methodical and careful in her preparations.

  Jason was willing to come over and didn’t seem to mind the reason. Very open minded of him. She smiled when she thought of him. She liked him in a friendly way. Besides, he seemed too young for her. Lina felt safer knowing he would be there. He might be young, but he was built sturdy and had that air of confidence she’d only seen in Keaton. Maybe they were related? Weirder things have happened lately!

  Exactly at the first stroke of m
idnight, the candles were lit, the other lights turned off. The holy water was set and as they each became accustomed to the dim light, Lina simply asked that any friendly spirits nearby come to them tonight. That’s about all it usually took as Lina was a natural ghost magnet. She took the apple and cut it into three equal parts, covered it and pinned it down. Netta and Jason followed her example. Immediately the candles flickered and a chilly wind blew through the room. Lina looked up and saw Tomas had arrived.

  "Quite an entrance, Tomas.” Netta gasped, and sat up straighter and looked around the room for him.

  "He’s standing behind you, Netta, protecting you."

  Jason raised an eyebrow at the statement that she knew where a ghost was standing, but also that Netta cared one way or the other! There was more going on here than he’d been told. Ever watchful, he kept silent and just looked casually around the room. The windows were closed, but a faint breeze seemed to blow the curtains a few inches away from the windows. The room became downright chilly and if he didn’t know better, he’d assume there really were ghosts and they were in the room with him right now. The napkin in front of Lina moved and as Jason watched, his began wobbling then Netta’s moved. Lina smiled and Jason saw tears in her eyes.

  "Netta, Tomas is filled with joy right now. You should see his face! His sister Elizabeth is here and so are his two younger brothers, Jonathan and Byron.” Jason just stared at Lina and wondered how long he’d sit here and be quiet. This was hocus-pocus and he was uncomfortable.

  "Jason, Elizabeth is nearest you and says you are a handsome man for a wolf—hey! What does she mean? Are you a shifter too?" He felt cornered and his eyes glowed for a second but that was long enough for Lina to catch it.

  "You are! Amazing!" Netta just grinned at how Jason looked—ready to run or maybe attack but he was handling himself well.