by David Clark
The day finally came where Cristobal and William sat at a table, the same table in the library that they had sat at for the last ninety three days, and the lesson ended with no other book, no other document, nothing sitting on the table next to them. The two sat in silence for several moments before he said, “You now know all that we know on this topic. You could probably teach someone yourself, and one day, God willing, you will teach your own children.”
William would admit he knew more than he had when he arrived, but an expert, oh no, he felt anything but. Another question pushed that thought aside to be handled another day. It was added to the now growing list of topics for worry and consideration later. The new question had an immediacy, “What’s next?”
“Well, no more training, at least not here. You will be sent to your assigned location to, quite simply, perform your duties. For you, that location is around a small area in the Colony of Virginia in the New World. I have arranged, with the help of His Holiness, for passage on a ship of settlers leaving from a port close to my home. It departs next week. Now, they can’t take you straight to the colonies, the English won’t allow that, but they will take you to St. Augustine, the most northern port in the Spanish territory of Florida. The local priest that will aid you will meet you there and take you north to Virginia.”
“Virginia?”, William asked. The question was directed more at himself than anyone else in the room. He had heard of the colonies, who hadn’t? But he didn’t know any of their names.
“I think you will like it there. From what I hear, the weather is a lot like what you are used to in Scotland. The dirt is dark black and rich with nutrients, perfect for farming. In fact, a small spot of land has already been secured for your family, and a small farmhouse is waiting for you.”
“For us?”, he asked. He wasn’t asking why they were worthy of such a gift. That was not the question. Three months. It had only been a little over three months since they’d arrived at the Vatican. How was it possible that word of them had made it to the colonies in that short period of time?
“Well, yes, in a way. The farm has been there waiting for us to find the person or family that would serve the area. That William, is you and Ainslee.”
William felt dumbfounded. Their simple life of just a few months past had consisted of waking up to the sounds of a rooster’s crow or cow’s moo. Days spent tending to the livestock, or working in the field, was a routine that was only interrupted by a trip to town to sell produce or purchase feed. Now they are doted on like they are some kind of foreign royalty on an official state visit. Neither of them have had to prepare a meal or clean their residence since they’d arrived. Now it is taking another turn, they are heading to the New World. A term William had heard many a person back home say with a sense of wonderment and fascination, without knowing what it really was. It was the promise. The promise of a new start.
Cristobal stacked the books and documents he had referred to during today’s lesson, so they could be placed back on the shelves. William sat at the table with an almost dreamy look in his eyes.
“Oh, there is one more thing,” Cristobal stated.
William couldn’t imagine what more there could be, so he asked, “What is that?”
“Your travel papers and land are under the name of Meyer. We changed your name so that the local governors couldn’t trace you back to us in any way. They won’t take well with us placing someone in the leadership of a town. Might see it as tampering.”
“Wait, what do you mean by leadership?”
“You will be one of the town elders of Miller’s Crossing, Virginia.”
31
William sat outside on his porch. His muscles ached, but it was a good ache. From hours working rows of green leafy tobacco plants that spanned across four acres of fields. This was not a crop he had ever seen before he arrived in Virginia, but with help from the neighboring farmers, he found the native plant took quite well to the dark soil. It wasn’t the only crop on his property. William and Ainslee, with the help of some hired hands, had carved out a half acre adjacent to the house and set up a livestock pen and a row of plantings, just for them, or that was how it started out. It wasn’t long before William shared the greens, potatoes, and parsley he grew with everyone. A little touch from their old home, for their new home. At night, William could close his eyes and let the smell of the parsley, wafting in with the sounds of the livestock, take him back to his old farm, if only just for a moment. A moment that was often interrupted by the cry of his infant son, Carl, from the other room, or a question from his oldest, Edward. The sounds of their voices would always bring him back here, the farmhouse built for them, and transformed into their home when he and Ainslee had arrived.
Cristobal, was right about this place being similar. The trees, hills, and rolling green meadows reminded him of Scotland, but it was much warmer. Occasionally, he would wake up to a layer of fog hanging over the land, but it was not the same cool marine fog that rolled in every morning and every night back home. Not that William was complaining. He had become quite used to not feeling chilled to the bone. On summer nights like tonight, after the sun went down and the most devious demon he had encountered since arriving, mosquitoes, were gone, he found peace and solace sitting out on his porch and looking up at the stars, like he had at the Vatican. Sometimes Ainslee sat out there with him. Sometimes Edward did. Ainslee would just hold his hand and gaze along with him. Edward, on the other hand, was full of questions, but one particular question was asked more than the others. “Dad, what is out there?”
Each time William would only say, “I don’t know, son.” Which was the truth, no matter how many times he sat there looking into the void, and past the twinkling stars, he still couldn’t see that place everyone assumed was there, or the being that created and watched over the universe. It didn’t make him doubt they were there. There were plenty of examples of their presence in his life.
“Ainslee?” he called from the front porch. The screen door to the porch squeaked as it opened and the hair on William’s arms stood up from the gooseflesh that had developed on his arms. When Ainslee stepped out on the porch, her husband was standing up. He leaned against the railing and peered into the darkness that surrounded their home. The sun had just gone down behind the tree line. Even the last glint of green light that occurred just as the sun crossed behind the horizon was gone, leaving just the dark of night until the light raced around the globe and came up on the other side the next morning.
“Keep the youngins inside,” said William. He descended the steps off the porch as he heard Ainslee usher Edward inside. He only protested a few times, asking “why” or saying he wanted to go with his dad. William’s hand reached into the pocket of his brown cotton pants and pulled out a simple cross made of wood. He held it firmly in his strong and callused hands, traces of dirt from the day’s work still under his nails. He disappeared into the emptiness thinking, “One day you will, son. One day you will.”
Also by David Clark
You can find the next book in the series Miller’s Crossing Book 2, an International Best Seller, “The Ghosts of Miller’s Crossing”, here.
1
“This room needs some color,” Edward Meyer said. The old leak stains on the white drop ceiling and scuffs on the floor were the only signs of character. The simple plastic white chair Edward sat on resembled one you might find on an outdoor patio. This was in contrast to the stainless-steel table bolted to the floor and the large two-way mirror on the wall in front of him.
He mumbled with a chuckle, “Looks slightly institutional to me,” then remembered he needed to be careful. You never knew when someone might be watching.
Today was his eighteenth birthday and he sat alone in a green cotton shirt, drawstring pants, and slippers. This was no birthday celebration. He was there for an important discussion with his doctor. In truth, it was more of an evaluation; one he had high hopes for.
He thought about the first time he wa
ited, alone, in this room. The table and chair were the same, but his attire and reason for being there was different. He wore jeans and an Iron Maiden t-shirt and sat there confused as to why he was there. He was only fourteen, and things had been rough with his foster parents. OK, “rough” might not be the best word. “Horrendous,” yeah, that’s the correct term. He wasn’t beaten or neglected. Food, care, clothes, etc... nothing was withheld. In fact, to those looking in from the outside, he’d had a great childhood with supportive foster parents that gave him all they could to make sure he had a wonderful loving home.
When he turned nine, they encouraged him to sign up for little league, which he jumped at. He loved baseball. They traveled around to every practice and game, ensuring he always saw two parents supporting him. The same for every school event. To some extent, he felt they were trying to overcompensate for him having lost both parents in a horrible tragedy at age seven.
The door clicked and Edward saw the tall, slender forty-something frame of Doctor Law enter. His nose buried in papers as always.
“Good morning, Edward.” Doctor Law said. His name was always the source of a few jokes among Edward and the other patients. With a name like that, he should be a lawyer. But Edward’s favorite was, he was the “Law” around this place. He liked that one, because it was true, and it was his joke.
Doctor Law pulled a chair away from the table, and then stopped with a bewildered look on his face. He frantically studied the folder in his hands. Without looking up he said, “I will be right back. I have the wrong folder.” He walked back out the door, flipping through the pages with the look of confusion growing the whole time.
Edward always wondered if these types of mistakes were legitimate or some kind of experiment, with someone observing the subject’s reactions through the two-way portal in the wall. He played it cool, sat, and waited for the doctor to return.
The two-way mirror grabbed his attention during his first visit as well. They didn’t hide what it was, just who was behind it. He remembered sitting there, focusing as hard as he could to see through it; hoping his foster parents were on the other side and would be in soon to take him home. That was not the case. Instead, only Doctor Law entered the room.
They talked for hours about many topics. He asked about his relationship with his foster mom, and then about his foster father. To both questions, Edward gave glowing answers about how close he felt to them and how great his life was going.
The conversation moved to school and friends. He wanted to know if Edward was being bullied or harassed at school. He suggested that kids sometimes single out a child who has been in a foster home or has had a traumatic past. Well, the answer to that was most definitely not. Edward had lots of friends, both in and away from school. Other than the normal ribbing you give each other during a baseball game or in the schoolyard, he remembered nothing like bullying. He couldn’t think of any time he may have bullied anyone else, either.
Doctor Law asked him if any of his friends tried to get him to take or experiment with any kind of drugs. That answer was a very loud, “Absolutely not!” His foster parents asked him about drugs once before too. They even took him to the doctor for testing. Edward tried everything he could to convince them. Two days later, the results were in, and his foster parents were apologetic. They explained they heard rumors from other parents about drug use among his friends, and wanted to be sure. Doctor Law listened to his answer while consulting a file laid out on the table before him. He didn’t challenge Edward’s answer, or ask him any more questions about it.
Next, he asked about his real parents. Edward thought for a minute about how to answer, since he was still unsure why he was there. He could have said he never thought about them or what happened to them anymore, but that would have been a lie. He thought about it daily. Sometimes hourly. He told Doctor Law how he felt, and how bad he missed them. Edward then felt the need to explain. He loved his foster parents, but he missed his real parents. Doctor Law interrupted his explanation to tell him that was normal, and they understood that. Hearing that made Edward feel less guilty, though it was not really bothering him much.
Doctor Law asked delicately about the moment he found them. Edward shifted in his seat and explained, “Something woke me up. I laid there for a few moments and heard several loud crashes coming from the kitchen. I called for my mom and she never answered. I heard another crash, and she screamed. I walked downstairs and pushed open the door. That’s when… I saw both lying on the floor.” Edward sighed heavily. “Shortly after that a police officer came in and rushed me out of the house.”
This was a memory Edward wished he could lose. For months, he woke up screaming as the image of his dead parents invaded his sleep. His foster mother would storm in and hold him for hours, trying with all her might to protect him from the memory, but nothing drove it away.
Moments after Edward walked in, Officer Tillingsly grabbed and rushed him out to his patrol car. He left him there for the longest minute or two of his life. When he returned, he took Edward to the police station. The officer was a friend of Edward’s father, and was always around. He could tell Officer Tillingsly was in as much shock as Edward. He sat Edward in the chair behind his desk and gave him a soda to drink. Sitting in a chair beside him, they talked about anything and everything, including a fishing trip he’d taken with Edward and his father over the summer.
They’d been out there for hours with no bites, if you didn’t count the bugs. Officer Tillingsly thought he had a bite on his line once. He reeled it in close to the boat, but when he looked, he leaned over the side a little too far. Flapping his arms like a back-pedaling turkey, he hung there for a few seconds until gravity won and he entered the water with a splash. Edward remember hearing his father laughing while saying, ’Well, Lewis, if we weren’t going to catch anything before, we won’t now. You scared them all off.”
When they got home, Edward’s mother asked if they caught anything. Edward told her, “We caught Officer Tillingsly.” She looked at them like they had lost their minds. All three busted out in hysterical laughter. There was no laughter between them this time. His attempt to distract Edward—both of them really—failed.
The station itself was a hive of activity. Everyone moved around from one room to another in a blur. All talking, and all giving Edward the same heartbroken look as they walked past. Some even had tears in their eyes. Everyone, and I mean everyone, knew his family in this typical small town with only one elementary, junior, and senior high school. On top of that, his father was a local legend. He was a high school All-American Quarterback. Sportswriters and scouts came from all over to meet him during his senior year. He had the pick of prime offers from the best schools, and I do mean the best schools. Alabama, Penn State, and Notre Dame were at the top of a long list. Even with all those great offers, he bypassed college to stay and work the family farm.
After high school, he married his high school sweetheart. They were both active in the community, helping to run the fall festival each year, things at church, town council meetings, and the school board. With all of that, Edward’s house was always full of the sounds of laughter and conversation. Most memories were happy ones, but there were a few that were not so joyous. Once or twice a month, a group of men would show up late at night and talk to his father for a few minutes before leaving. Edward would hear a car door close when he came home the next morning just before sunrise. His parents never discussed what this was about in front of him; all he knew was that his father kept to himself and seemed different for the next couple of days.
A click from the door gave Edward the sense of déjà vu, as Doctor Law opened the door carrying a file like he did about ten minutes ago. He hoped it is the right file this time. He sat back in his chair and watched the doctor circle around to the only other chair in the room. Edward cleared his mind; it was now time for his Oscar-worthy performance.
Want more Miller’s Crossing? Check out the Miller’s Crossing series?
Miller’s Crossing Book 1 – The Ghosts of Miller’s Crossing – Available Now
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Ghosts and demons openly wander around the small town of Miller's Crossing. Over 250 years ago, the Vatican assigned a family to be this town's "keeper" to protect the realm of the living from their "visitors". There is just one problem. Edward Meyer doesn't know that is his family, yet.
Tragedy struck Edward twice. The first robbed him of his childhood and the truth behind who and what he is. The second, cost him his wife, sending him back to Miller's Crossing to start over with his two children.
What he finds when he returns is anything but what he expected. He is thrust into a world that is shocking and mysterious, while also answering and great many questions. With the help of two old friends, he rediscovers who and what he is, but he also discovers another truth, a dark truth. The truth behind the very tragedy that took so much from him. Edward faces a choice. Stay, and take his place in what destiny had planned for him,or run, leaving it and his family's legacy behind.
Miller’s Crossing Book 2 – The Demon of Miller’s Crossing – Available for Pre-Order
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Amazon UK
The people of Miller's Crossing believed the worst of the "Dark Period" they had suffered through was behind them, and life had returned to normal. Or, as normal as life can be in a place where it is normal to see ghosts walking around. What they didn't know was the evil entity that tormented them was merely lying in wait.
After a period of thirty dark years, Miller's Crossing had now enjoyed eight years of peace and calm, allowing the scars of the past to heal. What no one realizes is under the surface the evil entity that caused their pain and suffering is just waiting to rip those wounds open again. Its instrument for destruction will be an unexpected, familiar, and powerful force in the community.