The tourists on the Ghost Walk all stared at her with varying degrees of incomprehension.
Jamie rolled his eyes towards the night sky. He knew he was being a jackass, but he couldn’t help it. New memories were crowding his head. The feel of her skin, and the taste of her lips, and the miraculous sensation of her mouth suckling him to completion. Not knowing what he was missing had been much easier than actually missing it.
None of that was Grace’s fault, of course.
Just as it wasn’t her fault that Jamie could recall with crystal clarity the feeling of panic that had swept over him when she vanished right before his eyes. Two centuries did nothing to alleviate the desolation he’d felt when she’d disappeared and left him behind. It was a hell of a way to be convinced time travel existed. If he hadn’t died within a few days, he probably would have done himself in out of sheer hopelessness. No way in hell could he have lasted another fifty years, alone and longing for her. The best part of his life had been dying and finally being with Grace.
Except he wasn’t with her. Not really.
The need he felt for Grace was a tangible thing inside his ghostly shell. But, the divide between the living and the dead was an obstacle not even Jamie could break through. His new memories were making that crystal clear. He could never be with Grace the way she deserved. No matter how he tried to hide from reality, he’d known it from the beginning.
He should let her go.
Grace should have her Partner by her side. Someone to guard her and kiss her and share her world. Not a ghost, with only the memories of life. The miserable truth of it was what had sent him into such a foul mood
He should let her go.
That inescapable fact had been in the back of his mind for days, but spending just a brief time with her as a mortal brought it all to the surface. Given a choice, Grace would stay with him. He knew that. Their connection was too strong and her loyalty went too deep for her to ever send him away. But that would mean that she gave up her chance at a real life.
He should let her go.
Back on the Sea Serpent, she’d looked up at him like he was husband material and he wasn’t. He was just an echo of a man. Jamie couldn’t stand by, invisible and selfish, while she wasted her life on a ghost. …No matter how much he wanted to.
He should let her go.
Grace was alive. She was passionate and shy, smart and full of self-doubt, pessimistic and shining with idealism… A mass of perfect paradoxes, with strange taste in furniture and a smile that could drop a man to his knees. Jamie loved her beyond all earthly boundaries. Everything magical about this universe was held inside of her small frame. It had been worth hanging and spending two hundred years in isolation, just to have these few days with her. He would do it all again, without a second’s hesitation.
Grace was the very best part of existence and she should have the very best Partner that the world had to offer. Someone far better than a dead pirate.
And so he had to let her go.
And so he was angry and resentful and defeated and grief-stricken… and being a jackass.
Jamie looked over at his brunette reason for everything. “You can call me as many names as you like, but I’m not changing my mind. Your time traveling adventures are too dangerous, Grace. You need to stop. It’s over.”
“It’s not over.” She snapped and then remembered her tour group was watching her. Her eyes widened and she glanced back her confused guests. “The tour, I mean.” She told them quickly. “The tour’s not over. We’re walking this way.” She pointed down the street, waving at them to follow her.
Jamie sighed and hopped off the fence rail where he’d been sitting. Grace’s Ghost Walk was turning into performance art, mostly because she kept forgetting to ignore him. The tourists were growing more and more baffled, as she repeatedly interrupted the halfhearted ghost yarns to complain at someone they couldn’t see. If Jamie been in a better frame of mind, it would have been amusing. As it was, he took it as further proof that he was standing between Grace and the living world.
“Grace.” He fell into step beside her. “You’ve saved Anabel. You’ve done what you set out to accomplish. There’s no more need for you to go back in time. You can return to your crime investigation job, knowing that you’re no longer burned up.”
With her face swollen up like a bowling ball, Anabel Maxwell had understandably skipped her trip to the governor’s party back in 1789. Instead, the girl had traveled down to Jamestown to see her doctor uncle about her broken nose and spent the rest of the summer in hiding. Consequently, she didn’t die in the hedge maze. Jamie had recollections of her growing to be a very old woman, with a crooked nose and a successful horse farm. She’d eventually helped with the Underground Railroad. That was all thanks to Grace.
“It’s burned out. And I plan to help all the victims, not just Anabel.” Grace hissed back. “Clara Vance still dies. More importantly, you still die.” She shook her head. “I’ll stop when I save you, Jamie. Not before.”
Jamie brushed a hand over her hair, wishing he could feel the dark stands. “Maybe you could go back and stop me from hanging,” he admitted quietly, “but I’ll still be dead, Grace. There’s nothing you can do to change that.”
She sent him a fuming look. “I’m supposed to be the one saying that the plans won’t work. You’re supposed to be the one who’s super-optimistic, remember?”
“I’m the one being practical. What will happen, even if you discover the real killer? What good will it do me now?”
“We have no idea what the rest of your life might have been! Clearing your name will change the whole timeline. It’ll make things the way they were always supposed to be. That’s the whole point of this! You won’t get lynched by the mob, so you could go on living for decades. You could have a successful life, with happy marriage and some kids.”
“I won’t.” He told her seriously.
“You don’t know that.” But her eyebrows tugged together, as if she didn’t much like the idea of him living out the Early-American dream without her.
Jamie understood the feeling all too well. Without Grace beside him, he would have nothing. “Saving me from hanging would do me no favors.” He knew it with as much certainty as he knew his own name. “I see that now. We’re stopping this investigation.”
“We’re not stopping, Jamie!” Grace bellowed. “No matter what it means for us, I’m not leaving you back there to die!”
The tour group was staring at her again.
Grace didn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps she just didn’t care. “There’s gotta be a potion or something to fix the rest of it.” She insisted. “I can figure it out. I know I can. We just need to keep you alive.”
“There’s no potion to turn a ghost back into man!”
She winced and looked away from him.
Whatever was left of Jamie’s heart cracked in half, but he kept going. If he didn’t, he would never be able to finish what had to be said. “Reanimating the dead is beyond even the Riveras. I’m gone, Grace. You’re the one who’s still alive and I mean to keep you that way.” Jamie loomed over her, willing her to understand. “There is a killer loose in my time.”
“No kidding.” She snapped, swiping at her eyes. “We’ve been investigating him for days, so I don’t get why you’re so upset now.”
“Um….” A tour guest in tube socks and sandals hesitantly raised his hand. “Excuse me? Were we supposed to get a pamphlet or something to explain this part?”
A blonde woman in a Lakers cap nodded. “Yeah, I’m --like-- totally confused. Is this --like-- a dinner theater thing? Because I’m vegan and I’ll need a special menu.”
“Damn it, I already ate.” Someone else complained. “No one told me there was free food on this tour.”
“We’re not eating.” Grace snapped at them. “What are you guys talking about? Just zip it and let me have a conversation here, alright?” She made a slashing motion across her lips.
J
amie winced at bit. It was at least the fourth time she’d told the guests to shut up since the tour began. The woman had inherited her family’s lack-of-talent for customer service.
“That’s it. I’m so filing a complaint. I skipped the candlelight harpsichord recital for this and it’s totally not what Trip Advisor promised.” The blonde muttered, reaching for her phone.
Several people nodded in agreement.
Jamie ignored the Ghost Walk’s outraged (and kinda justified) murmurings. “You weren’t one of the killer’s targets before now, love. If you return to 1789, you could well become a victim yourself.”
“You’re being paranoid.”
“You’re being naive.” He shot back. “You said yourself I danced with all the girls he killed. For all we know, that madman selects women I’ve showed an interest in.”
“Except you said yourself that you danced with other girls, who the killer left alone. You’re making assumptions.”
Jamie ignored her analysis. “There is no one I’ve a greater interest in than you. Not in this time or any other. Half the town heard me saying I planned to marry you, for Christ’s sake! He already knows you’re mine.” How did she not understand the danger? “If I’m right, he’ll come after you next, Grace.”
“If he does, it will be the perfect opportunity to catch him. If it’s Edward Hunnicutt, we can…”
Jamie’s precarious temper detonated. “We’re not going to use you as bait for a killer!” He bellowed. “Do you think I’d take such a risk for anything? Are you out of your bloody damn mind!?”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to solve this case, no matter how loud you shout!” Grace bellowed back. “Now keep quiet and let me work.” She pointedly turned back to her baffled tour group, half of whom were busily lodging complaints about her on their phones. “This statue is of Patrick Henry, first Governor of Virginia. His home was built here in town,” she pointed towards the mansion, “where lavish parties were…”
“It says on the plaque that the statue is of Gregory Maxwell.” Tube socks interjected. “Ninth governor of Virginia.”
“What?” Grace asked in confusion, surprised out of her rehearsed spiel.
“Gregory fucking Maxwell became governor!” Jamie yelled at the same time. If he had a new memory of that, he’d thankfully blocked it out.
Both of them turned to look at the bronze statue of a man on horseback. Sure enough, the plaque beneath it read: “General Gregory Maxwell, Ninth Governor of Virginia. Favorite Son of Harrisonburg, who single handedly defeated the British in the Battle of Yorktown and won Americans their freedom.”
“‘Singlehandedly defeated the British?!’” Jamie threw his hands up in disgust. “He ran off at the first sign of muskets!”
“General Gregory Maxwell?” Grace whispered fiercely. “He wasn’t a general in the last timeline, was he?”
“Of course not! And he wasn’t one in this timeline, either. I guarantee it. The man was nothing but an idiot and a liar. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I’d just as soon erect a monument to King George himself.” Jamie was appalled to the depths of his being. “Who would do such a bloody awful thing?”
“We did this.” Her amazed eyes stayed on the huge bronze sculpture. “We changed history. We have no idea what kind of chain reaction our actions caused. Something we did must help Gregory Maxwell became governor.”
“And still you want to go back and alter more?” Jamie scoffed. “Now I have to look at his stupid, deceitful face up there for the rest of eternity. Maxwell’s cowardice killed a dozen of our own troops and they’re calling him a hero! It’s a damn nightmare.”
“You heard Aunt Serenity. Whatever we changed was supposed to change. That’s why I have this ability. To fix what went wrong.”
“Gregory Maxwell was never supposed to be governor. I promise you that. The man was the biggest simpleton in the Colonies. He couldn’t count to three if you spotted him one and two. …And three!”
Before Grace could respond to that, her harridan boss, Anita, came speeding up in one of Harrisonburg’s security golf carts. The ones that were only used for extreme emergencies, like shoplifting from the gift shop, lost children after a parade, and tour guides running amuck.
Jamie groaned. As if the night wasn’t bad enough. “Oh here we fucking go…”
“What seems to be the problem?” Anita demanded, all but leaping from the small cart and surveying to the unhappy faces of the guests. To get there so quickly, she must have been poised to spring into action. Her shellacked hair didn’t move as her head whipped around to face Grace. “I’ve have complaints about this Ghost Walk.” She intoned in a voice that a doctor might use to announce that plague had come to town.
The blonde woman in the Lakers hat nodded smugly.
“Now’s not a good time, Anita.” Grace told her distractedly, still frowning up at the statue. “Jamie, we’re not just saving the murder victims, we’re enabling all their descendants to be born and changing the lives of everyone who knew them. Do you have any idea the incredible repercussions it could have to…?”
“Not a good time?” Anita sputtered. “You’re ruining this Ghost Walk for our customers. Now is the only time!”
“She is --like-- the worst guide ever.” Lakers Hat announced and half the tour nodded. “Like, her ‘ghost stories’ are all plagiarized from last season on Haunted High.”
The woman was technically right, but Jamie still shot her a glower.
“Plus, she keeps talking to herself.” Tube Socks chimed in. “It’s really distracting, ‘cause I don’t think we got a pamphlet to explain the show. I know I didn’t get a pamphlet. Did anyone else get a pamphlet?”
No one had gotten a pamphlet.
“Or a menu.” The other guy reminded them. “And I already ate, too, so I’m pissed no one told me there’d be food.”
“I’m a vegan.” Lakers Hat held up a French manicured hand. “So, I’ll probably need to talk to the chef first. Do you have organic flatbreads here? But --like-- authentically Colonial ones? I’m totally serious about honoring the gluten-free parts of history.”
Anita’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Excuse us for a moment, folks.” She seized Grace’s arm and tugged her far enough away that the tour guests couldn’t hear. “What the hell is going on?” She hissed as soon as they were out of earshot. “Are you having another breakdown?”
“No, of course not. I’m just…”
“This is how you repay me for giving you a job?” Anita interrupted, disregarding her denial. “By telling our guests that we’re giving them free meals?!”
Grace jerked free of Anita’s grip, an angry look on her face. “I didn’t tell them…”
Anita talked right over that explanation, too. “Do you have any idea what kind of pressure I’m under here? Two tour guides walked --No, ran!-- off the hedge maze assignment today. The irresponsible little slackers took off without notice, screaming about ghosts and probably high as kites.” Her lips pursed in disapproval. “We need to take a serious look at what’s growing in those gardens, because they no doubt had a whole stash of pot in there.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…” Jamie rolled his eyes skyward.
Grace did, too. “Anita, if you would just…”
Anita kept going. “And now this!” She clasped her palms to her chest, as if Grace had stabbed her through the heart. “No one else would hire the craziest Rivera in town, but I gave you a job. And how do you show your appreciation? You go even crazier! How do you think that makes me feel? Did you even consider the reputation of the Ghost Walk before you selfishly lost your mind?”
“I’m not crazy and neither is anyone else in my family.” Grace announced for the possibly the first time ever. “Maybe we’re not exactly normal, but we’re okay with that. And we’re okay that you’re not okay with that, Anita.”
Those three sentences were all it took for Anita to find Grace guilty. It was a shame she’d been born too late for any witch tria
ls, because she would have fit right in with the crazy zealots throwing stones. “I knew it!” She poked a triumphant finger at Grace’s chest. “I knew I shouldn’t have taken a chance on someone with your lunatic reputation! I knew it all along!”
Grace had finally had enough. “You didn’t hire me out of the kindness of your heart. You hired me because no one else was willing to work this miserable shift. Not at this miserable salary and in this miserable costume. …That you made me pay for!”
“Well, if you don’t pull it together, you crazy bitch, you can find yourself another miserable job.” Anita snarled between clenched teeth.
“I quit.” Grace retorted, her eyes bright with satisfaction. “And, FYI, you don’t even need troll powder to belong under a bridge somewhere, eating little children and bullying everyone who tries to pass.”
Jamie’s eyebrows soared. For a lass who needed to “peaceful green cornfield” her way through any conversation with raised voices, she was doing a damn good job of holding her own against her dreadful boss. He didn’t know whether to be worried or proud. “Grace, are you sure that…?”
“You can’t quit!” Anita shrieked, inadvertently cutting him off. “I’m firing you!”
“Either way, you can give you own stupid tours, from now on. I have a real job, trying to solve murders, not milk them for tourist bucks.” Turning on the heel of her white Ked, Grace headed back towards the tour group. “You morons wouldn’t know a ghost if he was standing right next to you in a tri-corner hat. Trust me. I know that for a fact.”
“I’m so leaving her a bad rating on the comment card.” Lakers Hat decided with a sniff.
“Love,” Jamie hurried after Grace as she marched down the cobblestone road, “mayhaps you should take a moment and consider this.”
“Consider what? You’ve been after me to quit this lousy job since the first night we met.”
“But, you have no other way to making a living.” It wasn’t as if Jamie could provide for her. Not with his gold lost and his body moldering in an unmarked grave. The idea of her destitute on the streets did nothing to improve his mood. “Your emotions are high and you’re not thinking straight. You’re doing something you may regret. Do you have any savings, at all?”
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