Ghostly Encounter (Ghostly #1) (Ghostly Series)

by Daniels, Suzannah

  Benjamin had dismounted and was waiting for her by the time she got to the stables.

  He smiled, seeming genuinely happy, and caught her by the waist. Slowly he lowered her to her feet.

  “Mr. Benjamin!” Abram shouted, running toward the stables from the main house. “Mr. Benjamin!”

  Alarmed, Benjamin shouted, “Is Father well?”

  “Oh, yessir, Mr. Benjamin,” Abram answered, short of breath. “He be fine, but he be looking for you. Them Yankees have been firing on the city.”

  “What?” Benjamin asked, a look of horror on his face.

  “Them Yankees,” Abram repeated. “They been firing on Chattanooga. Listen, you can hear the cannons.”

  On cue, Benjamin heard the boom of a cannon. The wind must be blowing in the opposite direction or it would have been much louder. He should have heard it sooner, but all of his senses had been concentrating on Mia. He thought back to what his sergeant had told him so long ago, about women either keeping you alive or being the death of you.

  Benjamin handed the reins to both horses to Abram. “Abram, could you put the horses up for me, please?”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Benjamin,” he replied.

  Benjamin grabbed Mia’s hand and rushed to the house. He found his father in the living room.

  “Father, what happened?” Benjamin asked, entering the room.

  “The Union has been firing on Chattanooga from the opposite side of the river, injuring soldiers and civilians.”

  “Civilians have been injured?” Benjamin asked.

  “Yes. They sunk two steamers that were docked at the landing. They have damaged churches and buildings. It has been total chaos.”

  Benjamin stared out the window, as if deep in thought. “What should we do?”

  Mia wondered if he was thinking about joining the war again.

  “I have set up a makeshift hospital in the ballroom of the hotel,” his father said, taking out his handkerchief and wiping his brow.

  Lusinda moved through the room, lighting oil lamps, to chase away the darkening shadows.

  “Then let’s go!” Benjamin exclaimed, turning to look at his father expectantly.

  “No. Volunteers are covering it now. Get some sleep, and we’ll go at first light. We’ll need to be well rested.” Mr. Richards turned to look at Mia. “Benjamin, it isn’t safe for y’all to return to her home. Show her to the guest room. I’ll send Abram to notify her mother. Perhaps we should bring her mother back here.”

  “Actually, Father, her mother has been out of town, and Mia was staying at the hotel, until they could be reunited.”

  “I see,” he said. “Well, you certainly shouldn’t take her to the hotel now. She can stay in the guest room.”

  Mr. Richards shoved his hand through his graying hair. “I think I shall retire. I suggest you do the same. Tomorrow promises to be a long day.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Richards climbed the stairs to his own room. Benjamin turned to Mia. “Would you like to go for a short walk? I fear that I’ll not be able to sleep for a while.”

  She knew that he had many memories of the war going through his mind. She worried what effect it would have on him. “Yes, I’ll walk with you.”

  They exited the front door. Benjamin took Mia’s hand in his and led her down the wide front steps to the lawn. The lack of humidity had resulted in the temperature feeling cooler. Under the cover of darkness, it almost seemed chilly.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, disturbed by his silence.

  He rhythmically rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. She wasn’t sure whether he was trying to comfort her or whether he actually gained comfort from her, from knowing that she was still here.

  “I saw horrendous things during the war,” he murmured. “When I shut my eyes, I can still see them.”

  “What do you see?” Mia asked.

  “The dead. Hundreds of bodies littering the battlefield, their faces contorted with the throes of death. My father often refers to this war as a tragedy, and he is right.”

  Mia shuddered, knowing that Benjamin had been one of the dead. That bit of knowledge left her hollow inside, and she could only imagine the incredible sorrow that loved ones for Union and Confederate soldiers alike must have felt.

  “At least he is doing what he can to save lives by opening the hotel to the wounded.” They walked in silence a moment more before she continued, “Your father is a good man, Benjamin.” She stopped and faced him. “And so are you.”

  He reached out and touched her face, stroked her hair. “If things were different, I would drop down on one knee right now and ask you to marry me.”

  She smiled. “Benjamin, we’re too young to get married.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a long engagement,” he said, a hint of humor in his voice. “When the right girl comes along, you don’t let her get away.”

  She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. No one had ever made her feel special like Benjamin had. It would be difficult to step through the portal and leave him.

  “If things were different, I would say ‘yes’,” she whispered, as she closed the distance between them and kissed him softly on the cheek.

  “I suppose that will have to be good enough for now,” he said. “Are you ready to go back?”

  “You are going to take me with you in the morning, aren’t you?” she asked, not wanting to miss a single waking moment of her remaining time with him.

  “It could be dangerous,” he said. “Soldiers often suffer from diseases, and I’m not sure whether the Union may open fire on the hotel.”

  “Please, Benjamin,” she whispered. “Let me help.”

  He nodded in agreement. “Very well. If that’s what you want.”

  “It is.”

  “Then let us get back, so that we can rest. The crack of dawn comes early.”

  He walked her to the guest room and bid her good night. Mia undressed and slid between the sheets of the four poster bed. The room was inky black. She closed her eyes, hoping for sleep, but it did not come easy. She was nervous about going to the makeshift hospital, about what atrocities she might see. She knew that medicine was crude at best during the Civil War, that most any injury resulted in a limb being amputated, and that many amputees died from infection.

  She knew that disease ran rampant among the soldiers, and while she had been vaccinated against most childhood diseases, she had not been vaccinated against smallpox. Uncertainty tainted her resolve. She certainly didn’t want to take an eradicated disease home with her. Her mother had been vaccinated, but none of her friends had.

  If she did contract the disease, she would have a hard time explaining that one to the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta.

  With visions of press conferences attended by journalists from around the world and the bright flashes of photographers’ cameras blinding her, Mia reluctantly drifted to sleep.

  ***

  Mia’s heart pounded. Representatives from the Centers for Disease Control knocked loudly on her bedroom door, demanding entrance. She glanced at her bedroom window, the zebra print valance swaying gently in the current of cool air streaming from the vent in her ceiling. Maybe she could escape through the window before the men in quarantine suits flooded her room and carted her away to a laboratory in some desolate area of the country.

  She heard the door burst open and screamed.

  “Mia!”

  She flailed her arms out wildly in front of her. A pair of strong hands stilled them, and she screamed again.

  “Mia!”

  They were shaking her now, determined to cart her away. Her eyelids flung open.

  “Mia, it’s me.”

  She stared at the dark figure hovering over her. He stroked her hair. “It’s me, Mia.”

  Her heart pounded. Terror seized her. Her mind raced to place her whereabouts, to place the voice that soothed her in the darkness.

  “Benjamin?”

  “It’s me. It’s Benjami
n,” he whispered against her ear. “You were having a bad dream.”

  “I dreamed I had caught a disease, and they were coming after me. To quarantine me.”

  “Shhh, it was just a dream.” He stroked her hair.

  Mia breathed deeply, trying to regain her composure. “I think I understand why it’s so dangerous to travel through time, why Mr. Turner said I should never enter the portal again.

  “I could take back a disease and kill innocent people. I could change something in history that would affect the world as we know it.”

  Benjamin sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight. “I understand what you’re saying, and you don’t have to go to the hospital if you don’t want to, but there’s another way to look at this.

  “Whether people travel through the time portal or not, everything we do has the power to affect history. Some decisions may affect only one other person. Some affect a country. Some affect the world. Who’s to say that some changes may not be for the better?”

  Mia thought about what he said, and she couldn’t argue the point with him. “That’s true, but wasn’t history meant to be unchanged? On the other hand, how do we know that time travelers haven’t been through the portal before us and changed history? How would anyone even know whether history had been changed?”

  “Exactly my point. Maybe we shouldn’t worry about whether we’re changing history. Maybe we should just do what feels right,” Benjamin said.

  “Maybe,” Mia agreed, but Mr. Turner’s warning about never entering the portal again was seared into her mind. Did he know more than he let on, or was he just emphasizing his own point of view?

  “I understand if you prefer not to go to the hospital. I will have Lusinda make sure you have whatever you need. But I must go. My father needs me, and these are our friends, neighbors, and people who simply need help. I cannot stand by and do nothing.”

  “I want to go,” Mia assured him. “I want to help, too.”

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked as sunlight slowly began peeking around the drapes.

  “Yes.”

  “Then meet me in the foyer in ten minutes.” He rose and lit the oil lamp. Then, he walked out of the room and softly shut the door behind him.

  Mia washed her face and hurriedly donned layer after layer of clothing, ending with a practical, brown dress that Abby had given her. She quickly braided her hair and pinned it on top of her head, and then pulled on her bonnet and tied it in place.

  She pulled on her boots and gloves, extinguished the oil lamp, and met Benjamin in the foyer.

  “Father is in the carriage waiting for us,” Benjamin said as she descended the stairs, her boots clicking against the polished wood.

  Mia nodded. Benjamin opened the front door for her as she stepped off the staircase and into the foyer. After assisting her down the porch steps, he opened the carriage door and helped her in. Then, he entered the carriage, too, and sat beside his father, across from Mia.

  “Good morning, Miss Randall,” Mr. Richards greeted her.

  She smiled. “Good morning.”

  “I appreciate your assistance, but I would warn you that it will be most unpleasant. Recently, I received a shipment of medical supplies, but it will be a few days before I expect more. Men will be screaming in agony, and laudanum will be in short supply.”

  “I thank you for your concern, Mr. Richards, but I can handle it,” Mia said.

  Mr. Richards grinned. “Very good, Miss Randall. The soldiers need your help, so that is good news indeed.”

  The last remnants of darkness had dispelled as Abram rolled the carriage to a stop in front of the hotel. Benjamin exited the carriage first and assisted Mia down, followed by Mr. Richards.

  Upon entering the ballroom, Mia was shocked at the transformation. The last time that she had been here, it was a festive occasion with attendees draped in the finest clothing and symphonies drifting across the elegantly decorated room.

  Soft groans filled the dimly lit room. Benjamin and Mr. Richards began lighting oil lamps, and slowly the room’s illumination brightened, exposing the mutilated bodies from which the groans escaped.

  Mia gaped openly. The stench of unwashed bodies mingled with the smell of death and disease prompted a wave of nausea. She covered her mouth with her gloved fingertips, summoning her strength.

  Mr. Williams, her American history teacher, had tried to describe what the Civil War was like. She had studied her text book, even flipped through a couple of books from the library, but words on a page could not have prepared her for the sights and sounds of war.

  Men dressed in filthy rags lay around the room on blankets, many of them sporting bandages. Some were barefoot. Some wore worn boots. Most of the men were extremely thin.

  Mia walked among the wounded soldiers, wondering how she could best help them. One man grabbed the hem of her skirt, and a cry involuntarily escaped her lips.

  She glanced down at him, and he motioned for her to come closer. Stooping close to the floor, she bent over him.

  “Water,” he whispered in a raspy voice.

  He looked to be near her age. His face was covered in dirt and sweat. His arm was amputated at the elbow, the stub wrapped in a bandage.

  “I’ll get you some water,” she reassured him. Then, she stood and met Benjamin at the entrance of the room.

  “Benjamin, they need water,” Mia said.

  “I’ll get some,” Benjamin told her. “Father is having Mr. Gordon cook them breakfast. He is also going to brew some coffee. There probably won’t be enough to last more than a day or two, but the soldiers will enjoy a cup of real coffee.”

  “What about medical care?” she asked.

  “Dr. Camp has agreed to help. He was here yesterday and should be back this morning.”

  “Benjamin, we need alcohol. The men’s injuries need to be cleaned with alcohol, and Dr. Camp needs to wash his hands between patients and boil his instruments.”

  “I’ll ask Father about the alcohol. We’ll discuss the other details with Dr. Camp when he arrives.” Benjamin shook his head. “It may take some convincing.”

  “It could be the difference between whether they live or die,” she said adamantly.

  “I know. I’ll take care of it,” Benjamin promised, determination on his face. “I’ll get some water and meet you by the table over there.” Benjamin pointed to a row of tables against the wall. He turned and walked briskly toward the kitchen.

  Mia pulled her gloves off her hands as she walked toward the table, desperately wishing she had a huge bottle of hand sanitizer.

  It wasn’t long before Benjamin came back in the room, carrying a large cooking pot filled with water. Mr. Gordon was behind him, carrying a few cups.

  Mia frowned as they approached.

  “What?” Benjamin asked.

  “Could you bring more cups?” she asked.

  “More?” repeated Benjamin, setting the heavy pot of water down on the table.

  “Do you trust me?” Mia asked.

  “With my life,” Benjamin answered.

  Mia supposed that it was true. When he had been injured, Benjamin had ordered everyone to do as she said, despite the fact that her requests must have seemed strange to all of them.

  “To help keep down the risk of spreading disease, each soldier should drink out of a clean cup. They shouldn’t share cups with each other. And people who are handling all the dishes that have been used should wash their hands thoroughly when they have finished. Do you have plenty of cups?”

  “My father has a fully stocked kitchen that is prepared to feed hundreds of guests. Yes, we should have plenty of cups,” Benjamin confirmed.

  Benjamin took the few cups that Mr. Gordon had carried and sat them on the table. Mr. Gordon hastened away to the kitchen. “Start with these. I’ll be back with more.”

  Mia filled two cups with water and walked in the direction of the soldier who had requested water. She stooped beside a
soldier who was sitting on a blanket near the table and held the cup of water out to him. He took it and immediately began to drink. She walked a short distance more and stooped beside the soldier that had grabbed her hem.

  “I have water,” she said softly. “Do you want to sit up?”

  The soldier attempted to move into a sitting position, but rolled back onto the blanket. He tried again. This time Mia grabbed his shoulder with one hand and helped him. When he was stably propped up on one arm, Mia held the cup out to his lips and held it while he drank.

  “What’s your name?” she queried.

  “Isaac,” he whispered between sips of water.

  “I’m Mia. It’s nice to meet you, Isaac.”

  “The pleasure is mine, ma’am.” He drank the water until his cup was empty and settled back on his blanket.

  “Breakfast will be ready soon,” she said.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Mia rose and went back to the table. Benjamin had deposited a tray filled with cups, and he was already distributing cups of water among the soldiers.

  She watched him as he handed out several cups and stopped to speak with his father across the room. They were pointing around the room, obviously discussing the things that needed to be done. The Richards always seemed ready to help, no matter what the situation.

  Mr. Gordon approached behind her. “Here’s some coffee. The food should be ready soon.”

  Mia turned and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Gordon.”

  Mia began filling cups with coffee. By the time she had finished, Mr. Gordon was bringing large dishes of eggs, freshly baked bread, and bacon.

  Benjamin returned to help her distribute the food. She took two plates, handed one off to a soldier, and carried the other to Isaac.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he offered, his voice less raspy now that he had wet his throat.

  Mia set the plate on the floor beside him. “You’re welcome. Do you need any help?” she asked, afraid that he was too weak to feed himself.

  “I think I can manage,” he said, staring longingly at the warm food. “I can’t remember the last time that I had a meal like this. If I never eat hardtack again, it will be too soon.”