Authors: Loni Lynne
“What are you doing here, Mom?”
“She called out to me just before I fell asleep,” her mother said. “I thought it was you for a moment, but she asked for me specifically by name. You wouldn’t have said my name.”
April smiled at her mother’s bravery. “And you came in to see what she wanted? That’s not like you.”
Her mother took her hand. “I know. But I think it’s time to face my gift.” She swallowed back emotion. “I only wanted a normal life for us, April. I didn’t want to be odd or crazy—or to have my child have a stigma. It’s why I fell in love with your father. He was so stable. If I could just have ignored my oddity, we would have been the perfect family. But when you were born I panicked. All I could think about was another Wilton female to endure the curse.
“I dreaded the day your gifts would be revealed. I never told your father until later when I couldn’t control the voices. Working with him at the funeral home, the ghosts searched me out. So many ghosts, all wanting my attention.” She agonized. “I thought your father would leave me because he would think I was crazy, but he left me because I couldn’t control my gift. The ghosts frightened me because I let them, not because they were scary.”
“Kind of like when I used to be afraid of Fritzi, our German shepherd. He was playful, but I thought he was trying to attack me,” April said.
“Yes, but then he was your best friend and protector as you got older.” Her mother smiled, sniffing back unshed tears. “I’ve been watching you face your gifts, the unknown situations not even Aunt Vickie or your grandmother can assist with, and I can’t help but be proud of you and yet feel so ashamed of myself.” Her mother tried to stifle a shuddering sob.
April sat down on the bed and embraced her mother warmly. This was a big step for her as they both learned how to accept and adapt to their gifts.
Her mother looked down at her hands knotted in her lap. “Tonight was my first acceptance. I took a chance when Catherine called out to me. She knew I would be able to hear her.”
April nodded. “I think she’s got an instinct. She knows we are the ones to set her free. I just don’t know how.” April bit her lip, thinking of the possibilities. Her eyes scanned the room, hoping to see their ghost sitting comfortably at her desk.
“She mentioned something about keys?” Her mother looked confused.
“Catherine carries around keys on her apron. I think she’s trying to tell me something about them.” April finally understood. Recognition hit her hard and she felt so stupid. “Of course! The chatelaine! Catherine is trying to get me to use her chatelaine. That is why she…” She stopped as James poked his head into the room. Biting her lip, she hoped she didn’t say too much as she forgot how and when Catherine had tried to communicate with her.
“Ladies? Is everything all right?”
“Yes. We were just talking,” her mom said as she gathered her heavy robe and maneuvered off the high mattress. “I should be getting back to bed and so should you. I understand tonight’s information is not sitting right with you, James, but if I know my daughter, she’ll figure it all out.” She placed a motherly kiss to April’s forehead and gave a quick peck to James’s cheek. “Good night, you two.”
James touched his scruffy cheek where April’s mom had kissed him.
“She must like you, even if you are technically a ghost. She never gave a kiss to any of my other suitors…and she knew them longer.”
“Huzzah! Maybe she’ll even dance with me at our wedding.”
***
Dr. Branford,
I appreciate the update of your recent memo. Still, without documentation I am at a loss on my end of the bargaining table. The urgent need for any proof will greatly help in proving I have a stock in the property in question. My attorneys have been able to waylay a few various closing dates but I am losing time.
I urgently implore you to double your efforts in this matter as time is of the essence and I do not wish to lose this valuable piece of property by default. I am sure you will be able to accommodate my needs and I will do what I can to help with any financial, civil, or legal issues that might arise with the expedience of this project.
Best wishes,
Kenneth Miles
James and April stopped in the cafe for a scone, a cappuccino, and Earl Grey tea to go before she walked him to work. Now sitting at Aunt Vickie’s dining room table she bit into her sweet scone, brushing crumbs off of her sweater and re-reading the email from Kenneth while she sipped her warm and frothy morning cappuccino.
What was so urgent about this project he was willing to send help in such an endeavor? And how much was he investing? He was taking this personally. This wasn’t his typical business transaction he had his investors or associates deal with.
April promised herself she would make today count. After walking James to work, she’d felt a sense of urgency and couldn’t wait to get into the thick of her true task. Today could be the day. She now had the documents she’d hoped for. Would she be lucky enough to find the exact paper to James’s title on the land? If not, she still had the frustrating pieces of paper reporting Henry Samuel’s lack of administrative accuracy. Whether the man was just inept at his job or had resorted to fraud, she couldn’t tell without more research.
She would send Kenneth copies of the documents they had questioned last night. With all of his knowledge in the world of real estate and finance, surely he might be able to come up with some solution. It would also give him the ability to see what she’d found and had been dealing with. It might not be the actual document he needed but it would show Kenneth she was on the right track. Taking photos of the papers with her phone camera, she sent them off to Kenneth immediately.
All of Henry Samuel’s paperwork created a new mystery. If foul play was suspected in his schemes to purchase property out from under all these people, the cases would be difficult to prove. No one was alive anymore. Most of the property no longer existed, and if the land was still there and not a mini-mall or subdivision, she didn’t have the ability or time to try to find out about it.
Still, it seemed more than coincidental to have the people with land Henry wanted to purchase fall on hard times or conveniently die. And when she’d concluded Henry Samuel had possibly killed Jonathan Turnbull for his property last night, James mentally shut down. Could the man have wanted everyone out of the way for his specific gain? Had he wanted James dead, too? What did Henry actually want?
April pored over all the documents again. She’d asked Aunt Vickie if she could set up her work at the large, formal dining room table. She was able to spread out all the paperwork and still have her laptop within easy access for surfing information. The book on the excavation site was opened to the picture of the chatelaine on one side of the page and the portrait of Henry Samuel on the other.
The more she looked at the beady-eyed ‘fop,’ as James liked to call him, the more ill at ease she felt. But she wanted to remind herself of who she was dealing with and also remind herself to contact Beth on the whereabouts of the chatelaine. Looking closely at the picture, she wondered was it the same one she’d seen Catherine wear? It was difficult to tell. She’d never gotten a good look at it when she’d encountered Catherine. She was still uncertain what the chatelaine had to do with anything important. It had unlocked the desk upstairs in the room where she’d seen the ghost. She’d been trying to hide something from Henry when he’d burst in on them. Was there something inside the piece of furniture that might solve the mystery? What mystery did the piece of furniture hold?
“How is the paper work going?” Aunt Vickie stepped into the dining room, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Her mother and grandmother had left to go out for awhile. Mom had decided it was time to try and work on her gift and Grandma Dottie thought a trip to the cemetery might be the best place to start, lots of spirits to try to sort through. Her mother had looked like a college quarterback at his first game—eager to get started but scared as hell to face the crowds.
“Fine. I just received an email from Ken Miles. He’s anxious as ever—in his formal, diplomatic way.”
“Why the scowl then? You seemed a bit more preoccupied than a simple email would allow. Something troubling you? ”
April’s brow twisted and she bit her lip. Indecision played over her thoughts, and she looked up towards the ceiling as if trying to see into the rooms above. “Do you have a minute, Aunt Vickie?”
Aunt Vickie raised her head. Her eyes widened, ready to scold. “April…”
She sighed. “It’s not what you think. I just want to go check out the desk in the one room.”
“The antique Chippendale secretary in Catherine’s room?”
“Yeah. I know what you are thinking and no, I’m not going to touch it so I can phase into her time—if it was hers. But it must be if she’d been sitting at it during my encounter with her.” April went to the coat tree and removed her leather gloves from her coat pocket and put them on. “See. I just want to check out its structure. I think Catherine might have been trying to hide something in it—away from ‘you-know-who,’” she whispered.
“And you want me to go up there with you to keep ‘you-know-who’ at bay?”
April didn’t like the knowing look her aunt was giving her. “No. Just be there for me—and maybe let me know if you sense anything—paranormal.”
They both looked up at the ceiling again. It was a stand-off between them and a ghost. Really? If it wasn’t for the fact April had encountered Henry Samuel and all of his intentions she wouldn’t be worried. Catherine didn’t scare her. She liked the woman, even if she was a bit timid. And having witnessed first-hand her abuse from Henry, she sympathized with her.
Aunt Vickie sighed. “Well, I don’t sense anything disruptive at the moment so I guess taking a quick trip up there wouldn’t be a bad thing. But if I sense
anything
at all upon entering Catherine’s room—we leave immediately.”
“Fine. I agree. Unless it’s Catherine—”
“Anything!” her aunt argued, raising her voice sternly. “Ghosts are unpredictable, April. They will do anything to get someone to listen.”
The desk was solid. No one made furniture like this anymore. A keyhole at the top and old rusty hinges at the bottom proved the desktop came down at one time. April had seen Catherine’s ghost seated at it the other night.
April knocked with her gloved fist. It was difficult to get a feeling for a piece of furniture when you couldn’t touch it. But it was better for her right now not to. God only knew what would happen if she dared to touch the desk! The top drawer didn’t budge at all, only the bottom two drawers moved. Feeling around for a gap or anything unusual, April realized the top drawer wasn’t a drawer at all. It was made to look identical to the others. It contained a keyhole the size of the one on the drop down leaf.
“The desk was in the house when I moved here. It’s a beautiful piece of furniture. According to the records, it’s fairly old and authentic to the colonial time period. I haven’t been able to move it at all. I never felt the need to disturb it,” Aunt Vickie said.
April tried to maneuver it away from the corner of the room but it was big and bulky. It would take a couple of strong men to manage it no doubt. She ran her gloved hand over it again. Was something in there? Did it contain some special clue to release Catherine from her continuous haunting? If she could help Catherine, she would. She didn’t like to see anyone suffer. But without keys to the desk, there would be little hope of finding anything inside—and taking an axe to it would be her last resort.
The chatelaine had to contain the keys to unlock it.
***
For the rest of the morning and afternoon she focused on the documents. She believed in their earlier assessment of Henry Samuel being a killer. If he hadn’t done the killing himself, he ordered the jobs done. There would be no use in trying for justice since the man was centuries gone but just knowing she abided in a killer’s house brought a chill to her not even the hot tea she was drinking could ward off.
Aunt Vickie received a call from Mrs. Schmidt next door wanting to know if she could come over and stay with her while she was alone with the cable repair man. Her aunt was reluctant to leave, but April told her she would be fine. She wouldn’t let James know though. He’d made it very clear she was not to be alone in the house. She promised if anything happened, she would get out of the house quickly.
The promise she’d made to him was weak, though. She’d given it but knew she would do whatever it took to handle the job at hand. And yes, if it meant dealing with a ghost or two or three, she would do so. She might enjoy his wrath again if it led to such delights like the other day. Defying him could be extremely sensual, nothing like ‘hot, angry sex’ once in awhile. And truthfully, thinking about it made her shift uncomfortably against the seam of her jeans as a tingling thrill warmed her.
She didn’t have time for this right now. If she wanted to enjoy another
sexcapade
with James, she would have to get through this paper work. Or it would be another night like last night, trying to weed through musty old documents. She shook herself and focused on the task at hand. She wasn’t being paid to be horny. She was being paid to locate a simple, historical document claiming James Addison owned the mill site. How difficult could it be? More difficult than she had imagined upon taking the job offer.
Settling in, she went over the various deeds. Between the file boxes of antique papers and her reference notes littering the table, she hoped her aunt didn’t mind the mess. She liked to spread out when she worked. She wouldn’t be a good ‘office cubicle person.’ She liked field studies and open roomed lectures on American History. In a few years she could see herself having the run of an actual historical site as a facility director. Some place like Jamestown, Virginia.
Carefully spreading out the county map from the mid-1700’s they had found in the file box, April focused on the parcels of land Henry Samuel purchased over the years. The boundaries showing James’s land and the creek running across it were in direct connection to land Henry owned or had purchased. The land belonging to the unsigned documentation. It was too coincidental not to notice.
Did Henry want the mill? What was so important about the surrounding land to make him want to commit murder? Had James been aware of Henry’s motives? Perhaps the two had discussed the land’s worth over a pint or two? She would have to ask James tonight.
A loud slam of a door startled her, making her drop the map. Catching her breath she called out, “Aunt Vickie?”
The noise came from the back of the house. April shook out her legs. She was used to sitting with one leg up under the other and it had fallen asleep. Hesitantly she walked into the kitchen and peered around the attached breeze way. No one was there. She could have sworn she’d heard the kitchen door slam. Checking it, April noted it was still locked.
She walked back into the dining room. The gentle tick-tock of the clock on the buffet seemed overly loud. A car passing on the street just outside startled her. Jumping at every little noise, her eyes rounded as she turned around, trying to survey every nook in the room. This was an old house with tons of creaks. Still, her reasoning didn’t stop goose bumps from forming on her arms.
This was just great! She was such a wuss. If she was going to solve any paranormal mystery, then facing a few ghosts went along with the territory. Still, April picked up the iron fire poker from the hearth in the dining room. She’d dealt with Henry Samuel. She had every right to be scared.
Her scattered papers strewn over the table met her as she stood sideways in the entranceway between the butler’s pantry and the dining room. The wind began to pick up outside as she looked out across the dining room and out the front window. The bare, Bradford pear trees along the backside of the courthouse swayed slightly. Perhaps that’s what made the noise. The wind could have caused something to slam, making it sound like a door.
A scuffling of feet overhead stopped her cold.
That wasn’t the wind
. Her jaw tensed. Her eyes rose heavily to study the plaster and wood beamed ceiling above her. Leading with her poker, April walked to the bottom of the grand staircase. The landing above was empty, yet a feeling of dread settled in her chest. Her heartbeat quickened and her palms itched with sweat.
Another noise joined in, like heavy footfall running along the upper floorboards. Nope, definitely not the wind, and it sounded a helluva lot heavier than simple attic mice running amuck. Was it Catherine? Could she be in danger? April sidestepped up the first few steps, her poker at the ready. She must look pretty stupid. What could she do to protect herself against a ghost? A poker wasn’t going to do anything. She could always knee him in the groin again. Neither one would really work but wielding the fire poker made her feel better.
She made it a few more steps when she thought a solid entity hurled itself down the stairs toward her. Squealing, April ducked back down the stairs. An icy breeze passed through her, catching her off guard. She tumbled down the last few stairs as the front door burst open.
***
“April! Sweetie, talk to me.”
April opened her eyes to her mother hovering, patting her cheek in rapid succession. She moved stiffly until her mother’s hand pressed on her chest.
“Don’t move. You took a fall. Are you okay?”
Cautiously moving parts and pieces of her body she realized she was fine but would probably be sore later. Her lower back took the brunt of the bottom stair as she more or less slid the few steps down.
“He’s dead,” her grandmother said, slowly placing a bag of groceries at her feet.
With shaking hands, April rubbed her eyes. Her grandmother stood a few feet away, staring vacantly at a spot on the floor between the foyer entrance and the bottom of the stairs. April watched as her grandmother moved in a wide berth, avoiding the area at the base of the steps.
“Broken neck by the looks of him,” Dottie continued to explain what no one else could see.
“What are you talking about,
Mother?” Virginia asked.
Grandma Dottie pointed to the empty floor she’d been walking around. “The man lying right here. It looks like he might have fallen down the stairs.”
Grandma Dottie was viewing one of her ghosts. April couldn’t see it though and neither could her mother.
“What happened? How did you fall down the stairs?”
April was about to reply to her mother when the outer door flew open on a burst of November wind. The gust was more than a breeze catching an unlatched door—it enveloped them in a squall, tossing her mother’s hair about her face and rattling delicate knick-knacks on their shelves. The papers littering the table tossed about, like so many dry leaves in a wind storm.
Not having recovered from her tumble, April felt disoriented. Queasiness settled in her lower chest, her breathing became harsh and labored as if a large weight were pressing down on her. Was she having a heart attack? Gasping and struggling to breathe, she instinctively reached out for her mother’s hand, but her mother was busy crying out and covering her ears.
“Be gone!” Grandma Dottie called out to the wind.
But the object remained firmly planted on April’s chest.
Her grandmother began talking in tongues, reciting ritualistic incantations as she focused on the environment around them. “Be gone with you!” she called out again.
Finally, the force on her chest lessened, but April still wheezed as if she’d suffered an asthma attack. The heaviness in the atmosphere was a living, breathing entity.
“Virginia, get April out of here now!” Her grandmother ordered over the din of the wind still swirling around them.
It wasn’t over yet. April sensed the pressure building again in the house, like a vacuum with all the air sucked out. Her mother grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the house and across the street. Shaking, they huddled against the naked Bradford pear tree.
Her mother disentangled herself and rose unsteadily to her feet. “I need to go get your Grandmother. Are you going to be okay?”
Shaking so violently her teeth rattled, April didn’t know if she would be okay, but she nodded anyway, wanting her mother to bring her grandmother to safety. The afternoon was calm, no wind now. Even the slight traffic at the end of the intersecting street half a block away appeared normal.
Her mother didn’t get far before her grandmother came out of the house, looking faint and weakened. April tried to step forward to go to them but her legs were so unstable she ended up clutching a ‘No Parking’ sign for support. She watched as the two women she loved the most embrace each other and hobble over to where she tried to stand on her own.
Her grandmother took a deep, cleansing breath before she tried to talk. “He’s alive in his realm…and he’s pissed. I suppose I would be too, having just witnessed my own death.” She looked to the house as if she wanted to beat the entity messing with them with her fists, and then glared reproachfully at her.
April didn’t want to comprehend what her grandmother was saying. But somehow she knew this was in direct connection to something she’d done. Her grandmother wasn’t happy at all. What had she done though? Was it Henry or someone else causing all the commotion in the house? She didn’t do anything!
“Who’s dead, Mom?” her mother asked, looking from one to the other.
“Henry Samuel. He was the man who fell down the stairs. He died of a broken neck. But his residual spirit just witnessed his own death for the first time in two hundred and thirty-eight years and he is pissed! But he’s even more angry over having been disturbed from his eternal rest.” Her grandmother looked directly at her. “What did you do to wake his spirit, April Branford?”
***
“I didn’t know I brought his spirit back to life! I was just taking a sketch of his tombstone and…wait! I felt a shock, like a charge of static electricity. James showed up about the same time as a ghost and I forgot all about it.” She looked up in terror. “I didn’t know I released his spirit by touching his tombstone.” April stumbled over her words as her family and James sat in the round, secluded booth of a sports bar sharing an appetizer platter. “You’re saying I released him into his own realm? How is it even possible?”