Ghost Walk (23 page)

“Seems
that I can.”  Jamie retorted.  “And I’ll ask you kindly to be watching your
fucking language around my fiancée.”

Ned’s
head swung around to look at Grace.  “You agreed to marry this maniac?”

“I
didn’t exactly
agree
, but I don’t think that’s going to stop him from
planning a wedding.”  She glanced at Jamie and arched a brow.  “A pirate I know
recently told me that marriage proposals and kidnappings are kinda the same
thing to James MacCleef Riordan.”

Jamie’s
eyes gleamed.  “Smart pirate.”

“Who
is this woman?  No
lady
would ever consent to link her name to yours.”  Edward
spat out, glowering at Jamie.  “Why even Lucinda knew better than to…”

Grace
cut him off.  “Oh shut up.”  She snapped, scowling at the man who she had
absolutely no liking for, either.  Confrontations usually left her sweaty and
panicked, but this was one time she felt just fine shouting at somebody.

“As
I explained, the lady is my bride.”  Jamie told Edward darkly.  “Be nice or
I’ll forget I promised her that I wouldn’t run you through until after she’s
conducted her investigation.”

“Until
after we find out if he’s
guilty
.”  Grace corrected.

“I
never promised that.”

“What
investigation?”  Edward demanded.  “What the hell do you think you’re…?”

“We
know you were sleeping with Lucinda Wentworth and now she’s dead.”  Grace
interrupted.  “I think there are
a lot
of people in this town who’d be
interested to know about your affair with her.”

Ned’s
eyes widened.  “Who told you that?  Riordan?  It’s all a lie!  All of it!”

“
Lucinda
wrote all the juicy details of your encounters in her diary, which I now have. 
So I suggest you start cooperating.”

His
face flushed an angry red.  “Fine.  Say I
was
meeting her on the side.” 
He whispered fiercely.  “What would killing her accomplish?  You think I
wanted
to lose a woman who looked like that?  One who was willing to do the things she
was willing to do?  Why in the blue hell would I want to get rid of her?”

That
was actually a fair point.  Grace looked over at Jamie.

He
shrugged.  “Who’s to say why madmen do anything, love?”

“You
can’t prove I did
anything
.”  Ned thundered.  “Riordan is the one you
should be questioning. 
He
was the one who was seen around town with
her, not me.”

“I
don’t
have
to prove you did anything.”  Grace retorted.  “I’m betting all
I have to do is make copies of a few of the more salacious entries and it’ll
ruin your life.”  She crossed her arms over her chest.  “I especially enjoyed
reading about the time you took Lucinda to the stables and used the riding crop
and bridle to…”

“What
do you want?”  Ned interrupted, his eyes frantically casting around.

“I
want to know what kind of bad intentions you have towards Anabel Maxwell.”

The
sidewalks were filling with people, all of them trying to figure out what was
going on.  Across the street, Clara Vance, Eugenia Wentworth, and Anabel
Maxwell were standing in a group, all of them looking appalled.

Anabel
gasped, one hand dramatically covering her heart.  “Why would you have bad
intentions towards me, Mr. Hunnicutt?  Why my family’s lineage and reputation
are above reproach.”

“Your
idiot brother was the Hero of Yorktown and cost Great Britain the War!”

Jamie’s
eyes lit up in triumph.  “I
told
you Ned was a Tory, Grace!”  He
couldn’t have been more thrilled with the results of their questioning.  “I
knew
it!”  He paused.  “Although, that lack-wit Gregory Maxwell was no more a hero
than he is a duck.”

“The
War is over!”  Edward bellowed.  “It doesn’t matter which nation I fucking
supported.”

Lucinda’s
sister fanned herself, looking faint.  “Language, gentlemen.  There are ladies
present.”

Jamie
instantly tipped his hat at her.  “Apologies, Miss Eugenia.”

She
gave a prudish sniff, but inclined her head in ladylike forgiveness.  “I should
say so, Captain Riordan.”  Apparently the rumors of her “fainting when she saw Jamie
in the streets” were exaggerated.  If Eugenia thought he murdered her sister,
she was a master at hiding it under polite censure.

In
any case, Grace hoped
she
didn’t sound that prissy when she was scolding
Jamie about his nonstop cursing.  “You never apologize to
me
for
swearing.”  She hissed at him.

“You’re
not a pinched-lipped Sunday school teacher, as that girl is.”  He edged away
from Eugenia as she crossed the street to get a better (disapproving) look at
the chaos.  “Never did meet a pinch-lipped Sunday school teacher who wasn’t
terrifying.”

“
I’ve
taught Sunday school, Jamie.”

He
grinned at her.  “But your soft lips are anything but pinched, lass.  I can
testify to that, firsthand.”

“This
is all ridiculous.”  Ned sputtered.  “Aside from disliking her jackass brother,
I have no bad intentions towards Miss Maxwell or any other lady of this town.” 
His face darkened with sudden and ill-advised hatred.  “Except for my bitch of
a sister-in-law.”

The
residents of Harrisonburg began murmuring amongst themselves.

Jamie’s
eyebrows shot up.  “Aggie?”

“Me?” 
A redheaded woman blurted out.  “How am I involved in this foolishness?”

“You
bought my shop for half of what it was worth!”  He roared.

“I
paid the price
you
asked, Ned!  It’s not my fault that you’re a poor
excuse for a businessman.”

“My
damnably stupid wife might buy your shit, Agatha, but I know better!  I still
remember how you wouldn’t dance with me at my wedding.”

“Agatha?” 
Grace glanced back towards the Crystal Ball a horrible suspicion filling her.  Loyal
was really, really bad with names…  “Oh
no
.”

“Because
you’d just taken my sister as your wife, but you were trying to feel under my
skirts, you pig!”  The woman, who had to be his sister-in-law Agatha
Northhandler, waved a disgusted hand at him.  “I
told
Sarah not to marry
you.”

“Aggie
raises the prices at shop, every time I need muslin.”  Someone in the crowd
called out.  “All she cares about is money!”

“She
took my seat in church last Sunday.”  Another woman cried.  “I had to stand and
she
knows
that my shoes are too small!  She’s the one who sold them to
me.”

Grace
squeezed her eyes shut, knowing it was just as she feared.  Loyal had cast the
spell using the wrong name.  Bad intentions towards
Anabel
weren’t being
revealed.  Instead they were about to hear from everyone with a grudge against
Miss Agatha Northhander.  It was like watching the Boston Massacre begin all
around her.

“Aggie
Northhander was mean to my dog.”  A man cried, looking close to tears.  “Threw
a rock at Old Revere back in ’84.  She’s a violent witch.”

“Witch!” 
Clara Vance screeched, pointing a finger at Agatha like she was auditioning for
a community theater production of
The Crucible
.  “She’s a witch!”

Eugenia
staggered against Jamie in a swoon, so maybe there
was
a kernel of truth
about her tendency towards genteel vapors.  Sadly Grace had no choice but to
stay conscious and deal with this mess.

Jamie
steadied Eugenia flailing form and sent Grace a mystified look.  “Is this your
doing, lass?”

“No!” 
She paused and made a face.  “Well,
sort of
.  Mostly, it’s Loyal’s
fault, though.  I told him spells never work.”

Agatha
did not appreciate the whole town turning against her.  “I’m not a witch, Clara
Vance!”  She yelled, seizing on the last complaint.  Aggie was a sturdy woman,
with a pugnacious face and large hands.  She stalked towards the Reverend’s
daughter with an angry frown, clearly deciding to settle the argument with
bloodshed rather than thoughtful discussion.  “You take it back!”

Yeah… 
This wasn’t going to end well.  Grace moved to intercede, hoping to stop the
fight she saw brewing.  “Why don’t we all calm down?”

Everyone
ignored her.

Clara
Vance was half Agatha’s size, but buoyed by her own sense of moral superiority. 
She didn’t retreat as the larger woman bore down on her.  “I
won’t
take
it back!”  She exclaimed righteously.

Crap. 
Grace tried to get between them.  “This isn’t going to resolve anything.”

“Grace
donea interfere with them.”  Jamie worked to extricate himself from Eugenia’s
flopping appendages.  “It will do no good.”

“Only
the Lord can cleanse our town.”  Clara proclaimed, dramatically spreading her
arms.  She had dark hair, round spectacles, and the kind of voice that was
always shouting out answers in class.  “Because you
are
a witch, Aggie
Northhandler!  There are evil forces at work in this town.  I’ve told my father
and he’s going to pray for…”

Agatha
swung at fist at her preachy face.  Clara’s shrieked and ducked to the side. 
Instead of pounding Little Miss Inquisition, Aggie struck poor Anabel Maxwell,
who was still standing beside Clara, knocking the hideous wig right off her
crew-cut head.  Anabel’s horse-y snout exploded in a red fountain as cartilage
cracked.

Blood
splattered all over Clara and Grace.

Anabel
wailed in pain and panic, clutching her broken nose.  Yeah, that was going to
leave a mark.  Too bad plastic surgery was still a long way off, because her
schnoz was seriously
not
going to heal straight without some help.

Clara
frantically wiped at the blood on her dress.  “Eww!”

Aggie
gave a smug nod, not even caring she’d just beat up the wrong girl.  “Serves
you all right!”  She shouted at the bystanders.

Jamie
shoved Eugenia aside and ran for Grace.

It
was too late.  Grace stared down at the gory spatter covering her hands and
winced.  Anabel’s blood had touched her.  She had just enough time to look back
up at Jamie and see horror cross his face.

He
seemed to realize what was about to happen.  “Grace, no!”  He bellowed. 
“Donea…”

She
vanished before she could hear him beg her not to leave.

June
26, 1789-  All I can say is that HC can use a riding crop and bridal in ways no
stable boy ever dreamed!

From
the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth

“And
so Jamie Riordan was the biggest jackass to ever show his too-handsome face in
our town.”  Grace concluded with a nod.  “Any questions?”

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.

Jamie
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
your
self 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!”