Hacienda Moon (The Path Seekers) (19 page)

18

Tandie had learned a valuable lesson from her last experience with driving around Brunswick Town at night. She traveled during the day. By the time evening arrived she will have completed her research on Chelby Rose’s history and be settled in for the night. A trip to the library was long overdue.

She felt that Eric had purposely skirted over her questions concerning his ancestors, especially the part about the curse. Eric’s mystery trip, Saul’s sudden infatuation with her, Chelby Rose, and its ghostly inhabitants were all somehow connected. They had to be. Although she hated to admit it, Tandie also tied Breena in with that lot along with Virgil’s death.

Two people had placed her at the crime scene the night Virgil McKinnon was killed. She couldn’t help but to think that her sudden intimacy with Eric came from his desire to figure out what happened to his friend. Eric had called this morning and told her that he had a family emergency and would need to be away for a few days. He assured her that it had nothing to do with what they discussed. Tandie wanted to believe him and intended to stick by her resolve to help him. Solving mysteries was what she’d spent the last seven years of her life doing. It was past the time to put that expertise back to work.

Saul hadn’t stopped by or called since the charity event the other night. The last email from him was a request to mail her payment to a new address. Something terrible happened in his house, and even though he never hinted at it, she felt certain that he wanted her to find out something for him too.

The Leland Library was part sunny yellow ranch house and part brick building, a strange mixture that gave it a unique type of charm. She eased her Camaro into a parking spot and walked inside. Today, her research involved far more invigorating subjects and the change of scenery became a welcome distraction for her writer’s block.

Tandie delved into the microfiche files of the Castle Hayne Gazette, searching for articles on Chelby Rose Plantation’s original owners, Rose and Thomas Chelby.
 
Images of archived articles that had been transcribed into modern English and entered into the system flew across the screen. One particular item caught Tandie’s eye. She pressed the silver pause button and read the story.

Castle Hayne Gazette, May 5, 1771

FOR SALE, OR TO BE LEASED for a term of years, the plantation, Chelby Rose on Lockwood’s Folly. The house contains five bedrooms and one dining room above; a hall and parlor, below with two fire-places, stables and every other necessary out building. The garden and orchard are capacious and contain a variety of native and imported roses and fruit trees. The plantation contains 900 acres; 400 are under fence; 80 acres are tide swamp, and a part in order for planting. Apply on premises to Thomas Chelby.

“Well the swamp explains the mosquitoes,” Tandie said aloud. She didn’t recall seeing five bedrooms. The house she rented only had four. Could they be talking about the attic? She chose another article that was written before the house went up for sale.

Castle Hayne Gazette, June 1, 1746.

The gardens of Chelby Rose are to be displayed. The fine and elegant gardener,
Rose Chelby,
will open her stylistic creations to the public on Tuesday. Rose will be accompanied by her husband, Thomas Chelby, and their 4 children, Samuel, Joseph, Eliza, and Alice.

Tandie hit the black zoom button, increasing the children’s names. Closing her eyes, an image surged through her mind. There was a woman with striking red hair standing in a garden filled with roses. She cut flowers and hummed a familiar tune. Up ahead, three children ran through a meadow filled with flowers. Tandie focused on them. Just a touch closer and she would be able to see their faces. The girl in the group stopped suddenly and slowly turned around. She was just about to get a glimpse when a woman’s voice startled Tandie back to the present and the child’s face disappeared.

“I said there’s a history behind that there garden,” the woman repeated.

Tandie swerved around to face the middle-aged librarian who’d been eyeing her the entire time. Although she had gotten used to the stares while she shopped for groceries, she still sometimes cringed under the attention. Today, the librarian’s curiosity was a welcome asset.

“Really? Where would I find more information on this family?” Tandie asked.

“You’re looking at her. Norma Atwell, the unofficial Brunswick Town historian.” She held out her hand and gave Tandie a firm handshake. She was a tall black woman with caramel-colored skin, high cheekbones, and a spunky short hair cut. She wore an earth-toned poncho covered in a zigzag pattern that looked like a cross between a southwestern and Native American design. A dark stone the size of a baby’s outstretched hand hung on a long chain around her neck.

Her friendly, but strong presence reminded her of Frieda; but the way she smiled and the nobility in her features made her think of Grandma Zee.

“I’m Tandie Harrison.”

“That’s right, the celebrity buying the Chelby plantation.”

“I wouldn’t consider myself a celebrity,” Tandie said, feeling blush in her cheeks.

“Well, Tandie who’s not a celebrity, what questions can this old woman answer for you?” Norma asked.

Tandie decided to go straight for what bothered her most. “What do you know about Alice Chelby and Enrique Fontalvo’s affair?”

The woman’s smile faded and her face ticked. Swallowing hard, she pulled up a chair beside Tandie. “Forgive me, child. Your question caught me off guard. And that’s hard to do.”

“May I ask what’s driving this inquiry? I mean, it’s not every day someone walks in and asks me about a two hundred and sixty year old story.”

“I, um, well there’s this book that I’m writing. I need some help with that,” Tandie said. The woman stared at her for so long that she thought she was about to tell her to get lost.

“Far be it from me to hinder any type of literary endeavor; so I suppose I better start talking then.” She sat down beside Tandie and paused for a moment.

“The story of Alice and Enrique is kind of like a retelling of
Romeo and Juliet
, but southern style. You see, Rose Chelby had a maid named Mary Jean. And the maid’s daughter also had her eye on Enrique. Rumors had it that Mary Jean knew the ways of voodoo. But she wasn’t a priestess, though. She was something worse.” She hesitated and glanced around before leaning in closer to Tandie.
 

“She was a witch. When Enrique jilted Mary Jean’s daughter, she murdered Alice Chelby. Buried her someplace where no one knows. Most folks think she hid the body somewhere in Chelby Rose’s gardens. Then she placed a curse on both the Fontalvos and the Chelbys. But the effects of that curse spread around to some other Bolivian citizens. Old Thomas Chelby blamed his daughter’s death on Enrique. He was so angry that he had the poor boy hunted down and thrown in jail, where he stayed until he got sick and died.”

“What kind of curse was it?” Tandie whispered, captivated by the woman’s hypnotic information.

“I wish I knew. I do know that some of Bolivia’s dead townsfolk don’t realize they were supposed to move on to the other side two hundred years ago.” The woman glanced around again as if the empty carrels might be listening to their conversation. The evening hour had arrived faster than Tandie thought it would.

“You’re saying the spirits are still around because they’re under this curse and they can’t leave?” Tandie asked, a million thoughts racing through her mind.

“They’re waiting for the one who can set them all free. You see, people trusted the Cropseys; but the women took that innocence, twisted it, and made sacrifices out of those poor people. The souls are too angry to rest. And a betrayed heart can be a dark and powerful thing.”

A knot formed in Tandie’s throat. Parts of the story still didn’t link up. Eric’s family still existed, which meant Enrique and Alice must’ve had a baby together before she was killed. “If Mary Jean and her daughter murdered Alice, then there must have been a baby to carry on the line.”

Norma’s eyes softened and her expression turned in on itself. “There was a baby. A kind family adopted it—the Atwaters.” She stopped and waited for Tandie’s reaction. “One of my ancestors took the baby. No one wanted anything to do with the illegitimate son of a fugitive.” A shutter flapped in the wind, slamming against the library’s exterior window. Both Tandie and the librarian jumped. Something in Norma’s story about Mary Jean and her daughter sent chills racing up and down Tandie’s spine.

“Mary Jean Cropsey and her daughter, Ella Maud’s spirits are still terrorizing that little town even today,” Norma said, shaking her head.

Breathtaking dread hit Tandie’s chest. She opened and closed her mouth several times before she could get the words out. “Ella Maud Cropsey?” Tandie asked, emphasizing each name.

“That’s right,” Norma said, eyeing Tandie carefully.

“Can’t be. That’s yet another person with the same name as the characters in my book,” Tandie whispered to herself, her thoughts racing. “What’s going on here?”

“You say something, honey?” Norma stared at Tandie.

“I was just thinking aloud,” Tandie said.

“There’s a powerful spirit protecting you, Miss Harrison,” Norma said, giving Tandie a sideways look. “I suspect it’s attracted to your ability to channel spirits.”

“How do you know I can do that?” Tandie whispered.

“My mother had the path seeker’s eye. I can tell when someone is using it. Kind of like you were doing when I spoke to you earlier. Don’t fight that power, Tandie. Accept it.”

Thanks for the insight, Norma.” Tandie gathered her things.

“My card if you ever need to talk.” Norma stood and slipped a business card in the side pocket on her purse.

Tandie nodded and scurried to her car. Nightfall would soon fall like a black mist on the small town, and Tandie wanted to be home when that happened on this night more than any other.

19

Tandie read and re-read the scenes inside the thirteen returned pages, the ones featuring her protagonist, Eric Fontaine, over and over. She’d begun to assemble the mystery behind Chelby Rose: the living Eric Fontalvo, her novel’s main characters, and the three children haunting the upstairs bedrooms. One piece felt out of place. The newspaper clearly described a fifth bedroom; and even Eric didn’t mention where it could be. Maybe it was closed off or merged into one of the five rooms upstairs.

Most of all she knew that both she and Eric Fontalvo were linked to all of these occurrences. Since she now understood her psychic visions were connected to her novel, she looked forward to seeing what direction she’d be pointed toward next.

Placing her fingers on the typewriter’s keys, Tandie began pecking away at the next section.

Although Maud Cropsey felt relieved that her best friend survived Eric Fontaine’s attack she knew he’d eventually kill again. He must be brought to justice so there’ll be peace among the people.

“What were you trying to tell me by hiding these pages, little ghostly ones? And just how are my Eric and screaming Ella related?” Tandie rubbed her temple with her pencil’s eraser. She glanced at Breena’s picture. Her little girl’s spirit hadn’t visited any of her dreams since the night she had pointed toward the Spanish warship.