Unsettled Graves: A Crossroads of Kings Mill Novel (The Crossroads of Kings Mill Book 3) (11 page)

              “Jared had deserted. She was alone in a land torn apart by a bloody civil war that took land, men, and communities away. There was nothing left of what they remembered. People and families left behind what they couldn’t take with them and traveled west. Why wouldn’t she leave?”

              “She could have left with other family. It doesn’t say. It only tells of her death and where she was at the time. In between the Civil War and the time of death, she could’ve traveled the world for all we know.”

              Camden closed his down his window menu to a website he’d been on. “So what you’re saying is I’m no closer to the truth than I was before. Right back at square one.”

              “Look, Camden.” She pushed her papers and research books away towards the middle of the work table they shared. “If it’s any consolation, I’m getting nowhere in my search for the truth about what happened to the Susquahannock tribe that was massacred by the Maryland Militia back in the 1670s.”

She made a sweeping gesture towards the books and her small laptop. “All it says is that at one point George Washington’s great-grandfather, John, led a group of Virginian’s to annihilate one of the forts on the northern Potomac River…and a few years later, the Maryland Militia went in and destroyed another group somewhere near present day Columbia. We’re talking an area of mass proportions. Not only that, the area could be misconstrued as the land boundaries between Pennsylvania and Maryland at the time were convoluted. It wasn’t until the Civil War that the Mason-Dixon Line was established. ”

              “That could be anywhere between Columbia and Lancaster, Pennsylvania.”

              “Exactly. Talk about your needle in a haystack.” She sighed.

              “You could always change your topic?”

              “Yeah, and so could you,” she quipped back. The topic of possibility to change her subject had come up many times in her overworked, frustrated brain.

              “That whole boring topic of the economics during the Reconstruction is looking better and better…but…”

              “But?”

              “Not as exciting or challenging.”

              “Nor rewarding as trying to find out the truth?”

              Camden didn’t need to say anything, but he nodded his head rhythmically. They were on the same page. Neither one wanted to give up on finding justice for their victims of misconstrued history books.

Never take your issues with history to a Historian, especially one from a family of metaphysical gifts. History to them was a trip back in time through touch or thought…or meditation.

“We’ve worked these past few weeks on maintaining the balance of your chakras. That is the first step in focusing on your gift. Healthy chakras can not only produce harmony within your soul but can strengthen your gift and power to handle it.”

“So now what?” Tonya asked Vickie as she sat, cross-legged on the woven, multi-colored blanket in the middle of Vickie’s living room floor.

“I want you to connect. Connect with your gift. Let it flow through you and guide you where it wants to take you.”

“Are you sure I’m ready for this?” Tonya whimpered.

“You’ve been ready. It’s been there waiting for you to accept it fully. Do not be afraid. It knows where you need to be and is ready to take you there. Put all doubts away. Concentrate on the power within.” Vickie spoke slowly and gracefully like a hypnotic trance.

They’d sage smudged the room earlier, inviting only spirits of the light to enter. Saying the Prayer of St. Michael together they’d allowed the saint to bless them into the ‘knowing’ portal, but none of the spirits they encountered could come back through. That was Tonya’s mistake the last time. She had not instructed the spirits to stay in their time…or at least that is what they assumed happened.

She was ready for this. April had told her that in order to find truth it was time to use her gift. What kind of truth would she find? There wasn’t anything in the history sites or books on Maryland History helping, nothing she could touch, like April’s gift of psychometry. But she trusted April’s ability to know a bit more about the gifts than she did. She would leave it up to the experts to guide her.

And it was time.

Listening to the lilting instructions of Vickie’s voice, Tonya let her body completely relax, opening up to the possibilities of the energies around her. There was darkness as her mind let go of all negative thoughts. She was hoping for enlightenment, not darkness…and she focused fervently on Vickie’s voice, chanting and soothing…

Tonya found herself walking down a long corridor surrounded by cobblestone bricks. The echo of water dripping near her but never on her. She was somewhere underground. Voices whispered in a strange, guttural language she couldn’t understand but she felt the anger, the sadness and despair of the souls belonging to the voices.

With each step she took, the voices became clearer. So many. Cries of children, the soothing of mothers…and something else. A common soul who all these cries centered around. A being of ancient wisdom.

Tonya rounded the corner of the long hallway. Tentative and alert of her surroundings she’d entered a chamber of light so radiant it blinded her temporarily. Shielding her eyes with her forearm the rays dissipated revealing a large group of people, a hundred or more, barely clothed, their skin dark…the men stood and walked forward threatening with the tall, broad statuesque statures.

Their eyes were black, empty sockets where eyes may have been. Tonya gasped as the voices died suddenly. Not even a child cried out.

“You have come.”

Tonya turned around at the gnarled voice behind her. A weathered old woman. She’d seen this woman before. In her nightmare.

She looked around at the others until she realized she was the one being spoken to. “M…m…me?” The old woman’s head bowed once in acknowledgement. “Where am I?”

“The Crossroads, my child. A place between spirit worlds.” She shuffled forward on fur clothed feet. Her skin hung on a skeleton-like frame, and yet, Tonya wasn’t afraid.

Looking back to the mass of people, she recognized some of the markings. They were those of the drawings the European settlers had taken of the Susquahannock people.

“Are you of the Susquahannock tribe?” Tonya ventured to guess.

“We are the People of the Muddy Waters…we are those who lived and died among the white man. We were many…now we are few.”

“I know. And I am sorry.”

“You did not do this. Do not be sorry. You are what the spirits called forth. You are The Great Traveler.”

Tonya shook her head. The old woman didn’t make any sense. “No…I’m just…”

“You have been called as have others to lead our souls and the souls of the lost. This is the crossroads in which I called forth from the great spirits as we lie dying from the ravages of war and disease… A place where all souls who’ve suffered wrongly go to find release from bodies harmed.”

“Is this the massacre site from the Maryland Militia?” Tonya gasped, wondering where in conjunction with time and history she was.

The old woman shrugged. “We were attacked by men and settlers, yes, but we do not know of which you speak.” She stepped forward a bit, examining Tonya. “You are of the spirits as was foretold. You must set our souls free to go forth.”

“I don’t know how. What do I do?”

“A spirit guide knows…they tell tales of honor. They add their spirit to help forge the bridge over the chasm between death and the eternal light. We are in death…darkness.” She waved her hands around the bricked-in walls. “We seek the way to the light. At the crossroads we stand, waiting.”

Tonya understood the whole seeking eternal rest, but how could she be the bridge? Was she a missing link? A gap in between here and there? The crossroads?

The woman moved in closer as did the warriors and others behind her.

“We seek you to join the crossroads. You must join the crossroads.” The woman’s voice grew louder, more agitated until it blended in with the foreign words of the others, chanting over and over in Tonya’s head.

Tonya closed her eyes and covered her ears with her hands. “Stop!”

#

Vickie shook her out of her vision and she gave a startled cry, thinking it was one of them shaking her.

“Tell me about the vision. I couldn’t comprehend what you were trying to interpret.” Vickie’s ability was a mixture of spiritual connection and organic connection with the soul of a person. Chakras and Reiki were only a small portion of her gifts.

“I…I…don’t know. I’m the bridge in the crossroads.”

“The spiritual realm between life and eternity. So your gift is true.”

“But what crossroads? They want me to join the crossroads. Does that mean I’m supposed to die?”

“No, I don’t think so. There could be many different interpretations. Were they the tribe from the massacre near Columbia?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t think they knew for sure. Again, the interpretations of a different time period could be as convoluted as a missing landmark having been removed over time. Something that was there then and been gone for hundreds of years?”

Vickie stood up, stretching and cracking old bones she kept as limber as any twenty year old. “Still, we need to work more on this issue. This is of great importance to you, your true gift, and the nation of people long forgotten. We must find what needs to be done.”

Tonya nodded. She knew without a doubt that her studies into the tribe of people was warranted. There was a purpose in her research. Now, she just needed to find a way to figure out what she needed to do with her purpose.

#

“Would you relax?” April rounded her desk as she packed up from her day. “Your folks can’t be all that bad. They had you.”

“You don’t know my dad. He’s only worried about me playing football. He doesn’t care about anything else.”

“What about your mother?” April put a couple of files in her attaché case.

“Mom? She’s his shadow. Whatever dad says, goes.” Camden scoffed. Yeah, she had the bedside manner of a loving mother, but when it came down to family decisions, it was whatever their father wanted. He often wondered if she’d been brainwashed into the Stepford Wives.

“Are you going to the airport to pick them up?” April asked.

“No. They got a package deal with flight and car rental. They would’ve had a hotel, but mom insisted on staying at the Old Town Tavern & Inn.”

“That should be a fun experience. So are they joining us for the crab feast tonight? They are more than welcome.”

“I’m sure they will.” Camden groaned. “Just please, don’t listen to everything they say. All Dad talks about is my football scholarship, work, and politics.”

“Stop giving your folks a hard time. I’m sure we will all get along splendidly.” She stopped as she turned to lock her office. “Oh, before I forget. Here’s a number to a friend of mine over at Kings Mill Community College.” April handed him a business card.

“What’s this?”

“Amanda helps out in the student guidance center, tutoring students who have a difficult time with writing papers. She’d be more than happy to help you with yours.”

April remembered. She hadn’t given him a hard time or even reprimanded him for his cheating. Instead, she was offering him assistance.

“Now mind you, she won’t do the paper for you, but she will help guide you to put your thoughts and notes into writing. I think the history department at William & Mary have a similar program now, too.”

“Thanks, April. I appreciate your help.”

“Now, go wake up Tonya.” She nodded her head towards the open bay where Tonya had ended up with her face literally planted in an open research book. “Looks like she had another session with Aunt Vickie last night. Trust me, I’ve been there. Exhausting!”

“Do you think she’ll be ready for this weekend up in Gettysburg?”

“Are you?” April asked.

He wasn’t sure. The idea of Jared in the reenactment, along with Andrew and John whom he had yet to meet, bothered him. Ghosts? Two months ago he never believed. Now, he was actually associating with them on a daily basis. His folks would freak!

On that note he smiled and couldn’t wait to see them interact with the paranormal friends he’d made at Kings Mill, Maryland.

#

“Sure you want to go tonight? You look tired.” Camden walked beside Tonya as they made their trek to the tavern from the parking deck.

“I’m fine. Besides, I can’t wait to meet your parents. They sound wonderful.” She grimaced teasingly.

“Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“No. You’re afraid of all the talk of ghosts and spirit world between all of us. I can’t promise it won’t come up around your folks, but I know most of the Wilton Women won’t openly talk about it among newcomers… At least not until the guests start asking questions.”

They came to the town’s intersection. Remembering the last time she’d stepped on the old cobbled bricks she stayed to the proper crosswalk and waited for traffic to clear. It bothered Tonya to think about that particular patch of old road. Confidently she strolled across the street from east to west, glancing worriedly at the menacing block of red bricks.

Camden took her hand, hurrying her along before the walk-light counted down to halt them. She looked up at him and smiled at the worry she saw in his brow. “I’m fine. This time I am going to enjoy the crab feast instead of spending it upstairs spaced out.”

“Damn. Too bad.” Camden sighed. “I actually enjoyed sleeping next to you. I was hoping we could do it again.”

Tonya laughed and poked him in the ribs. “You are such a cad!”

They entered the tavern. People had started to arrive for the Thursday night feasts. Five rows of long farm tables with parson benches were lined with butcher paper and little wooden mallets, claw crackers and rolls of paper towels waiting for the next group of people to be seated. Millie had suggested a community-meet your neighbor-kind of atmosphere for the summer feasts.

A party of two might be placed next to a family of five all sharing heaping bowls of fresh corn on the cob, home style hickory baked beans, creamy coleslaw, hot buttery yeast rolls  and of course all you can eat Maryland crabs. Since she’d implemented the Thursday summer time feast, the place was packed from five until eleven at night. They had to hire extra cooks and wait staff just to keep up.

Millie came by loaded with a tray of frothy beer mugs and platters heavy with Old Bay seasoned steamed Maryland Blue Crab.

“Met your dad…looks like an older version of you?” Millie whispered out of the side of her mouth conspiratorially as she maneuvered around the tables.

Camden sighed. “Yeah, that would be him. And my mom?”

“Sweet lady.” She smiled teasingly. “Does she know your dad’s a letch? Fancies me bosoms e’ does.”

“Yeppers…that’s my dad.” He nodded and shook his head sadly.

Millie laughed. “’e’s just a good ol’ bloke. They’re fine folk. Up in room 210 if’n you want to say hello. The rest of the crew, or at least most of ‘em are out back at Kenneth’s table.”

“Thanks, Millie. You joining us?” Tonya asked.

“If I go out back with all of you, Sean will snag me down with him and damn everyone else—so we will see if I can sneak away.” Winking, she shifted around a narrow path between the rows of tables and made her way separating a couple of guys, placing her linen shift, corseted covered bosoms between them as she lowered cold, frosty mugs in front of them and poured the heaping tray of crustaceans down the center line of the table for the next round of all they could eat. Millie sure did know how to make a man enjoy his atmosphere while he dined. And Millie loved every minute of attention.