Wanted: One Ghost (27 page)

Her heart fell. He would be able to move on. Would it be instant? Would he fade right before her eyes, never to exist again? She didn’t expect to fall so hard for her subject. She’d known him for less than two weeks. How could she have fallen in love in such short time? Now she couldn’t fathom how she would live without him.

Pulling up in front of the Historical Society she didn’t see James waiting for her as he usually did if she was running late. Parking, she got out and put a quarter in the meter. Her over-active imagination played tricks on her. Was he already gone? Without her getting a chance to say good bye? With her heart palpitating and the worst-case scenario playing in her head, she raced up the steps and beat on the Victorian glass framed door.

After frantic, nerve wracking moments, James came to the door, still in costume but with an odd look of guilt and worry clouding his features. The lock tumbled with a hollow click and he opened the door.

“What’s wrong?” April touched his face, running her hands over him to make sure he was really alive. His chest was solid as she frantically ran her hands down to feel the beating of his heart.

He didn’t say a word, only led her into the empty front office. Beth Freelane was slumped against the wall, a wet paper towel on her forehead.

“Oh my God! What happened? She looks like she’s seen a ghost.” She bent down to check Beth’s vitals. She was alive, just fainted.

“Well, she did, kind of.” James said with a bit of chagrin and embarrassment.

April shook her head.
No, he couldn’t have? Please, tell me you didn’t tell her, James.

“Who?”

James rubbed at the back of his neck and closed his eyes. “Me.”

“What do you mean,
you
?” April asked James and looked back down at Beth who was starting to come around. She knelt down to help the woman. “It’s all right. I’m going to sit you up, Beth.”

“I’ll get her some water.” James hurried to the water cooler in the hallway.

Beth groaned and struggled into a sitting position with help from April. “I’m fine. I just need…” She stopped mid-sentence as James came back with a plastic cup of water. She moaned, holding her head. “Please tell me it’s a bad dream?”

April took the cup from his hand to give Beth.

James looked at the piece of parchment in his hand. Chagrined he ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair. If a man could look guilty, James’s appearance spoke in volumes. He handed her the piece of paper.

April should have been ecstatic. The original deed to the mill site, signed by James, paid for and counter-signed by Henry Samuel on May 5, 1763 lay between her fingers. She now possessed the documents Kenneth Miles needed for his proof. But Beth’s condition and the guilty look on James’s face took away her joy of the moment. “What happened?”

Beth recovered enough to stand. Her eyes warily traveled between the two. “I’ve been searching through some of the boxes the staff brought over from the basement of City Hall. I came across a case of ledgers from Peter Hyman’s historical files. I opened one of the files and this fell out. I realized it might be what you’ve been looking for so I came down stairs to share the news with Jim.”

James sighed heavily. “I got a little excited at seeing my original deed after all these years.”

Beth stopped and became pale again. Her lips trembled and she shook her head. “Please, April— tell me. This man really isn’t James Addison…is he?” she whispered.

They sat Beth back down in the small settee in the hallway and explained the situation. “So you brought him to life by touching his grave? And you saw him as a ghost?” Beth asked, trying to comprehend. “All because of your psychometry and the live-energy between the two of you?”

April nodded slowly. “According to my Aunt Vickie, we’ve come to believe it’s the only possibility.”

Beth tentatively reached out and touched James’s face. “But is he truly alive?”

“Yes, he is alive. To what extent, we don’t know. We’re just taking it one day at a time.” April looked to James, her heart racing all over again at the thought of how close they were now to the truth being told and what it would mean for them.

April reached into her purse and retrieved the pouch with the chatelaine in it.

“Did it work? Does the key belong to the desk?” Beth asked excitedly and took the pouch.

April looked from Beth to James and nodded solemnly before retrieving the towel wrapped journal.

***

Beth invited them to stay for dinner and they retired upstairs to her apartments. James sat numbly, staring at the document he’d signed with Henry two hundred forty-eight years ago. His chest felt tight. The document would free April from her task, but he was unsure of what he felt looking at it. Unlike the other documents they’d found, this one proved he’d owned the land the mill had stood on. Beth would record the truth for Kings Mill history. But the mill and his house no longer existed. Only a piece of antiquated paper revealing the grandeur he’d once owned.

Beth went downstairs when the Chinese take-out they’d ordered was delivered. April told him of her incident with Catherine and Daniel when she’d made contact with the desk and journal. He wasn’t happy with her going behind his back, doing something so dangerous. But she was here, with the evidence she’d been seeking. She sat on the sofa and carefully pored over the journal’s later entries. The only clues of his time frame from someone who knew him.

Would the book reveal the reason behind his death? What then? He didn’t want to lose April, but a part of him understood being in this time frame may have only been an accident.

Beth returned, set the table and arranged the food from the little folded boxes onto her good dinner plates.

“Listen to this,” April said as she stood and came to sit next to him at Beth’s small drop-leaf dining table, the journal in her hands. “
Friday, December 9, 1774
—Henry locks me in my room every night. Ever since he made me watch poor Mr. Addison’s execution, he’s kept a close eye on me. He’s afraid I will reveal the truth of what I know. But I’m too weak. I’m scared of what he could do to me. He’s insane. I overheard him tell Mr. Hyman this afternoon, he planned to oust Daniel from the mill. Henry’s always wanted the mill for himself. I never thought he’d resort to such a horrible crime in order to get it. I fear Daniel’s life is at risk. I must let him know of Henry’s plans. I am due to go to the mill tomorrow for grain. Perhaps we will have a moment to talk.”

“It’s her last entry in the book,” April said sadly, looking into the rest of the blank book. She set the journal carefully out of the way. “When I witnessed the last ghost session with her and Henry, she must have just written this entry—before he took her to the mill.”

James nodded solemnly. It would have been the day she and Daniel were killed in a senseless act of vengeance and greed. Having never seen beyond his own life disheartened him. He wished he’d known more of Daniel and Catherine’s life and dreams. It wouldn’t have made any difference. Knowing his friend’s involvement with a married woman of Catherine’s social status wouldn’t have been well-looked upon. He couldn’t have helped her, any more than she could’ve saved him from his execution.

He must put the past away. History couldn’t be changed. April had read the last entry, now he wanted to find out about the day of his death.

“Did she have an entry in her journal for November 17th?”

“Yes and no.” April looked back and forth between Beth and James. He felt the uncertainty roll off her. This didn’t bode well. Damn. The truth would either set him free or leave him to dwell in not knowing any more than they did now.

“Read the entry on my day of death,” James ordered. He needed to know.

Wiping her hands on a napkin, April retrieved the book and gently flipped to the page. “Catherine didn’t write on the night of your death, she wrote the following night.
Friday, November 18, 1774
—I went to church this morning and prayed for James Addison to find peace in his final resting place. I will never forget the horror of last night when I learned the truth. Yesterday morning, Kings Mill buzzed with news of the traitor being held in the gaol. The name wasn’t given to prevent family or friends from trying to break him free.

I saw Daniel in town, frantically searching for James because he hadn’t returned the previous night. A shipment of goods came in, and it wasn’t like James not to sign for the parcels. I didn’t think anything more about it until Henry dragged me to watch the execution across the street. So many people were shocked to hear Mr. Addison’s name as the accused.

Henry forced me to watch. We stood on the outskirts of the crowds but within view of the tree and the horse with the man sitting atop, his head covered with a grain sack, his hands tied behind his back. Mr. Addison sat without fear, as if facing his maker with the pride of a man innocent. But I struggled. Henry said horrible things to me, gripping my face and accusing me of being James’s lover. This would be my penance, to see an innocent man die a horrible death for my honor. I will live forever with the scene etched in my heart. Henry refused to listen to me as I cried, trying to explain James wasn’t my lover, but he wouldn’t hear it. I was weak. I needed to fight for the guiltless man and couldn’t. This great shame I’ll take with me to my grave. I only hope someday the truth will be told, and James Addison can rest knowing others are aware of his innocence.”

Beth shook her head as she wiped her lips. “My mind is overwhelmed. Kings Mill’s history has exploded. This journal will bring out a whole new chapter to our legend, and a bit of truth. And it couldn’t have happened at a better time, the anniversary of—” Beth stopped and gasped. “James, I’m sorry. I can’t believe how insensitive I’m being. This Saturday night will be exactly two hundred thirty-eight years since your execution and now, I’ve hired you to portray yourself in the very role of your demise.”

“I hired on knowing what you expected of me. I don’t foresee a public display of an actual execution, so as long as it is pretend, I should be fine.” James smiled wanly, trying to dispel some of Beth’s angst. “Besides, it might be cathartic to relive the moment and know in my heart those who know me realize I’m innocent. I must say, no one will be able to play the part better than me.”

“I’ll have to agree there,” Beth sighed with a bit of amusement and went to change the delicate subject. “Who’s ready for their fortune cookie? I have a tradition. We have to interpret what our fortunes mean to us.”

Unsure what a ‘fortune cookie’ was, James let April explain as he took a cellophane wrapped folded wafer from the small bowl Beth held out. Opening the package, he watched as April broke her cookie in half and pulled out a strip of paper. He did the same.

April smirked. “We’ll let James go first since he’s new to this.”

“Very well.” He took a deep breath. “It says,
‘
You will be wealthy above your monetary needs
.’ Easy. I’ve seen what the power of wealth has done to some in my time. I think a man is truly wealthy when he considers the wealth of friends and family and the abundance of life around him.”

“Spoken like a true gentleman, or a politician, not sure which,” Beth laughed good-naturedly.

“All right, my dear Dr. Freelane, you are next if you are to be so bold,” James chided.

“Mine says,” she squinted to read it, retrieved her glasses, and chuckled, “well, so that is my problem!”

“What’s it say?” April smiled.

“It says, ‘
I will make a wonderful husband some day
.’”

Laughter and bawdy jabs were passed around the table.

“April, let’s hear yours. You haven’t even looked at it,” Beth said as they settled down from her hysterical fortune.

“I always end up with weird ones that make absolutely no sense what-so-ever.” She held up her small slip of paper and stared at it.

James began to worry. April’s face paled and her hands shook slightly.

“Are you all right?” Beth leaned in, catching on to April’s struggle. “What’s it say?”

“It says—‘
Believe in Fate.
’

***

After dinner, April busied herself with her newfound evidence. She took pictures of the antique document and sent it immediately to Kenneth. She had to do something to keep reality in check. Her fortune was too coincidental. She wasn’t sure if it angered her or frightened her. What was it about her and fate lately?

She emailed a copy of the photo along with texting him the message just to be sure he received it. It was two o’clock in the morning his time so she didn’t expect an answer anytime soon. They talked briefly with Beth about the upcoming final day of the festivities. She wanted James to be active in town throughout the day, greeting visitors and guests, socializing with the merchants to get them to actively participate, too. April knew she wouldn’t be able to do too much because Mr. Miles would be arriving sometime during the day. Her attention would be focused on him and trying to figure out a way to introduce him to James.

They arrived back at her aunt’s late. Her mother and grandmother were already in bed and Aunt Vickie, engrossed in Jay Leno, couldn’t be disturbed.
The Tonight Show
signaled her alone time. Besides, they wanted to sneak upstairs and enjoy celebrating the fact James was still here. After learning the truth about his death, he was still alive, flesh and blood.

“Come here,” James said, holding out his arms for her. “What have you done to me? All I expected was to find out the truth about my death and move on. But you’ve given me a reason to want to live again,” he whispered against her hair.