Spirit of the Revolution (4 page)

“I’m aware of that possibility.”

“And need I mention everyone is chomping at the bit for an introduction? I mean, how long has it been since we’ve had the pleasure of such a beguiling woman living underneath our roof?” Sam tilted his gaze upward as he halted his steps. “Let’s see, the last one, I believe, was that fine-looking housemaid of your great-great grand nephew. You know—the one with those fetching little dimples. Just what was her name, anyway? Let’s see, Margaretha or Margeurite—Maria?”

Mathias blew out a derisive snort and shook his head. “You know very well her name was Margaret, you besotted fool. After all, you were the one who mooned after the girl day and night. You shadowed every step she took, thus making
her
believe in ghosts fast enough. If I recollect correctly, she left shortly after you showed your unsightly face to her though, didn’t she?”

Sam merely shrugged, showing no concern over the comment. “If truth be known, ’twas the sight of your ugly face that made her leave. Why, I’d leave myself if you didn’t need constant looking after.”

“
If
I had allowed her to see my face, lad, I fear she would’ve mooned after
me
,” Mathias countered. “Still, you’re right about Jolena. She needs to learn we’re here before she happens to catch a sound or shadow. Just the sight of our spiritual form might make her turn tail and run. I don’t see the fairness in that after she has gone to all the trouble of making the house livable again.”

“Definitely not.” Samuel’s lips twitched over the remark.

“Want to explain the smirk?” Mathias stepped back and placed an elbow atop the fireplace mantel.

“Oh come on, Mathias, it amuses me the notion of Jolena leaving even troubles you. For the past eight, maybe nine decades, you focus more on evicting the living, than you do anything else. Heaven knows we enjoy that particular sport more than any other, and if I say so himself, we get better at it all the time.”

“Yes, well—all of that aside, you have to admit this house needed extensive repair. Now that she’s restored the place, she deserves to share in the bounty. So, I think it best for all concerned to introduce myself first. Whether or not she realizes it, she’s already responded to my whispered suggestions concerning the work of restoration.” Mathias stroked a hand along the length of his jaw as he regarded his companion. “Therefore, she might not find it too much of a shock if I introduce myself in current form.”

He need not disclose the fact he revealed himself audibly today. Samuel would jump all over that revelation like flies to stink, and he would never hear the end of it. “Once she accepts my presence, I believe she wouldn’t find it at all difficult to meet everyone else.”

“If you think it best,” Sam replied as he fiddled with the porcelain swans on the shelf. “But again, I wouldn’t wait too long. The lads remained on their best behavior while she restored the house just as you requested. That in itself is an extraordinary feat, and I commend you for it. However, I don’t know how much longer we can expect them to hold back—”

“Expect who to hold what back?” the voice behind them asked. Mathias and Sam turned toward the other three residents as they popped into the room. Each, with broad grins on their faces, gazed about the finished parlor and nodded their approval.

“Well, Mathias, I must say this room looks even better than it did in our mortality.” Alexander stepped over to the secretary and played with the ink well and quill.

“You know, my Aunt Eliza possessed an ivory tea set that looked just like this one,” William said. He sidled up next to the small round table, lifted the lid, and peered inside. “Alex is right. The girl has made the parlor feel like home.”

“We are home, you dolt.” Samuel shook his head, looked heavenward, and rolled his eyes. “Only now we needn’t worry about the place falling down around our ears.”

“
Jolena
has exceeded all my expectations, Alex,” Mathias said. “She’s left nothing undone, and the homestead looks better than it ever has before.”

“Jolena, you say?” asked Jedediah as he turned toward him. “We finally have her name?”

“Jolena Leigh Michaelsson, to be precise,” Sam cut in. “And, it should please you all to know, she plays that fiddle upstairs in Mathias’s room. And from all reports, she plays it quite well.”

“Then this calls for a celebration.” William slapped Alexander on the back. “A toast, Mathias, and be quick about it, man.”

Joyful laughter filled the room as a frothy mug of ale suddenly appeared in each hand, each pewter mug filled with a liquid only they could see and taste. They raised their tankards high and waited for him to speak.

“My very good friends—” With a subtle bow, Mathias acknowledged each man in turn. For in truth and deed, one could not find a greater group of friends, breathing or not.

Samuel Fraser stood at his side longer than he had recollection. They were born within a week of each other, lived a stone’s throw apart, and shared countless adventures, both good and some not
quite
as good, perhaps. Still, for as long as he held memory Sam watched his back, and by the saints, he’d done the same.

William Ferguson and Alexander Buchanan, both hailing from New Jersey, removed to Pennsylvania with their parents as young lads, no more than seven years of age. He recalled the day he and Sam invited them to join their wild escapades, lest boredom beset them. They accepted the invitation on the spot. To their good credit, they never once uttered a single regret or complaint despite the numerous difficult situations they found themselves in along the way.

Jedediah Gatlin, born of God-fearing, hard-working Virginia folk arrived much later. They took him on board just prior to the war. At that time in their lives, tempers ran high, skirmishes seemed common, and people chose sides. Jedediah did not hesitate to choose theirs. Despite his age, he remained brave, tenacious, and fiercely loyal.

Together they made up a small fraction of the legendary force known as Morgan’s Rangers. This army of handpicked men noted for their marksmanship, and extraordinary skills, served under the command of Colonel Daniel Morgan. It pleased Mathias that he and his men completed each assignment with audacity and precision—save one.

“We’ve shared many adventures together, lads,” said Mathias. “May the homestead continue to uphold our chosen pursuits another two hundred years at least.”

“Let us not forget the lass,” William called out. “We couldn’t celebrate now if not for her devotion to this house.”

Alexander raised his mug yet again and said, “To Jolena, who restored our home as well as our good nature.”

A barrage of toasts and conversation followed as his men continued their celebration. In truth, they hadn’t experienced this grand a time in a very long while.

“I think it only fitting to toast Dakota as well,” Jedediah said, after the toasts ran out. “He readily accepted our presence and helped liven up the place. Put us all in much better spirits, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

“Leave it to that pup to draw attention to the dog,” Sam hooted, “when the rest of us have our minds firmly planted on that fine-looking woman, upstairs.”

His comment solicited another round of raucous laughter, barbs, comments, and exchanges from the men as they continued to commemorate the fine restoration of their home.

****

The clanking of metal against metal, laughter, and a lot of “Hear, hear,” slowly wafted up the stairs and intruded into the dreams of Jo Michaelsson. In this dream, she walked in on some kind of party taking place inside her sitting room. A large room made small by some very attractive, well-muscled men who looked as if they enjoyed their celebration. They talked about—about something. She couldn’t quite grasp the wisps of memory that still lingered. Let’s see—they wore something that just seemed so—so— Hmm. Just what
were
they wearing? She couldn’t remember now.

In the vague memory of her dream, the tallest and most attractive man of the group, turned, and met her gaze. Until that moment, none of them paid her any attention. She slowly opened her eyes to make sense of it. All seemed quiet enough. Dakota gazed up at her from his large cedar bed on the floor, his head tilted.

“Everything is okay, sweetheart.” She patted him affectionately. “Just another bizarre dream.” Jo yawned, turned to her side, and closed her eyes once again. She settled a little more deeply into her covers and drifted off to sleep.

The men grew quiet, knowing their boisterous celebration disturbed the sleep of their guest. Mathias almost laughed aloud. Each of his men held their breath, as if they still had breath to hold.

“We’ll have to remember we’ve a guest we’re not purposefully trying to run off this time around and hold down the volume. At least until she meets us,” he said in an effort not to disturb her more.

Mathias waited until his companions dispersed before he made his way up the stairs and around to Jo’s bedside. He gazed down on her sleeping form. She looked so small in her great big bed. Waves of long hair spilled across the pillow, and her long black lashes hid her lovely blue eyes. Still, she looked as if she slept peacefully enough. He needed that reassurance, and he needed to know their celebration hadn’t troubled her overly much. At least that’s what he told himself.

But if truth revealed itself, his visit held more than just that. He greatly admired her strength, tenaciousness, and indelible spirit, and he found himself drawn to her like moth to flame. Although he courted personal danger by allowing her to remain underneath his roof, he found he could do naught but stay the course, to whatever end it might lead.

Chapter 3

“Okay, Dak, vacation time is over, I’m afraid,” Jo said as Dakota followed her into the kitchen. “I think we’ve allowed ourselves to get just a little too lazy and fancy free these days. So,
your
job this morning is to go outside and chase those wretched squirrels away from the house. Mine is to head into the library and start working on those new pieces I received this morning—
if
I still remember how to play the violin, that is.”

She opened the door and at once Dakota bounded toward the big oak tree in the center of the yard. He did a playful little leap in the air while furiously wagging his tail, then crouched down, and jumped up again as if chasing a bug. A scant moment later, he ran from one end of the property to the other, halted once in the middle, sat down, and then tore off again. His crazy antics made her laugh.

Jo returned to the foyer, swept her package from off the hall tree table, and ascended the stairs. Just as she entered the library, the ceiling fan fluttered a page of the open book atop the desk. Feeling a little bewildered, she picked up her copy of
The Red Badge of Courage
, and stared at it. Strange, she just didn’t remember taking it off the shelf. Again. No matter, for the second time this week, she simply put it back where it belonged and turned her attention to her parcel.

After removing the contents from the envelope, Jo settled into one of the big leather chairs and flipped through each piece of music. A sudden chill coursed through her body. Odd, but this room always seemed so much cooler than the rest of the house. Perhaps a blocked vent needed attention, but not today. Once again, she focused on the music, studying each piece in the order she received it. About three quarters of the way through the stack, she turned a page. Andre Popp’s “Love is Blue” met her startled gaze.

For the meaning it held to them personally, her deceased parents favored this song above all others. As she closed her eyes, she could see them dancing, snuggled close in each other’s arms, oblivious to anything or anyone else in the room while the song played. They shared a deep and wondrous once-upon-a-time-and-happily-ever-after kind of love and oh, how she missed them. The one—the only—consolation to their passing? They made their final journey together. Coincidentally, they made that trip exactly five years ago today. Perhaps they used this music to say hello. Wiping a tear from her eye, she sniffed as she rose from her seat. She took up her violin and placed the music on her stand. Jo played the piece as if they listened. Perhaps somewhere, they did.

****

Mathias fixed his gaze upon Jolena the moment she entered his domain. His anticipation mounted as she retrieved her violin, nestled it against her chin, and touched bow to string. The enchanting music that followed stirred his soul, for by the saints, she played like an angel.

One by one each of his men, drawn to the beauty of the music, entered the room. Over the next few hours, they remained quiet and attentive. She played piece after piece of music—until the phone rang and ended the pleasure.

The stern look on his face warned against any outward demonstration of discontent or complaint over the unwanted interruption. He cocked his head toward the door and as requested, the lads vacated the room. Once again, he made Jolena the focus of his attention. Her eyes widened and a smile appeared as she yanked the phone from the receiver.

“Nancy Lou! I take it you’re finally home. Did you enjoy your Hawaiian vacation?”

“I’ll e-mail you some pictures when I get the digitals downloaded. Then you’ll see for yourself just how much we enjoyed touring the islands,” the woman replied. “Little Mary took to all the traveling as you’d expect. As long as we took her ‘bye-bye’ by car, boat, or plane, she stayed happy enough. And you should’ve seen the boys. I found it difficult to get them out of the ocean and convince them to put away the surfboards long enough to see some of the sights we wanted to see.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

“Yes, well, on the other hand, Jeannie couldn’t stay away from the Polynesian Cultural center in Oahu. I think one young Samoan man in particular caught her attention. He spent a little more time than necessary teaching her how to crack open a coconut. I really couldn’t blame the infatuation though. He did have some pretty good pecs, but don’t you dare tell Bob I said so.”