Thursday's Child (Out of Time #5) (11 page)

Catherine leaned back in her chair and tilted her head. “Don't be sure. Now, I've never seen one myself, but I have heard stories that make you wonder.”

Elizabeth leaned forward eagerly. “Stories?”

“Her other weakness,” Simon said with a smile.

Catherine's eyes lit up and she rang the bell on the table summoning a servant. She asked that Abraham come out to speak with them. “There's a story he told me when we were little together. I haven't forgotten it, but he tells it better.”

A moment later, Abraham came out and stood by the table.

“Abraham, you remember the Crosses,” Catherine said.

The way she said it was so familiar, so casual, as if all four of them were old friends.

Abraham nodded and waited, obviously wondering why he'd been summoned.

“Tell them the story of Osay,” Catherine said.

Abraham shook his head and glanced back to the house. “Now, Miss Catherine, your father warned us about that. He doesn’t take to those sorts of stories.”

“It's a good thing he isn't here then, isn't it?” She waved him on and it was clear he had no choice.

Abraham cleared his throat and began. “Osay was a great African warrior and leader to his people. They loved him and he loved them. But he loved no one as much as his wife and unborn child. He loved the child so much he would speak to it every night and one night, the unborn child spoke back to him. It said, 'The water will take you home.'“

Abraham frowned and shook his head. “Now, Osay didn't know what that meant, but the words, they stayed with him all that night and all the day. He kissed his wife goodbye and he and a few other men went out on a hunt to feed their families, but they never come back. Men captured them and drug them to the river. They put Osay in shackles that cut into his wrists and his throat. The river gave way to the great ocean and a great ship. Osay and his men, and women and children he had never seen before, sailed across the world in the darkness of the ship's belly. Many people died, but Osay lived and he heard his unborn child's voice every night, 'The water will take you home.'“

Elizabeth was starting to feel the chills as Abraham continued the story, more Osay than Abraham now. “Months passed without the sun, until finally Osay was pulled from the dark below into the dark above and the frightened men and women children cried as they were pulled apart. Osay was sold to a man up river from here. A cruel man who kept them chained. Osay labored for his master during the day and dreamt of his home during the night, until one day he could stand no more.”

Abraham stood up a little taller, his eyes bright with anger and passion. “Late one day, while the white bosses argued with each other, Osay turned and whispered to the man chained next to him and on down the line it went. Tears filled some of their eyes, but they nodded. Slowly, Osay led them into the swamp whispering 'The water will take us home.'“

Abraham stopped for a moment, as if the images were too vivid and too painful. He swallowed hard and kept on. “The masters didn't realize until it was too late. Osay led them into the shallow waters. The white men yelled at them, but they gave no heed. They all were saying it now, together, as they walked deeper into the water. 'The water will take us home.' Then, the chains and the voices stopped and the white men watched as Osay and his people sank into the dark water, never to return.”

Elizabeth's heart was pounding and Abraham broke from the spell he'd wove. “To this day, they say you can hear the chains at night in that swamp. That you can hear their voices whispering, “The water will take you home.'“

Catherine shivered. “I know people who have heard those voices. Up by River Run.”

Simon and Elizabeth exchanged quick, uneasy glances. Had other people seen Mary or were there more ghosts to contend with?

“Thank you, Abraham,” Elizabeth said. “I knew there was something up there. Do you know any other stories?”

Abraham shifted uncomfortably. “I know a few, but if you want to learn more about haints and such, Old Nan is the one who should do the tellin'.”

“Old Nan?” Simon asked.

“She's an old slave over on the Parson's plantation. Bit of a local legend,” Catherine said. “Do you think we could see her?”

Abraham gave Simon and Elizabeth a shrewd and appraising look. “I suppose, but you have to promise you won't tell the Colonel, Miss Catherine. He wouldn't like it. Not like it at all.”

~~~

The Stantons' fancy barouche carriage, with a driver at the front and Abraham standing on the back, took them to the Parson's plantation. When they arrived Catherine got permission for the four of them to go visit Old Nan in her cottage. She'd been the nanny to the current owner when he was just a boy. One summer he nearly died from Scarlet Fever and might have, if Old Nan hadn't taken care of him. She caught the disease and then some sort of brain fever had caused her to go blind. Elizabeth knew that like Mary Ingalls, Nan had suffered from viral meningoencephalitis. Either way, the result was the sadly the same. The family had taken care of her, setting her up in a small house near the other slave quarters and ensuring the others cared for her.

They approached the small, wood cabin and Abraham asked them to wait there. He disappeared inside and then returned and invited them in. They climbed up the wobbly, planked steps and into the dark room. A frail old woman, who looked like she was in her seventies, waved a thin hand at Abraham and he lit two candles that sat on the rough-hewn mantle above the small fireplace.

It wasn't cold inside, but Elizabeth shivered anyway. She felt like she'd walked onto the set of Beloved. Hopefully, their story had a happier ending.

Old Nan's eyes were milky white, but she sought out Simon and Elizabeth and looked them up and down before speaking. “You are strange to me. In and out at de same time, here and not here.”

As if she could see their confusion, she nodded and smiled patiently as she leaned back in her chair. “Abraham say you come to hear about de ghosts. You one of dem writer people from de newsypaper?”

“No,” Elizabeth said. “I just, we—”

She wasn't sure how to ask what was needed.

Nan nodded. “You take Miss Catherine and you wait outside, Abraham.”

He looked nervously to Catherine and Simon who assured him that they'd be fine.

“Yessuh,” he said and started for the door, shuffling a reluctant Catherine back out the door.

Once the door had closed, Old Nan smoothed out the blanket that covered her legs and rocked back in her rocking chair. “Now, your heart can speak.”

Elizabeth cast an unsure glance at Simon who nodded encouragingly.

“You come 'bout a child,” Nan said.

Elizabeth swallowed hard and nodded, then realized the woman couldn't see her. “Yes, how did you know?”

“You carry it with you.”

Elizabeth looked around the room quickly. “The ghost?”

Old Nan laughed. “No, child. Your burden.”

“I don't understand,” Simon said.

“I sure you don't,” Old Nan said. “But you will. In time.”

Simon frowned. “We were told that you were knowledgeable about such matters and could help us with our quandary.”

Nan frowned and tilted her head to the side.

“We were told you could help us,” Elizabeth clarified.

Nan nodded slowly and stopped rocking. Her pale eyes drifted between Simon and Elizabeth. “I see what others cain't. Dey's dis world and d'other. I don't see so good in dis one, but I can still see. And de spirits, dey know and come to me sometime when dey sad or feelin' lonesome.”

Elizabeth remembered Simon's description of his encounter and her heart ached for the child. “Has Mary come to you?”

“Mary?”

“Mary Stewart. She died a few days ago and yet,” Simon said. “I've seen her. We've both seen her.”

Nan nodded again. Elizabeth could tell Simon was growing anxious. He was impatient under the best of circumstances and cryptic mystics definitely pushed his buttons.

“We think she needs our help,” Elizabeth said. “We'd like to help her, but we don't know what to do.”

Nan brought her fingers to her lips in thought and then slowly started to rock again. “Sometimes de children don't know what be wrong. Dey's scared and alone. I show dem de way when I can. But some is needin' somethin' I cain't give. Mary, she be in de wrong place. She need you to help her be somewhere else.”

“How? Where?” Simon asked.

Nan looked at Simon and then at Elizabeth. If she didn't know better, she would swear the woman could see. Nan shook her head. “Don't rightly know yet. And time ain't on our side.”

Elizabeth didn't like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

“It take a whole passel a strength to be here, where dey shouldn't be. Dey sorta fade away and once dey's gone, we cain't do nothin' for 'em.”

“What happens to them?”

Nan stopped rocking again. Her pale eyes seeking out something invisible in the distance. “You ever feel a cold chill on a warm day? Or hear a cry caught in de wind?” She looked back at them. “Dat's all dat's left. Po things. Dey's betwixt and between forever.”

Chapter Ten

Both Simon and Elizabeth were content to let Catherine do most of the talking as they rode back into town. It was nearly dark by the time they arrived. Simon and Elizabeth thanked Catherine and Abraham again, retrieved their buggy and drove back to their hotel. Neither spoke much. The visit with Old Nan had left them both feeling a little introspective.

Simon stopped at the restaurant and ordered food to be sent up to their room. Thankfully, he'd had the foresight to take a bottle of wine and two glasses with him to tide them over until the food arrived.

As he opened the bottle, Elizabeth shed her layers of clothing, put on a robe and splashed her face with water to cleanse it from the day's dust.

Simon handed her a glass of wine. “Better?”

Elizabeth nodded and sat on the sofa in their sitting room. She tucked her legs up under and sipped her wine. Elizabeth tried to ignore the feeling of melancholia that had settled over her, and judging from Simon's thoughtful expression, it had taken him, too. It wasn't bad enough that poor Mary had died so young, but now, if they couldn't find a way to help her, she might be lost forever.

Simon sat down on the sofa and sighed.

“I've been thinking about Old Nan,” Elizabeth said. Simon hmm'd in agreement. “Do you think she's some sort of psychopomp?”

Simon nodded thoughtfully. “Like Anubis or Charon? A guide for souls to the afterlife.” He paused for a moment. “It is possible. There are stories of guides or doulas in virtually every culture. I had always considered them…wishful thinking, a chimera to ease the fear of the unknown.”

“And now?”

Simon smiled and shook his head. “After what I've seen, what I've felt, the last few days, I think I was, as you might say, full of it.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I wouldn't say that.” Simon glared playfully at her and she laughed again. “It's normal, and rational, by the way, to disbelieve until shown otherwise. I've always thought I was the nutty one for believing things without any proof at all.”

Simon didn't argue with that. He just smiled and took a sip of his wine before setting it on the side table.

“You're supposed to say, no, darling, you're not nutty at all.”

Simon chuckled. “Am I?”

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.

“No, darling, you're not…nutty at all.”

“It's too late now.”

Simon faked a wounded expression. “How can I make it up to you?”

Elizabeth pulled her legs from underneath her. She shifted on the sofa and stuck her legs out toward him and wiggled her toes. Simon chuckled and pulled her feet into his lap. His strong warm hands started to massage the aching arch of her left foot and Elizabeth practically purred. Dr. Scholl could not be born soon enough.

She relished the feeling for a moment before coming back to the matter at hand. “If Old Nan is a doula for the afterlife, I hope she can help us understand what Mary wants.”

“To be somewhere else,” Simon recited.

“Yeah, but does that mean somewhere else in the afterlife, like crossing over or somewhere else here?”

Simon's forehead creased in thought. “Another grave?”

“You mean like grave robbing?”

Simon stopped massaging her foot and looked at her like she was a backward child. “Of course not. Just relocating.”

“Maybe we're being too literal. What if she needs to be elsewhere emotionally, spiritually?”

Simon's hands stopped moving as he thought. “She is frightened and confused.”

A dark cloud covered his face and Elizabeth could see him struggle with his emotions at the memory of his encounter with the girl.

He stared off, unfocused. “She's so terribly sad and so very small.”

Elizabeth shifted and scooted down the sofa. Simon lifted his arm and she snuggled into his side and rested her hand on his chest.

Simon let out a deep breath and pulled her closer. “Why did it have to be a child?”

~~~

Simon stepped aside as the man stumbled through the front doors of Smiley's Saloon. The man reeked of cheap whisky and even cheaper cigars. His cheeks were flushed as he struggled to stand and stuff in the tail of his shirt. He grinned sloppily at Simon and tripped his way down the steps to the street below. It was eleven o'clock in the morning.

More than ever, Simon was glad Elizabeth wasn't here. It was definitely for the best. Not that she shared the opinion. She'd made that loud and clear this morning.

Last night they'd agreed that they couldn't afford to wait for Mary to make another appearance. Even if she did, there was no guarantee they'd learn anything more than they had before. If she couldn't communicate with them, all they'd gain was another touch of her pain. Simon needed no reminder of her misery. With little hope learning from her in death, that meant, investigating her life. Starting with her parents.

Simon and Elizabeth visited the catholic priest they'd first seen at the cemetery. He knew little of Alice Stewart. She had no friends he knew of, certainly if she had, they would have been at her child's funeral. All he knew was that she had apparently worked in a local saloon as a hostess. It was his understanding that she hadn't worked there in some time though, but a cold trail was better than none.