Wanted: One Ghost (18 page)

She lowered her face into his coat. Her giggle was muffled, but he felt it against his heart. “You thought I was talking to the tree? All I thought was how I could strike up a conversation with a hot looking tour guide.”

“Little did you know you were talking to a ghost. Might as well have been talking to a tree,” James replied, poking her small nose playfully.

“If trees could talk, yeah right,” April scoffed. She looked up at him. Her eyes lit up like live embers, sparking and glowing. “That’s it! If trees could talk!” April gasped, repeating it as if it were a mantra. The embers in her eyes suddenly burst into flame. He could actually see her mind working its excited mischief on an enlightening thought.

This did not bode well for him.

***

“I forbid it!” James bellowed as he rose from his seat at the dining room table where he was going over the classified ads. He walked up to April and glared down at her.

“You can’t forbid me from doing anything. Besides, I have to,” she replied with more bravado then she felt. Was she sure she was ready to take on such an enormous task? She was thinking about doing something no one had any proof of actually doing—phasing into another time realm. She knew she could do it. She’d been doing it without conscious thought. This time she would be in control.

She looked to her family for support. “Come on Aunt Vickie, you said it was my time to find my purpose. Well, this is my purpose—to step between the realms and find the truth to the unsolved mysteries of time.”

Vickie looked uneasily to Dottie. April turned her attention on her. “Grams, you of all people know the importance of helping set lost souls free. You’ve begged Mom to accept it. What is so different from what you all do to help the souls then what I’m proposing?”

“We understand the simplicity of our gifts, April dear, yours—well, it’s something we can’t quite comprehend. Physically phasing into realms of time is just not easy to grasp.” Aunt Vickie reached over and patted her hand. “We can’t help with what we don’t understand. The risk to you might be greater than we can manage.”

“As I said, you are not going to do so, April!” James demanded. “Damn my past! My past is not worth your life. I’ve been dead for over two hundred years. Execution or no execution, I should still be dead. What do you propose to find if you were to go back in time?”

“The truth!” April jumped up, tired of being hounded and questioned. “I’ll be able to set the history books to right.”

James leaped up from his seat and rounded on her. “And you’ll have proof? How?” A vein throbbed in his forehead, the corded tendons in his neck and throat standing out prominently as his face mottled with fury.

“All you will see is my execution. Strong women have fainted from the shock, never to fully recover from such a gruesome public display. And you’re willing to step back in time and witness it. For what, your own satisfaction? Because there is no evidence you could possibly find to bring back and set any history books to right.”

They stood toe to toe, neither one willing to budge as they glared at one another. James’s breath sighed out against her forehead as he took her face in his hands. “April, love, don’t do this. Please. I could never forgive myself if anything…
anything
happened to you.” His eyes went all dark with emotion. “I would rather die a thousand deaths at my executioner’s hand than have you suffer one moment of my traumatic experience.”

April closed her eyes, afraid of the fervor reeling within her from James’s impassioned plea. Didn’t he realize she was doing this for him? To set him free so he could be released from his past anguish? This was the whole ‘setting lost souls free’ to move on. But did she want him to ‘move on’ and where did one’s spirit actually move on to?

The sound of muffled sniffles from the table had her glancing towards Aunt Vickie and her grandmother who were holding hands and looking on with misty eyes and smiling like a couple of women immersed in their ‘shows.’

“Well, it’s about time someone in this house had some sense in them. It’s just a shame it has to be a ghost.”

James dropped his hands from her face. April turned around to see her mother leaning casually in the archway to the dining room where they were seated. She’d gone upstairs to shower and freshen herself after berating James for his proposal earlier, and now she was back to add fuel to the fire.

“Virginia, that’s enough.” Grandma Dottie stood up, and wiping the moisture from her cheeks, turned a stern-lipped frown on her mother. “We don’t need any more of your negative energy. Frankly, I’ve had about all I can take of your attitude.”

“Dottie,” Aunt Vickie cautioned, “don’t add to it.” She expelled a heavy breath. “I think we are all overcome emotionally right now. We need to meditate and focus our positive energies elsewhere. I for one have a book to read before my next book club meeting.”

“I agree, Vickie. I’m going to go work on the afghan I’ve been trying to finish up for the church Christmas bazaar next month.” Grandma Dottie looked to Virginia who still had a knot of tension etched into the lines of her face. “Virginia, get out of the house. Just go find something to focus your thoughts elsewhere.”

“Yeah, this house is driving me insane. I can’t fight these damn headaches.” She rubbed at her head. “I’m going to the movies. Anyone want to go with me?” She looked pointedly at April.

April shook her head, partially because she didn’t want any more lectures from her mother right now. She was still furious with her from earlier. But she also had work to do. “No thanks. I want to go through some more of those files today.”

“I thought Beth was going to be working at the old office today?” James commented.

“She is, but she gave me an extra key to the back door to use at my leisure. I just don’t want to sit around here when I could be using the time to hunt down those documents.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You interested in helping me with the tedious task?”

He seemed to ponder his options. “Reading, knitting, movies, or keeping my eye on a headstrong, beautiful woman by doing something tedious and mundane—I opt for the latter, just because I know she’s bound to find some mischief to get into.”

“Well, it didn’t take long for him to figure you out, April,” her mother said.

She was taken aback. It might have been the first kind words her mother had spoken regarding James. Was the infamous James Addison’s charm beginning to work on the uptight Virginia Wilton-Branford?
That would be the day!

***

Sitting on the floor surrounded by the various boxes and bundles of documentation pertaining to the history of Kings Mill was as monotonous as she’d thought. She did find some interesting articles and tid-bits of old information that might be of value to the society in general. Just nothing on James Addison, or Henry Samuel.

No, all the files were still too recent to help with her specific research. James wasn’t having any better luck. She’d shown him how to gently handle the documents so the oils from their fingers didn’t deteriorate the paper fibers. The violet colored latex gloves didn’t put his masculinity in the best light though. He browsed through old scrap books and documents, sorting them by year/decade/century into piles on the lower row of file drawers bisecting the room.

“There you are. Your aunt said I could find you knee deep in history over here.” Beth breezed in, removing her camel colored winter coat and hat. “Anything?” She nodded towards their work piles.

“Nothing of interest for me,” April sighed. “But there are some interesting historically sound articles and letters. I started a pile for the Civil War period. They’re mostly letters from soldiers when they were away at war. I found newsprint articles about some of the local battles and even a few recipes for ‘Johnny Cake’ and hard tack. But nothing about the mill.”

“Well, there is a heck of a lot of Civil War history in these parts, as close as we are to Gettysburg and Antietam, not to mention various smaller battles around South Mountain. I’m thinking of dedicating at least a good portion of the exhibit to the era. But nothing on James Addison?”

“Nope.” April shook her head.

Beth pulled over one of the brand new folding chairs and sat down heavily. “Sometimes I wonder if the man really existed.”

“Oh, he did. Trust me,” James piped up from his corner.

“Hello Jim. I didn’t see you over there.”

He waved at her and returned his interest to some black and white photos of stone-faced families.

“I’m sensing some negativity, Beth.” April looked up from sorting through another loosely tied bundle of random letters. “Long day? Trouble with more contractors?”

“How about ‘no James Addison’?”

“What?” April perked up. What did this mean? Was Beth trying to tell her he never even existed?

“It’s the festivities. We have no re-enactor to play James Addison for the next few weeks. The man I had on retainer from last year called me today to inform me he’s been offered a job out in Texas and won’t be able to do the job. He leaves for Dallas this weekend.”

“You had him on retainer and he’s leaving? How crappy!”

“It’s in his contract he has to pay back any wages he was offered if he couldn’t honor his obligations. What I am worried about is I have tours, social teas, and of course the ‘execution’ of our local legend, and no guest of honor,” she sighed heavily. “It kind of defeats the whole purpose of the event.

“This is a major highlight to Kings Mill’s economy. The stores downtown are open for business, there is an influx of interest in the history, restaurants hold special events where James Addison makes special appearances—it’s phenomenal the turnout. For the past few years since we put this event into place it’s grown in stature and grandeur. We have some pretty influential people attending this year.”

Including one Kenneth Miles
, April thought to herself. But she wasn’t allowed to announce anything for fear of too much paparazzi and reporters.

“It does sound rather entertaining. I think James Addison would have enjoyed himself at such an ado—taking tea with the local ladies, drinking ale at the taverns with his local business acquaintances, offering toasts to the tavern wenches…” James relayed knowingly as he rose from his cramped confines, stretched out his legs, and cracked his back with a twist or two of his torso. His voice trailed off though as Beth eyed him inquisitively.

“Did I say something wrong, Dr. Freelane?”

“No Jim, I think you said everything just right.” Her eyebrow quirked mischievously as she looked at April. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking,
Dr. Branford
?”

April looked at Beth who was accenting her professional moniker for a reason. She followed Beth’s interest back to James.

“Wouldn’t he be ideal for the role?” Beth gushed. “He has the accent down pat, his manner and physique are perfect. I might have to have Ana let out some of the costumes though as the other guy was a bit thinner, not as muscular in build.” She walked around James, inspecting him as James looked helplessly to April for direction.

“Actually, if you were to compare the portrait of James Addison we have on file with Jim, there is an uncanny resemblance.”

April stood up from her position among the papers and folded her arms across her chest. “Are you saying Jim could play the part of James Addison?”

“That is exactly what I am saying!” Beth turned to Jim. “How about it? What do you think?”

“Umm…I’m…kind of at a loss…”

April stepped in. “What Jim is saying is he is without papers right now. He can’t actually work in the states—he had his wallet stolen when he arrived. I’ve taken him under my wing until we can get things sorted out and new identification cards, visas and such taken care of.”

“…and I’m unsure how long I will be here truthfully,” James added.

“It’s a temporary position. Only until the seventeenth,” Beth said. “As it is, your situation works out perfectly. I’m going to have to do this out of pocket because until the other guy’s contract is voided out legally and financially, the historical society doesn’t have the funds or approval of the board to pay another employee.”