Chapter Twenty-Six

They made it to the Historical Society in record time. The truck was barely stopped when Ang flew out of the vehicle. Keys in hand she ran for the front door. She flung the door open and raced to her desk. Richie shook his head at her retreating form, and stopped at the door to pull her keys from the knob. He ushered Marty in ahead of him, and closed the door. Ang was digging through her desk drawers, muttering to herself. Half a minute later, she came up with another small key. “Follow me!” she called as she flew up the stairs.

She went all the way to the third floor, and came to a skidding halt at a bolted door. A box of disposable, thin cotton gloves was mounted next to the door. With shaking hands, she unlocked the bolt and threw the door open; snagging a pair of gloves before rushing into the room. She pulled her gloves on as her eyes scanned the cabinets and tables in the space. With a smile, she crossed the room to an antique highboy dresser. She pulled out the third drawer from the top and peered inside. She exhaled sharply, glad that her memory hadn’t failed her.

“Angel Rose Summerlin,” Marty said, grabbing Ang’s shoulders and turning her around to face him. “Just what are we doing here? What are you looking for?”

“Not looking for,” Ang said, shaking him off and turning back to the dresser. “Found.” She held up a thin gold chain with a delicate oval locket suspended from it. “I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection before! This will help, I just know it.” She beckoned the men over to look inside. “This is James,” she said, indicating the boy. “And these girls are Hope and Joy.” She had tears in her eyes. “These are Kirstin’s children. My ancestors.”

“My God,” Marty said. “Wherever did you get this?”

She shrugged. “It was always here, at least as long as I’ve been here. I’ve always had a pull to this piece of jewelry, and I never knew why. Now I do.” Ang looped the gold chain around her neck and closed her eyes. “Kirstin,” she murmured, “we’re coming to help you.”

They left the Historical Society as quickly as they arrived, locking up as they went. When they turned into the driveway, Richie noticed that barely an hour has elapsed. As they approached the house, the sun was shining brightly, and it seemed that its rays were concentrated on the dormer window that was Kirstin’s study. When they stepped out of the car, the air was warm and clear. As soon as they crossed the threshold, however, things were different.

There was a coolness in the air; an unnatural breeze that caused gooseflesh to rise on their arms, and an uneasy energy that caused the fine hairs on the backs of their necks to stand on end. When they went back upstairs to the study, they were shocked to see that the sunlight, though from outside seemed to pour into the room, did nothing but reflect off the window. The study was in deep shadow.

“Holy Mother of God,” Marty intoned, crossing himself.

The men looked to Ang for guidance. She had her hand clasped around the locket so firmly Richie thought she would tear it from the chain. Her eyes were glazed over, unfocused, and Richie was afraid of what she was seeing.

The Past

When the hole was full, when there was no trace of Kirstin left, Jeremiah sat and wept. When dusk fell, he gathered the shovel and himself, and walked to the lake. He stared out over the water for long minutes. “You had no reason to treat her like that,” he said to his now-dead brother.

Turning from the lake, Jeremiah started down the path that would lead him home. He stuck close to the side of the lane, afraid he’d be seen if he walked down the center. Simple as he was, even Jeremiah knew that a bloodied up man carrying a shovel would be known to be guilty of something.

In his mind, his brother’s death was a necessity. It was not a sin to protect the innocent from the evil. He felt in his heart that his God would understand. He knew just as certainly that his father would not. Jeremiah would not be able to go back home once Isaiah was found missing. He sighed unhappily, prepared to leave the only home he ever knew.

Not too far from his father’s land, Jeremiah heard the voices. Men’s voices calling Kirstin’s name. He turned to look behind him, but nobody was following him. He moved off the path, standing under a great oak tree. There was no way he could get Kirstin’s ring to Geoffrey without being seen. Not now. He simply could not risk being caught. Nobody would believe that it was his brother who killed the sweet woman.

Jeremiah pulled Kirstin’s locket from his pocket and opened the clasp, adding the ring to the chain. He fastened it again, then looped the long gold links around his neck. He gripped it in his hand and said one more prayer for her soul.

Then he tucked the necklace into his shirt ran.

The Present

Ang stood there, her hand clasped around the locket for a long time. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was moving slightly, as if she was saying something, but neither Marty nor Richie could tell what. Neither wanted to break the spell Angel Rose was under; they wanted this all just to be over. But Richie decided that if she didn’t come back to them soon, he was going to break into her fugue, and damn the consequences.

“What do you suppose she sees?” Marty asked quietly.

Richie just shook his head, unwilling to take his eyes off Angel Rose.

Angel Rose was deep in the rhododendron field, the sweet smell of the blooms nearly overpowering her. She was on some sort of path and was picking her way gently along; stepping over roots and stones. “Kirstin?” she called. “Are you here?”

“I am,” she answered.

Angel Rose whirled around, surprised to hear the voice coming from behind her. “This is yours, isn’t it?” She indicated the locket.

Kirstin’s eyes teared up. “It is,” she said softly, reaching for the locket. Angel Rose quickly took it from around her neck and opened it, holding it at arm’s length so Kirstin could see the photographs of her children. “It has been so long since I’ve seen my babies,” she said sadly. Looking up at Angel Rose, Kirstin said, “You are close to where I’ve been laid to rest,” she said. “Come with me, I will show you how to find the path.” She held out a hand, and waited for Angel Rose to take it.

“I’m afraid,” Angel Rose said shaking her head. “Afraid that if I take your hand, I won’t be able to let it go.”

Kirstin smiled sadly. “It will be so much easier for you to lead the men to this path if you allow me to guide them. I have walked this path a thousand-thousand times, and could lead them to it quickly.”

“As could I,” Angel rose answered softly, “if you could just show me the way.”

Kirstin sighed. “Follow me,” she said, and turned her back on Angel Rose.

Ang looped the locked around her neck again and followed the specter down the path and out of the field. She saw they were near the lake, almost exactly ninety degrees from the path that led back to the house. She turned around and looked behind her, fully expecting to see a path cut into the shrubbery. She saw nothing but a wall of green and purple.

“It’s overgrown,” Angel Rose said.

“Yes,” Kirstin agreed, “which is why you need me. You need me to show you where the entrance is. You need me to lead you to where I was buried.”

“Who buried you? Was it Jeremiah? I heard you call his name as you were struck. Is he the one who killed you?”

Kirstin just shook her head. “I cannot tell you these things, but I can show you. Take my hand,” she implored again. “I promise you that I will let you go once you find me.”

“I can’t; I’m afraid,” Angel Rose answered.

“You must,” Kirstin insisted.

Angel Rose watched Kirstin approach, and couldn’t seem to make her legs move.

Richie watched as a subtle change come over Angel Rose, her features relaxing, and her posture straightening. He thought back to that morning, when Ang was worried about Kirstin joining with her; and wondered if that was what was happening now. He hoped not. As he scanned Angel Rose’s face, however, he had a sinking feeling in his gut, and crossed the room to stand next to her. He touched her arm gently, and cringed at how cold her skin was “Angel?” he said, tentatively. “Angel Rose, talk to me. Please, sweetheart.”

Ang opened her eyes and smiled at Richie. This smile was different, more serene than he had seen it. Richie’s blood ran cold when he looked into the eyes of a woman he recognized, but didn’t know. “Kirstin?” he whispered softly.

“I am her, and she is me,” Angel Rose said in an inflectionless tone. She shook her head, and for a moment, Richie saw a glimpse of Ang, struggling to come to the surface. The hand on the locket loosened, and Ang’s voice came through, strong and clear. “We don’t have much time, Rich. If we can’t find her soon, very soon, I won’t be able to separate from her.”

“Where is she?”

“I am in the rhododendron fields,” Kirstin answered, her grip re-established on the locket. “I can show you the way.” She put a hand up to Richie’s cheek, and he violently flinched away from the icy coldness of her palm. “So warm,” she murmured. “It’s been so long since I felt something so warm. Oh Geoffrey!” she wailed, and tore herself away from Richie. She left the room sobbing.

“Sweet Baby Jesus,” Marty said, crossing himself again. “What do we do?”

“We grab the shovels, and we follow her. No way am I losing Angel Rose.”

The men hurried from the room and down the stairs. On the front porch, they paused only long enough to grab the shovels they had left there the night before. Angel Rose was walking down the path that led to the lake. They rushed to catch up with her, and flanked her as they came to the water. Ang turned and followed the lakeshore, scanning the thicket of rhododendrons.

“This looks so different,” Kirstin said. “This may be harder than I thought.” Her expression shifted, and a frown creased her brow. “It is not difficult,” Ang said angrily. “Find the hole.”