A startled gasp commanded the men’s attention. They both saw Kirstin staring down into the grave. "My ring," she cried, dropping to her knees. She reached into the grave to touch her skeleton, but her hand passed through. "Where is my wedding ring? I vowed never to remove it." She turned to the men. "Please; you have to find it," she begged. "I must have it back."
"You have to let me go," Richie said. "We did what you said; we found you, we will bury you properly. Let me go to Angel Rose!" His hands were clenched by his sides, rage humming through him.
"Rich," a soft voice called from the edge of the clearing. He and Marty spun at the sound.
"Oh thank God," Richie said, and ran to Angel Rose, scooping her into his arms. When she leaned heavily on him, he sunk to the ground with her cradled in his lap, and he peppered her face with kisses. He held her close, rocking her.
Angel Rose clung to Richie with all her diminished strength. She had woken to find herself sprawled on the ground, unable to move. She could hear Kirstin and the men talking, but could not raise her own voice above a whisper. She felt as if she were being pressed into the ground by a board, pinning her to the earth. When she heard Kirstin wail about her ring, she felt a surge of strength that brought her to her feet, and allowed her to stagger to the safety and comfort of Richie’s arms.
"Did you find her?" Angel Rose asked.
Richie nodded. "We did. I’m so sorry, Angel Rose," he said. "Kirstin kept me from coming to you. I don’t know what the hell she did…"
"She is very powerful," Ang answered softly. "More powerful than I thought she would be, but I was stronger. Rich, I made her let me go."
"And I’m so glad you did," Richie said, kissing her soundly.
Marty cleared his throat. "Uh there is the small matter of calling the Sheriff."
"Will he believe me when I tell him what went on here?" Richie was concerned. He knew he couldn’t possibly be blamed for this woman’s murder – he’d seen enough television programs to know that forensic study of the bones would prove their age. He did, however, worry about being labeled as losing his faculties with the story about the ghost.
Marty laughed for what seemed like an hour. "Boy, you are in the South. No self-respecting Southerner, lawman or not, would dismiss what happened here out of hand." He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. "The Sheriff will understand."
When Marty had gone back to the house, Richie pushed Angel Rose back enough to examine her face. "Are you sure you’re okay?" he asked.
"I will be," she answered. She stood with Richie’s help, and spied Kirstin still kneeling by the hole in the ground, rocking back and forth and crying. "She’s upset," Angel Rose said.
Richie nodded. "I know," he said. "She’s crying over her wedding ring."
Ang was surprised. "You can see her?"
"Yep, and talk to her. Freaky as shit, let me tell you."
Angel Rose laughed. "God, you don’t even know the half of it."
She took off the locket and handed it to Richie. "Hold this for me?" she asked. At his nod, and with shaky steps she moved toward Kirstin.
Angel Rose settled onto the ground next to Kirstin. "I’m sorry," she said to the ghost-woman. "I’m sorry for your pain and for your loss. But now we can lay you to rest with your beloved Geoffrey. Now you can finally be at peace."
Kirstin looked at Angel Rose with watery eyes. "Thank you," she said. "I know that after what feels like an eternity of waiting, I should be very happy, and I am, but still..." she trailed off looking down into the hole at the naked bone of her left-hand ring finger.
"Your ring," Ang answered. "They’ll be coming soon, the Sheriff and his men," she continued. "When they, uh, exhume you, we will search the grave for your ring. I swear it."
Kirstin nodded and got quiet for a moment. "I am sorry for taking you like that."
Ang nodded. "I understand. I forgive you, Kirstin." She felt a pain stab through her forehead, and winced as she rubbed. Other than with Mathilda when she was a child, Angel Rose had not had a sustained, conscious exposure to a spirit. It was proving to be more stressful than she had imagined. "Richie," she called.
He was by her side in an instant, casting a wary eye on Kirstin. He helped Ang up and away from the grieving Kirstin.
"What’s the matter, Angel Rose?"
"She’s grieving all over again," Ang answered. "The emotions are making her very strong, and I can’t – it’s just – this pain through my head."
She trailed off and Richie nodded. "What do you want me to do?"
"Tell her that we’ll search her grave, but I think Jeremiah took her ring."
Richie looked surprised. "What? How do you know that?" Ang just gave him a sardonic look, and Richie grinned sheepishly. "Never mind," he said. "I’ll go tell her."
He approached Kirstin tentatively, keeping the open chasm of the grave between them. Angel Rose watched Richie with her. He crouched down and spoke softly to her, relaying the message. While he was talking, Marty returned, and sat next to Ang. "I called Sheriff Beauchaine," he said quietly. "He will be along presently." He nodded his chin at Richie. "What’s he doing?"
Angel Rose explained about the ring, and her vision that showed Jeremiah taking it from Kirstin’s hand. She explained about the headache that was coming on, and Richie going to talk to Kirstin.
"Girl, it sounds like this is getting dangerous for you. Are you sure you want to keep pursuing this?" Marty frowned at her.
Ang sighed. "Marty, I have to see this through. She won’t truly rest, no matter where her remains may be. This is the only way to really send her on her way."
The older man shook his head. "I don’t like this," he said.
"I don’t either," Richie said, returning. "When’s the Sheriff getting here?"
"Should be any minute now," Marty said. "I told him it was urgent, that there was a long-dead body buried here that needed taking care of."
Richie nodded. "Angel Rose, where do you think the ring is?"
Ang sighed again. This was becoming a habit. "I don’t’ know. I just feel that Jeremiah took it. We have to find it."
Richie groaned. "Here we go again. How do we know that there won’t be something ELSE she needs you to do. Maybe she’s just too used to being tied to this place, and doesn’t really want to leave. Can’t we MAKE her leave? Isn’t there some sort of mojo or juju you can throw at her and make her go away?"
Marty gave him a smile. "There are things you can try, son, but if they don’t work, the backlash is something terrible. I sure don’t want to be on the wrong end of the karma flow if something goes sideways." He shivered. "No, it’s better to do this her way," he said, indicating Kirstin.
Richie frowned. "Her way is no good," he muttered.
"Hey," Angel Rose said. "Isn’t that my decision?"
Richie kept speaking as if he didn’t hear her. "I mean, you saw what the last contact did to Angel Rose, and that was fairly brief. What if getting the vision to show itself takes more time? There’s no telling how long Kirstin would," he waved a hand in the air, "inhabit her body."
"HEY!" Angel Rose shouted. "It is not your choice. It is mine."
"But Ang, sweetheart…"
"Don’t ‘Ang, sweetheart’ me, Rich. I will not have you railroad over me. This is my choice to make or not make." She stood and threw her shoulders back.
Whatever else she was going to say was lost with the ringing of Marty’s cell phone. "It’s the Sheriff," he said, checking the display. "We should go get him, son," he said to Richie.
The younger man shook his head. "No. I’m not leaving Angel Rose here alone with HER."
"Oh for heaven’s sake," Angel Rose said, and grabbed the phone from Marty. She pressed the ‘talk’ button on the bulky device as she walked back toward the clearing. "Sheriff Beauchaine! We’re out by the lake!"
A slow, southern drawl answered her. "We’re on the way!"
A few minutes later, the Sheriff, along with a deputy, the county coroner, and the coroner’s assistant, came from the direction of the house. Angel Rose led them back to the partially dug up grave and looked around. Kirstin was standing just along the shrub line. The officers gave no indication that they saw her, and she said nothing. She stood back as the coroner climbed down into the hole. A sixty-ish man with a halo of white hair around the crown of his head and a graying goatee looked up at them.
"Who dug out this here grave?" he asked, his accent thick.
"We did," Marty said, indicating himself and Richie. "We stopped when we saw just what was down there."
"Uh-huh," the ME answered. "And just how did ya’ll come to be digging in this spot?"
Marty and Richie exchanged glances with Angel Rose. She rose and extended her hand to the coroner. "I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Angel Rose Summerlin," she said.
"Summerlin?" the man answered, taking her hand. "Well, that explains it, then. Tobias Matheson, at your service, Miss Summerlin. Who do we have here?"
"Kirstin Maddox," Angel Rose answered quietly, casting a furtive glance behind the Sheriff.
The look wasn’t lost on Tobias, though. "You seeing her right now?" he asked, raising a bushy white eyebrow. Ang just nodded. "Welll," he continued, raising his voice. "Let’s see if we can’t get Mrs. Maddox out of this terrible hole and into someplace more comfortable." He sent his assistant and the deputy back to the van for the gurney while he used a small brush and shovel to shift the earth away from Kirstin’s remains. It took him close to an hour before he had the skeleton unearthed.
Very carefully, one grayed bone at a time, the coroner transferred the skeleton to the body bag on the gurney. He made sure everything was laid gently in place, and when he was done, he swept the grave again, to make sure he didn’t miss anything.
"Is there a ring?" Kirstin asked.
Richie, Marty, and Angel Rose all turned to look at her, but the others did not here.
"What’s wrong?" Tobias asked. "What’s over there?"
Angel Rose shook her head. "Did you find anything else in that grave?"
"Like what?" Tobias asked, puzzled.
"Like jewelry? Her wedding ring, perhaps?" At Tobias’ strange look, she hastened to add, "all the Maddox family lore says that she never took it off; swore to Geoffrey that she would wear it for all eternity. It would be nice to bury her with it is all." It sounded lame, even to her, but Tobias didn’t call her on it.
"No, there’s nothing else here. I’ll take her back to the morgue. Who will come to collect her when I call?"
Richie stepped forward. "Angel Rose and I will." He looked at Ang. "We’ll make arrangements to have her interred with her husband."
Tobias nodded. "Very good," he said, and led his assistant and the deputy from the clearing.
Once the men were out of earshot, Sheriff Beauchaine asked, "Why did you really ask about the ring, Ms. Summerlin?"
Angel Rose blushed. "Kirstin is standing over there, and she asked me to ask." She extended an arm toward the far side of the clearing.
The lawman turned, but saw nothing. "You all see her?" he asked, looking pointedly at Marty.
"Yessir, Warren," Marty answered. "We all see her plain as day. Unsettling to say the least."
"Huh," Warren answered. He wandered over to where Kirstin was standing, and felt a slight dip in temperature. "Missus Maddox," he said, "we will have you settled right quick."
"We have to find her ring," Angel Rose said, "before we can bury her."
Warren nodded. "Understood. Anything I can do to help?"
"Not that I can think of, Sheriff," Angel Rose said, "but if I think of anything, I’ll be sure to let you know." She considered the lawman. "Why do you believe me?"
Warren smiled. "My grand-mama had the sight. Skipped my mama altogether, and I have no sisters, so I don’t know if it’s died out or not. I learned a long time ago to have the proper respect for the gift." He started back along the path, heading back to his deputy and his car. "Please call me if I can help you." He tipped his hat at where Kirstin was standing. "Ma’am," he said, and left the clearing.
"Well, that was certainly strange," Richie said.
"Not really," Marty answered. "I told you we have a healthy respect for our spooks and specters, no offense Missus Maddox."
Richie shook his head. "Okay, whatever. What’s our next step?"
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Richie and Marty watched as Ang/Kirstin walked carefully across the open area between the lake and the rhododendrons, as if afraid of getting her shoes dirty. She walked lightly, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. As she approached the shrubs, she reached out a hand, as if trying to sense where the path was. Back and forth she walked along the rhodies’ edge, smiling and trailing a hand across the purple blooms.
Richie frowned. "Angel Rose?" He got no response, and tried again. "Kirstin?" This time, the woman turned to him. "We want to find you," he said gently, "but we don’t want to lose Angel Rose. Please," he said, reaching out to take her hand, though it was so cold it burned. "Please hurry."
Kirstin sighed and pulled her hand from Richie’s. "Very well," she said.
She turned toward the bushes and peered at their bottoms, looking for a gap in the thick branches. Marty and Richie helped, pushing the bloom-laden boughs out of the way. "Here," she finally said, triumphantly. "See how the branches twine at the bottom? They weren’t like that when I lived here."
Marty and Richie started pushing their way bodily through the bushes, wincing as branches snapped and poked at their arms and legs. They could just make out a path, or a strip with no roots, and followed it until they came to a spot where nothing grew. Sitting on the spot was a woman in a tattered peach dress, her face all beaten and bloody, a wan smile on her lips. "Here," she said, scaring the hell out of Marty. He hadn’t seen her before without Ang as a buffer.
"Where is Angel Rose?" Marty asked, looking around. In their haste to get through the dense shrubbery, they had lost the young woman.
Kirstin pointed back in the direction the men had come from. "She pried my hand from the locket, and I slipped away." She ran a hand lovingly, gently along the ground. "Be gentle," she begged, and rose from the ground.
Richie looked back along the thrashed path, but couldn’t see anything.
"She is drained from our partnering," Kirstin said sadly. "She is sleeping now." Richie started to run down the overgrown path back to Angel Rose, but Kirstin stopped him. "There is nothing for her now but to rest. She will come back to you. Dig."
Richie looked at Kirstin, incredulous. "I am not leaving her alone," he said, and started back down the path. He hadn’t taken more than a few steps when he felt as if he’d run up against a stone wall. He staggered a few steps backwards and tried again, putting his hands out in front of him. He could only move forward a short distance before he was stopped again.
"What the hell are you doing, boy?" Marty asked, incredulous.
"I’m trying to get back to Ang," he answered, "but I can’t get seem to move down the path." He whirled on Kirstin. "Let me pass."
She shrugged delicately. "Once you have finished what you have set out to do, you will be able to pass. Dig," she commanded again, her voice colder than it had been thus far.
Kirstin moved off to one side while the men began to dig. Marty dug with enthusiasm, Richie more reluctantly. They got into an argument about how deep to dig, and how quickly. Richie wanted to keep going until they hit something, speeding up the process so he could get to Angel Rose. Marty wanted to be more careful, to not disturb the remains any more than necessary; if in fact they were buried here. In the end, Richie got his way, but only because he threatened to hit Marty with the shovel, and the older man didn’t know Richie well enough to know he would never really do such a thing.
Finally, the hole was close to waist-deep, and Richie’s shovel turned up something that was decidedly not dirt. He shared a look with the realtor, and tossed his shovel aside.
"What are you doing?" Marty asked.
"What the hell does it look like I’m doing, man?" Richie shot back, "I’m giving you your way." He had dropped to his knees, and was pulling handfuls of dirt from the hole they had dug. He traced the shape of an arm, revealing gray bone, one inch at a time. He kept one eye on Kirstin, who was still visible and sitting on the ground a few feet away. Her face was a mixture of sadness and elation. He kept looking down the path, willing Angel Rose to come out of the shrubbery so he’d know she was alright.
"Pay attention to the task at hand," Kirstin said softly.
Riche looked down and saw he had revealed most of a hand. He swallowed back a curse, and willed his stomach to stop rolling. He traced the bones in one direction until he uncovered all the fingers. He then reversed direction, and cleared dirt away until he found what looked like a smooth, rounded stone. As he moved more dirt, he saw three openings appear – the eye sockets, and the relief where the nose had been.
"Holy shit," Richie said, sitting back on his heels and shaking his head. "We need to call the police. We have to do this right. I can’t do anymore." He looked at Kirstin. "I won’t."
Marty looked into the hole, at the arm and skull Richie had unearthed, and touched it reverently. A strong jolt, like an electric shock, raced up his arm. In that moment, he saw the final flashes of Kirstin’s life, and the first few moments of her death. He saw Isaiah strangle the life from this poor creature, and Jeremiah try to stop him. He saw his ancestor bury the woman and drag his brother from the site. He got a flash of Jeremiah running down a lane as men’s voices called out.
"What’s happening?" Richie asked, startled by the blank expression on Marty’s face.
"I see…" he trailed off.
"What! What do you see?"
"Isaiah Halstead. He killed Kirstin." Marty looked down at the remains of Kirstin Maddox. "I’m so sorry, dear," he said, before looking at Richie. "You’re right, we need to call the Sheriff."
"What do we tell him about how we came to find this skeleton?"
Marty shrugged. "The truth."
Richie frowned. "Angel Rose?" He got no response, and tried again. "Kirstin?" This time, the woman turned to him. "We want to find you," he said gently, "but we don’t want to lose Angel Rose. Please," he said, reaching out to take her hand, though it was so cold it burned. "Please hurry."
Kirstin sighed and pulled her hand from Richie’s. "Very well," she said.
She turned toward the bushes and peered at their bottoms, looking for a gap in the thick branches. Marty and Richie helped, pushing the bloom-laden boughs out of the way. "Here," she finally said, triumphantly. "See how the branches twine at the bottom? They weren’t like that when I lived here."
Marty and Richie started pushing their way bodily through the bushes, wincing as branches snapped and poked at their arms and legs. They could just make out a path, or a strip with no roots, and followed it until they came to a spot where nothing grew. Sitting on the spot was a woman in a tattered peach dress, her face all beaten and bloody, a wan smile on her lips. "Here," she said, scaring the hell out of Marty. He hadn’t seen her before without Ang as a buffer.
"Where is Angel Rose?" Marty asked, looking around. In their haste to get through the dense shrubbery, they had lost the young woman.
Kirstin pointed back in the direction the men had come from. "She pried my hand from the locket, and I slipped away." She ran a hand lovingly, gently along the ground. "Be gentle," she begged, and rose from the ground.
Richie looked back along the thrashed path, but couldn’t see anything.
"She is drained from our partnering," Kirstin said sadly. "She is sleeping now." Richie started to run down the overgrown path back to Angel Rose, but Kirstin stopped him. "There is nothing for her now but to rest. She will come back to you. Dig."
Richie looked at Kirstin, incredulous. "I am not leaving her alone," he said, and started back down the path. He hadn’t taken more than a few steps when he felt as if he’d run up against a stone wall. He staggered a few steps backwards and tried again, putting his hands out in front of him. He could only move forward a short distance before he was stopped again.
"What the hell are you doing, boy?" Marty asked, incredulous.
"I’m trying to get back to Ang," he answered, "but I can’t get seem to move down the path." He whirled on Kirstin. "Let me pass."
She shrugged delicately. "Once you have finished what you have set out to do, you will be able to pass. Dig," she commanded again, her voice colder than it had been thus far.
Kirstin moved off to one side while the men began to dig. Marty dug with enthusiasm, Richie more reluctantly. They got into an argument about how deep to dig, and how quickly. Richie wanted to keep going until they hit something, speeding up the process so he could get to Angel Rose. Marty wanted to be more careful, to not disturb the remains any more than necessary; if in fact they were buried here. In the end, Richie got his way, but only because he threatened to hit Marty with the shovel, and the older man didn’t know Richie well enough to know he would never really do such a thing.
Finally, the hole was close to waist-deep, and Richie’s shovel turned up something that was decidedly not dirt. He shared a look with the realtor, and tossed his shovel aside.
"What are you doing?" Marty asked.
"What the hell does it look like I’m doing, man?" Richie shot back, "I’m giving you your way." He had dropped to his knees, and was pulling handfuls of dirt from the hole they had dug. He traced the shape of an arm, revealing gray bone, one inch at a time. He kept one eye on Kirstin, who was still visible and sitting on the ground a few feet away. Her face was a mixture of sadness and elation. He kept looking down the path, willing Angel Rose to come out of the shrubbery so he’d know she was alright.
"Pay attention to the task at hand," Kirstin said softly.
Riche looked down and saw he had revealed most of a hand. He swallowed back a curse, and willed his stomach to stop rolling. He traced the bones in one direction until he uncovered all the fingers. He then reversed direction, and cleared dirt away until he found what looked like a smooth, rounded stone. As he moved more dirt, he saw three openings appear – the eye sockets, and the relief where the nose had been.
"Holy shit," Richie said, sitting back on his heels and shaking his head. "We need to call the police. We have to do this right. I can’t do anymore." He looked at Kirstin. "I won’t."
Marty looked into the hole, at the arm and skull Richie had unearthed, and touched it reverently. A strong jolt, like an electric shock, raced up his arm. In that moment, he saw the final flashes of Kirstin’s life, and the first few moments of her death. He saw Isaiah strangle the life from this poor creature, and Jeremiah try to stop him. He saw his ancestor bury the woman and drag his brother from the site. He got a flash of Jeremiah running down a lane as men’s voices called out.
"What’s happening?" Richie asked, startled by the blank expression on Marty’s face.
"I see…" he trailed off.
"What! What do you see?"
"Isaiah Halstead. He killed Kirstin." Marty looked down at the remains of Kirstin Maddox. "I’m so sorry, dear," he said, before looking at Richie. "You’re right, we need to call the Sheriff."
"What do we tell him about how we came to find this skeleton?"
Marty shrugged. "The truth."
Friday, February 10, 2012
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.”
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.”