I Remember (Remembrance Series) (40 page)

The happiness of my dreams shifted abruptly, as I watched the events of Angeline’s fitting through Charlotte’s eyes.

A knock came at the front door and there was a young man, with red hair, handed her a note addressed to me. I watched as she looked for some monetary compensation for his time. As she turned back towards the door, I observed, in horror, the shape shifting from a man to a woman, walking away, drawing a cloak around her tresses.
It can’t be!

Charlotte’s breathing, and my own, became erratic. I felt shadows change around me and saw a vision of one reaching in to steal the journal from the floor, pulling from it a hidden compartment, at the rear, and then setting it ablaze, while we slept.

I bolted upright, gasping for air. “What’s wrong, Jordan?” Gregory quickly wrapped me in his arms and held me tight, as I gazed toward the end of the bed and began to point at the shadow reaching for the journal. He quickly turned on the bedside light and the shadow bolted from the room.

I retrieved the journal, tore open the back lining and found the note Daniel had written to Angeline. I tried to read it, but my hands felt on fire and I saw a black haze surround it. Gregory picked it up for us to read:

“I know I never wrote this note. The handwriting is close, but not exact.” Gregory was furious that someone had played both Daniel and Angeline and we suddenly realized we had been sent up.

Neither of us was able to go back to sleep and noticed the dawn was quickly approaching; so, we decided to go ahead and ready ourselves for another day of detective work.

Gregory and I were the first to attend breakfast that morning. I finally asked the owner her name.

“Cassandra Smithfield,” she replied sweetly, offering us both more coffee.

We were visiting another one of Gregory’s cousins today, hoping to get more answers in terms of Daniel. But, I had to know if there were any clues for Angeline.

“Ms. Smithfield, you wouldn’t happen to know if there are any local descendents of Charles and Virginia Carlson still living in the area?” My voice sounded shaky, yet hopeful.

Her eyes went wide with fear, before taking a deep breath and responding. “Sadly, I don’t. I know they were related to my great-great grandmother, but once their daughter went missing, the family seemed to drift apart.”

“Do you know the location of the Whitfield and Carlson homes? We are history buffs and wanted to check out some of the historical sites of the area.”

Her hand began to shake, as she poured us more coffee. “I’m sad to report that they both caught fire last week, within days of each other. They were both unsalvageable. We have had quite a bit of vandalizing in our historic district over the past few weeks. It’s sad that no one seems to care about our ancestral heritage, these days.”

I knew there was something there, but would not press the issue, hoping Ray, or Anderson, would somehow guide us to the information we sought.

Gregory and I looked at each other, knowing with certainty that someone was trying to prevent us from learning of the events surrounding the disappearance of Daniel and Angeline. We needed to push forward and find all we could to solve this puzzle, fast!

Gregory’s cousin turned out to be a waste of time. Kathryn Hanson had us wait in the living room for what seemed like forever, while she went through the house searching for some newspaper articles and written notes she claimed to have. The information was not as sufficient as what David had provided and most was similar to what we had been able to look up online. We were polite enough to stay and chat for a little while, but soon excused ourselves citing an interest in looking around the city.

The local archives were of no assistance, having already been hit by the same dark spirits that always seem one step ahead of us. All information was either ruined or missing from the system.

On the drive back to the Bed and Breakfast, the car appeared to be having issues. Anderson pulled over on the side of the road and lifted the hood to the engine, as smoke poured out.

It was just our luck that there was no cell phone coverage in the area where we were stalled. Anderson said, in a gentle voice, “There is a house just up the road on the right. You should be able to call a tow truck from there. I will stay with the car.”

Gregory started pulling me in the direction Anderson had pointed. Before walking away I noticed Anderson give me a slight smile and wink, making me wonder if this was all part of a plan.

The house was less than a half mile down the road, a two-story Victorian, with a bounty of summer flowers planted around the front and side of the yard.

We walked up the steps and pressed the doorbell a couple of times. Within moments, an older lady opened the door and immediately her hand reached for her mouth to cover an audible gasp.

“My goodness, you are the spitting images of Angeline and Daniel.” My heart nearly froze at her declaration. “Come in, dear ones. I have much to tell you.”

Gregory’s fingers tightened around mine, as he stood still at the edge of the doorway. I found myself not moving in fear of what might be discovered.

The older lady turned back toward us. “No need to worry. I mean you no harm. I am but an old woman with a story to tell and have been waiting a long time for you to come.”

It was then that I noticed she kept brushing a large white angelic feather in her hand. I elbowed Gregory and inclined my gaze toward the feather. His grasp lightened as we took our first steps into the house, knowing we would finally have some answers.

The house was like a step back into Victorian times, complete with photos, tapestry, furniture and other period pieces.

“Please have a seat…I’m sorry, but I don’t know your names,” she asked politely.

Gregory responded, “Forgive our manners, I am Gregory and this is my lovely fiancée, Jordan. And you are?”

Her hands went together in a clap as her face filled with excitement. “It is so wonderful that the two of you have found one another, again. My name is Faith.”

In unison, we both asked, “How do you know us?”

She went into the kitchen and came back out with some iced tea to drink as we talked.

“I don’t know you, personally, but your story has been passed down through my family since…” she stopped, suddenly. “Well, let’s just say I know Daniel and Angeline’s tale. Speaking of which, you might like to have this back, Jordan.” I watched as she reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a small folded lace handkerchief.

I thanked Faith for the hanky and felt there was some weight to it, so I began to open it. “It can’t be.” I shook my head in amazement at the necklace in my hands. It was Angeline’s necklace—the one that Daniel gave her as an engagement gift. It was a dazzling gold, open heart shaped necklace with a cursive “L” formed in an ivy formation at its center.

Gregory looked over at the necklace. “I remember giving this to you. I told you the ‘L’ was for the deep love I felt for you.”

“You gave it to me at our special place, by a tree with our initials carved in it, close to a creek.” The memories of the special day came flooding back to me like a movie replaying in my mind.

“Where did you find this?” I asked Faith.

“My great grandfather helped in the search for both of you, when you went missing. He was down by the bank of the river, when he spotted the necklace and remembered having sold it to Daniel. He wanted to return it to your families, but my grandmother was a seer and insisted that you would one day return for the necklace, citing it as a ‘clue’ to unlock your future.”

We sat there in amazement as Faith continued to tell us everything she knew regarding our past. Most of the details were the same as our research, but she did provide us one unique piece of information. “The dark spirits attempted to cause you harm that night, playing on your love for each other. In doing so, they were cast back to the pits from which they came, their powers greatly diminished. Before you both suffered, you were saved for another time.”

Goosebumps spread quickly across my skin. Gregory wrapped his arms around me, trying to quell my nerves, as we both looked at each other with puzzled looks.

We jumped when the doorbell ring. Faith got up from her seat and headed toward the door, “That should be your driver, Anderson, coming to collect you.”

I suddenly realized our stumbling across Faith had been by design, most likely Ray’s or Anderson’s.

We thanked Faith for the tea and hugged her for sharing the stories and the necklace. Now we needed only one more piece to the puzzle to find their special tree.

We returned to our room, after dinner, to discover all of the letters, notes and Charlotte’s journal had been burned to bits in the fireplace, in our room.

We knew the darkness was trying to prevent us from uncovering an answer to something, but we still didn’t know what. We both agreed that no matter what it was, they wouldn’t win; not this time!

“We should probably get some sleep, Jordan. We’ve had a long day and can’t do anything about all of this tonight. We have a small window of opportunity to find the tree tomorrow, before flying back.”

I nodded in agreement, but felt the cause was hopeless. Were we doomed to meet the same fate as our earlier lives?

Sleep did not come easily. Despite Gregory holding me close to his chest, I was restless, almost afraid to close my eyes, fearing what the shadows might do while we slept.

After several hours, exhaustion won out and I started drifting to memories of the past. I found the dream I had when I fell asleep for the first time at Gregory’s. It was of Angeline and Daniel in the river struggling to stay afloat.

I had hoped that vision would rewind to the beginning, so I could fill in the details; but Gregory kept forcing my thoughts back to a field of flowers, with butterflies and gentle flowing creeks, while holding me tight in his embrace.

The rest of the night remained uneventful and peaceful, allowing us to rest.

We packed our things and checked out of the inn as soon as breakfast was over. We thanked Ms. Smithfield for a wonderful experience and promised to tell all of our friends about the place.

She had a dazed look in her eyes as she handed Gregory his receipt. “If you have time for some sightseeing, may I suggest checking out the historical train stations? They provide a wealth of history, showing how the future moved forward from the past.”

Suddenly, she shook her head to clear her mind. “I hope you enjoyed your stay. Please do come, again.”

Out of curiosity, I reached out my hand to shake hers and felt as instant warmth and calming presence about her. I couldn’t get a read on her aura, so I pretended to drop my purse and picked up the dislodged contents, including the magnifying glass. She was bathed in a yellow light, indicating she was meant to help us on our quest.

When we stepped outside, Anderson was waiting. “To the train stations, Sir?”

Gregory nodded and we climbed in.

The first station, located far north of town, was run down and had signs posting it was about to be renovated and refurbished to its original splendor. The station seemed familiar, but was not near any waterways.

After lunch, we had several more failed attempts at locating the spot we were looking for and decided to wrap up our efforts and head toward the airport, admitting defeat.

As we passed through the outskirts of the historic district, visions of the path Angeline took that night began playing in my mind.

Gregory held tight to my hand, as I relayed instructions to Anderson, directing him on the same journey I had apparently taken many, many years before. We ended up at a majestic park, overlooking a river. The bridge over the water brought back memories and there was a familiar, small older building off to one side, with a historic sign, that beaconed to me.

We quickly exited the car to read the sign.
“Traverston Station, est. 1851, the first passenger train station in the area. The crash of 1884 destroyed the train crossing and the lines were re-routed, ending this station’s run. It stands as a memory to all those who worked the railway and to those who lost their lives that fateful night in December.”