Vanessa

Chapter 13 – VANESSA

  The limo pulled up at the Milledgeville Marriott Hotel, where they had a five-room suite on the top floor. Allen felt gratitude to those equatorially-challenged men and women of the Maine Course, whose hard earned dollars were being used to make his life like that of a billionaire’s. He didn’t view his family as poor by any standard, but this was a quantum leap beyond what he was used to. Before leaving Savannah, they had made a quick detour to a couple of upscale clothing stores and picked out a few outfits each to match the upscale thermometer readings (compared to the Empire State).

  “Ladies and gentlemen, you have an hour to tidy up and change. Remember to pull off the tags, lest the locals mistake us for descendents of Minnie Pearl. We will meet down in the bar adjacent to the hotel restaurant. All bills will be charged to the suite. See you soon!” Gustav repeated his heel click, then made an about-face and went into his room. The others followed suit. The clothes had been brought by the porters and hung up in the correct rooms.

  Rachel and Marianne had both chosen comfortable but professional-looking skirt, blouse and lightweight jacket combinations. Ryan arrived at the bar with khaki pants and sports shirt. Allen went for a more collegiate look wearing Chinos and a conservative dress shirt. Gustav showed up as he always did.

  Ryan said, “Gustav was born in a professional suit and will die in same. Some day, Gustav, we are going to leave you stranded with no money and just Bermuda shorts, sandals and a paisley shirt.” The image got the girls to laughing and Allen couldn’t suppress a snicker. The ladies stage-whispered to each other that Gustav’s legs had probably never seen the sun.

  “Indeed, Master Ryan? I am putting you on notice that I might just surprise you, someday. Now, if you are through being the world’s oldest child, I want to go over some ideas for our mature and considered approaches to the Annie question.”

  They began. With the input and fresh ideas of the two new members, a new excitement was being generated. “Allen,” said Ryan, “...we can do this! Forget one or three soldiers redeemed. This could mean half of them, or more! Maybe ALL of them!” It was a grand scheme, elements of it had been tried before, but not all of them and none of them on a scale like this. Everyone had a part to play and Vanessa had one of the most important. Ryan told the others that Vanessa was there, listening, and liked the idea. Then Ryan’s expression showed him looking into space and seeming concerned. He saw Vanessa’s face changing from eager to puzzled, to troubled, to, fear? Then, she seemed to shake it off.

  It was getting late. Dinner was excellent, and plans were coming along. Ryan and Gustav had retired to the latter’s room and had begun calling contacts with several re-enactment societies Ryan had made over the years. Working at the Edwards Homestead had introduced him to several groups. His contributions to the historical societies had also gotten him an ‘in’ with influential people in the right places. Political influence had been part of his agenda over the decades, not for power, but for expediency. The possibilities had galvanized them into feverish action. There was so much to do in order to pull this off.

  The women had gone into Marianne’s room and were busy with plans of their own. They were ‘mother hens’, as the men now called them. Sexist, but correct. They managed, nurtured and looked ahead to see what bumps might exist down the pike in order to be prepared for them. They spoke of the office and the needs there, of Allen’s education and specific steps that had to be taken to get his degree and still keep Hawthorn a business name. There was time to speak of widowhood and apply mutual balm to old heart-sore areas. Marianne had to remind Rachel of her promise to call home. When she did call, Frank seemed supportive but, for the lack of a better word, formal. Afterwards, “Marianne, why didn’t you re-marry? I mean, you are a great catch in anyone’s book. You’re successful, competent, very attractive, super intelligent…

  “ENOUGH already. Leave my hat size where it is. After Mike died, I knew I couldn’t feel that way about another man, at least not for a long while. I threw myself into my job with Gustav, Ryan and yes, with Carl for a short time. Those three people gave me more affection, respect and appreciation than all my previous bosses combined. The work was so fulfilling that I looked forward to Mondays despite having often worked the weekend as well. I am well paid, but would do this pay or no pay. The work is so important and I help make it possible.”

  “I can see that. It’s incredible how you can handle by yourself what other places would need a staff of three to barely keep up with. It makes me wonder what good I’m going to be.”

  “Sister Mary Rachel, Mother Superior Marianne will not tolerate that. You have gifts to bring to the table that I can only envy. Those will manifest themselves in time; just do what you have been doing and it will turn out wonderfully.” Rachel hoped Marianne was right.

  Vanessa had gone to see Annie. She had told her about her ‘progress’. Annie seemed happy for her friend and encouraged her as best she could. “Not to worry child, not to worry. You will know your family, someday. Let me show you some pictures of my own. They get new ones, so to speak, from museums that find pictures or articles about my home in attics, basements, and old steamer trunks from time to time.” They walked through, literally, the door and over to the gallery of photographs located along the main hallway. There were pictures of Southern soldiers on the front steps, of Annie and Archibald, of horses, crops, cows, slaves. Slaves? Vanessa stopped and looked at one picture in particular of slaves and their children. “Something catch your eye, Dear?”

  “Annie, tell me about this picture, please.”

  Annie looked at the eight by ten frame, closed her eyes and remembered. “We had five families of slaves on the farm, totaling thirty two people in all. Archibald never separated a family at the slave auctions. He said it was because they would work harder by encouraging each other and would be less likely to run off. That kind of talk was just for our neighbors, who weren’t so kind as Archibald was. Truth was he was a family man, a Christian man, and that was that. The Old Testament tells us to be good to our slaves. No, really, it’s in there. Have your new smart kid look it up for you. There were thirteen adult men and twelve adult women, five of which were grandparents who mainly cooked and mended. There were seven children. There ‘s Josiah, Alarybeth, Annah and Sarah. Over there are Esther and Matthew. Hiding behind her mother’s dress there, see her just peeking around, is Marigold.”

  Vanessa could only look at them, adults and children. This meant something. Her brow furrowed and eyes narrowed as she leaned forward.

  Milledgeville had a current population of 21,493. up from 1998 when it was 17,917. At the time the men of Sherman’s foraging party came through, it was close to 2000. It is located in Baldwin County and has the privilege of being the county seat, giving it more than its share of lawyers. Indeed, one of the historical attractions was the Old Governor’s Mansion; an 1839 Greek-revival mansion that was home to the Peach State’s governors from 1839 to 1868. Milledgeville is northeast of Macon and is accessible via highway 441 between Eatonton and Hardwick. It’s a scenic city, resting on the shores of the Oconee River. All this, Rachel had read in a small brochure, put out by the Chamber of Commerce, that the front desk had offered to new visitors.

  It was big enough to offer most of the cultural amenities the South was famous for, from cuisine to Dixieland jazz. It was small enough to keep the flavor of the South, which meant southern hospitality. The others had been there, many times, but Rachel and Allen were new to this way of life. At first, all the smiles, drawls, and ‘chewing the fat’ with complete strangers was cultural shock, but that wore off as they acclimated to the Southern pace. Ryan told them that he thought the difference in openness and helpfulness was that the South had its roots in agriculture. It was a much more cooperative and community-oriented lifestyle as compared to the depersonalizing industrial North, where competition was king. Also, the heat slowed t
hings down. People weren’t in such a hurry because it was so bloody hot much of the time.

  They were taking a mental break the day following their arrival, strolling about the Lockerly Arboretum; forty-five acres of gardens, trails, and forest. Allen had opted out in favor of some alone time to do some more research. Two hundred years ago uniformed men were in these woods seeking to end each other’s lives. It was a sobering thought.

  Rachel asked, “So if you dislike the cold so much, why do you live and work there? Why not move down here?”

  Gustav chimed in with, “Atta girl! We’ve been pushing for just that for years. My bones don’t like New York winters, I’ll tell you that! How about it, Boss? Time to seek a new office anyway, what with the new recruits coming in.” Rachel stopped for a moment. She had begun to feel so much a part of this reformed team and now realized her suggestion would serve to break it up before it started. Her home was up north, with her husband and his children. Rachel’s mind was busy enough not to notice the word ‘his’. Cat, however, never missed goodies like that.

  Ryan eased her fears for the moment. “All in good time, people, all in good time.”

  “All in good time, my pretty, all in good time. Dorothy here is afraid to leave Kansas. if you didn’t notice.”

  Ryan’s face wrinkled in that pattern that Rachel had come to know as a jibe response. “Let me guess, Wizard of Oz?” Ryan looked in mild surprise. Rachel was getting very astute of his mannerisms. That was both a little frightening to a man who valued privacy and warming to that same man who felt alone in his uniqueness and responsibilities. Men seldom lose the boy. The boy seldom loses a desire to be mothered.

  “You’re getting to know me too well. Men must have their mystery or lose their mastery, you know. Vanessa has always been fascinated with the entertainment industry and is a walking reference chip on movie quotes.”

  It seemed awkward to Rachel to speak of Vanessa, as if she wasn’t there, with someone for whom she was almost always there. Marianne sensed Rachel’s awkwardness and decided for a tactical change of topic. “That Allen of yours is one bright kid with a lot of other qualities to boot. No wonder ‘prom queen’ had her hooks into him. You know, I’ll bet no one ever had the nerve to rain on her picnic before. Sometimes you can be too pretty. I’ve read that the more beautiful you are according to local MALE standards (the men couldn’t miss the emphasis, and wisely chose to let it pass), the more likely you are to go through multiple divorces, drink, take drugs and seek professional psychological help. Ever hear Hollywood marriage/divorce stats? Beauty opens doors, too often the wrong ones. You know, I think Allen just might have shocked that lady into some sense. What do you bet she’s hooked on Allen all the more now that he’s the only male whom she can’t get with primping, wheedling, or alligator tears?”

  Rachel smiled and echoed with, “What you want the most is often what is denied you if you’re adolescent enough. Maybe Melissa will grow up some. We’ll see. She’s not a bad kid, really” Taking on her best drawl, she added; “Jes needs a hick’ry switch to her backsides.”

  Gustav looked in admiration. “Not bad, Mrs. Gladstone. You have a knack for idioms.”

  The team (minus one) walked out of the Arboretum entrance and continued their stroll along the streets of Milledgeville. Down a side street from Clark Avenue, there was a ‘to-do’ going on. The Faith Baptist Church was having a penny-social this afternoon. It was a black church, which was both a sad and happy thing.

  Marianne said, “All these years and still we see places of worship being defined by skin color. Most churches welcome anyone of any color, but still gravitate to ‘us and them’. But you know, I like going to black churches, sometimes. Their enthusiasm and liveliness is so refreshing and makes my own Pastor seem sleepy. And the way they sing, I could just listen to it all day long.”

  On the lawn were tables with craftsy items the parishioners had sewn, carved or otherwise created. There were quilts, doilies, trivets, needlepoint masterpieces, donated handmade furniture, picture frames, and a thousand other things.

  Ryan liked nautical trivia, nostalgic for his Navy roots, and picked up an antimacassar. “You know the history behind this thing?”

  Gustav looked up. “Historical doilies? Humbug.” The ladies were interested though, getting into shopping mode.

  Ryan pontificated, lecturing, “During the days of wooden ships, sailors would climb the rigging; a dangerous affair and you wouldn’t take chances you didn’t have to take. Loose hair whipping about in the breeze could blind you or get caught on something. The men would tie their hair back and use a heavy oil called ‘macasser’ to keep the ponytail from flapping. When they came to port, the Madams of local houses of ill repute welcomed sailor money, but were disgruntled over the stains sailor hair left on their fine furniture. One enterprising Madam took a doily off a vase stand and placed it on a chair. Thus was born the ‘anti-macasser’. Both women wrote that particular item off the shopping list. Gustav, however, took the one Ryan was holding and purchased it. He smiled at the look the ladies gave him and said, “Hey, you never know.” Two responding furrowed brows gave him a most satisfying reason to chuckle. Their comment on the scarcity of his hair supply to put any oil into didn’t seem as funny.

  There was a sign indicating more for sale inside the church (including baked goods), plus a children’s choir. The four walked into the church, drawn to the sweet voices, the sweet smells and the shade. Ryan looked around and stopped cold. The suddenness of his reaction reined in the other three. Ryan was staring at the church entryway, where people were coming and going, but his eyes remained on a fixed location. They heard him whisper, “Vanessa?”

  Vanessa had been strolling about, looking longingly at items made by mortal hands. It was times like this when her desire to go back to heartbeat and breath was strongest. Maybe it was that frame of mind that began to bring back some of the misty visions and sounds from that morning on the plane. Yet, beyond those troubled voices from the void were happier sounds of music and of children. It seemed so tantalizingly familiar to hear cherubic voices gathered in song. Vanessa stiffened. Those musical voices were not just from memory. They were real. She turned slowly and saw the others walking into the church.

  “No.” Her mind wanted to follow her Love, but her feet wanted to flee. Something inside began to knot up. Step by step, she forced herself to approach the church stairs.

  “NO.” Up the steps she went, feeling none of them but walking because it was a habit learned long ago. She stood in the doorway and stopped, staring at the children’s choir, their smiling dark faces and big dark eyes sparkling, dressed in their Sunday best and raising their cherub (?!) voices to God. Was it hot in there?

  “NO! NO!” A great turmoil and fear flamed up inside her. She had to get out, get away. Why? There wasn’t time to find out. She had to leave NOW!

  Marianne took Ryan’s hand. Rachel took his other arm and got him to sit down. He looked more than upset. Marianne spoke in a calming, gentle, mothering tone, “Ryan, what happened? You look awful.”

  He was sitting sideways on a pew, eyes still fixed on the doorway. Ryan looked at Marianne with a very worried face. “I don’t know. Vanessa had stopped at the doorway and looked frightened out of her wits. She screamed ‘no’ a couple of times, then vanished, just vanished. Didn’t even take the time to turn around and run. She just vanished. I’ve never seen her do that before. What could possibly have happened to make her do that?”

  Allen was busy downloading a file he had found. There she was in a Selma Tribune obituary! Vanessa Mary Blankenship. That was her name. It had to be. Age at death was right. Year was right as far as her dress vintage. But where was the picture?

  The Mormon search engine he used was based on the picture he had submitted so there had to be a picture. So, where was it? He began paging to the end of the newspaper edition refer
red to in the Mormon reference hit list. Nothing in National, Sports, Lifestyles and the last section had Classifieds and Comics (only a couple of strips, back then). Then he went back to the obits.

  “Vanessa Mary Blankenship; born November 22nd, 1905 in Tampa, Florida, died August 14th, 1932. Survived by her parents, one brother, several cousins and a niece. Services will be held August 16th at the First Emmanuel Lutheran Church at 1 pm, closed casket. Funeral will be followed by graveside services at the Saving Grace Graveyard at 4pm.”

  That was it. No occupation, no cause of death, and NO PICTURE. Funny, there were a LOT of obituaries, he noticed. Two whole pages of them? All ages. None with a listed cause of death. What had happened? He paged back. The front page had two pictures, but at this magnification there wasn’t much resolution. The headline was readable though. “HOLY PATH CHURCH BURNED TO THE GROUND”. He clicked on the main picture at the center top of page one. ‘Burned to the ground’ was right! Only things left were cinders and blackened studs that reached up like a rib cage. There were some people in the rubble, looking like they were searching.

  Oh God, for people? There wouldn’t be much to find. That place must have been like a crematorium. That’s when it hit him; ‘closed casket’. Oh no. He magnified the article and read: “Holy Path Community Evangelical Church was burned down last night. The tragedy occurred during a Sunday evening social and worship service. Cause of the fire is under investigation. Two suspects are being held at the county morgue. Both are male adults and both apparently died of gunshot wounds. Estimates of the loss of lives due to the fire are given at fifty-six, including thirteen children. One of the adults lost to the fire was a local school teacher who served as the church’s ‘cherub choir’ director, Miss Vanessa Mary Blankenship.” There was more, but Allen backed off the magnification to find the other picture. There it was. He pointed and magnified it. It was she! He printed it. It was the twin to the one Ryan had created.

  That was it! That was what she had pushed out of her memory. Holy shit! She wants to know her past, but this? What must it have been like? Allen shuddered. Ryan has to know. How the hell was Ryan going to break this to Vanessa? What would happen? “Oh – My – God.”

  He went to the kitchen to grab a beer. Allen didn’t drink beer often, but Gustav had laid in a supply of his favorite German lager into the suite fridge and Allen felt the need to steady himself. That’s when he heard the door open. Ryan didn’t look so good and everyone else looked worried. Allen’s news wasn’t going to cheer up anyone.

  For years, Vanessa had two people she naturally went to for shelter and comfort. The first was Ryan. No matter where he was, she could find him. There was a deep bond between them that served as a directional beacon. Submarine or space station, she could be at his side in a blink, yet, she had just run away from him. He was in that church and something in that church had made her flee like the fires of Hell were reaching out to her, and, others? She felt the knowledge there, wanted it, and feared it. It was a big black void hiding a fiery monster inside. She didn’t have the nerve to approach it.

  The other place had been to visit Annie. But it was daytime and Annie was mad now. Still, she didn’t know where else to go. In a blink, she was there at the Edwards Homestead. As always, people came and went. There was the porch she and Annie had shared so many hours of their, lives? Bloody, stupid language. Never the right words at the right time. They hadn’t invented them yet, she supposed. Maybe Allen can publish a ‘Departed Dictionary’. Another ‘double-D’ to make Ryan happy. That thought snapped her out of it. Between the joke, the thought of her Love and the glancing reference involving romance, she felt better.

  Annie was standing on the porch looking north, west and at her children. She almost never left her porch, except when the soldiers came. “Leave it to a woman to be just unpredictable enough to make others nervous.” Vanessa thought about Jason and Rebecca, which helped distance herself from the void that still threatened to reveal itself to her. Vanessa walked to where the children were playing. From the corner of her eye she could see that Mad Annie was watching her, carefully. She had not spoken to the children before and wondered why. During the day, they had been dealing with soldiers and madness. Contacting the children seemed a kind thing to do, but when she asked Mad Annie for permission she was always met with a firm “No”. Ryan had insisted they obey Annie’s wishes in the past, mostly out of fear for Vanessa’s personal safety. Well, today she wouldn’t bother with asking permission. It was time to get in touch with her inner adolescent. Might even be therapeutic. “How do I start, though?” she thought. The answer that came to her was ‘wing it’.

  “Hello children, what are you playing?” They didn’t respond at first. People other than their mother hadn’t spoken to them for a very, very long time. “I used to like to play hide and seek (did I?) and jacks. What do you like to do?”

  Jason took the helm, standing between Vanessa and his sister, ashamed that this token of protection had never saved her from the soldiers. “I’m Jason Edwards and this is my sister, Rebecca. We live here.”

  A start. It pushed that void further away. “I came from Milledgeville to visit, down the road east. I like your farm . Do you like it here?”

  Jason balked. It would be polite to say yes, but a lie is a lie. Rebecca hadn’t developed such propriety yet and the opportunity to actually speak to someone besides Jason was irresistible. “NO, we HATE it. Mom won’t leave until Daddy comes home. I don’t want to be here. I want to leave. Don’t you shush me, Jason. You want to leave, too.”

  “Rebecca! You be quiet. That ain’t polite and Mamma won’t approve.” Jason turned back to Vanessa, “Don’t mind Rebecca, she’s only just seven. I’m eight, going on nine. Dad left me to be the man of the house until he returns, so I reckon that’s who you’re speaking to. So, what’s your name and what’s your business in these parts?”

  You can’t lie to a child. That much she remembered. They know, just like Penny and Patricia knew, and spirit children knew more. “My name is Vanessa. Vanessa Fitzgalen. I’m kind of lost right now. My husband is back in town with some friends. It’s kind of hard to explain. I feel very confused right now and a little frightened.”

  Jason had seen grown-ups be a lot of things, but ‘lost and frightened’ wasn’t one of them. He began to mellow a little, but Rebecca didn’t need so much time. She went up to Vanessa, who was kneeling now in order to talk to them face to face, and took her hand. Vanessa started and stared. Rebecca took her hand? She could feel, in a way, Rebecca’s hand in return. Jason felt funny about holding a strange woman’s hand and so placed his hand on her shoulder to express his own sympathy and support. She felt that, too!

  She had to tell Ryan. Right away! She had made contact with Mad Annie’s children for the first time, while Annie was watching her and had lived, sort of, to tell about it.

  “Thank you, Rebecca, and you, Jason. I would like to come and visit you again soon, maybe later today, but I have to find my husband. It’s very important. Would you like me to visit again?” Both children nodded, wondering if they had said something to offend Vanessa. But her smile was as genuine as the warmth in her eyes. They could tell she spoke the truth. If she said she would be back, she would be. They nodded again with happier expressions and Vanessa walked away, with Annie’s eyes watching her like a hawk.

  Rebecca said to Jason, “Daddy told us he’d be back, too.”

  Jason replied with his best logic, hoping he was right, “He would if he could. He can’t, or he would have. Missus Vanessa can, so she will. ”

  Allen brought in the whole eight pack of ale. No one refused. Not knowing exactly how to broach his subject, Allen waited first to hear what had happened. Ryan’s mind was in high gear, but said nothing. Marianne once said that you could tell Ryan was in think-mode when you saw his eyes open, but darting lik
e they do in REM sleep. Now he was in desperate think mode, which she recognized by the addition of what seemed to be random head motion. She and Rachel pulled Allen aside and passed on what Ryan had said. Allen nodded. It made sense and things were becoming clearer to him with their news. Ryan and Gustav were heard to be talking now.

  “Gustav, I’ve never seen it before. There’s no reference I can use, nothing to compare it to. She may be in trouble and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it!” emphasizing the point by hitting the bottle hard on the table causing a small overflow. Marianne went for paper towels; Rachel took a seat next to Ryan and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  Allen stood a few feet away from Ryan and got his full attention by saying, “Sir, I know what happened, why Vanessa reacted like that.”

  It was a testament to the level of mental frustration Ryan was in. He didn’t just blow. Ryan erupted. It wasn’t at Allen in particular, just at the situation. Allen had the misfortune to have hit the trip wire of blinded anguish. Rachel felt his muscles under her hand turn to iron.

  “So! Young Einstein knows all? Isn’t that SPECIAL! Young fellow, I am many times your age, have seen more than you will ever dream of seeing, know that woman far better than you will ever come CLOSE to knowing and you have the GODDAM NERVE to tell me you know what the HELL is going on? Well, why don’t you just illuminate us poor, old, senile farts with your infinite wisdom. GO ON, DO IT, SPEAK BOY!”

  The look on Ryan’s face was enough to make a prizefighter duck and cover. Those newer to Ryan were in shock. Those more familiar with him were in more shock. Never before had they seen Ryan act like this, or even come close to it. Ryan had always been the rock that everyone else could count on, hang on to, and believe in. Allen had felt a distinct call to empty his bladder and it wasn’t getting any easier with time. It was a portrait. No one moved or dared to blink.

  It was Ryan that ended that vision. His teeth unclenched. His knitted brows rose in dawning horror. “What have I done? Oh God, Allen, oh son, oh.” That was when Ryan David Fitzgalen finally and fully broke down. The rage of the storm front was intense, but brief. Rachel felt the iron muscles melt, and saw the rain of tears that followed cleanse a powerful and sorrowful soul. His friends, now over the shock, realized that the time had come for them to be the rock to their mentor and friend. It was a mutual and simultaneous decision, unspoken and undebated. All four held Ryan in an embrace known only to comrades in arms, given to someone of their own fold in great distress. Allen had been Ryan’s lightening rod. He knew that now, though the men’s room still beckoned. Right now, though, Ryan’s mental welfare held priority. That didn’t stop him from draining his bottle, though.

  The healing of touch is known to anyone who has worked with newborns or the very elderly. Anyone who has felt grief and experienced the hand of someone who cares will discover support and comfort. With Ryan, it was more. He could actually feel something from each hand, arm and head on his shoulder or back. His friends were pulling him back from a ledge. He wasn’t that close to the edge, but he wasn’t too far away, either.

  “Thank you, dear friends, thank you. I will never be able to thank you enough. Allen, lad, I hope you will find it in your heart to...”

  “OH, CAN IT, you old fart! Who do you think you are, anyway, SUPERMAN?”

  Rachel whispered in that odd, musical voice that people use to delicately defuse a touchy situation, “Allennn, what are you doooinnng? Calm down son, it’s OK now.”

  “BULLSHIT! It’s not OK, Mom. Ryan, you’ve taken the weight of everything on your shoulders for all these years, and you’re still doing it by giving everyone else token burdens. It’s time you stopped being responsible for everything and recognize that we are here to do the best we can do, not for you, but with you. We are VOLUNTEERS, albeit paid ones. Maybe you do have years on us, but have you ever met an adult who was a waste of your time or a young child who taught you more in a minute than you could learn from a full professor in a day?”

  That recalled Phillip to Ryan’s mind. To the surprise of everyone else, who thought that the storm cloud was about to return with lightning bolts, Ryan smiled. The old man was positively beaming! “Damn straight, son! Go on, run with it.”

  “Right! Here’s the deal. I’ll give you all I’ve got and it’s going to be wrong sometimes, but it’s my best. You will treat it with a block of salt and a bucket of respect. You get what you give, right? Well, you’ve given all you have, so now, and I think I speak for everyone here, you’ll get all we have. Do I make myself clear, you slimy, deck scrubbing, sailor squid type?”

  “Aye, aye, captain!” With that, the storm was over and Allen had firmly placed himself as the second in command. The team was set, albeit incredulous at Allen’s methods of therapy. So was Allen, who coined a phrase after the fact regarding the German fermented product that was a bit more powerful than what he was used to at RPI: ‘Gestapo ale: brewed rude.’

  “As I was saying, here is why Vanessa... Wait. Is she here?” Ryan looked around, twice. He closed his eyes, felt for her and shook his head. “Good. Look at this.” He set the PC screen on the table and everyone gathered around to see the headline. Allen tapped the pad and the church picture and related article came into view. Another tap, and there was Vanessa’s picture. A final tap displayed the two pages of obituaries.

  There was silence for a time, and then the mother who had admonished her son to keep a civil tongue let out with a soft but heartfelt, “Shit. Ryan, what are you going to tell her? God, I hope she comes back. What if she remembers it already? If she does, why hasn’t she come back? Maybe she thinks you’re back at that church and is afraid to come to you. Oh, Allen. You found it, but what do we do with it?”

  Ryan looked up, feeling something familiar. “We’ll find out now. Here she comes, thank Heavens.”

  Vanessa popped into the room and stopped at the intensity of emotions that echoed in there. There was so much of it, so many kinds, and so many sources. What happened here? “Ryan, Honey, are you alright?”

  “I’m alright, Baby, now that you’re back. I was worried about you. We all were. What happened? Can you tell us?” Despite the import of her news, she caught the words ‘we’ and ‘us’. Before, he would have said ‘I’ and ‘me’. Something did happen here, and it took an emotional nor’easter to cause it. There was a harmony now of feelings and personalities. She looked at Allen. He was the main one who looked different, more confident, more, sexism be damned, more a man.

  “Well I’ll be. Whippersnapper put Geezer in his place, did he? About time, I say. Now maybe you’ll have some time for me once in a while. Perfect. I’ve got some romantic one-liners in reserve that will make you walk funny for a week, Love. For instance...”

  Things were going to be OK, they thought, judging by the way fearless rooster was cackling and turning a bit red in the cheeks. What they wouldn’t give to hear the other end of his conversations. Ryan often reported things, but Marianne felt strongly that he would leave out the juiciest parts and keep them to himself. Men were so selfish.

  With her beloved in a better mood now, Vanessa related her news. “I went to the farm. Mad Annie was on the porch. I don’t think she will leave the porch unless the soldiers are there, and mainly just to confront that awful Jed soldier. I went and talked to the children.” Ryan’s eyes lit up.

  Patience be damned. Gustav said, “Mr. Fitzgalen, you VILL interpret for us as it happens or be punished. Dat is und order. Schnell!”

  “Now there’s an idea. Would you like to see me in leather boots? Shall I punish you with a riding crop?”

  “For Heavens sake, Vanessa, will you stick to the point? For the rest of you, she’s flirting with me again, it’s none of your business on the specifics and you’re all too young for this sort of stuff anyway. She talked to Annie’s kids and Annie didn’t leave the porch. Looks like she won
’t unless the Cav is there.”

  “That’s not all, Love. I was getting a little teary there with them and they came to me. The little girl held my hand. The little boy put his hand on my shoulder. Don’t you know that that means? I can touch them, I can feel them and, by God, I can LIFT THEM UP AND CARRY THEM, IF I MUST, TO SAFETY!”

  The import of that statement stopped the interpreter from passing it on right away. The others saw the thunderstruck look, so this time they were patient. He turned to them and summed it up nicely, ending with, “Gentlemen and ladies, it’s a whole new ballgame.”

  Allen took the reins. They had a lot of new input, but it was just loose tools that no one knew how to use yet. “Mom, will you and Marianne call for room service and send up some din-din? We need brain fuel. Ryan, I want you and Vanessa to go into your room. Get that smile off your face soldier and you go do what you have to do. Gustav and I will start getting things organized on the table.”

  “Who died and made HIM boss? Oh, it was you, wasn’t it? Well, OK, I approve. C’mon, Sugar, let’s slip into something more comfortable."

  Ryan and Vanessa made their exit; the ladies went to the phone calculating what finger foods left the fewest stains on war maps. Allen and Gustav were moving furniture for work stations, pulling out papers and MiDi’s, moving the PC and plugging in the printer that Allen had ordered up earlier. Everyone was doing what he or she was meant to do and it was a great feeling for all. Ryan, though, had his ‘warm fuzzy’ overshadowed by the upcoming ‘cold prickly’. How was he to begin his task? He needn’t have asked, for he wasn’t to begin. She began.

  “Dearest, I can tell. You know; don’t you? I have fragments of it, but you know what happened, who I was. It was Allen that found it, wasn’t it?” A nod. “Figures. He is a fine young man, though for me he’ll never hold a candle to you. He’s part you, you know. Now you are faced with telling me something you think will hurt me and you can’t find the words, can you?”

  “Baby, I’d give the rest of my years up right now if I could just hold you. It was bad. Real bad. No wonder you pushed it away. To start off with, your whole name is Vanessa Mary Blankenship.”

  Vanessa held up one hand to make Ryan wait a moment. She savored that name for a minute and, without another word from Ryan, pieces began to rise to the surface, one by one, by terrible one.

  The Ku Klux Klan began right after the ending of the Civil War, but died off in the 1870’s. In 1915, Colonel William J. Simmons (who was also a preacher) resurrected it near Atlanta, Georgia. It stayed small until Elizabeth Tyler and Edward Clarke added their talents as publicity agents/fund-raisers to the cauldron. They used a mixture of patriotism, Old South nostalgia and the fear of the changing ethnic nature of the country. The KKK reached its nadir in the 1920’s, boasting a membership of over 4 million. They had strong bias against blacks, as before, but added Roman Catholics, Jews, foreigners and organized labor. During the 1930’s the Klan’s membership fell, disbanding in 1944, and then began to rise again to visibility during the 1960’s. Such was the stage set-up that framed a return of log suppressed memory.

  “I taught black children in a one-room school-house in Selma. Daddy was pretty upset, saying I was wasting my talents when I could easily find a good man and a much higher class school nearer to Tampa, where I grew up. He never knew that it was his intolerance and belligerence that drove me out of my home in Tampa and into a situation that I knew would send him into a rage. He hurt Mom sometimes, not physically, but he was a bully. I hated the way he ruled with an iron hand, so I left as soon as I could for teaching college.

  “The people of Selma were, for the most part, wonderful and open to me. Most really didn’t hate anyone, but only wanted it to stay ‘them and us’. There were others, ones who made themselves feel bigger by making others smaller. They weren’t necessarily evil, just no one ever taught them any better. Most of them would give their lives to protect their young ones. They were like big spoiled kids in some ways. But they were adults, too, and that made them dangerous and unpredictable.

  “I remember the Holy Path Community Evangelical Church, how impressive it was to say. So much more than the sleepy white church down the street: the Selma Lutheran Church. I think they were a little jealous of our grander name, and our exuberance. Our church sponsored a new schoolhouse for blacks, as the old one should have been condemned. The congregation built it and maintained it on church property. They raised money for new books and decent supplies with bake sales, rummage sales, raffles and anything else they could arrange. Things were pretty tight back then, but that made it all the more wonderful when their courage and determination bore fruit.

  “There was one really obnoxious man, moron really. The type that would get a laugh out of tossing a sack of kittens into the pond and watch it sink. We would call him a psychopath. He was part of the Klan, which had the gall to preach how ‘Christian’ they were. He said, “The niggers were getting too uppity and, someday soon, someone would have to show them their place.”

  “I was at a ‘revival and social’ at the church. There was the children’s choir, the ‘cherub choir’ we called them, and all were in their Sunday best. I was the children’s choir director. You should have heard the singing, Ryan. That’s what drew me into that church you were in today. It was music to save Satan himself, some would say. I can’t agree with that. In the middle of Amazing Grace, one of the members heard something at the front doors. Someone jammed them all so we couldn’t get out the front or back. I remember the children screaming for their mothers, running into their arms for protection. The men did their best to break down the doors, but couldn’t. The windows were narrow and they began to glow. They were different colors, those little panes, so that the morning sun during services would give wonderful warm colors on the people and pews. They now glowed yellow and evil. Someone jumped from a pew to the window to kick it out, then flew backwards from a shotgun blast. I remember hearing laughter from outside, then. It got all smoky, hard to see. Parents got their kids to lie down to get out of the smoke, but it was everywhere. Crying, coughing, screaming. begging, laughing and, above it all, was the crackling of the fire as boards and timbers caught. That church was all wood and it caught like kindling. I grabbed a little girl, Natalie I think, yes, it was Natalie. She’s the one that gave me a bracelet one Sunday with my first name on it. She said she liked my name. I wore it that night. I screamed out the window to take the girl, to save her. I lifted her up, but one of the timbers broke and fell on us. Things were getting dark, even though there was a burning beam across me. I think it broke my back, but didn’t feel any pain. I only remember seeing Natalie lying there next to me, her eyes open, seeing nothing. Her poor little chest crushed and burning. She was looking right at me, her month open like she was going to call my name. I began to scream, not in pain, but in frustration. I had to save the children, I had to, but my legs wouldn’t move. It couldn’t end that way and I cried to God to let me save the little ones, please, let me save them. They were His children. Don’t let them die. Don’t let me let them die.”

  Vanessa’s voice had taken on a haunting, droning, dreamy rhythm. It was, to Ryan, like a bedtime story to shake the bones of the Brothers Grimm. Vanessa’s voice was too soft to describe such a tragedy, such a pogrom, such a crime against God Himself. “For he that would harm one of my little ones, it would be better for him that there be a millstone tied around his neck and he be cast into the deepest ocean.” Ryan wanted to kill those men with all the viciousness of a raging, wounded, insane-with-anger lion. But, they were dead. All those men were buried, their stones likely fallen or untended in tall grass and forgotten. He wondered, “Could this be a taste of what Annie felt before she died?”

  Vanessa’s voice began to sound saner. “I remember running after that, nowhere in particular, just away. I had to leave my failure, like Adam and Eve cast out becaus
e of failed promises to God. I had promised to watch over those children. No, it wasn’t my fault. I know that now, but I didn’t know it then. I don’t know how long it was before I started thinking again, an hour, a year, maybe a decade. That bracelet was still there on my wrist. I looked at it, and read ‘Vanessa’. That was how I knew my name. Everything else was a blank. I wandered many places and began to realize what I was and the tragedies of the earthbound spirits that I could see but not do anything about. That frustrated me a lot, though I never realized the real reason why. Then, one day, I felt a pull to the west. I felt drawn to you, even though I never met you. What ever happened with that experiment put your spirit in attunement with my own. I could hear your call for help. All it took was for me to close my eyes and concentrate on your cry. When I opened my eyes, I was with you on that boat.

  “I saw your body on the deck, alive, but very still. I could also see the spirit within you being torn up. Pieces of life force seemed to be ripped from you as if there were invisible piranha all around you. You never knew that I had to merge with you to prevent that power from destroying you. That is why you survived and those poor animals years later did not. You weren’t told, because I thought you would have been frightened, or offended. You might have felt, violated.”

  The revelation that he owed his life to Vanessa deepened his love for her yet another level into his heart.

  “I could feel those forces begin eating at me, too, and took refuge within your body. Honey, together, we saved each other. The day we spent like that tuned us into each other. We can sense things about how the other feels and thinks, more than most.”

  “Before you came back, I could feel that you were coming. That’s not the first time, either.”

  “I know. You also know that I’ve always had a place in my heart for children, especially those we were able to help move on. Helping children gave me more peace of mind than any of the other rescues. That may seem natural, for everyone is more protective of children, but this went farther than that. Jason and Rebecca haven’t left my mind for a day since we first saw them. The children in that fire, though? Ryan, I have to go there and see if I can help them. That may be why I’m still here. Each entity we’ve helped knew what it was they had to do to complete their journey here, and we’ve always been able to find our way to helping them do it. Something in me says I have to save the children. It must be those I couldn’t help in that church. Ryan, what if they’re still in there, burning, trying to get out, waiting for me?”

  Ryan sat, too full of emotion to do anything. His head was spinning with implications on top of implications, with ramifications warming up in the bullpen. Going to Selma could be done, but that might put the kibosh on giving Annie’s children a lift. The Civil War re-enactment event was in place. Ryan had prepared that event through generous donations with many strings attached, timing it so as to introduce Allen’s (and now Rachel’s) talents to the mix. Their help had restructured his plans to something far more magnificent. What would happen now? Could he leave with Vanessa and go to Selma, or would she just go on her own? Would she be back, once she had done what she needed, or were they to be without their invaluable spirit guide?

  She saved his life and he never knew it. He probably owed his clairvoyance to her as well, now that he thought about it. She held him together. He had CALLED her?

  Then, something harder (personally) struck him. Vanessa might leave him. The one woman who had stuck with him for so many years, who was even able to stick with him. His longevity was not eternal, for he had managed to find cumulative gray on his dome, but there was no way he could find a soul partner that would be anything more than a brief interlude, patently unfair to any woman. Vanessa was the only woman for him for more reasons than one. And now, she might be gone?!?

  But how could he complain? If children were burning, they HAD to do something, and, “...and, by Heaven above, it has to be now!”

  Ryan stood up and looked at Vanessa. She had stopped talking. The large void she had feared had lost much of its original fire. What now remained, smoldered. Still, it was an immense relief to know who she was, what had happened and, most important, what she had to do. With Ryan, she always had found purpose enough, but now a greater purpose faced her. She, too, was in turmoil as to what to do. How could she abandon their shared quest for her private one? Yet, to let Natalie burn for one day more, if that was what was happening; no, she couldn’t do it. Now she was balanced on a razor and looked to her husband and soul mate for guidance. To her relief, he had that look of resolution she had come to know and rely on. He simply said, “Come.”

  Ryan walked out into the hive of activity, and then raised his hand for silence. “There has been a change of plans. I will be leaving for a day, maybe two. Vanessa will be coming with me. You must continue the work without me. One more thing. We can’t count on her lifting those children out of the path of harm anymore.”

  That was a slap in the face to everyone and Vanessa felt horrible. She loved these people. Ryan gave the thumbnail version of what Vanessa had told him. He was on his way to Selma on the next flight and asked Allen to book him at Savannah airport. He asked Gustav to call a taxi or shuttle to pick him up STAT. It was a testimony to the strength and resilience their team had forged through previous fires that activity began immediately without recrimination or muttering. There was work to be done. The Chief was not going to be there. OK. Second in Command was there and he would take over.

  Everyone had something to do and they did it. Ryan choked, but maintained the face of resolution and walked out the door. All eyes looked at his back, and Vanessa’s if they could but see her, and prayed for their best fortune.