EPILOGUE

Savannah, Georgia

August 2016

The good-looking newlyweds wandered into the gift shop to get out of the heat. Preston and Gwen had been strolling arm-in-arm through the historic district of Savannah on one the hottest days in all of Georgia.

“Oh, thank goodness for air conditioning!” she loudly exclaimed as the blast of cool air hit her sizzling skin. “How on earth did those people in all these mansions around here ever survive without it?” She began dabbing the sweat off her face with a clean tissue pulled from her straw purse. “I don’t think I can bear much more of this! And those poor horses pulling those tourist carts, they must be ready to pass out!”

Preston ignored her because she’d been complaining about the heat since they arrived that morning. The newlyweds were on their way from their hometown of Atlanta to a luxurious Hilton Head golf resort for their honeymoon. On a whim, they decided to stop in Savannah for lunch and take in some sightseeing.

The elderly shop owner looked over his bifocals and smiled at her comment. He was used to tourists complaining of the heat. Chet O’Connor was seated on a stool behind a long glass counter containing jewelry and other estate artifacts “You need to come back to see us in the spring or fall. Weather is better then. Just let me know if I can help you with anything.” He smiled at the couple moseying around his antique shop.

“Okay, thank you, sir.” Gwen had stopped to study the face of an old porcelain doll propped up against a wooden box containing old spools of thread.

“Looking for anything in particular or just gettin’ out of the heat?” He chuckled and went back to reading his book without waiting for a response. Chet was the proprietor of one of the oldest gift shops along the busy street. As a history buff, he enjoyed sharing stories behind every antique on display. He was proud to be a lifelong resident of Savannah.

Preston picked up a pair of German field glasses. “These look really old,” he commented, turning to Chet. “What’s the story on them?”

“Yep, ya got that right. World War I . . . pretty rare. Picked ’em up at an estate sale not too long ago.”

Preston adjusted them to his eyes with the focus dial and zoomed in on Gwen’s behind as she leaned over the jewelry display in the case. “Hmm . . . they still work. Pretty cool.”

“Hey, Pres, come over here. There are some pretty trinkets in here. I’d like to get something from Savannah while we’re here.”

Chet chuckled. “You can always count on a woman to find some jewelry to buy, can’t ya?”

Preston chuckled at the comment and purposely steered clear of the jewelry case. He continued looking at military mementos that were old and dusty.

“Sir?” Gwen turned to face the proprietor. “Can you bring this tray out please?”

Chet got up and pulled off a string of keys hung around his neck. “Yes, ma’am. There are some rare specimens in there.” He opened the case and pulled out the brown velvet tray she pointed at and plunked it on the counter. “I buy up estate jewelry all the time. Never know what ya might find if you’re lucky. Most everything is one-of-a-kind stuff. The ladies seem to like jewelry that nobody else is wearin’.”

“Well, some people might think it is creepy to wear jewelry that has been on some stranger’s body.”

“Ya clean jewelry just like you do clothing. Nothin’ to it.”

Gwen leaned over, eyeing row after row of silver bracelets, brass earrings, beaded necklaces, and a few gold rings. “Most of this is pretty dingy. Could use some cleaning now. Might sell better.”

“Well, precious metal dulls just as fast as ya clean it. No sense in doin’ that.”

Gwen put a few bracelets on her left wrist before setting them back on the tray. Her eyes moved to the section containing rings. “This is an unusual ring,” she said, holding it up to her eye to examine more closely.

“Yep, sure is. Why, that ring happens to be over 150 years old. Predates the Civil War. Now Savannah survived the Civil War. General Sherman burned Atlanta and everything in his path on his way to burn us down, too, but the general was so impressed with Savannah’s beauty that he decided to leave her be. Sherman sent a telegram to President Abe Lincoln giving Savannah to him as a Christmas present.”

“Oh, how interesting. No wonder all these historic homes are still intact.”

“Now that ring you got there, the auctioneer claimed it was found in a trunk in one of our Savannah mansions during renovations.”

Gwen inspected the ring. “Hey, there’s a faint inscription inside, but I need more light to read it.” She walked over to the storefront window and held it up the natural light. “I can almost make out these initials. Do you have a magnifying glass by any chance?”

Chet reached in the case and pulled out a small magnifier. He walked to the window and handed it to the girl.

She held the magnifier to the ring to get a better look while holding the bauble up to the light from the window. “Well, the design is feminine, so it’s a lady’s ring. One letter is a G, and it looks like the other letter might be a B. Hey! Maybe her name was Gwen, like mine.” She giggled. “There aren’t too many G names for girls, though . . . um . . . there’s Gabriella. Let me think of some others . . . Gertrude and, uh, Gail and, oh yeah, there’s Genevieve, but I don’t recognize this stone.”

“That’s called a bloodstone. Some say the streaks of red jasper represent the blood of Jesus. Other myths suppose the ring has mystical powers of some sort.” He snickered. “If you believe in that kind of malarkey.”

“Hmmm . . . that’s very intriguing.” Gwen held the ring back up to the light and studied it for a moment longer before turning back to the shopkeeper. “Back in those days, I wonder what kind of woman would wear such a peculiar thing?” Her brown eyes twinkled with mischief. “But wouldn’t you just give anything to know the story behind the mystery woman who wore this bloodstone ring?”