NINETEEN

 

I awoke to a mix of dread and hope. The chilling message on my laptop, the surreal dream, the unmistakable message of promise. Must find Sasha. It’s the only thing that matters. I was distracted by those blessed birds dive-bombing the panes of the French door in feathered frenzy, more vigorous than usual. It was like a Shakespearean play, where all of nature turned and churned on an un-natural event. Abducted horse, disturbing dreams, storming birds. I made a note to do some research on Southern bluebirds. After all, there was an extensive library right here at Overhome. In a daze, I dressed and descended to the dining room where I encountered Uncle Hunter alone at the long table, up earlier than usual.

“A bit of excitement last night, eh?” He sipped his tea. “You look exhausted, Ashby. Did your injury keep you up? Why not go back to bed. I’ll have Miss Emma bring you a tray.”

“Oh, no! I have to hunt for Sasha.”

He paused, his cup half way to his lips. “But, of course, you couldn’t have heard…”

“Heard? Has Sasha been found?”

“We haven’t had a chance to look for your horse yet. It’s Abe. In the middle of the night. They think it was a heart attack.”

I rose hastily, my own heart in my throat. “Sit down, Ashby. There’s absolutely nothing you can do. Luke drove him to the hospital—it was faster than waiting for the ambulance. Luke’s with him there now. I’m sure he’ll call if there’s any change.”

I exhaled slowly. “Then—he’s not dead?”

“His condition is critical. What with his age, well, we have to be prepared for the possibility of…a lengthy recovery.”

“Luke’s been worried about Abe, about his heart. His mind, too.”

Hunter tilted his head to one side and seemed to study me before he spoke again. “We all have our concerns, certainly.” He patted his pocket. “Luke has my cell number. Now, let’s collect Jefferson before he gets off to camp. You’ll need your hiking boots and some long pants. If your wrist is not bothering you too much, the three of us will go in search of a wayward horse.”

I pointed down at my jeans and boots. “I’m already dressed for the search.” I moved my wrist in circles for his appreciation. “The bruise is surfacing, just like Dr. Ross said it would. It’s ugly but it doesn’t hurt. I’m good to go.”

He smiled. “I’m quite sure Sasha is loose on the grounds; we’ll find him. Now, I’m going to rouse Jefferson. I don’t think he’ll mind missing his day camp just this once.”

My mind returned immediately to Abe. Well, my world was upset, for sure, but even Shakespeare wouldn’t go so far as to strike down an innocent old man over a missing horse. Thank goodness I’d followed Luke’s advice to leave Abe out of my quandary. I didn’t need that guilt trip on top of feeling responsible for Sasha’s disappearance. Poor Abe. Poor Luke. I felt helpless to make things better for either of them.

Luke and I had exchanged cell numbers, but I’d never called due to the dead zone in my room, Rosabelle’s room. Oddly, though, the signal seemed strong enough elsewhere on the estate.

“Can I meet you outside?” I asked my uncle. I had to try to get hold of Luke. Hurrying to the porch, I considered trying to call but abandoned the thought, knowing Luke would be involved at the hospital. I’d try a text message instead. I got busy with my thumbs: PRAYING 4 U & ABE. CB IF U CAN. I L U. Okay, so the I L U was a bit brash. Well, what better time to get the idea out there? Now I would have to be patient and wait to hear about Abe’s condition.

Uncle Hunter and Jeff met me in the yard. We started on the trail because we figured my horse would most likely seek out familiar territory from wherever he had wandered. Had I not been so worried and preoccupied, I would have totally enjoyed the sounds and smells of the cool morning woods seeping into every pore of my skin. Sticky pine needles lent the forest floor a holiday scent, and skittering squirrels practiced gymnastics in the jungle gym branches above. Lost for a while in my thoughts of Abe and Luke and Sasha, I suddenly realized the others had moved so far ahead that I could no longer hear their thrashing through the brush and tangle of the woods. There was only the swish-swish-snap of the squirrels in their overhead playground.

Stopping to listen for my uncle and cousin, I almost collapsed in terror when two rough hands reached out from behind and clamped themselves over my eyes. I jumped and shrieked.

“Ha! Caught ya!” It was Eddie Mills. He whirled me around to face his huge, gnarly smile.

“Jeez, Eddie! You freaking scared me half to death.”

“Jes’ wanted to s’prise you is all. I can track jes’ about anything through th’ woods quiet as a Injun. Even sneak up on deer. Done it many a time.”

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you never sneak up on me again.” I didn’t like the look on his face—like he wanted to put a move on me. I edged backwards as he inched closer and closer.

“They ain’t nothin’ t’ be afeared of,” he said in a wheedling tone. “I ain’t a-gonna hurt ya.”

I backed over the roots of a tree as he closed in. When he saw I could retreat no farther with my back solidly trapped against the rough bark of a giant oak, he grabbed me in a vice-like hug. Adrenalin kicked in and I pushed against him with my fists, screaming at the top of my lungs: “Stop! Stop it, Eddie!”

To my surprise, he backed off. “Aw…I jes’ wanted a li’l kiss is all.”

I cradled my throbbing wrist. “Leave me alone, Eddie. In fact, you’d better get the hell out of here. You know they heard me scream. They’ll be on you like a sweat.”

A cagey look came over him. “Hey, what if I tol’ ya I done foun’ somethin’ on Mills’ prop’ty. Somethin’ y’ been lookin’ fer. Would ya give me a kiss? Don’t ya wanna know what I foun’?”

“Sasha? You found Sasha, Eddie? Where is he? Take me to him. Now!” Much as I disliked being close to him, I grabbed him by the shoulders of his T-shirt and shook him until his head rattled.

“Jes one li’l kiss?” he pleaded.

Without further thought, I smacked a peck onto his cheek, then pulled him by the arm. “Okay. You got your kiss. Now, do you have my horse, or not?”

He looked defensive. “Hey, I didn’t take him. I jes’ found him, all caught up in some ol’ rusty fence wire in th’ woods. On old Mills’ prop’ty, like I said.” He looked pleased with himself. “Now, any other time, I’d a let a stray horse from Overhome jes’ keep on strayin,’ if you know what I mean. But, when I rec’nized it wuz yer horse, well, I figgered I’d do a good deed fer my kissin’ cousin. So, I tied him up tight an’ come lookin’ fer ya.”

Just then, the underbrush crackled and Hunter, followed by Jeff, hove into view. As Eddie, the Indian scout, melted back into the forest, my eyes lit on the rope lead my uncle trailed behind him with Sasha safely in tow.

“Sasha! Oh, Sasha!”

He whinnied as though he were delighted to see me. I couldn’t resist throwing my arms around his warm, furry horse-neck for a hug. “Ugh. He’s full of burrs and sticks. He must’ve tromped all over these woods.”

“Actually, we found Sasha tethered to a tree. Over there.” My uncle pointed in the direction where Eddie had disappeared. “It’s as if someone found him wandering in the woods and tied him up to keep him safe. I can’t imagine who…”

“It was Eddie Mills, Uncle Hunter. He was here a minute ago but you and Jeff scared him off. He said he’d found Sasha—found him on Mills’ property.”

“Mills’ property. Well, yes. What was once Mills property, at any rate.” He stroked his chin and appeared to be deep in thought. “Why would Eddie, or the Night Riders, steal Sasha and then make sure we’d find him safely tied?”

“I’m not so sure Eddie had anything to do with Sasha’s little adventure,” I said. “Eddie told me he found Sasha in the woods and tied him to a tree, and I believe him.”

My uncle appeared to digest my comment before shaking his head in dismissal. “Well, at any rate, Sasha is none the worse for wear. Let’s lead him back to the stable, get him cleaned up and fed. I’ll work this out later.”

I deliberately left out Eddie’s revolting advances on me. But I did learn one thing while he was in my face. I noticed a tattoo on his right bicep, under his T-shirt. A tattoo of a Confederate flag.

Suddenly, my cell phone buzzed in my jean’s pocket, beeping out the signal for an incoming text message. I flipped open my cell, to discover a line of message: ABE OK CAN U COME 2 HOSP?

I gave a soft cry of excitement. “Abe is okay,” I told my uncle and cousin. “Luke wants me—us to come to the hospital.”

I think Uncle Hunter was surprised that Luke had contacted me instead of him.

“I’d thought we’d wait to see the prognosis for Abe before visiting him, but if Luke is asking…”

“Can I go, too?” Jeff cried.

“The hospital may have regulations about young children and visiting hours, Jefferson. Since we’ve already missed your van pool, what say I drive you to day camp. I’m sorry Jefferson, but I’d hate for you to get to the hospital and be disappointed at being turned away.” My uncle looked at me. “And, from Jefferson’s camp, Ashby, I can take you to the hospital. We can be there within an hour. Will that work for you, my dear?”

“Absolutely.” I squeezed Jeff’s hand and gave him a ‘trust-me-to-fill-you-in’ look. I beamed my biggest smile on him. “Thank you. I’ve been so worried about Abe.” I tapped quickly: SASHA OK. C U 1 HR.

* * * *

 

Uncle Hunter let me off at the main entrance to the hospital while he looked for a parking space. Luke sat on the brick wall not far from the door, waiting, his head in his hands. He stood when he saw me, and I fell into his arms, alarmed at his weary look. I could feel choked sobs rising in his chest. “Luke, Luke. What is it? What’s wrong? You said Abe is okay.”

“They just rushed him to Intensive Care. He was doin’ great, talkin’ an’ jokin’ with the nurses, an’ then…then he kinda fell limp onto the pillows.” Luke wiped his eyes. “They don’t know if he’s gonna make it. What’ll I do without him?”

We held on to each other, crying like babies. Luke was first to gain control. “This is no good. I have t’ be strong for Abe.” He sniffed and brushed his tears from his cheeks and then from mine. “Thanks for comin’, Ashby. It’s hard facin’ this alone.”

Just then my uncle strode into view. “I spoke with the doctor,” he said. “Abe is going to be under sedation and in isolation for the rest of the day. Why don’t you go home, Luke. Get some rest. You know the hospital will call if there’s…when there’s a change.”

Luke answered him in a shaking voice. “I can’t leave him all alone like that.”

“Look,” Hunter said. “Go home, take a nap, grab a shower, and you can be back at the hospital by early evening. Spend the night on a cot in his room, if that will make you feel better. That way, you’ll be there when they move him out of isolation and back into his room.”

Luke looked skeptical.

“I’ll arrange for help to take over the chores at Overhome for as long as necessary. Now, go on. You won’t do Abe any good if you’re exhausted.”

I could see Luke giving in. “I agree,” I said, looking Luke in the eyes.

Luke gave a look of resignation. “Okay. I guess you’re right.”

“I’d like to ride back with Luke. If you don’t mind,” I said.

“Excellent idea. I have some business to attend to in town, anyway.” He gave Luke a stern look. “I mean it. Take as much time as you need.” Turning, he left us.

“Hunter acts like he has a poker up his ass most times. For now, well, he seems like a reg’lar guy,” Luke mused.

“He thinks a lot of you.”

“Humph. He knows I’m keepin’ things runnin’ for him. An’, believe me, he can be paranoid about those accountin’ ledgers.”

“Well, if my uncle likes you, he’s okay in my book,” I said.

“Let me run back an’ tell th’ desk how they can reach me,” Luke turned toward the entrance. “My truck’s in th’ parking tower behind th’ hospital. A-26 or 27. Here’s th’ keys,” he passed them to me. “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared through the automatic doors.

As I walked to the parking tower, I wondered if Luke had noticed the constant winter that lay behind Hunter’s eyes, a frigidity that pushed out all possible warmth. Locating the truck, I let myself in. While I waited, I flipped through a “Tourists’ Map of Southwest Virginia,” I found in a side pocket. I was surprised at the number of attractions.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, Luke pulled me in for a kiss. “God, I’m glad you’re here, Babe,” he breathed. As we idled out of the parking ramp, he patted my knee and said, “C’n we pledge not t’ talk about Abe…or about things that go bump in th’ night. Okay with you?”

“Did you just call me Babe?”

“I believe th’ correct local term’d be Sugar Babe.”

“Okay, but I only remember Babe as a pig in a movie.”

“Would you prefer Sugar?” Luke asked.

“In that case, Babe. I think I can get used to that. And now, what do you say we take it one step further and have nothing but positive thoughts. Like, put ourselves in a happy place.”

“All right by me, Babe,” he agreed.

“Hey, let’s plan some outings.” With a flourish, I shook the folds out of the Tourist’s Map and waved it in front of him.

“Okay. But, first tell me about Sasha. Where’d y’ find him?”

“Believe it or not, Eddie Mills found him and tied him to a tree. He couldn’t wait to tell me about it. Sasha was dirty and hungry, and as happy to see me as I was to see him.”

“Mills didn’t give y’ any crap, did he?”

“Let’s just say his bark is worse than his bite. As long as we’re thinking positive thoughts, you know, let’s not mention Eddie Mills.”

“Th’ big jerk,” Luke growled. “Okay, okay. I’m ready. Let’s go to that, what’d y’ call it? Happy place?”

And so, we played the child’s game of “When You Wish Upon a Star,” talking non-stop about our wishes all the way back. We decided to drive someday along the Blue Ridge Parkway and admire the mountain views with a picnic at a scenic overlook. Another day we would visit the D-Day Memorial in Bedford. Some time we’d be sure to check out the birthplace of Booker T. Washington, and we’d make a pilgrimage to Poplar Forest, Thomas Jefferson’s second home. We’d hike up the Peaks of Otter, then have lunch at the Lodge. Ever mindful of history, we’d tour Appomattox Court House, where Lee surrendered. Together, we planned to explore all the wonderful worlds within a short distance of Overhome, knowing full well we would run out of summer way before we could begin to do all these things. But that was hardly the point. We were both acutely aware of sadness and fear below our light-hearted surface, and the very real possibility of the death of a loved one.

It seemed like in no time we were turning into the driveway to Overhome. “You know, Luke, I can’t help but remember my maiden voyage in your truck, when you picked me up at the bus station that first day. I swear, the roads seemed like something out of one of Jeff’s board game, all loops and curves.”

“You were sorta pea-green as I recall,” he chuckled. “An’ I thought you were probably a real…something better left unsaid.”

“I didn’t have such a flattering impression of you, either! So, how did we ever come to this?” I stroked his stubbly cheek.

Stopping the truck and idling under the leafy privacy of the green tunnel, Luke released his seatbelt and then mine. “Must a’ been fate.” He moved close for a long, deep kiss.

After a while, I slid back to my side of the seat. “You’re wiped out. You should go home and sleep. And, listen, I have a gut feeling Abe is going to snap back. We just have to keep the faith.”

“I hear you, an’ I’m doin’ my best with th’ positive energy thing. But I’m afraid you’re right, Babe. I’m ready to crash.” Shifting into low, Luke gentled his truck slowly up the driveway. He stopped at the house and I reached for the door to let myself out. “I haven’t forgotten my promise t’ help.”

“Help me…”

“With ol’ Ring-Around-the-Rosie.” For a moment, his tired eyes danced. “I gotta couple ideas an’ I plan t’ speak to my Aunt Emma. I’m sure she knows a whole lot more’n she’s lettin’ on. I’ll pry it outta her. I mean, she’s always had a soft spot for me in her heart an’ she finds it hard to turn me down when I really need somethin’. I’ll just turn on my charm.”

“Okay. I hope you’re right. And now that you’ve opened the topic, there’s another weird wrinkle to the saga—something I haven’t told you about. Rosabelle left me a message. On my laptop.”

Luke snorted. “So now we’re dealin’ with a techno-ghost?”

“I know it sounds incredible. I mean, I can barely believe it myself. First, the radio station and now the computer, but this time it’s not all fun, like the bluegrass music. I am totally freaked, by what she left for me on the screen.”

“So are y’ gonna tell me, or not?”

“Blood. She wrote the word blood.”

“That’s it? One word? Blood?”

“You got it. I have no clue as to what it means.”

Luke looked totally baffled. “Blood. What th’… Blood?”

I left him muttering under his breath, but I felt a warm surge as I zeroed in on what he’d said: “We can connect the dots…we’re dealing with a techno-ghost.” We. I loved the sound of that plural pronoun.

* * * *

 

It had been a draining day. Late in the afternoon Luke emerged from his house claiming he was rested, but still looking haggard. He’d had no word about Abe’s condition, and the tension was wearing on him. He planned to attend his calculus class and then drive directly to the hospital, no matter what. While we both wished I could go along, it just wasn’t practical, since Luke was planning to stay overnight in Abe’s hospital room.

Ready to crash myself, I cracked the lid of my lap top and took a moment to record some thoughts in my diary.

 

 

Dear Diary, I am a whirling blender of emotions: Happy that Sasha is safely home, though no closer to understanding how he got out. Happy that Luke and I are, at last, on the same wave-length about my favorite ghost. Sad about Abe, but hopeful he will recover. Hopeful, too, that Luke will follow through with whatever his plan is to help me find some answers: Who is Rosabelle? What is she trying to tell me? And why? While I’m on the hopeful motif, dare I mention how hopeful I am that Luke loves me as much as I love him? Okay, so I’m no Jane Eyre and Luke’s, for sure, nothing like Mr. Rochester, but why does the pace of our relationship seem as slow as a Charlotte Bronte novel? I’m ready for some plain old modern action, with, like, a touch of Victorian commitment. Yeah, yeah, I know. That makes me for sure a romantic fool. Just call me Jane Babe Eyre.

 

I was too weary to write more. I’d just have to wait to see what tomorrow would bring.