Chapter 6

“When are you going to stop all this foolishness?” asked Amy, and none too kindly at that.

“What?” The captain turned away from the music room window and with one eyebrow raised in question, met her gaze.

“Don’t ‘what’ me, sir.” Amy put her hands on her hips, furrowed her brow, and leaned even closer. “You know very well what I’m talking about. During these past several weeks, Shaelynn has made every effort to appease you, and you’ve yet to say so much as one civil word to her. You refuse to join in any of our conversations, even when you’re in the room.

“She has gone out of her way to make our lives a little more pleasant. Just look at that huge television and that movie player—thingamajig. You’ve enjoyed your fair share of the movies she has supplied us with, and you can’t tell me you haven’t enjoyed watching them during the wee hours of the morning. She has even supplied additional board games to break up the monotony for Timothy. You have seen for yourself the pleasure those games have given him. She didn’t do any of those things for herself. I guarantee it. She did them for us. Yet, never once have you offered so much as a ‘thank you’ in return.”

“I didn’t ask her to do any of those things for me or anyone else in this house.” The captain crossed his arms and scowled. He didn’t need Amy’s stern lecture to remind him of his actions. Guilt washed over him each time Shaelynn extended a hand in friendship and he repelled the offer. And each time, the task became ever more difficult to perform. One of these days, without question, he would lose—

“You didn’t have to ask her. She does them because she has a good heart, and is a kind and caring woman. Surely, you must know this by now. She is offering you her friendship, and each time you refuse it.”

“And how long do you think she’ll remain my friend once she finds the official account of the events leading to my death? Do you think she will still want to remain all friendly and cozy with me then?” he shot back.

At once Amy’s face softened, as did her voice. “Explain it to her, Captain. Explain it to her before she reads it, and this time, without the unnecessary displays of anger. I think you just might find she’s a very understanding woman, if you just give her the chance.”

“I don’t know, Amy,” he said. “What possible good could it do anyway?”

“You might be surprised. Would you at least think about it?” She disappeared from the room, without waiting around for his reply. Not that he had one to offer.

He blew out a sigh. Amy wanted him to think about it. Would it surprise her to know how little he did anything else? What would she think if she knew he thought of Shaelynn in ways a spirit had no business thinking about a mortal woman? The display to which she referred had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with mounting frustration. At that moment, an overwhelming need for solitude consumed him. He left Starling then and headed toward the place he could find it.

****

The chime of the doorbell sounded just as Shae secured the lid on the third box of documents, now completely scanned. She set them aside with a sense of satisfaction. Only one box remained, untouched. She glanced out the window and caught sight of the delivery van just as it backed up and then turned toward the main road. Once the vehicle disappeared down the drive, the front door opened and then after a brief moment, it closed again. Seconds later, Horace entered her office carrying a large padded envelope.

“For you, Miss Shaelynn,” he said.

“Thanks, Horace. Whatever would I do without you?” she asked, flashing him a smile.

“With any amount of luck, you won’t have to find out,” he replied in his usual stoic manner. Then with a bob of his head, he disappeared.

Her eyes lit up in anticipation as she glanced down at the return address. Her mother told her to be on the lookout for this package. The wonderful woman had sent some updated family photos, and now at last, she held them in her hands.

Once she had the pictures out of the package, she spread them out atop the desk and drank them all in. The faces smiling back at her made her realize just how much she missed them. Her mounting desire to display them in the drawing room today, rather than wait for her next shopping trip, compelled her to look for suitable frames in the basement. Surely, she could find some antique picture frames down there. Moments later, she descended the darkened stairway for the first time. Just as she entered through the small doorway, a lightbulb with a long thick cord popped into view. She extended a hand upward and with a bit of trepidation, gave the frayed cord a tug. Despite the dimness of the bulb, she could see a treasure trove of antiques collecting dust.

The baby carriage in the center of the room captured her immediate attention, and she made her way toward it. She wanted a closer look and found the elegant craftsmanship of the old-style buggy amazing. A hand-carved wooden cradle sat next to it. She gave the cradle a gentle shove and gazed at it for a moment as it rocked back and forth. Did the little bed once belong to Louisa Starling? The thought made her smile. Once it eased to a halt, her gaze meandered around the room. Various tables, chairs, bureaus, and beds crowded the limited space. The chaos led her to believe those assigned to store the items, did so in fearful haste. Did the captain chase them about the house as they sought to fulfill their duties? She wouldn’t put it past him.

A large bureau with a small oblong mirror attached to the top, sat in the far corner. She picked her way through the furniture in order to reach it. Once she stood in front of the piece, she opened each of the drawers. The strong scent of cedar wood filled the air as she did so. Bonnets, shawls, and baby clothes sat neatly folded inside the topmost drawers. An assortment of beautiful handmade quilts and blankets rested inside the bottom two. She found the items interesting, but they were not what she sought.

Shae turned around and looked for the most likely place one would store unused frames. A sideboard sat to the right of the bureau. Perhaps she might find something there. After careful inspection, she found the cabinets filled with a mismatched variety of crockery and little else. She let loose a sigh of disappointment.

Finally, she spied an old maple secretary with a double arched cupboard atop the desk table, and three drawers underneath. She made her way over to the piece and opened the elegant doors. The top shelves were empty, but as she tugged on the single drawer just below the second ledge, she could see a mixture of old photographs in almost every shape and size. Some of them were in a terrible state of decay. She shook her head over the neglect as she began going through them, one at a time.

Photographs from the very first daguerreotypes through the technology of the early twentieth century had accumulated inside this drawer. Some of the unnatural, rigid poses of the subjects gave her a laugh. The drawer contained pictures of infants, children, families, and couples. Mixed in the stack, she also found pictures of the dead. Lifeless bodies laid out on beds, propped up in chairs, and a few, inside their rough-sawn coffins. A gruesome custom at best. She shuddered and slid them off to the side. And then, just before she returned the entire stack to the drawer, one photo in particular seized her attention. The picture portrayed a Civil War captain, many years past his prime.

She picked it up for closer inspection. The stern face in the black-and-white photograph stared back at her. Streaks of gray weaved through the length of his long beard, just as it did through what little hair nature left him. She did not detect even a trace of warmth in his light-colored eyes. In a quest to find his identity, she turned the picture over. To her disappointment, she found nothing written on the back. She turned it around once more, and studied the austere face of the Union captain.

The longer she stared, the more convinced she became that the harsh face belonged to the captain haunting Starling. Surely, the man must have lived here at one time. The notion that he would not want to leave his home after his death made perfect sense. He most assuredly would not want outsiders invading it, either. The only question remaining, was why? Amy said he had just cause for treating the living the way he did.

What thing, real or imagined, made him feel that way? The man served on the side of the North, even though Tennessee was a Confederate state. Did his neighbors abhor him or make his life miserable because of that choice? Would they have somehow been responsible for his death? Of course, the most important question remained: could she ever break through the wall of his mistrust and find out?

****

Later that afternoon, the captain returned to Starling from his quiet place in the forest. He stood just outside the drawing room and took a moment to observe their gathering. Chauncey and Beau rose from their seats to stand behind Shaelynn. They all smiled down at a new set of portraits, which now graced the top shelves of the desk. Their various comments told him they looked at photographs of Shaelynn’s family. He remained just at the entrance to listen in on their conversation.

“Do you mind if I ask you a personal question in return?” asked Chauncey as he gave Shaelynn a sideways glance.

Shaelynn asked him a personal question?

She turned to face Chauncey and gave him a smile. He had to quash the feeling of jealousy that smile prompted.

“You want to know about my single status as well,” she stated, clearly amused.

“Yes, well—you asked us about ours, and it’s just that I should think— What I mean to say is, well, I couldn’t help wondering why such a lovely woman wouldn’t have someone who—” Chauncey stopped and shrugged, not daring to go any further. He didn’t blame him there.

“Well, it’s like in all the fairy tales,” she answered, giving him an impish smile. “You know, with evil witches casting their wicked spells upon the virtuous, fairy godmothers breaking them with good spells of their own. That sort of thing.”

“Excuse me? I don’t think I quite understand what you mean by that.” Chauncey shook his head and knit his brow as he awaited her explanation. The captain found himself waiting as well.

“Sorry. It’s just a little theory my sister Nicki and I have concocted. Of course, you must understand I’ve had more practice with the theory, than what she has. She is, after all, just twenty-four. But you see it’s like this. The princess has to kiss the toad to get the prince. Unfortunately for us, all of our toads have been—well, just plain old toads.” She laughed as she gazed into their still-confused faces.

Timothy chose that moment to interrupt them. The boy spared him nothing more than a sideways glance as he made his way to Shaelynn’s side. He looked a little perplexed as he took in each of their expressions, but he simply said, “I thought you said we could watch the next Lord of the Rings movie today.”

“Yes, I did. And I know you’ve patiently waited for me this whole week.” She looked down at her watch, and then gave Timothy a conspiratorial smile. “You know what? I think we just might have time to finish them both, if we hurry. I’ll race you upstairs!”

At that moment, she turned and ran as fast as she could toward the stairway, chasing the sound of Timothy’s laughter. The captain stepped to the side before she ran straight through him.

He waited until they gathered upstairs before he made his way over to the desk. Shaelynn had arranged photographs of her parents, her twin sisters with their families, and one of her younger sister on the tiered shelves.

He gazed in depth at each of the portraits. He found all of the Montgomery women very lovely. But none of them even came close to matching Shaelynn in beauty. And her comment about the toads somehow pleased him, though he really couldn’t say why it should. What possible difference could such a statement make to him, anyway?

Nevertheless, he spent the rest of the day pondering Amy’s advice. If he reached out to Shaelynn, would she accept his offer of friendship? Better yet, would she believe him if he confided in her, despite what she might read later? A glimmer of hope took root inside his soul, but fear of disappointment kept it from sprouting. He closed his eyes and conjured a sigh. For the first time since his death, time had become his enemy. He needed to make a decision very soon, before the opportunity to choose escaped him altogether.