SPRINGTIME PROMISES *complete*

CHAPTER 34: A COMMUNITY DIVIDED

The bell above the door chimed softly as James Kelley rearranged the shelves behind the counter, carefully concealing the vials of nectar behind jars of flour and tins of preserves. The nectar was essential, a lifeline for those who had slipped between the cracks of time—ghosts rescued by Lanecea, much like his sister-in-law Rella and his daughter, Margaret Isabel. He felt a certain weight of responsibility as the keeper of these vials, understanding just how vital they were for the survival of those souls Lanecea had saved from being lost to history.

James wiped his hands on his apron, listening to the quiet murmur of voices that filled the small store. His attention drifted toward the group of women browsing the aisles, gathering supplies. He recognized them instantly—Methodist churchgoers. One of them was Minnie, his next-door neighbor. She was purchasing baby supplies, a curious act considering Lanecea's babies weren't quite...alive. At least, not in the traditional sense.

He watched as Minnie placed small jars of baby food on the counter. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and in that instant, there was an unspoken connection between them. They were from different churches, different worlds almost, but the shared secret of Lanecea's mission bound them together.

James knew the weight of that secret—knew that behind every casual look and gesture, there was the knowledge that Minnie, too, was caring for Lanecea's babies, ghosts rescued from history. His own family had just taken in one of those babies—little Harry Thompson, a tiny soul from Fort Frontenac, rescued from the mists of time by Lanecea herself.

As he rang up the purchases, his ears perked up at the mention of a familiar name.

"Lanecea," one of the women said softly, almost conspiratorially. "She's doing wonderful things, isn't she? It's amazing how she helps people."

James stilled for a moment, his curiosity piqued. His hands slowed over the register as he listened intently.

"I hear she's saved so many," another woman added, glancing around as if to make sure no one was listening. "People who would have been forgotten."

"Like ghosts?" the first woman whispered although her tone carried a mix of awe and uncertainty.

"Don't be silly, Maude. There is no such thing as ghosts," Minnie smiled softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Lanecea...she's helping families in ways we can't even imagine."

James cleared his throat, unable to stay silent any longer. "It's true," he said, breaking into the conversation as he handed Minnie her bag of supplies. "Lanecea is doing important work. More people should know about it—and support it."

The women turned to look at him, curiosity in their eyes.

"You know her, James?" one of them asked.

James nodded, choosing his words carefully. "I do. My family and I have known her for years."

The women exchanged glances, their interest clearly piqued.

"I've heard whispers about her work, but I didn't realize it was so personal for you," Minnie said gently, her gaze filled with understanding.

James smiled slightly, the weight of secrecy balanced with the desire to share more. "Lanecea is on a mission to save those who have been...left behind - abandoned - and the more support she has, the more people she can rescue. That's why it's important for us to help in any way we can."

Minnie nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. She had seen firsthand how Lanecea's presence had affected their lives - how the delicate balance of life and death and of time itself seemed to shift in her presence.

"Maybe," James continued, his voice thoughtful, "the ladies at my church—the Presbyterian Church—would be interested in helping as well. This isn't just about one community. It's about preserving and saving those who would otherwise be lost."