Spirit of Gettysburg: Soulmates Across Time

Chapter 18

Her pulse raced and she dug her fingernails into the chair's fraying arms. She was probably whiter than a ghost. Her lips twisted into a sardonic grin.

"Who's Maureen?" The interrogator asked him.

She recognized Hubby Hal's flat, nasal voice.

"Wife. Maureen McAlister. Love...only her, always and forever my true love."

She recognized her husband's voice. It was tinny and faint, but it was him.

"Who are you?" Hubby Hal's voice probed.

"Officer in...Army of Northern Virginia, Jackson's Second Corp...Longstreet's First Corp...hate Lincoln."

"Why do you hate President Lincoln?" On the recording the faint sound of musket and cannon fire blasted away in the background. "Gettysburg, we...lost it. I want to go home to Wildrose Hill. Maureen...take us home...time travel back to...war."

He said time travel back to the war? That's what he wanted her to do? Not use her gifts to release him to the light? Take him home, wherever home was? Time travel??

She stayed calm and was superficially the unreadable Maureen her mother and Vincent often mocked, but inside she was burnt toast. Her hands, naughty, willful things, betrayed her. They trembled.

His voice droned on. "Mistake. No way out. Honor. Maureen rescue me...unfinished business. Help me. Murder." The recording ended. The last word was faint and garbled.

He said murder. Returning to the Civil War was terrifying enough without a murder. That was it, she had heard quite enough! She leapt up and gathered her things. "I'm going. I've stuff to do. Thanks for sharing." She fumbled with her bag.

The EVP's shocked her and finding out her mission from a recording that strangers heard infuriated her. She never used digital recorders in her ghost release work. She communicated directly with them without electronic devices. God's love released trapped spirits and they went home. Murder? Panic routed her and she stuffed groceries into her bag in seconds. "But," her voice was like breaking brittle taffy, "it's about me."

Oops! Her voice was a detonated bomb. Her mask cracked and her vulnerability showed. She was human.

Hubby Hal's expression was pained. "Take care of yourself, little miss. Go with God."

Big Margie agreed and blew smoke from her nose.

Maureen dashed to the door. "I will! Wait, I'm curious about something." She stopped at the door, twirled and spoke, her voice hushed. "The ghost what does he, um, do?" She consciously calmed her voice. "How does he scare people?"

Hubby Hal's smile was devilish. He pulled himself up to his full five feet six inches.

"Johnny Reb slams doors. Moves chairs, lifts tables and throws them across the room, bangs cabinets, has frequent temper tantrums. Howls like a banshee and stomps his boots. Yer hear him marching on the floor for hours." His words energized him. He folded his arms across his spindly chest and shuffled his feet several times.

Where was a straightjacket when she needed one? She undeniably needed one to contain the hysteria rising inside her like a tidal wave. She had never met a ghost who did such unusual things before. Was this her kindhearted husband? Impossible!

Hubby Hal caught her eye. "He has other provocations."

"Yes?" She did an internal eye roll.

"He hollers the bloodcurdling Rebel Yell used by those crazy Rebs on the attack. I've read about it. A corkscrew sensation crawls up yer spine when yer hear it."

Big Margie interrupted. "The chains, ya forgetting them chains."

"Chains?"

"Yep, he rattles chains and moans." He imitated a sound like a mare giving birth to a breeched foal and ran a comb through his sparse hair. "I have to say Johnny Reb never bothers women, he's a Southern gentleman through and through. It's Yankee men that rile him up something fierce." He sucked his lips.

A spoiled milk taste rose in her throat from her stomach. "How extraordinary!" She plastered a confident smile on her face. "He's a tabloid story or a horror movie monster, except that he's the real deal." She stared pointedly at the scandal rag on the counter.

The couple nodded their heads.

Cool mask in place, she stared at the couple.

"He never bothered her." Hubby Hal looked at his wife, who simpered. "He only mentioned you."

Because we're married and I'm suppose to help him! Maureen wanted to shout but kept her thoughts to herself. is eyes. She revealed nothing. She never allowed strangers to see fear. A lifetime of surviving unpleasant situations schooled her in the folly of showing vulnerability. Only God healed negative emotions, replacing them with courage, serenity, faith and hope.

Tired of being overlooked, Big Margie sneezed several times, folded her hands on her ample belly and raised her weak chin high into the air. "Johnny Reb was quiet as a monk's vow of silence when I taunted him. I called him a stinking traitor. I called him a cowardly loser. I told him I was happy all them Rebs got slaughtered in Pickett's Charge."

Maureen's lips were drawstring tight. Big Margie excelled at provoking fights but how was she at finishing them? "You taunted him? He's a tough veteran of Lee's army. I'm surprised he didn't retaliate."

"Naw." Disappointment alive on her moon face, she dragged heartily on her cancer stick

Maureen rooted for her ghost despite their bumpy start and alleged shenanigans. Polite and self-controlled, he refused to hurt a woman despite provocations. He amazed her. He wouldn't be goaded into a fight he didn't want. That was the key. If he wanted to fight Big Margie he would fight and win, probably scaring the elephant poop out of her. Her respect and love for him increased.

Should she tell them she was summoned by her husband? That he was her eternal soulmate and that he was dying again?

She studied their plain, eager faces. No, why stoke their morbid curiosity? Should she ask about the dog? She chewed her thumbnail for a second. "I'm curious; does he have a ghost dog companion?" She looked at Hubby Hal.

He yanked his goatee. "Nope, nope, nope."

"Ain't no ghost dog." Big Margie sliced her words like a butcher knife.

"Right! I'm off. I have to unload these groceries. I hope this dreary weather clears up soon." Maureen stomped out of the store oblivious to the doorbell whacking the doorframe as she slammed the door shut with all the strength she possessed.

Author's Note:  Next Update Tuesday