Spirit of Gettysburg: Soulmates Across Time

Chapter 20

He wore his usual dark gray, wool tunic, dove gray, wool pants with gold edge piping on the sides and flat, gold braiding on the sleeves. The tailored uniform with light blue, solid faced collar and cuffs was immaculate and perfectly fit his lithe frame. One gold star adorned either side of his stiff collar.

The familiar black sash hugged his slim waist and the black crepe armband was on his upper left arm. His knee-high, walnut brown boots were polished. He looked strong, distinguished and formidable.

Her body heated up but it wasn't only the fire's heat warming her, it was her attraction to him. He was more handsome in the flesh than in her dreams and visions.

She drank in his presence and the bedroom's charm, Victorian in every aspect. The furnishings were exquisite from the sleigh bed covered with a peach quilt and fat pillows, to the night end table with a polished brass and glass lamp on it. The other furnishings caught her attention, particularly the burgundy colored sofa, matching damask drapes on the high windows and a rectangular desk with multiple brass handles.

Two chairs were arranged near the fireplace. She glanced at the bed. A Confederate battle flag hung on the wall behind it. A Queen Anne style drop-leaf table with both leafs open near the window caught her attention. A wide-brimmed, black hat with a pale blue feather in the brim lay on the table along with a pair of cavalry gauntlets, three pistols, a huge knife, two swords, a crystal decanter and two glasses.

"Welcome, Maureen. We have much to do. You have much to learn and remember." He smiled at the dog lazily observing her with his sweet, limpid dark eyes. "He welcomes you back into our fold, too. He has pined for his mama. Sword's breath, I have missed you!"

How peculiar! He missed her but she didn't know his name after years of ghostly visitations. He knew hers, of course. He promised to reveal his once they physically met. Well, they just physically met. And how! "What's your name?"

His face reddened. "You have certainly waited patiently for it. I am Major Clayton Fontaine Douglas, CSA, your husband, always and forever at your service. You are Maureen McAlister, my own dearest whiffy, always and forever the great, true love of my life. Viola, and this mangy critter," he winked at the dog, "is Loic."

The dog's ears perked up.

"Luke?"

"Lo EEK. You forgot how to pronounce it."

"You never told me his name before." His criticism irked her.

"It matters little. I know you have forgotten much of our previous life together and when I visited you over the years I held back. I am hoping your memories return soon." His voice was gentle.

Her cheeks flamed with heat. She was furious. Why? She was never angry at him before. She went inward. Her clairvoyance opened up more. He ignored her warnings about Gettysburg and died before she rescued him.

She knew clairvoyantly he would die but wasn't shown the particulars of his death, definitely not the ghost part. That fate was beyond her wildest imaginings or worst nightmares.

He died despised, unloved and unknown in enemy country, entering the spirit realm bitter and angry, vowing vengeance, rejecting God, without her love guiding him back to God.

She tried to see more. Nothing.  That was it. 

"Ruff!"

Dazed, she glanced at the dog before staring atthe ghost. Both ghosts watched her withanxious looks on their faces. Sheprobably looked shattered. She'd seen enough for the moment.

Author's Note:  Next update Friday