“John-Paul,” Nanette repeated. “That’s her husband, and in 1863, he’d have still been fighting in the war.”
“But he was visiting her. Or rather, his spirit was visiting,” Dax said, his blood pumping fiercely. “This is it, Nan.” He squinted to see the writing, faint on the weathered page, and moved it toward the light. “Damn, I can barely see the rest of this.”
“Come on, let’s take it downstairs to a better light.” Nan crossed the room and quickly descended the ladder, and Dax followed.
“In here,” he said when they neared the second-floor sitting room.
The two of them entered the room, but instead of finding the place vacant, they found Ryan and Monique, huddled together on the settee, staring at the tea service.
“Ryan’s waiting on his first ghost!” Monique exclaimed. “He came home from work and said that he’d been hearing hammers and saws all day long, but not the ones that were surrounding him at his roofing job. That’s when it hit me. Now that we’re married, he’ll start getting ghosts too.” She squeezed her husband and smiled broadly. “And I wanted to be with him when he gets the first one.”
“Hammers and saws?” Nan asked.
“I’m assuming he may get spirits who are injured in construction accidents, or something like that, don’t you think? That would make sense, wouldn’t it?” Monique asked.
“I guess it would,” Nan said.
“Who’d have thought-a few months ago, I was the ghost needing help, and now I’m going to be the one on the other end?” Ryan kissed Monique softly.
“Hey, what have you got?” Monique asked, leaning forward to steal a peek at the book in Dax’s hand.
“Maybe a way to get Celeste back,” Nanette said.
And at Monique’s shocked expression, Dax added, “I’ll tell you about it later, sis. Right now, I have to read this. Good luck with your first assignment, Ryan.”
“Thanks.”
Nanette and Dax turned and started down the stairs.
“Ryan’s a medium now,” she whispered. “I hadn’t even realized…”
“That our spouses will become mediums by marriage?” Dax questioned. “Neither did I. I mean, I never thought about it, but our parents were all mediums. And obviously-” he held up the book “-Clara Vicknair was a medium by marriage.”
“I know. I just hadn’t thought about it in terms of my future husband being a medium, but it does make sense.” When they reached the foyer, she went straight to the front door and opened it. “The porch. It’ll be quiet out here, and the lighting outside will help us see the writing better.”
Dax followed her, then dropped into a rocker and flipped the book open, while Nanette scooted another rocker near enough to see.
They scanned the next few pages and learned that John-Paul had visited Clara yet again two days later, then again three days after that. Through all of the daily entries, Clara discussed the war, and particularly the raid she’d heard about, a raid on Vicksburg.
“How sad,” Nanette whispered.
“What?”
“That so many lives were lost then. Read this one.” She pointed to the opposite page from the one Dax was scanning, and he turned his attention to the curling script.
“‘My darling John-Paul, I had twelve more ghosts from the Vicksburg raid, some Confederate, some Union, and all of them needing help through. Most wanted to see their newborn babes before they crossed. Oh, to conceive from our visits now, but I know that isn’t possible. Even so, when you come back, I’ll give you a child, a baby, with hair dark and wavy like yours, and definitely with your vivid green eyes, and perhaps my smile.’”
“Twelve soldiers in one day,” Nanette said, emotion filling her tone. “Bless their hearts, and bless her heart for helping them.”
Dax nodded, and flipped through the pages, passing several days where the entries were virtually the same-Clara helping several ghosts, and John-Paul visiting as often as he could to be with his wife. But she continually mentioned that her husband never knew when he was coming, or how long he could stay.
Just like Celeste.
“Do you think they ever figured out how he visited? Or-was he dead?” he asked, then said, “But that wouldn’t be possible, would it? I mean, the Vicknair line didn’t stop with him, so they had to have had a child together.”
“Not necessarily,” Nan corrected. “There were several Vicknair brothers who fought for the Confederates, though he was probably the only one whose wife stayed here during the war. All of the records I found said that most women returned to their parents’ homes when their husbands left for the war. I’m guessing Clara stayed behind to help the spirits, or she’d have done the same. Anyway, one of the others could have had children.”
“Didn’t you bring home that information from the parish courthouse? Or copies of it?”
Nan jumped up from her rocker. “Yeah, it’s in my room.” She darted inside the house, while Dax flipped through more of Clara’s diary and hoped to find a hint as to whether John-Paul was alive or dead, and whether he’d ever made it back to her in his physical form.
A single line in all capital letters, the text written jerkily, as though Clara had been upset at the time, caught Dax’s attention.
MY DARLING, DON’T COME BACK.
Dax read aloud, “‘My darling John-Paul, another soldier came today. As my duty, I helped him see his young wife and find the light, but this soldier knew things, things about you. Your visits weaken you, my darling, and this soldier knew that your body is already weak, wounded at Vicksburg. He said your body is in a hospital, and that you’re dying, John-Paul. You’re dying! Oh, darling, don’t you see? Your visits are only achievable because your spirit is wavering, deciding whether to yield to the light or to stay. Please, John-Paul, please do not allow your spirit to return. Wait, my darling. Heal, and then return to me, alive and well. Let your spirit rest, and join your body once more. Then return to me, forever. Return to me, whole. I would not have merely a part of you, my dearest John-Paul. I need all of you.’”
Dax turned the page, but there weren’t any additional entries.
The front door opened and Nanette bounded through, holding a sheet of paper. “Dax, they thought he was dead. They even reported him dead at one point, had him listed in the fatalities from the Vicksburg raid, but he wasn’t dead. He was injured. Dying. And then he returned home. He came back to her.”
“But she nearly lost him, because he grew weaker every time he visited her in spirit. His spirit was trying to determine whether to live or die, and she almost lost him, because his spirit wanted to be with her again, before he crossed over.” Dax handed the diary to Nan. “Celeste isn’t dead, Nanette. She’s dying.”
15
DAX PRESSED HIS FOOT on the accelerator and the Beemer instantly responded, shooting forward on Highway 90 in a direct path to Houma. He withdrew his cell phone and pressed the Send key to redial Chloe’s parents. He’d left three messages but hadn’t heard from them yet. They’d know what happened to Celeste. He’d have asked them before now if he’d only realized that Celeste wasn’t dead. She’d been in the same accident that took their daughter’s life; surely they could tell him what had happened to her.
Thank goodness he knew them well enough to ask, after spending that week with them at the beach this summer in order to help Chloe communicate with them before she crossed. That week was one of the best of his life, not only because he’d helped Chloe see the beach for the first time with her parents, but because Celeste had been there too.