Unsettled Graves: A Crossroads of Kings Mill Novel (The Crossroads of Kings Mill Book 3) (4 page)

Sitting at the table with the docent, they were deep in conversation. Tonya didn’t look up or break from talking. She raised her hand out to him, offering him an ice cold bottle of water.

Walking over, he grabbed it from her fingers, opened it and took a long draw to quench his thirst. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held her hand up to silence him as the docent responded to whatever they were talking about from the file of paperwork in front of them. Okay. He’d now been shushed by Miss Holier-than-Thou. She was a real piece of work.

Tonya thanked the docent, smiling like she was the sweetest of sweethearts as she shook her hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Where are my manners?” She gushed in a professional manor. “Tracy, this is Camden Phillips, one of the new summer interns over in Kings Mill. We’re working together.”

“Very nice to meet you, Camden. I’m Tracy Silverman, director here at Monocacy Battlefield.”

He shook her hand and smiled. “I love this place. I watched the re-enactors out practicing for an event. Do you have something going on this weekend?”

“Re-enactors?” Tracy looked perplexed, turning her attention from him to Tonya.

“The Confederate unit out there just a few moments ago.” This lady was the director of this place and she didn’t know?

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. There aren’t any groups of re-enactors scheduled for today. Did you talk with them?”

“Well, no. They seemed to be in character and didn’t acknowledge my presence.”

Tonya took his arm and forced him towards the door. “Come on, Camden. We’ve taken up too much of Tracy’s time. Let’s head back, so we can get started on this paperwork.”

“Let me know what you find out about the history for his family,” Tracy called after Tonya.

“I will as soon as I get to work on it. Thanks again.”

They left the building.

“Get in the car.”

“What? I want to look around.”

“Get in the car, Camden.”

Confused, he wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong. “What’s going on?”

Tonya turned to him. “Where did you see this group of soldiers?”

“Right along the field coming into the entrance. They crossed in front of me.”

“They weren’t re-enactors.”

“Sure they were…wait! Are you trying to tell me…no way…but I saw them…” No way was what he saw an apparition. Or
ghosts
.

“Feeling crazy yet, Camden?”

Tonya knew she couldn’t help Camden understand what he’d encountered. He wouldn’t believe her or try to deny what had happened. She pulled off to the side of the road again and pulled out her phone.

Camden groaned. “Please tell me you aren’t making me walk in this godforsaken heat.”

“No.” She didn’t look up from texting. “I’m sending Dr. Miles a text to let her know we won’t be returning the rest of the day.”

“Really? Just like that you can take off on a whim?”

Tonya put away her phone and glanced at him. “This is a special occasion. I told her we are going to go see her Great-Aunt Vickie. She’ll understand.” If anyone could explain in layman’s terms what Camden had witnessed, Vickie could. Explaining paranormal encounters was best left to the experts.

Tonya drove straight to the condo where Vickie resided. After losing her historical home in a bizarre fire, which the fire inspectors still couldn’t explain beyond faulty electrical wiring, April and Kenneth Miles had set her up in their former penthouse condo.

“Hello, Debbie,” Tonya greeted the front desk attendant as they walked into the lobby of the posh complex. “We’re here to see Miss Snyder.”

“She’s expecting you. Didn’t think you would be here in the middle of the day, though.” She handed her a special key card.

“Call it a 911 call.” Tonya winked as they headed to the bank of elevators that whisked them to the private residence.

Debbie Fox was one of the few who knew about Miss Vickie’s gift. She was a believer herself, so their belief was no big secret between them.

The door opened, inviting them into Vickie’s actual abode. Kenneth Miles had spared no detail in furnishing the modern home with a mixture of Victorian and Colonial antiques to appease her taste in décor. He’d felt so bad being the reason behind losing her historical downtown home as a former acquaintance of his had started the fire to punish him for something that had happened between them over two hundred years ago. The condo was the least he could do for her. Actually, the man doted on all of the Wilton women. They’d been there when he had to come to terms with his past life as James Addison and helped him to start anew as Kenneth James Miles.

Vickie greeted them with a tray of goodies to go with the afternoon tea she’d set up on her open, drop-leaf table. “I hope you haven’t eaten yet. I put together an afternoon tea when April called to tell me you were coming.”

“No, we haven’t. It looks delicious,” Tonya said, kissing her on the cheek. “Vickie, this is Camden Phillips. He’s April’s intern from Dr. Moreland’s class at William & Mary.”

“So nice to meet you, Camden. I hope you are enjoying Kings Mill.”

“It’s…um…interesting.” He smiled.

“That it is, but we will get into that more during or after tea.” She set the silver tray of hot tea on the buffet. “Oh dear! I know Tonya and I prefer hot tea even in the middle of summer, but I didn’t stop to think of your preference. Hot or iced?”

“I’m from the south, ma’am…”

“Sweet iced tea it is then. Give me a moment, I have some already brewed in the refrigerator.”

Vickie scampered off, leaving them alone in the open living room/dining room area. The tall floor to ceiling windows flooded the room with light as if they were on Vickie’s rooftop patio garden. But the special UV tinting kept the sun’s powerful rays from making the room too warm and from fading the colors of the furniture and drapes. The central air kept the penthouse a comfortable seventy degrees pretty much year round.

“Here we go. Please, sit down.” She placed the goblet of sweet tea at Camden’s place setting and carried the pitcher to the buffet for refills.

Tonya did the honors of pouring the hot tea, usually a loose leaf English black tea, and added two sugar cubes and a dash of cream.

“What we have are savories and sweets. The first tier are cucumber and cream, egg salad, and ham salad finger sandwiches. An assortment of chicken salad tarts, hummus on pita wedges, and custard tartlets are on the second tier. On the bottom, spice cake with cream cheese frosting, chocolate covered strawberries and lemon tarts. And on your bread plate is homemade scones with clotted cream and strawberry preserves.”

“Have you talked to Kenneth about opening up your tea shop downtown?” Tonya asked as she broke apart her warm, fresh scone to lather it with clotted cream.

“I have, but he still wants me to have a partnership. He doesn’t want me to run the store all by myself. He thinks having a successful tea shop would be too taxing on a lady of my maturity.” Vickie scoffed. “I’m seventy-eight years old. The way he talks, you would think I was pushing a hundred.”

“He’s just concerned. You know that.”

“I know. He’s a good man. But he’s still a man.” Vickie looked to Camden. “No offense, Camden, but I’ve been married. Men are men and always will be. God love’em.” She laughed. “But I am looking at a few possibilities. There’s a young woman I’ve met recently. Her name is Jennifer and she’s been wanting to start a tea shop of her own for a while but doesn’t have the collateral. I would love to work with her. She’s a doll, has lots of spirit, makes wonderful, unique cakes and tea breads. I’m very seriously considering her. Kenneth wishes to interview her next week.”

“So maybe by the fall then?”

“I’m thinking. If not, then next spring at the latest.”

Camden sat quietly, listening as he ate. Tonya couldn’t help but notice he didn’t seem as comfortable with the small portions and dainty, fragile tea setting as he had with the tavern burgers and mugs. He tried to use the petite fork, only to lose it in his fingers. Finally giving the fork up for his fingers. The goblet didn’t hold enough for him to keep filled. He was a guy, after all. But then Kenneth James was a man and handled tea like he was born to the social event; coincidentally, the former British lord had been born for teas and pleasant conversation.

“So what seems to be the emergency? I can only assume paranormal in nature?” Vickie asked, moving their empty plates, once they had finished, to the buffet to collect later.

Tonya looked to Camden. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Body language told her he wasn’t going to speak.

“Camden had an encounter earlier today at Monocacy Battlefield.”

“No I didn’t. It was a fluke. The heat got to me because
someone
made me walk a mile during the hottest part of the day,” he groused.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of, Camden.” Vickie smiled, pouring another glass of iced tea for him. “It’s actually quite a special occurrence to have a paranormal encounter. Many in our society consider the experience as a person who has an open mindedness of accepting the unbelievable.”

He didn’t appear to be someone who had any desire to believe in fantasy, dreams, fate, or anything remotely implausible, much less paranormal existence. Maybe he was trying to hide his true self behind the macho bravado like Tonya had witnessed too many times from some of the guys in her high school class.

“I’m not ashamed that I don’t believe. It’s a bunch of witchy, hocus-pocus,” Camden scoffed.

Tonya was about to defend Vickie’s religious beliefs by attacking Camden for his rude behavior when the soft, wrinkled hand patted hers gently to stay her pre-meditated outburst. Vickie had the patience of a saint. Her smile never faltered. He wasn’t her first go-round with non-believers. And she was never one to judge another’s beliefs: religious, political or moral. The older woman accepted all in her world.

“You have every right to your opinions and beliefs. Everyone does. It’s one of the greatest gifts this country has afforded many of us.” Vickie took a sip of her tea. “So you are from South Carolina?”

“Yeah. Myrtle Beach.”

“Really? Near Murills Inlet or North Myrtle?”

“Murills Inlet.”

“Do you know the Davidsons? Tillie and Roger?” Vickie sat forward, excited.

“Yeah, I went to school with their youngest son, Dan.”

“Danny? Curly blond, freckles…”

“Yep. That’s Dan.” Camden smiled in awe. “He was my wide receiver my senior year.”

“I remember him when he was just a tyke. Always into mischief.”

“How do you know the Davidsons?”

“My dear husband and I had a winter home down at the Inlet. We were neighbors.”

“I’ll be dam…er…darned. What a small world.”

“A small world, indeed.” The grin and twinkle in Vickie’s eyes could be construed in a million different ways. To most, a friendly expression. To those who knew her, a bit sly and almost sarcastic.

Tonya didn’t miss the fact Vickie had completely changed the subject, turning on to Camden and his life, getting away from the supernatural. Amazing how she could divert someone in conversation without letting them actually feel slighted.

“So now you live up here in the summer?” Camden asked.

“I live here year round,” Vickie said as she refilled his tea glass again. “I have family and friends here now. I loved the Davidsons dearly but after my husband’s passing…South Carolina wasn’t the same. Feeling like an old third-wheel is never a good thing.”

“So you never remarried?”

Vickie laughed. “Oh good Lord no! After being married to one man for over fifty years? Why try to train another?” She winked at Tonya. “Besides, I enjoy my time. I have plenty of time to read, work on puzzles, play the organ at church, host three book clubs, and head the old S.O.W’s group.”

“You deal with pigs?”

“No. It’s an acronym for Society of Witches.”

Tonya tried not to smirk over her tea cup at the way Camden had casually spit his ice back into his glass at Vickie’s neutral statement. Oh, things were about to get good.

“Witches? You’re a witch?” Camden’s shocked demeanor rattled his whole frame.

“Of course.”

“And you attend church?”

“One does not need to lose the faith in God just because of their natural beliefs in creation. God is the creator. I am here to tend to everything great and small he created, the visible and His energy He still gives us.”

“What about others in your group?”

“We share our belief in the creation and energies around us. Each of us has our own God to believe in…or ideas of who God is. We don’t disregard any version of the Almighty. We gather to learn how to use the abilities and the energies we were blessed with for a greater good.”

“I don’t believe this…” Camden rose from his chair and crossed the room to the elevator door. “I’m sorry, Miss Snyder, I don’t believe in witches or ghosts… That is all fiction. Neither you or Tonya will change my mind about my beliefs.” 

He turned back around. “Thank you for the wonderful tea, ma’am. Tonya, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Wait! I’ll drive you home.”

“That’s okay. I’m really not in the mood. I’ll call a cab.”

Tonya looked from him to Vickie. The old woman didn’t seem offended, she continued to smile at him while sipping her tea.

“It was nice to meet you, young man. Say hello to the Davidsons for me when you see them again.”

Camden left leaving a heavy burden of energy surrounding Tonya. Vickie shook her head as she touched Tonya’s hand.

“Cleanse the negative energy around you, Tonya darling. Your negativity will do him no good.”

Him? Tonya didn’t give a rat’s ass about him. He’d just embarrassed her by refuting Vickie’s guidance and beliefs.

“I’m sorry, Vickie. I thought I could bring him here and he’d understand…”

Vickie’s steadfast smile and slight shake of her head silenced her. “His belief of the paranormal is the least of his worries, dear heart. He has a bigger issue at hand.”

“What’s that?” Tonya knew Vickie had the ability to read people’s auras, but she seldom spoke of them.

“Believing in himself.”

#

Camden wasn’t amused. Actually, he was pissed, but not sure if he was pissed at Tonya, Vickie, or himself. He knew Vickie had to be humoring him. One thing he didn’t like was being laughed at, not when he couldn’t join in.

Ghosts. Witches…really?

Tonya had to have set this all up. Maybe some newbie initiation to Kings Mill Historical Society. Hadn’t April been joking earlier with him, too? Something about being crazy helps to see ghosts?

He stared out of the passing scenery as the cab driver drove from the urban shopping area to the rural district of Kings Mill. The strip malls gave way to large modern facilities housing small businesses and warehouses, tapering to grassy fields with grazing dairy cows.

Rounding the bend there stood the red-headed kid he’d seen near the pool and again on his way to work. What was he doing so far from the apartment complex? The cab driver drove on.

“Hey wait!” Camden called out. “Can you back up and pick up that kid we just passed?”

“What kid?” the driver asked.

“The one back there about five hundred feet. He’s from my complex. I thought I could help him get home. Please?”

The driver rolled his eyes and found an old, scrub-covered drive to turn around in. Tracing the way they came, there weren’t any other cars in sight. And no sign of the kid.