by Loni Lynne
“I came to realize there was a deep spiritual energy residing with the foundation of Kings Mill. Something ancient that kept spirits here if they weren’t at peace. But that was because whatever it was, hadn’t found peace either.” She stood up and paced.
“My spiritual search didn’t get far. Other than possible connections and knowing there were unique sources of live energy centered on the historical district, I didn’t know what to look for…until Tonya showed up in our lives. The energy signature matched. I knew I had found the key.”
“Am I the key?” Tonya asked.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure, but everything points to you being a possibility. But that is what your purpose is. I think they might be trying to communicate with you. Your natural abilities, your research and possibly…your blood line…is a direct link to these people. They want you to tell their story. To honor them and their spirits.”
“Whoa! Whoa! We aren’t doing this again, Vickie. My daughter played guinea pig for Millie last year, remember? She nearly died.” Chris turned to her. “I won’t let anything happen to you, baby girl.”
“Dad, I’ve learned so much since then. I’m stronger now thanks to Vickie and the rest of the Wilton clan. Maybe I am supposed to represent them and I’ll do whatever I can to set them free.”
Tonya knew now that even if she didn’t get into William & Mary, that her purpose was greater than just a college degree. She was here to be a leader and a teller of truths. Her paper on the Susquahanna tribe had more to do with her than with history.
“What do I need to do?” Tonya asked. She had a feeling Vickie already had something planned.
Vickie sat down next to her and fishing into her pocket held out a bear claw hanging from an old piece of sinew. The necklace the old woman had worn. “You were clutching this when April found you. I think you know what it means.”
Yes. She had gone back in time, she had given her blood to those of the dead, perhaps her symbol of dedication. The old woman was her guide…her connection to the past. And now, she had to go back again in order to settle the souls lost for hundreds of years.
#
“Look, you are going to have to make this quick. You have less than three hours until sunrise,” The Department of Public Works manager said as he had his night crew secure the intersection from all public view.
Last call at the bars had been over an hour ago. Most of the people had made it home, or at least the streets were fairly empty. An occasional straggler walked by but didn’t appear to care what was going on with DPW.
“We should have plenty of time, Jack. Right, ladies?” Kenneth asked as the Wilton Women, his wife, and Tonya waited while the crew put up work canvas to hide an area from view.
The whole cobblestone square area had been shielded as if they were going to work in the sewer, under the manhole cover. But in reality, five women, each with their own metaphysical gift were going to help bring peace to a lost tribe of Native Americans just by sitting in a circle.
Tonya wasn’t sure what was expected from her. April had the bear claw talisman in her hand. Her ability to glean a conscious memory from antique objects would be a big part of this. The rest of the women were there to share their energy.
Within moments, April kissed Kenneth as he and the crew from DPW kept the rouse of men at work going. Vickie took Tonya by the hand and led her into the already formed circle of women under the orange tent.
Special salt had been laid out. The goddesses called forth. Now it was up to Tonya to complete the circle. With trepidation, she walked into the center of the circle, right in the middle of the old cobblestones. The energy flexing through her proved there was more here than just the five of them. If there were any spark of flint, the place might even explode.
Still, Tonya sat and with Vickie’s guidance and her learned knowledge over the past months, she found the inner peace she needed to break the barrier between the past and the present.
The voices of the women chanting slowly began to fade. An object was placed in her hand. April had given her the talisman, its sharp claw point pricked her finger and as if she knew what she was doing smeared the blood that was drawn out onto the brick in front of her. Closing her eyes, she waited.
The old woman appeared, much as she had before but without the necklace. Tonya held out the object to her. The woman smiled a toothless grin but shook her head, pointing to her. She was giving the talisman to her?
“Are you of the Susquahanna?” Tonya asked softly.
“We are the people of the muddy waters.”
“Are you the lost tribe that were killed by the Maryland Militia?”
She bowed her head.
“I don’t know what to do. This is where you died?”
The old woman nodded again. “My people. Our land…our home…gone. Sickness of white man take our children, war with the great Iroquois rob us of our rights. But here, we died…many still alive...in great pit.”
Tonya’s stomach turned. She was saying some had been buried alive like Millie had been. “I’m…I’m…sorry. I didn’t know.”
“You have come. You are of the blood of the many…gone for many moons. I have waited. Now you come.” The woman talked in riddles.
“Am I a descendant? I don’t understand.”
“You are the Great Traveler. You are promised by the god to tell of a thousand lives that once lived.”
“So you need me to tell the history of the Susquahanna?”
The old woman’s head bobbed. “I blessed this land with the power to hold life and death. To bring the one to set us free. You must set us free.”
“I must rebury you?”
The old woman cast her eyes downward heaving a great sigh. “Our bodies are old. They are gone. Our spirits never die. Our spirits live on in the Great Traveler.”
“I am the Great Traveler…your spirit lives on in me,” Tonya said but wasn’t sure if she was asking to be understood or if she finally did understand.
The woman smiled again. Her wrinkled face broke into mirth knowing that Tonya understood.
“I will tell the tales. I will be one with the spirits of the people. Speak through me of your stories of bravery and good. I will tell the tales to my people so they might learn more of your ways.”
Tonya couldn’t believe the words flowing from her mouth. It was as if she always knew what to say but was waiting for the right time for them to be spoken. “Your deaths will not have been in vain.”
She continued to speak of her wishes for the tribe. As she did, visions of tall warriors, women, small children, and old men in the hundreds came forth. Each spoke in their native tongue, telling her of their tales of courage and strife, life and love. Their love of the land, the great battles fought for their freedoms. It was overwhelming and yet freeing at the same time.
Their knowledge was now hers to share. Their stories and their souls bared. And as each one passed by revealing their tales, they became a part of her and passed on through to the other side. Finally, it was just the old woman and her. She didn’t seem so old but the wisdom of centuries waiting for the Great Traveler were shining in her eyes.
“Are you at peace?” Tonya asked.
“Tell our stories, my child.”
“What about the blessing? Did you create the crossroads?”
“I did.”
“And now?”
“It is their choice. There are those who will look to you, your offspring and those of the women around you. This is your world. You are the keepers of lost souls. Fate will guide you all. You must believe.”
“Will I see you again?” Tonya had to ask. She’d become attached to the old woman.
“You will see me in your reflection, in your children and grand-children. You will keep me alive.” The old woman leaned forward into her and continued to walk through her. But of all the souls that had moved her with their stories, this woman’s affected her the most.
Slowly the world of the past faded away
and she was surrounded by the chants of the Wilton Women again. Opening her eyes to their soft candlelit reflections she was seeing them through new eyes. She saw their auras and was blessed by their energy.
“Did you find what you were seeking?” Vickie asked.
“I found more than what I was seeking.” Tonya smiled. She couldn’t wait to get home and tell the stories within her.
Chapter Eighteen
August 18th--Williamsburg, Virginia
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine, Dad. Stop worrying.” Tonya carried the final box into the duplex apartment she was sharing with another History student just off campus. The apartments were separate but shared a common kitchen and living area.
“It’s a four hour drive from here to Kings Mill…it’s not likely you’ll be able to come home every weekend.”
“God I hope not. Besides, you and Virginia are having too much fun. And I’ll be busy with papers and work.”
Christopher Mead still didn’t look convinced. “Try and take time for some fun, too.”
“Of course. You know I will.
The door to the other apartment opened. “It’s about time you showed up.” Camden stood in the doorway, leaning on crutches, his right leg in a splinted cast up to his mid-thigh.
“Camden? What? How?”
“Hey, Camden. Good to see you again.” Chris went and shook his hand.
“You, too, Mr. Mead.” Camden smiled, impishly.
Tonya couldn’t believe Camden was right there. He looked more muscular and tanned but still the Camden she knew a few weeks ago. Yet, there was a subtle difference that had nothing to do with having a broken leg.
“I take it you are no longer on the Tribe?”
“Went in during second quarter at last pre-season game. One of the wide-receivers from the other team decided I looked too much like Joe Theismann…and well, not playing this season, at least. Dad wasn’t happy but finally relented to the fact I had to have something to fall back on.”
“So he agreed to you studying history?”
“Heck no. He wanted me to go into political science.” Camden rolled his eyes. “No, I’m here on my own laurels, believe it or not.”
“Scholarship?” She’d been the recipient of the scholarship they’d been battling for. Her paper not only told of the lost Susquahanna tribe but many of their stories. She’d began the process of getting the rights to a historical marker for the Main and Addison intersection of Kings Mill, describing the tribe and the massacre that had taken place.
“Yes, but not from Dr. Moreland. I sent my paper in about Jared and finding out the truth about him. I was late in getting it in. I didn’t think I could do both football and focus on history this semester. Dr. Moreland said he couldn’t accept it for the scholarship but would take a look at it.”
“He did, didn’t he? Is that why you are here?” Tonya motioned to the apartment complex.
“No. Actually, he did look at it. He was impressed and turned it over to a friend of his at the South Carolina Historical Research Department. I received a scholarship from them and a part-time research gig in which I don’t have to write papers but produce the sources.”
“So how did we end up roommates?” Tonya asked. She knew that only William & Mary History Honors students received the housing.
Looking a bit sheepish, Camden shrugged. “I…um…requested you as my research partner.”
Tonya cocked her eyebrow at him.
“We work well together…I think. We’ve been through quite a bit that I don’t think anyone else would ever believe.”
He wasn’t kidding.
“And I didn’t want anyone else being tossed out of your car if you got into a fight. I’ve been through it, I can deal,” he teased. His eyes twinkled with amusement.
“Really?” Tonya drawled. She stared him down, but there was more behind their banter than humor and jest. They shared a friendship that might just might take on something more if given time.
Her father cleared his throat nervously.
“It’s not like we’ll be living together, Dad. We are sharing a common area. We have our own private rooms,” Tonya explained.
Her father’s eyes narrowed but he finally gave up. “Well, I guess it’s better to know the devil you have, then the one you don’t.”
Tonya couldn’t agree more, but she wasn’t sure if her dad was speaking for her…or Camden’s sake.
“I’ll take care of Tonya, sir. You know we get along pretty well.”
Tonya looked him up and down. “Hey, it looks to me like I’ll be taking care of you, big guy!”
“Both of you promise me when you say ‘we’re just studying’ that is really all you’ll be doing.”
Neither one could promise anything. They would leave that up to fate.
#
Vickie hadn’t cleaned the rooms all summer. Too much had gone on. Now that things were settling down and the weather had turned cooler, she decided a good cleaning was in order.
She washed the windows and took down all the lightweight curtains. The summer quilts were stripped from the beds and had them taken to the dry cleaners. Dust bunnies were herded from under beds and dressers while closets were cleaned and rearranged to change out summer and fall clothing.
A beige envelope caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. It was hidden between the closet door and behind the Victorian winged back chair in the guest bedroom where Jared had stayed while he was here.
She bent down and picked it up. The vellum paper was old, brittle with a feminine hand scrolled writing on the front.
Jared Evansworth
Third Brigade
South Carolina
The envelope appeared to have never been opened. Where did this come from? Had it fallen out of Jared’s uniform the day he came here when he’d removed his clothing? She contacted April right away. This might be a historic document and a fine touch should be used.
April had her bring the letter over to her office as soon as she could. Wearing white cotton gloves, she meticulously went about documenting the finding and carefully steamed open the sealed envelope.
“Should we be doing this?” Vickie worried.
“Jared’s been dead since the Battle of Gettysburg. I’m sure he won’t mind knowing it will be in good hands.”
After the battle and his and Joshua’s disappearance from their lives, Camden’s research paper had provided proof that the history books now showed Corporeal Jared Evansworth as having died heroically carrying the Confederate flag into battle.
April removed the letter inside, laying the brittle paper out after over a hundred years. But technically had it been that long if Jared had been here? Not a topic either one really wanted to explore at this moment. They wanted to hear what the letter said.
My Dearest Husband,
I do not know when you will receive this letter. There is so much fighting going on and I know you must be weary of it all. I hope this letter finds you well and in high spirits as I have great news to share with you.
Our child was born on the ninth of April. A healthy and hearty son with your red hair and temper when he is upset. I named him Joshua, in your father’s memory. He is a fine boy and I love him as much as I love you. We eagerly await your safe return home from this God forsaken war.
All my love,
Molly
Vickie placed her hand over her mouth as a soft sob escaped. She shook her head.
“Jared was a father. Did he know?”
“I don’t think so,” April replied sadly.
They sat studying the letter for quite a while, each lost in thought.
“It’s kind of ironic that the name of his son and the young boy from the orphanage was the same.” April sighed.
“Maybe fate meant it that way…a chance for him to bond with a young boy…”
They turned to look at each other. The same thought going through their heads.
; “Do you think?”
“Could it be that simple?”
April searched through the pile of books still on loan from the Gettysburg Historical Society, she hadn’t had a chance to return them. She found the book from the Soldiers Orphanage and searched through the names where Tonya and Camden had found the name Evansworth, earlier in the log. But when she went to look, the name was no longer listed. It should surprise her but it didn’t…not really.
“It’s not there is it?” Vickie asked knowingly.
April shook her head. “What are the odds?”
“I don’t know, but I think I’ll do a little research on my own before I let Camden and Tonya in on the news.”
Epilogue
Kings Mill, Maryland
November 20th
Tonya watched as James Addison told his final story, eagerly inviting everyone to join him in a pint to celebrate his day. She clinked glasses of ale with Virginia and her father before turning and linking hands and mugs with Camden. They shared a private look over their foamy brew.
James came back to the table to be with his family amid cheers to him and the name Addison. After a few moments, the wild crowd settled into a gentle roar of a regular evening at the lively tavern.
“I would like to make an announcement, if I may…” Camden stood up with his mug. “I have something very important to ask a very special person in my life.”
The family table grew still. Kenneth-James and her father narrowed their eyes at her boyfriend as all the Wilton Women smiled and eagerly awaited news of nuptials. Tonya knew it couldn’t be the latter, neither one was even remotely ready for that. But still, she wasn’t sure what he was about to propose.
“I recently found out that my research into our dear friend, Jared Evansworth, has been accepted in his hometown in South Carolina. His story from this summer has had a sad and happy ending. Thanks to Miss Vickie and Dr. Branford-Miles’ research on the letter from his wife, Molly, I was able to trace his son Joshua, to his grandson, Joshua, and his great-grandson Jared Joshua Evansworth…and on to his great-great-grandson Joshua Jared. The history of Jared’s great sacrifice in the Battle of Gettysburg was not in vain. And I have pictures to prove it.”
