Gilda Joyce: The Bones of the Holy

by Allison, Jennifer

  “It’s okay, Gilda,” said Mary Louise. “Darla will survive. She hasn’t been dragged out to one of the ghost tours in ages.”

  Gilda, Darla, and Mary Louise headed outside and walked in the direction of the Old City gates. As they approached the entrance to the Old City, Gilda noticed that Darla put on her headphones and sunglasses, as if trying to shield herself from things she might see or hear.

  15

  Gossip Girls

  As Gilda, Mary Louise, and Darla walked through the Old City gates leading to the historic center of St. Augustine, Mary Louise told the story of a girl who died of yellow fever. “Her ghost still stands here by the city gates, waving to people who come into old St. Augustine. Remember when Evelyn told us about her, Darla?”

  “Mmm.” Darla’s eyes were fixed on her cell phone; she was busily tapping out a text message.

  I’m surprised she hasn’t crashed into a tree or a wall yet, Gilda thought. Darla had scarcely looked up from her phone since they left the house.

  “My friend Evelyn Castle runs one of the ghost-tour companies in the city,” Mary Louise explained. “She’s such a wonderful lady, and a true Minorcan. She’s from one of the oldest St. Augustine families around.”

  “She probably has some great stories,” said Gilda.

  “Oh, she knows absolutely everything about the history of this place.”

  Maybe she’d be able to tell me whether Eugene’s house might be haunted, Gilda thought. Eugene himself was obviously unwilling to discuss the idea, but someone whose family had been in St. Augustine for generations might know some old secrets or stories about the neighborhood.

  Gilda followed Mary Louise and Darla into a bustling café on St. George Street. “There’s Evelyn in the hat,” said Mary Louise, waving to a middle-aged woman who wore a striking black hat with a broad brim. “Oh good, her daughter Debbie is with her, too!”

  “Hi, Evelyn!” said Mary Louise, leading Gilda and Darla to their seats at Evelyn’s table. “This is our friend Gilda Joyce; she’s visiting from Michigan.”

  Evelyn was a petite, older woman dressed completely in black. Something about her reminded Gilda of a queen from a storybook. Was it the way she sat so straight, as if facing her court from a throne? Or was it her perfect manners as she delicately shook Gilda’s hand?

  “Lovely to meet you, Gilda,” said Evelyn. “This is my daughter, Debbie.” Evelyn gestured to a cute young woman whose freckles, bright-red hair, and pink Civil War–era dress with petticoats contrasted with her mother’s pale, sallow appearance. “Debbie works part-time as a ghost-tour guide,” said Evelyn, “but she’s also a student at Flagler College.”

  Gilda remembered seeing a group of beautiful buildings that reminded her of a postcard from some European city. Eugene had explained that it was Flagler College—originally built as a luxury hotel for some of the fanciest rich people in the United States. Surrounded by fountains, the elegant buildings now housed college students dressed in baseball caps and flip-flops.

  “What’s your major at Flagler College, Debbie?” Gilda asked, wondering if there might be some kind of professional development for ghost hunters down in St. Augustine.

  “Right now I’m focusing on archaeology and drama,” said Debbie. “I’m leaning toward archaeology because I’m assisting one of the city archaeologists right now, and it’s just so amazing seeing how all these layers of artifacts and bones are right under our feet. You keep uncovering more and more stories; it’s like solving little mysteries about the people who lived here long ago.”

  “She digs in the dirt all morning, then she gets beautiful for the theater in the evening,” said Evelyn.

  “It’s not digging, Mama,” said Debbie. “It’s excavating.”

  “You Castle women,” said Mary Louise. “I don’t know how y’all do it.”

  “We keep busy,” said Evelyn, rather dismissively. “Oh, look, I see Tina and Captain Jack over there.” Evelyn waved, catching the attention of a young woman whose style was a study in contrasts: Her romantic-looking black-lace skirt and corseted bodice were juxtaposed against a jagged, punk hairstyle, heavy black eyeliner, and a sullen expression. She was talking to a much older man who was dressed in a pirate costume complete with gold earrings, a long, scraggly beard, and colorful tattoos that decorated his muscular arms like sleeves.

  As Tina and Captain Jack approached the table, Evelyn explained that the two were longtime ghost-tour guides, and that “Captain Jack Rattlebones” was actually Professor Jack Hollins—a retired University of Florida professor. “Now Captain Jack is our resident ghost pirate,” Evelyn explained. “He takes kids out on his sailboat on the Matanzas every evening and scares the daylights out of them with his stories.”

  “A wench from the North!” Jack joked, greeting Gilda with a chip-toothed smile. “Watch your treasure, mateys; she’s got a shifty look in ’er eye.”

  Evelyn laughed. “If you can believe it, Jack used to be a zoology professor.”

  “Turtles are my specialty,” said Jack. “In fact, I watched some hatchlings make their way down the beach and safely into the ocean this very morning. Aye, a sight for me sea-weary pirate eyes it was.”

  “Hatchlings?”

  “He means the sea turtles,” said Debbie. “It’s almost the end of their nesting season, right, Jack?”

  “Yup. From April through October, they crawl out of the ocean and lay their eggs in a sand dune. The eggs usually hatch at night, and then the turtles try to make their way to the ocean. It’s an amazing sight to see, if you’re lucky. Too often, they end up in some apartment parking lot or garage though, because they get confused and head toward the streetlights.”

  “Good thing the turtles have you to protect them,” said Debbie.

  “I do what I can. The other day I scared the bejesus out of a couple kids who were out there with their flashlights at midnight. They were sitting there, dropping cigarette butts into the sand and trying to start a campfire and who knows what other kind of nonsense when what do they see but a ghost pirate walking out of the ocean.” Jack let out a deep belly laugh. “Oh, it was priceless. They almost fainted!”

  These are my kind of people, Gilda thought, her mind brimming with questions she wanted to ask about what it was like to lead ghost tours in such a haunted city. The notion of moving down to St. Augustine suddenly seemed quite appealing.

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” Gilda ventured, “have any of you actually seen a real ghost?”

  “I’ve personally never seen one,” said Debbie, “but I’ve had lots of people in my groups capture some very weird images on their cameras while we’re walking through the city at night. I mean, you just can’t explain some of that stuff. And I know they couldn’t have doctored the photos, because I was standing right there when they took them.”

  The other tour guides nodded in agreement.

  “I’ve had some kids get pinched by ghosts,” Tina commented.

  “I’ve heard that happens around the Huguenot Cemetery a lot,” said Evelyn.

  “It does,” said Debbie. “And Tina has even had someone faint from fear at the Tolomato Cemetery during one of her tours. Of course, your tour is the scariest one, Tina.”

  “I just tell it like it is,” said Tina. “If you’re not up to it, stay home.”

  “See, Tina doesn’t like kids very much,” said Debbie, directing this explanation to Gilda with a wry smile.

  Gilda expected Tina to either deny or laugh at this comment, but instead she readily agreed with it.

  “It’s true,” she said. “I really don’t like kids.”

  Gilda glanced at Darla, wondering if she was offended by this comment, but she was busy pulling apart a biscuit into about a hundred pieces, and seemed completely oblivious.

  “But the funny thing is,” Debbie continued, “all the kids always want to be in Tina’s tour group!”

  “Because they know mine will be the scariest one.”

  “Oh, yours
is definitely the scariest,” Jack joked. “Each night she starts the tour with ten kids and comes back with six or seven.”

  Tina grinned and shrugged. “It’s up to them to keep up with me.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking—” Gilda ventured.

  “We mind,” Jack joked.

  “Okay,” Gilda said, laughing, “even if you do mind, I was curious whether you guys ever feel scared while you’re leading a ghost tour? I mean, it must be kind of spooky at times, walking around some of the old neighborhoods at night.”

  “I think we all get a little chill down our spines now and then,” said Debbie.

  “It’s the kids that scare me,” said Tina.

  “You know,” said Evelyn, “I can honestly say I’ve never been scared here. The first night I started my ghost-tour business, I put on my Minorcan dress and picked up my lantern. And as I was standing here on this coquina-stone street, I had an intense feeling that this was the very street where generations of my ancestors lived—right here in these old houses. I could really feel their spirits near me. And Debbie, you already know this about me: I definitely believe in guardian angels. I know some people might think that’s silly, but that’s how the spirits in St. Augustine seem to me—more like ancestor spirits or guardian angels. No, I never feel afraid here.”

  Gilda noticed that Darla looked up from her plate, which by now resembled a rodent’s playground filled with torn bits of napkin and buttered biscuits all mixed together.

  I think Darla spent more time tearing apart her food than chewing it, Gilda thought. Nevertheless, Darla had seemed to listen very intently to Evelyn’s story.

  “Well, it’s time for me to set sail,” said Jack, standing up. “I wish you all a spooky evening.”

  “Tina and I had better go, too,” said Debbie. “The early arrivers will start showing up for our tours in a few minutes. See you on the tour, Gilda!”

  “Oh, speaking of history, Evelyn,” said Mary Louise, as Debbie, Tina, and Jack departed to get ready to lead their tour groups, “Gilda’s mother happens to be engaged to none other than Mr. Eugene Pook.”

  Evelyn’s eyes grew large with surprise. “Eugene Pook is engaged?!”

  “That’s right. In fact, that’s why Gilda is here; they’re having the wedding this week!”

  “Well, I never thought I’d see the day when Eugene Pook would get engaged.”

  “Why is it so surprising?” Gilda asked.

  “Well, Eugene is just about the orneriest bachelor there ever was, that’s why!”

  Mary Louise laughed heartily. “You can say that again!”

  Gilda felt curious. The two women seemed to share some secret memory of Eugene. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I shouldn’t say anything,” said Evelyn. “I’m not one to gossip, especially with Eugene about to become your stepdad.”

  “Just tell me!” Gilda pleaded. “I promise I won’t say anything to anyone.”

  “Well . . .” said Evelyn, leaning toward Mary Louise and Gilda as if about to divulge a juicy secret.

  “After Darla’s father and I got divorced, Evelyn tried to set me up on a date with Eugene,” Mary Louise blurted.

  Gilda was fascinated. Evelyn tried to fix up Eugene with Mary Louise?! She also hadn’t realized that Darla’s mother was single. I guess having a single parent is something else Darla and I have in common, Gilda thought.

  “It didn’t work out,” said Evelyn. “I remember Eugene looked right at me and said, ‘Evelyn, you and Mary Louise don’t understand. I lost my one true love. Do you know what that means when you find your one true love and then lose her?’ And I said to him, ‘Eugene—I’m sad for you. But honey, Charlotte left you for another man. That isn’t love.’”

  “Who’s Charlotte?” Gilda asked.

  “Charlotte was Eugene’s first fiancée,” said Evelyn. “They almost got married, but Charlotte ran off the night before their wedding day.”

  In that case, it’s a little strange that Eugene calls his antiques shop Charlotte’s Attic, Gilda thought.

  “Anyway,” Evelyn continued, “no matter how I tried to convince him to forget about her, Eugene would just shake his head and say, ‘No, Evelyn. Charlotte is the only one for me.’ Oh, it just broke my heart to see him go on like that. And he used to be such a handsome man, too, bless his heart.”

  “He did?!” Gilda blurted. This was the most shocking piece of information yet.

  “Oh, yes. Could have made someone a nice husband. Oh, I mean to say . . .” Evelyn stumbled, realizing her faux pas. “I’m sure he’ll make a wonderful husband for your mother. I just meant that when he was younger he was even better looking. Over the years he filled out a bit.”

  “Did he have the mustache back then?” Gilda knew it was a silly question, but she couldn’t resist. She had to know.

  “I believe so. Yes, he always had the mustache.”

  “These days he’s wearing it curled with mustache wax,” Mary Louise added, with a smirk.

  “Oh is he now?” Evelyn’s facial expression made it clear that she thought this sounded like a terrible idea.

  “I’d love to know more about Charlotte.” Gilda felt as if she wanted to pinch herself to make sure she was awake. She couldn’t believe her luck at meeting Evelyn Castle—a woman who not only owned a ghost-tour company, but who knew some extremely juicy information about Eugene Pook’s background.

  “Well, I admit I never knew Charlotte very well when she still lived here, but her family—the Furbos—they’re one of the old Minorcan families that came over in the seventeen hundreds. Anyway, the Furbos are big landowners, farmers outside the Old City. From what I heard, they were so excited about the wedding they had planned for their daughter, which was supposed to be one of the big events of the year. Oh, they were just devastated when Charlotte called it off. I don’t think they ever did forgive her. At least, that’s what I heard. I’ve certainly never seen Charlotte around town visiting her folks since then.”

  “Do you know why Charlotte called off the wedding at the last minute?” Gilda asked. “I mean, aside from Eugene’s mustache wax.”

  Evelyn chuckled. “Again, I’m not one to gossip, but from what I heard, Charlotte happened to meet a man who was on leave from the military. He was just about to be stationed overseas—somewhere in Europe. Well, she apparently just decided to take off with him. Honestly, it didn’t surprise me so much. Charlotte was young to be getting married to a man Eugene’s age. A bit flighty, too, from what I hear. I remember she used to help Eugene in the antiques shop when they were engaged, and she would create the strangest displays.”

  “Strange how?”

  “Oh, she would mix things up. Once, she put beautiful old dolls in an antique coffin just to get people’s attention. I guess it was artistic. But strange.”

  Charlotte sounds very interesting, Gilda thought.

  “Anyway,” Evelyn continued, “after the wedding plans fell through, I’d sometimes stop into Charlotte’s Attic and Eugene would come up to me and show me a letter or two that Charlotte had written to him from Europe. It was sad how he’d just carry those letters around in his pocket and look at them from time to time.

  “ ‘You mean to tell me that Charlotte still writes to you, Eugene?’ I’d ask him. ‘Sure, she does,’ he’d say. And then he’d read me her letter about how she was traveling through this country or that country, and how she still thinks of him and misses him—even though she couldn’t be bothered to show up for their wedding. Oh, it was enough to turn my stomach.

  “I told him, ‘Eugene, if I were you, I’d take that letter and burn it after what Charlotte did to you.’

  “ ‘ You don’t understand, Evelyn,’ Eugene would say. ‘Charlotte is my soul mate.’ There was just no changing his mind.” Evelyn sipped her lemonade and sighed heavily.

  “Well, Gilda’s mother must be one very special lady if she can convince Eugene to finally get married and forget about that Charlotte once
and for all!” Mary Louise declared.

  “I guess so.” Gilda wasn’t sure what to think. For one thing, she wasn’t sure whether she should consider the story about Eugene’s first “true love” reassuring or disturbing.

  “I’d like to meet your mother sometime,” said Evelyn. “Where are they having their wedding ceremony?”

  “It’s going to be down by the waterfront at the old mission,” said Gilda. “November first—the morning after Halloween. You should all come!”

  Gilda immediately realized she had far overstepped her very restricted responsibilities as daughter of the bride. Eugene might not want all of them to be there, she thought. But it was too late. Mary Louise and Evelyn’s curiosity had gotten the best of them, and they were both intrigued enough to accept a casual invitation from the bride’s daughter. Besides, in St. Augustine, the weddings were often big and sprawling, and the bride simply had to be willing to make room for a few more guests up until the very last minute.

  “Oh, we would love to attend!” said Evelyn, “I mean, if it’s okay with your mother, of course. Now, we’d best be walking toward the ghost tour; it’s getting late.”

  “Do we have to do the ghost tour?” Darla moaned. “Can’t we just go for ice cream now?”

  “Quit whining, Darla,” Mary Louise snapped. “Debbie is expecting us over there. Besides, you know you’ll have fun once we get there.”

  Darla slumped down in her chair.

  As they left the restaurant and headed toward the ghost tour, Gilda couldn’t shake an odd combination of relief and revulsion as she mulled over the story of Eugene’s failed relationship with Charlotte. I suppose I should be happy to learn that he isn’t a criminal or a complete womanizer, Gilda thought. If anything, it sounded as if Eugene was loyal to a fault—at least when it came to his former relationship with Charlotte. But what kind of person pines for years over someone who left him at the altar? Gilda wondered. And what is it about Mom that made him finally get over Charlotte?

  Was Eugene simply a hopeless romantic, or was there something terribly wrong with her stepfather-to-be?