Collecting Shadows

by Gary Williams

  Beyond the rise of the church were the spires of Flagler College. He learned from his aunt that this was also a Henry Flagler creation. Once a fancy hotel built in the late 1800s, it was now used as a college.

  It occurred to him that this guy, Flagler, must have had a pile of money.

  The whir of a street sweeper vehicle caught Pilot’s attention. They paused to allow it to slowly pass, then crossed over where a one-story house sat on the corner. Behind it was a large, two-story white building, with four thick columns supporting a large portico topped with a gable. Two things struck Liam as odd. First, the building looked almost like a miniature White House. Second, it was built sideways to Riberia Street, with the driveway paralleling the front. As Liam and Pilot passed by it, he noticed a metallic, oval sign with wrought-iron accent affixed to the side of the building. It read:

  Kirkside

  55

  Riberia St.

  “What’s Kirkside?” Liam questioned aloud.

  Pilot didn’t answer but continued to trot along happily. Like Liam, Pilot had zero fascination for old buildings.

  They turned at the next intersection. Pilot found a natural area between the sidewalk and street to his liking. The dog stopped to sniff the grass, rolled around, got up, darted back and forth then did it all over again before he finally relieved himself. Liam couldn’t help but smile at his playful behavior. The Malamute still had a lot of puppy in him.

  It was time to get back. If nothing else, Liam was learning his way around the streets.

  10

  Ron knocked on the screen door of his Aunt Arlene’s house in a run-down neighborhood on the outskirts of Yulee, just north of Jacksonville. The 88-year-old woman answered the door with a broad smile. “Ronnie. Good to see you, child.”

  “Hello, Aunt Arlene.”

  “C’mon in before the flies invite themselves to my food.” She swung the screen door open. Ron stepped over the threshold and gave her a hug. She led him though the living room into the kitchen. She trudged slowly, painfully, and he was somewhat surprised to see her using a cane. Aunt Arlene had always been so strong, so independent. It was sad that age was taking its toll.

  Aunt Arlene took a seat at the kitchen table and motioned for him to do the same. She propped her cane to the side and reached for a tin of cookies. “How ‘bout something to cling to those bones of yours?”

  Ron chuckled. She had a unique way of talking that he always found heartwarming. “No, thank you, ma’am. I’m good.”

  She leaned up to the table. “I haven’t seen you since—well—since your father’s funeral. What brings you out this way to see an old woman?”

  “Old woman? Where? Have you taken on a roommate?”

  She cackled.

  His aunt’s laugh was infectious, and Ron found himself giggling. “You’re not old as long as your heart is pure.”

  “Pure vinegar,” she responded whimsically. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “No food or drink. Okay, then you must be here to gab.”

  The room fell momentarily quiet.

  “Aunt Arlene,” Ron began, carefully considering his words, “I was doing research and saw the newspaper article about how my great-grandfather, your grandfather, Lucius Mast, died.”

  Aunt Arlene’s expression turned sullen, and she averted her eyes from his. “What about it?”

  “Dad had always told me that Great-Grandfather Lucius was shot and killed by police, but he was vague about why. He told me it had been a terrible misunderstanding. Someone thought they saw him break into a house.”

  “Remember, child, I was 22 years old at the time, but your father was only a young thing. He was 10. While it was a very frightening experience for all of us, it was traumatic to him. He never could recall the facts correctly.”

  “The article mentioned that great-grandfather broke into Henry Flagler’s empty mansion, Kirkside? Is that true?”

  Aunt Arlene nodded. “Yes, it’s true. Were you aware he was a servant there?”

  “Yes, for two years: 1894 and ‘95, right?”

  “Yes,” Aunt Arlene nodded.

  “Did he do it? Break into Kirkside?”

  Aunt Arlene gazed past Ron, then locked her eyes on him. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Dad thought it was to make one last visit to the old mansion. It happened the night before demolition was to begin.” She looked away again.

  Ron read something unusual in her body language. “Why do you think he did it?”

  She eyed him with a somber smile. “Before he died, I held him in my arms. He whispered something to me.”

  Ron leaned in.

  Aunt Arlene continued, “Isaiah Chapter 41, verse 10.”

  “A Bible verse?”

  “ ‘So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.’ It was his favorite passage. It was the last thing he said.”

  The room fell silent.

  “Did it have something to do with why Lucius broke into Kirkside?”

  “Five years ago, I was going through some things passed down to me by my father. One of those items was a Bible. It was the Bible Mama and Daddy kept in the spare bedroom of our house when we were growing up. The same bedroom where Grampa Lucius was shot and killed.”

  Ron listened intently.

  “I always thought it was strange that he didn’t escape out the window of the bedroom that night. He had plenty of time before the police broke through the door, yet he didn’t try to get away until they entered.” She stood, and using her cane, walked over to one of the kitchen drawers. Opening it, she removed a Bible. She brought it back to the table and sat down, laying the Bible on the table and pointing to it. “This is why he didn’t escape.”

  Ron was confused. “I’m not following you, Aunt Arlene.”

  She flipped open the Bible and thumbed through the pages until she found what she was searching for. She spun the Bible toward Ron. “When Grampa said Isaiah 41:10, it wasn’t to quote the Bible verse. He was directing us to the page.”

  At the bottom of the page, Ron saw a handwritten list of six items. “What does this mean?”

  “You know the history of Kirkside, right? Henry Flagler built it for his second wife, Ida Alice.”

  Ron nodded.

  “Grampa Lucius told Daddy a story about Ida Alice during his time working at Kirkside. Granddaddy claimed she had branded certain pieces of Kirkside when Mr. Flagler was away on a business trip in the winter of 1894; February, I believe. As she did it, Grampa heard Ida Alice rambling to herself about ‘the prize she would leave’ for some man. She also said she ‘knew he would come to take back the treasure and to get her.’ Lucius mentioned this to Mr. Flagler when he returned from his trip. This was when Ida Alice’s odd behavior first drew Mr. Flagler’s attention. One year later, in 1895, he had her committed.”

  Ron studied the list of six items. “You think these are the six items from Kirkside that Ida Alice…um…branded?”

  She nodded. “Grampa believed she was leaving clues to a treasure. What treasure, he didn’t know, and given the woman’s mental condition, who knows what to believe. But I can tell you this,” Aunt Arlene leaned in with a hardened expression, “Grampa Lucius must have thought there was something to it because he took the time to write the items down in this Bible instead of fleeing the police to save his life that night.”

  11

  Liam and his father were geocaching, an activity where participants hunt for objects using GPS coordinates listed on a website. They were in a field looking for a hidden box when a grizzly bear approached them at a full gallop, chasing a plump rabbit that was struggling to run. The small, frightened creature was losing ground and was about to become the bear’s meal when Liam’s father stepped in front of the grizzly. The bear halted long enough to cut his father in half with one swipe of its massive cla
wed paw. Blood spilled everywhere, and Liam screamed. The bear wheeled and charged Liam. He was too scared to move.

  ****

  The alarm drew Liam to consciousness. Panting and terrified, he pressed the button. It was 6:00 a.m.

  He laid his head back on the pillow and rubbed his eyes. He remembered it was Monday. The weekend had passed entirely too quickly. Today he would begin his sophomore year. He had never dreaded a first day of school like this before.

  He slowly got out of bed and took a shower. After finishing a bowl of cereal, Aunt Rita was still not up. He quietly wrapped two donuts in a paper towel and made a cup of coffee which he transferred into a plastic cup. He was about to go downstairs when he ran into Aunt Rita coming out of her room.

  “Where are you going with that?” she pointed to the food and coffee.

  “Outside.”

  “Liam, don’t feed the homeless guy. He’ll become dependent on you. It’s not safe.”

  “It’s also not safe to starve to death,” Liam shot back.

  He got a scornful stare from his aunt.

  “I’m sorry,” Liam said sincerely. “I can’t watch him go hungry. Drew’s not a bad guy. It’s the least I can do for him.”

  “Drew? And what happens if I can’t afford to feed three people?”

  “Then I’ll split my food with him.”

  Aunt Rita offered Liam a small smile. “You’ve got a good heart, Liam. Just please be careful. If word gets around to other homeless people, we may have them flocking to our door.”

  Liam continued downstairs and out the back door. A lamp in the alleyway cast weak light on the dumpster, and it wasn’t until Liam got to the left side that he saw Drew wasn’t around. Unsure of what to do, Liam went back inside and up the stairs.

  “Everything okay?” Aunt Rita asked from the kitchen table.

  “He’s not there.”

  “I’m sure he’ll return.” She paused. “I’ve got a Styrofoam ice chest in the bottom of the pantry. Why don’t you take it outside and place the coffee and donuts inside. That way, when he shows up, it might still be fresh.”

  Liam nodded. “I will. Thanks.” He was happy to see his aunt didn’t altogether disapprove of what he was doing.

  After leaving the food and coffee outside near the dumpster in the ice chest with a note taped on the outside for Drew, Liam returned to the kitchen for another cup of coffee, then took Pilot for a walk. They hiked into the Flagler Model Land Company neighborhood, passing Kirkside Apartments on Riberia Street. He learned from his aunt that the bright white building with Venetian blinds and black shutters happened to be where Bailey lived with her mother. This made the third morning in a row he had walked this way hoping to see her. Liam encouraged Pilot to pause and relieve himself, but the Malamute refused to cooperate, instead pulling Liam ahead, where they circled the neighborhood and returned home.

  12

  Rita smiled and wished Liam good luck as he left the shop at 8:30 and headed for the bus stop. She pulled a letter she’d received from Mrs. Shawlin on Saturday out of the counter drawer. She opened it, hoping that somehow she’d misread it. She had not.

  Her rent for the shop and living space was being raised by 35 percent. It was a devastating increase when she was already struggling to meet business expenses. With Liam moving in, the timing couldn’t be worse.

  She put her head in her hands. What am I going to do?

  ****

  The bell rang at 11:30 a.m. to change classes. So far for Liam, his first day at Andrew Anderson High had gone relatively smoothly. Despite not knowing anyone and feeling isolated as he walked the halls between classes, he’d had no trouble finding his classrooms, and his locker was in a central, convenient location. His first two classes—English and Algebra—didn’t seem overly difficult. All in all, things were going about as good as he could have hoped.

  He anxiously scanned the faces in the hall between each class on the off chance he might see Bailey. It would be nice to see a familiar face, especially hers.

  His third period was American History I; the class he was least looking forward to.

  As he settled into a seat near the front of the class, he noticed the pictures on the walls, reproductions of paintings depicting historical events, such as George Washington crossing the Delaware, the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and Abraham Lincoln giving his Gettysburg Address.

  The teacher sat at his desk surveying the room. The African-American man wore sporty-looking gray glasses. He also had a neat mustache and goatee on his narrow face. He was dressed in a suit that was too nice in Liam’s opinion. Liam wondered how such a trendy-looking guy could give a crap about history.

  Then he saw her.

  Bailey sauntered into the room talking to a girl with short brunette hair. They giggled as if laughing at a joke.

  Liam couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was cute when he’d met her last week, but she was stunning today. Wearing a light-green sundress that accented her strawberry-blonde hair and tan, she moved with a casual confidence. She glanced at him as the two girls passed by the front of the classroom. After their only interaction had ended roughly, he was pleasantly surprised that she acknowledged him with a wave and a smile that filled her cheeks.

  Liam felt his insides sizzle.

  Bailey didn’t stop to take a seat near him. Instead, the two girls continued talking as they made their way toward the far side against the windows near the back of the room. Liam was disappointed that she did not sit closer to him. Then again, what in the hell did he expect?

  After the tardy bell rang, the teacher began. He stood, strolled in front of the desk, and leaned back against it. “I see some of you who’ve taken my classes before, but for those of you whom I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting, I’m not going to put you on the spot today. Instead I’d like to tell you a little about myself and this class, American History I. My name is Ron Mast. You can call me Mr. Mast. This is my 22nd year of teaching. As a life-long resident of St. Augustine, I came to embrace history as a child and never lost my love of the past. Although we won’t get into the history of St. Augustine in much depth in this course, we will touch on some aspects, such as Henry Flagler’s profound impact on this town. Speaking of Flagler, for those who don’t know, my great-grandfather, Lucius Mast, was a servant at his mansion in 1894 and 1895. You might say my fascination with history is hereditary.

  “Before we jump into the syllabus, I’m required to take attendance.” He retook his seat behind the desk and peered over the top of his glasses with a grin. “In case any of you snuck into my class uninvited.”

  The class laughed.

  Liam found Mr. Mast to be very different than his other teachers. At least he isn’t boring. Yet.

  Mr. Mast finished taking roll. He stood, pushed his glasses up on his nose, picked up a stack of paper from his desk, and began handing them out down each row. “What you have before you is this year’s syllabus. If you ever lose it, I keep a copy here,” he pointed to the single page taped to the lower-right corner of the white board.

  They spent the next 15 minutes examining the syllabus in detail. When they finished, Mr. Mast said, “Let’s review a bit. As you answer, please state your name for the benefit of others who may not know you. So, who knows the purpose of the preamble to the Constitution of the United States?”

  A petite girl with black hair highlighted in purple sitting in the front row raised her hand.

  “Yes,” Mr. Mast pointed at her.

  “My name is Britney Li. Basically, it’s an agreement for all U.S. citizens to be governed.”

  “Correct,” Mr. Mast nodded, “And that laws are based on principles that must be taken into account for future laws. Thank you, Ms. Li.”

  “Who can tell me the importance of the Monroe Doctrine?”

  Liam watched Mr. Mast’s gaze sweep to the back of room. “Ah, another one of my former students from World History.”

  Liam turned.

  �
��I’m Bailey Deeth,” she grinned. “The Monroe Doctrine was named after President James Monroe. It states that other countries shouldn’t interfere with U.S. politics. If they do, it’s considered an act of war.”

  “Or at least a hostile act,” Mr. Mast gently corrected her.

  Liam felt over his head. This was American History I, yet it seemed everyone but him already knew the answers to test questions. He examined the syllabus in his hand. Despite Bailey’s presence and Mr. Mast’s relaxed nature, this class was going to be tough.

  Mr. Mast continued, “What is the importance of our town to U.S. history?”

  Liam raised his hand, surprising himself. It was probably the only history question he could answer. He desperately wanted to impress Bailey, and this was his chance.

  “Please give us your name.”

  “Liam Poston.”

  “So, Liam, what is our little town’s claim to fame in the annals of history?”

  “It’s the oldest city in the United States.” He knew he had nailed it, yet he heard some chuckling off to the side and heard a guy whispering behind him, “I told you he must be new here.”

  Liam pivoted in his seat. A boy with a face full of acne and long tangles of blonde hair as if he’d just released them from dreadlocks locked eyes with Liam and spoke in a belittling tone, “I’m Chase Moncray. Can I help you…” he lowered his voice to a whisper to finish his question, “dick?”

  “Liam, you were close,” Mr. Mast spoke. “St. Augustine was founded in 1565, making it the oldest continuously occupied European settlement in the United States.”

  Liam was still looking at Moncray.

  “Anyone who’s lived here for more than a day knows this.” Moncray smirked at Liam.

  Liam spun forward, slumped down in his seat, and clenched his teeth. Not only had he missed the question, this asshole was making fun of him in front of Bailey. He swallowed hard, whipped back around and glared at the boy. Moncray stared back.