by Teresa Rae
“You know you’re grounded,” Sunny voice resonates through the room, making my head hurt more. “Imagine my worry when the world started changing around me. You were supposed to wait. I was going to help you so you didn’t alter too much.”
“I’m sorry. I just had a feeling I had to go. How much damage have I done?” I whisper.
She laughs. “Becky Jo, you did it! You saved them! Yes, there are some differences, but they’re good differences. I’ve made you a banana, wheat-sprout smoothie to help you recover from the journey, and then you can go back to sleep.”
“What day is it?” I ask as she helps me sit up.
She doesn’t answer, taking my hand. “Becky Jo, where did you get this ring?”
I feel my fingers with my thumb and find the ring she’s referring to.
“It’s my wedding ring,” I answer. “I wasn’t supposed to have brought anything back with me, was I?”
“I don’t think so. But, I’ve never heard of anyone doing what you did. And to answer your first question, it is March twenty-first, all day long. You were only gone for a few hours.” She puts the smoothie glass to my lips, and I gratefully empty it.
“Did they have happy lives?” I whisper, lying back down.
“Yes, Becky Jo, they did. Not a one of them haunts the old Mansion anymore.”
“That’s good.” I fight back the tears.
I saved my friends, but I lost them in the process.
* * *
It takes me a couple days of Sunny’s vigilant care for me to get back on my feet. I eat, sleep, and cry nonstop. I am torn between joy that my friends aren’t trapped in limbo and sorrow that I will never see them again. Due to this internal conflict, it isn’t until the twenty-third that I feel well enough to leave the house to go shopping with Sunny. It’s a good thing Mariana doesn’t arrive home from China until the twenty-fourth, giving me extra time to recover.
“Are you sure you are feeling up to this?” Sunny asks as she drives through Virginia City.
“I like the fresh air, and we need some groceries.” I say as she switches on the blinker before turning into the grocery store parking lot. I can’t survive on Sunny’s homemade granola.
“We’ll make it a quick trip,” she says as she parks the car.
When we get out of the car, I notice a major change as we walk to the store. I hang back to ask Sunny a question. “Where’s the library?” I ask, looking across the street where it should be.
“Ah, now that is an interesting story. You see, Colonel Blair’s property wasn’t sold off by Samuel, so the library was built on the other side of town. James’s property has remained intact all these years.”
I gasp at the realization of what this means for her. “Sunny, I’m really sorry! You don’t have a home, do you?”
She pats me on the back. “I didn’t buy the Mansion, but Colonel Blair’s family has been kind enough to allow me to rent it. I still live there. I just don’t have to worry about the taxes or upkeep. It gives me more time to work on my magic.”
I think about this as we load a grocery cart with food.
“Sunny, I want to know about his family,” I say as we go to the check-out. “I didn’t think I would, but I need some closure.”
She nods. “We’ll go to the Mansion, after lunch, if you promise to rest afterward.”
* * *
My hands start shaking when the Mansion comes into view. It looks exactly as I remembered it, as though time hasn’t touched it at all. There are even horses running in the fields.
“This is a very good change from the alternative,” Sunny says as she looks loving at the Mansion. “I act as house-sitter, and there are a couple men from the town who care for the grounds and horses.”
“It hasn’t changed at all.” I take a deep breath.
“Actually, a new addition has been built on the back to upgrade the kitchen, and they’ve added a garage, laundry room, and bathrooms. However, everything else is the same.”
It’s very difficult to enter James’s home without him there. I am grateful for the new additions, because it is easier to accept this reality in a modern kitchen. I sit at the kitchen table with Sunny as she opens a large book.
“I’ve compiled the Blair family genealogy, knowing you would want to see it,” she says.
“Why is it that you know there has been a change, but no one else does?” I ask.
“Becky Jo, I am a conjuring woman. I can sense when the world has been conjured, but so can all the other conjure women and men. I’ve received nonstop calls, from around the country, since you’ve returned. I’ve ignored their requests for information, and they’ve filled up my voicemail. Those sensitive to magic know something extraordinary has happened.” She pats my hand. “I’ll deal with them at the next magic convention. Let’s return to the task at hand.”
Pointing to an old picture, she smiles. “This is a lovely photo, Becky Jo. I really enjoy seeing you with him.”
I look at the picture and find James and myself dressed in our wedding clothes.
“I don’t even remember that picture being taken,” I say. “But I was struggling just to stay there at the end.”
“Your wedding picture was the last photo taken of him. He became a bit of a recluse and didn’t remarry until he was very old. His son, John, was barely sixteen when James died at the ripe old age of eighty-two,” she says. “Regardless of anything else, your decision to marry him saved his life as well as Gabe’s and Henry’s, but it was a huge gamble. Thankfully, it paid off in the end, and all four have found peace.”
“It was his only chance.” I look at the picture of him and me and sigh. “I just wish he would have moved on with his life sooner. I was worried about that.”
Sunny pats my shoulder. “This must be difficult for you.”
“I fell in love with him, but I don’t regret it. Now, that it’s all said and done, I see it was the only way. Love was the only way to save him.” I pause for a moment. “Do you know what happened to everyone else?”
“Gabe and Henry stayed with James to the end. They built an empire here and then moved to Paris. Although neither of them married, they lived full lives, gaining the respect of others.” She shows me a picture of my old friends sitting on two beautiful horses.
“What about Clara, Ida, and Rose?”
“Rose also stayed with James. He had her buried in the family plot when she died. Clara stayed in Nevada with her family, living the remainder of her life on a reservation. Ida also left the Blair Mansion. She became a school teacher.”
“Really?” I ask.
Sunny shows me a photo of a young, black woman standing outside a small school with a class of black students. “It was difficult teaching during segregation, but she taught generations of black children to read and write. The lessons you taught Ida gave her a lifelong love of reading. When you taught her to read, you profoundly changed the future for her and thousands of others.”
I’m too overcome with emotion to speak for a few moments. Sunny understands. She, too, wipes moisture from her eyes.
“You did good,” she says through her tears. “You did good.”
“And Samuel?” I ask, having to know what happened to the evil man.
“The wedding guests were the most powerful people in the state. Samuel was tried that very night. When he was found guilty, they put a rope around his neck and hung him.”
“Did James…”
She finishes my statement. “No, he wasn’t involved in the trial in any way. According to Julia’s journal, after you were poisoned, James had a meltdown. He was completely unresponsive for three days. The poor man had lost so much; he couldn’t handle loosing you, too.”
“I’m glad he didn’t play a part in Samuel’s death,” I say with relief.
Sunny nods. “He may not have played a part in his trial, but I think there is something you should see.”
Zipping my coat, I follow Sunny into the wind. The Mansion is silent,
other than the neighing of horses in the distance. I push to keep pace with Sunny, watching my feet to ensure I don’t stumble. I almost hit into Sunny when she stops.
“After all this time, it still takes my breath away,” she whispers.
My eyes follow her gaze, and I feel as though the wind has been knocked out of me. There, in the Blair family cemetery, is a larger than life sculpture of a glorious angel with wings extended behind her. Her hands clutch a marble violin. Her face is carved in a likeness of my own. She looks out over the Mansion as though guarding it.
“I’ll let you have some time alone,” Sunny pats my back before going into the small cemetery.
I silently walk to the sculpture, trying to keep my hands from shaking. Who would have thought it possible to see others’ reaction to my own death? Caved on the angel’s pedestal is an inscription.
My Guardian Angel
and
Beloved Wife
Rebecca Josephine Harris Blair
You were too good to live in this world
Rest in peace and know of
my eternal love
“We loved with a love
that was more than love.”
Edgar Allan Poe
“Isn’t it the most romantic thing ever written?” a voice surprises me. I turn around to find a girl placing a single red rose in a large pile of assorted flowers on the side of the monument. “She saved his life, you know. It was her final deed before dying.”
She rises to her tiptoes and kisses the angel’s foot. She smiles bashfully at me. “There’s an old wives’ tale that if you make a wish and kiss her foot, you will find true love.”
“You came here to ask to find true love?” I’m confused.
“Everyone wants to find true love.” She reverently pats the angel’s foot. “Look at how dark this foot is compared to the rest of the statue. Generations of women and men have come here looking for her guidance. Because she died near spring, people come from far and wide to put flowers on her grave in March, but I’ve never seen it without flowers. Year round, flowers are delivered to the Blair angel.”
“Why would people make such a fuss for a woman who died over a hundred years ago?”
She looks up at the statue. “They make a fuss because it’s tragic and romantic. My grandpa told me that Rebecca knew she was going to die. She had a premonition and tried to talk Colonel Blair out of marrying her, but he wouldn’t hear of it. According to Grandpa, the Colonel loved her so much he actually told her that he would marry her even if they only had a few short hours together.”
“How does your grandpa know all this?” I question.
“My name is Susan O’Grady. I know this because my great -great granddad was one of their wedding guests.”
I suddenly understand; Susan is descended from Doctor O’Grady.
She looks at her watch. “I have cheerleading practice. I better go! Don’t forget to make your wish before you leave.”
She hurries back to the road.
I look at the angel, knowing I’ll never make that wish. I’m all out of wishes. All that’s left is a hole in my heart. My greatest wish was to save a man I didn’t know. I put my hand on the angel’s foot. The words of St. Augustine of Hippo fill my mind. Late have I loved you, O Beauty so ancient and so new. You called, and broke through my defenses, and now I long for you. You breathed your fragrance on me, and I drew in my breath and now I pant for you. I tasted you, and now I hunger and thirst for you. You touched me, and I burn for your peace.
I walk through the cemetery to find Sunny, locating her in a distant and deserted corner. She is moving dead grass off a small gravestone.
“Colonel Blair had the last word,” she says, not looking up from the gravestone. I take a step forward to read the inscription.
SAMUEL BLAIR
Liar, Thief, Fornicator, Coward, and Murderer
May you find nothing but hellfire!
“Was he as bad as all that?” Sunny asks.
“Worse, much worse,” I answer. “James was generous when he wrote those words. I would have added: rapist, ignoramus, parasite, child predator, drunkard, sadistic and racist jerk.”
20
New Horizons
“Is your violin tuned?” Marina asks me as an army of girls dashes around us.
“Yes, are you sure I shouldn’t wear higher heels to make me appear taller?” I ask as Sunny sprays my hair with hairspray.
“No, just be yourself,” Marina assures me.
“Becky Jo?” Lindsey Simpson joins us, carrying a garment bag over her shoulder. There are curlers in her hair. “Are you in the pageant? I thought you moved to Nevada?”
“Yes, but she was allowed to keep her title. Becky Jo is still Miss Charleston,” Marina explains, putting a pair of my sneakers into a bag.
Her face drains of its color. “Everyone’s saying you’re the girl to beat.”
“Who cares what everyone’s saying. Just go out there and do your best.” Sunny pats her back. “You better get going, the talent competition’s about to start.”
“I know you’re going to do great,” I call behind her. She forces a nervous smile and waves before disappearing into the crowd of other competitors.
“The girl to beat, huh?” Sunny smirks.
“Becky Jo, you don’t worry about it one second. You just go out there and do your best.” Marina picks up my violin case. “We have to go.”
The strange thing is I’m not nervous at all. I have just gone through the darkest, most trying months of my life. I had still been trying to cope with Mama’s loss when I took my journey to 1875. Then I lost James and came back to a world without Gabe, Clara, and Henry. March, April, May, and June passed slowly and painfully. Fortunately, I had the HSAP, violin lessons, and the Miss South Carolina Pageant to prepare for, because they gave me a reason to get out of bed each morning. I barely passed the HSAP, and I’ve been doing well with my violin lessons. However, I am still forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other. After everything I’ve gone through, competing in a beauty pageant should be easy.
“Rebecca Douglass, the judges are ready for you,” my name is called.
“Knock ‘em dead,” Marina says, handing me my violin.
I spend the next few days playing my violin, modeling a swimsuit and evening gowns, learning dance numbers, and answering endless questions with a permanent smile on my face. I know the routine. Growing up in Mama’s family, we practiced interviews and modeling every weekend. While other girls played with Barbie dolls, I learned how to answer any question while looking sweet and sincere, and I learned to appear confident. Scholarship pageants are the Douglass family’s college plan. Mama couldn’t afford college tuition, but she could sew gowns and had talented friends who gave Marina piano lessons and me violin lessons, not to mention all the dance lessons. Pageant scholarships got Marina through college, and Mama hoped they would do the same for me. She knew the power of beautiful, confident women.
“I’m so nervous!” Lindsey whispers to me while we line up to begin the performance.
“You’ll be fine,” I comfort her. “Just remember to smile and breathe.”
The music sounds and immediately we’re under bright lights as the show begins.
After the first group dance routine, they narrow the contestants using the judges’ ratings from the earlier rounds of competition. I’m not surprised when I make the top ten because I have prepared my whole life for this moment, but I pretend to be, enthusiastically joining the other nine at the front of the stage. I am by far the smallest.
The next round is swimsuit competition. I make my rounds across the stage wearing a pale pink bikini. The audience fills with cheers when I flirtatiously blow a kiss to the judges as I walk pass. When the contestants are narrowed even further, I am among the top five.
When I return from changing into my talent gown, I am grateful to see Lindsey crowned as Miss Congeniality. She may not have made the top ten, but I’m happy she do
esn’t walk away empty-handed.
There is a polite applause when I walk onto the stage with my violin. I smile as I take my place in front of the microphone.
“I’m Rebecca Douglass representing the beautiful city of Charleston. I will be playing a rendition of A Night on the Bare Mountain, by Mussorgsky.”
The random whisperings from the audience simply cease as my violin rings out into the performance hall. I chose this piece because it resonates with me. The intense, almost animalistic moments of pain and sorrow, the brief periods of calm, and then the daybreak for which I’m still hoping and waiting. Everything I have experienced over the past year is encompassed in this song. I pour my heart out through the strings of my violin. When I finish, there is silence for a moment and then thunderous applause. Even with the bright stage lights in my face, I know the audience is on their feet, bestowing me with a standing ovation to express their appreciation. I bow my head in a gesture of humble gratitude.
“Good Lord, Becky Jo!” Lindsey whispers to me as I walk off stage. “I didn’t know you could play the violin like that?”
“There are a lot of things people don’t know about me,” I reply before going to change into my evening gown for the final round of competition.
Of the top five, my pink dress is by far the simplest. I decided to wear the last dress Mama made. It isn’t bright or flashy but perfectly accentuates my curves and coloring. Every pageant dress Mama sewed was specifically made for the girl who would be wearing it. She was convinced that a glittery dress would overshadow me. She wanted the world to see me and not just my dress. The light, flowing material makes me feel almost as though I’m walking on air. I think back to my fairy princess costume and the winged statue James commissioned of me. The people who love me see me with wings, wings they have given me.
After we model our evening gowns, we take our turns answering a final question. Being last, I quietly take my place at the microphone.
