They were both quiet, as if mulling over his words, before Patrick said,
"You're right, Conroy, we should leave our emotions at home." He had emphasized the word emotions angrily, glaring first at Conroy then at Justine.
Justine stood there remaining silent. Her emotions shifted quickly between hostility towards Patrick and a pleading of Conroy. Conroy covered his mouth with his large hand and had to bite back the laughter.
"Justine, I know you're upset over your mother, and I can understand that. But if you need to take some personal time, I have no problem with that. However, that would also mean that you would be unable to join us on the Kingsley retreat."
The cleverly concealed threat was not lost on Justine as she stood up straight,
"I'm fine Conroy, there is nothing to be done for my mother, but wait." Patrick nearly gawked at her, but with the will of a stone wall, didn't reply to her. He wanted to scream at her and tell that that had been his point all along.
"Okay, so then we're fine, right? We can conduct ourselves as professionals, right?"
They both nodded grudgingly, and again, Conroy had to stifle his laughter.
"Donuts, we need donuts and hot coffee." Conroy walked around to the other side of his desk and pulled out an envelope marked petty cash. He pulled out two twenties and handed them to Justine who was standing nearest to him.
Both Justine and Patrick stared at Conroy as if stupefied. He paused, letting the realization sink in.
"Yes, I want you two to go get us some coffee and donuts. But don't go to the Dunkin' Donuts, I know it's closer, but Krispy Kreme is so much better." He started towards the door and opened it before turning back and saying,
"We'll be in the briefing room when you get back, don't rush." When he closed the door behind them, he was finally able to let out the laugh that had been dying to erupt in their presence. At his age, Conroy knew that sometimes, two people who loved one another just needed to fight it out of their system.
Justine opened the door and headed toward the exit, Patrick walked slowly behind her.
"I left my keys in the briefing room."
"I have mine," Justine said.
"Okay, do you mind if I ride with you?"
"No I don't mind." Her reply was sarcastic.
They got in the car quietly, without exchanging any words or glances praying that their arms or legs wouldn't brush against one another. Justine put the key in the ignition, put the car in drive and paused,
"Seat belt," she said calmly.
"Oh yeah, okay." Patrick put on his seat belt as Justine pulled out of the parking lot.
Justine was determined not to speak to him, she had nothing to say, she kept trying to convince herself. Patrick stared at her side profile so intently that it unnerved her. Finally she spared him a cold glance,
"What?" Her voice was almost shrill.
"I love you Justine."
That was the one thing she hadn't expected him to say, the worst thing for him to say, the fastest way of breaking down her defenses. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"I love you, too." He smiled at her tense form, he knew that she was melting, even if she didn't want to be.
"I'm sorry about what I said last night Justine, I'm not sorry about how I feel, but I'm sorry for the way I handled it." If there was one thing she could always expect out of Patrick, it was honesty. She wasn't quite sure if his words were meant as apology or a peace offering. Neither of which, she wasn't sure she was ready to accept.
"You did handle it poorly, regardless of how you might think or feel about my mother, she is still my mother."
"I know, I understand that, but Justine, she also needs to be an adult and stop putting all this unnecessary strain on you."
Unfortunately, Justine had to agree with that. She looked at him, her eyes a cool green,
"Yes, you're right about that Patrick. And just to let you know, if it makes you feel any better I'm also pissed off at my mother."
"No, it doesn't make me feel better, it makes me feel sorry for you. I don't know what to say or do, Justine. I just want to see you happy. But I'm not going to lie to you about how I feel. That's just me."
Justine pulled up in front of the Krispy Kreme, and glanced at Patrick.
"That's fair enough."
He put his hand on her thigh, and she paused feeling her heart beat rapidly, and placed her hand over his.
"I love you Justine."
"I love you too, Patrick."
Although they still both felt a bit hurt and stiff with one another, both of them were relieved when they shared a hesitant, yet tender embrace.
"Oh and in case you're wondering which I know you are, I went to the beach and fell asleep there last night. Then I splurged at Dairy Queen, and came home."
"You went to Dairy Queen without me?" He said between relieved laughter and attempting to sound hurt.
"Yep, I sure did, and it was so yummy." Chapter Twenty Six
When the two of them arrived back in the briefing room, Conroy noticed a more relaxed appearance on both of their faces. He silently patted himself on the back for his ingenious idea. Liz stared up curiously at them, her eyes first seeking out Patrick then reluctantly Justine. Justine made sure to give Liz, her sweetest, most sincere, victorious mile.
*****
When Justine arrived at the hospital, without Patrick who had gone home to make dinner, Alice was awake, and apparently not happy to be so. Justine quietly walked into the room, feeling as if she may have just wandered into a wolves den. Alice stared at her blankly for a moment as if waiting for the recognition to set in.
"Hi Momma, how are you feeling," Justine asked in a hushed voice.
"Oh god baby, I hurt. And these nurses keep moving me around, readjusting me, and giving me shots."
"Well, they're doing their best to make you better."
"Yeah I know," Alice nearly pouted.
The room quickly became overbearingly quiet as mother and daughter stared at one another. Alice reached out in a rare moment of affection and placed her hand on Justine's.
"Mad at me?"
Justine looked away, she didn't want to lie, but wasn't sure if harsh honesty was best for this moment.
"Justine?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you mad at me?" The question was serious but free of any accusation.
"Yes, mother I am."
Alice quickly removed her hand and laid her head back looking at the ceiling as if for direction.
"I'm pretty pissed off at myself, too."
This humble answer surprised Justine more than it probably should have, but she knew that her mother had a hard time admitting when she was wrong and had to give her credit for it.
"I'm just glad the girl I hit is going to be okay, Oh god Justine, I don't know if I could live with myself if I had killed her." The sudden tears surprised Justine enough to enfold her mother gingerly in a warm hug. Alice held her daughter, her shoulders shaking violently with grief.
When the tears were mopped away and hardly noticeable any longer, it seemed as if a vile poison had left Alice's body and left her feeling numb. She looked at her daughter loving her, wishing she could have been more like her and finally admitting that she had always carried a deep seated jealousy towards Justine. It had begun as soon as Justine was born, tearing Ethan's time away from her, and becoming the light of his eyes. She was Ethan's girl, always had been and had grown into a woman who was very much styled after her father. His free, liberal, open minded way of thinking. His humanitarian beliefs and his love for things that most people never even thought to question. Justine was the female version of her father, a man Alice had loved endlessly yet had never been quite able to express. Their marriage had been based on prosperity and contentment, yet it lacked a true closeness that some couples were lucky enough to share with one another. Years of regret seemed to tumble onto one another as she hugged Justine and realized that she had run out of chances with her, this was i
t.
"Thank you for coming, Justine."
"Don't thank me mother, you're my mom, regardless…" She wasn't able to end the sentence in a way that wouldn't be cruel or insulting, so she just left it at that.
Chapter Twenty Seven
"Are you sure we're going the right way?"
Justine's voice sounded incredulous.
"Yes, Justine, I am following the directions
Conroy gave me, and trust me, he never gives bad
directions" Patrick's voice was tired and tempered
with impatience.
"This is a dirt road though, through a state park,"
She mumbled to herself.
To lighten the mood, Patrick said,
"I really like this Chevy Malibu."
"Yeah, too bad I'll have to have the alignment
fixed and the suspension checked after all of these pot
holes."
Three miles later on the Island known as Fort
George, the first thing the two of them noticed was
the deteriorated slaves' quarters.
"Wow," was all Justine could mutter.
"The slave quarters had been made of a type of
Tabby, which is an oyster shell concrete, apparently it
doesn't hold up so well."
Twenty three slaves' cabins stood in various
states of deterioration; however and one of them had
been completely restored to its original state. They then passed a small plantation home which
had a main house and four smaller houses; there was
a small gravel parking lot to their left which surprised
both of them.
"My god, all these tourists, you'd think they
would be afraid of this place because it's officially
been listed as haunted." Justine's voice was whimsical
and vague.
"No. Think about it baby, many people don't
believe a place can be haunted, others don't care,
they're just here for the historic value of it, and then
the others, like you and I are just freaks trying to see a
ghost."
She would have laughed; really she would have
if she could get over the doubting thought filling her
mind.
"I don't know if I'll be able to address this place
objectively, unbiased or even remain focused while
I'm here, I've heard so many contradicting horror
stories about the place." This was said in a mused
voice, more for Justine's benefits than Patrick's. "It's a good thing this isn't a formal investigation
then."
"Was a slaved really hanged here?"
"According to the records, Zephaniah Kingsley
was a very fair slave owner, as if their was such a
thing, but anyway, the land owners have changed
hands quite a few times through the Kingsley's, who
really knows. Slave hanging was not uncommon back
then."
"But the fact sheet says that an Abraham
something or other, was hanged here for theft." "Justine, a fact sheet is just that; ignore it, go
with your instinct, that's what you're good at." The first order of Team Spectrum was to set up
their tents, or as Conroy seemed to enjoy referring to
them as, sleeping quarters. A large field which had once been a hardy crop of peanuts was now covered with several small tents and sea cotton. There was an amazing buzz of activity as the other
Parapsychologist teams steadily arrived and started
putting up their temporary housing.
Justine felt nothing, absolutely nothing. The land
had such a rich and significant history, one could not
deny that, but a haunting? That was questionable. The
Island of Fort George was peaceful and quiet. Justine
could see why someone back in the early 1800's had
chosen this place to live. The view of the brackish St.
Johns River was exceptional as it shone blue with pin
points of sparkling diamonds beneath the sun. It could
have been a major sea port if it hadn't been zoned for
agriculture.
Dinner was being provided by a local barbeque
restaurant as the teams were welcomed with a large
and tempting buffet. Justine layered her plate
carefully, well aware of how badly her nerves reacted
to a heavy stomach. She sat down in a lawn chair
around the fire pit next to Patrick who's own plate
was so heavily loaded that she couldn't imagine even
him being able to eat it all.
Claudia who sat nearly directly across Justine
nodded at her. The food was heavy with carbs, and
good yet far from the best Justine had ever
experienced. While she was tentatively eating a piece
of smoked turkey, Claudia approached her and sat
down next to her and Patrick.
"Justine, this is the perfect place for me to show
you some shielding techniques, after dinner I'd like to
take a walk with you." She stared at Patrick pointedly,
very clearly not including him in the invitation. Feeling a bit put on the spot, Justine hastily
agreed to Claudia's invitation. She didn't want to
admit that she was exhausted and not totally sure that
the place was a dead cell and would be a bad place for
learning how to shield.
Patrick encouraged the idea however, and Justine
once again admonished herself for seeking his
opinion and not thinking on her own independently. It was late in the evening, and nearly dark when
Claudia finally approached Justine.
"Wouldn't it be better to do it when more day
light still remains?"
"No, honestly, I'd rather you be frightened, you
know all the shadows of the night and such, your
senses are heightened, fear brings out your natural
gift better than just about anything. But if you would
rather wait, we can."
She had stated it in a non threatening way,
however Justine couldn't help but see it as a
challenge. Claudia stared at her for a moment, as if
eagerly awaiting her answer when she finally asked, "Now, or tomorrow when there is more sun light
left?"
*****
In the waning day light, Claudia walked silently and suddenly stopped before a beautiful, sprawling oak tree covered decoratively in dangling Spanish moss.
"This is the tree." Claudia's voice was insistent yet solemn.
"What do you mean?"
"Come on Justine this is the tree that Abraham was hanged upon, can't you feel it?"
Justine gathered up her instincts as best she could. She tried spreading out her invisible feelers as far as they could reach, as deep in history as they could go and quickly became frustrated from the lack of instinct.
"No, honestly, I don't feeling anything."
"Then its perfect, wait ten minutes when the setting sun slowly dissolves over the river. Then you'll see, you'll know, and that’s when we can begin."
Claudia had Justine sit down with her back against the enormous oak tree.
"Do you fee anything now?"
Justine closed her eyes, breathed in deeply feeling the trees invigorating energy exchange with her own tired energy. It seemed as if it was recycling her old energy in exchange for fresh, renewed energy.
"Oh yes, I do." She peaked one eye open, "but I'm not sure if it's what you wanted me to feel."
Claudia smiled, standing a few feet away from Justine, noting the pleased expression stamped on Justine's face.
"This is exactly what I wan
ted you to feel, it's called grounding and it really works. When you're upset, angry, or have been around to much negative energy, and yes, I do mean ghosts by that, this is one of the easiest and fastest ways to get back to feeling normal."
"Yes I can see why," Justine replied tiredly.
"Okay, Justine, get up before you fall asleep on me." Claudia giggled as she said it.
Reluctantly Justine stood up surprised that she felt so at peace and comfortable with her
surroundings.
"Come sit with me", Claudia gestured, sitting in the deep green grass in front of the tree. It surprised Justine to notice that several people had gathered near the tree, some of them were familiar, many of them were not and just about every one of them had a camera in their hand. The sun was slowly starting to slide down low on the horizon. Justine stared at Claudia questioningly; she only nodded staring at the tree giving Justine an excited smiled.
A hand on Justine's shoulder startled her until she realized it was Patrick's. He sat down directly behind her, barely resisting the temptation to wrap his arms around her and gather her close.
A hushed quiet suddenly settled within the gathered crowd which had previously been speaking in lowered, yet excited, expectant tones. Justine turned to glance and smile at Patrick; he smiled warmly at her before gently turning her head with his large hand back towards the tree.
"Wait, watch, it's worth it babe."
The ancient oak tree swayed gently on the breeze of the late Indian summer. The moon and the sun shared the sky for a moment directly apart from one another, a time so rare and beautiful. Like two lovers separated by fate the moon and the sun, they seemed to be facing off, staring at one another.
The hush throughout the crowd deepened even further, all eyes were on the mysterious old tree. A shape began to form in the waning light, the thin figure of a man. Skin rapidly becoming bolder and colored dark. The figure was more than a silhouette; it appeared to be an actual, solid human man hanging from the tree. Abraham. A yellowed noose knotted tightly around his neck. His face swollen and colored a dark purple, his skin suffering from a lack of oxygen. Large eyeballs seemed to nearly hang out of his eye sockets. His blue lips were parted open as if in an unheard plea of help.
The crowd gasped, almost in retreat as his eyes twitched wide opened and burned red. A hundred cameras simultaneously brightened the night for a second and then Abraham was gone as quickly as he had appeared.
Journey of Souls (The Mortality Series) Page 23
