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The Lincoln Penny

Page 35

by Barbara Best


  “We will discuss the church another time. Quit dallying.” Matthew tightens his grip on Jane’s arm and gives her an imperceptible shake.

  He’s not kidding around. “Okay. Okay! Mary?”

  Mary simply nods to Jane, pulls a rope and when the doors are opened, swishes her way out of the room with slow, deliberate intent. The massive ruffle at the bottom of her skirt lightly brushes the doorframe as she disappears.

  Several long, silent minutes pass, with not a word. At last Mary returns with one of her servants carrying the box in question.

  “Mattie, I will have the jewelry box now,” Mary speaks royally, as if she is about to participate in something splendid. She puts her free arm out to take possession.

  Mattie gingerly hands it off, making sure her mistress has the article securely in one arm before she lets go.

  “Thank you, Mattie. Now don’t go far . . . I may need you.”

  With head bowed, Mattie excuses herself quietly from the room, shutting the doors tight behind her.

  Jane begins in truth, though not without some vacillation, “How Madame Néve got this and how she would know it belongs to me, I have no earthly idea. It is an antique my dad gave me for my birthday.”

  She feels her adrenaline pumping and her mouth go dry for what she is about to do. Nerves on edge, Jane looks pointedly down at Matthew’s hand on her arm. With a polite nod, Matthew relaxes, releasing her.

  Jane takes the box from Mary, who continues to guard it like the Arc of the Covenant, the Holy Grail. By a touching sense of loyalty and unadorned instinct, Mary had decidedly concealed Jane’s precious possession. Sad to say, she is about to understand the full significance of what she has been protecting.

  “Thanks, Mary,” Jane hopes Mary can tell her simple thank you is saying so much more. Jane takes the box to the round table in the center of the room, and rests it gently on the highly polished surface. Her attentive audience circles around on each side, expectantly.

  Gulping hard, Jane begins, “My birthday is April 10th. I was born in 1989.”

  “89 . . . 19-89?” Matthew stiffens. Surely she speaks in error.

  Jane blows an exasperated puff of air, “Yes, I know. 1989. That’s correct and please, both of you, no questions until I’m finished, okay?”

  When there is no further interruption, Jane begins again, “In my time, I live and work here in Savannah. You’ve wanted to know about my family. I am originally from Vidalia, Georgia, where I was born. The name of my hometown isn’t on the map yet, but you said you know the area, Matthew, and have heard of the Petersons. My ancestors should be there right now.”

  Jane takes a ragged breath. She feels a tremendous pressure, a heavy weight pressing down on her. She is unleashed on a world without dexterity or proper intellect. A voice inside is screaming you are out of your league girl! Why doesn’t something stop me! It is obvious she has changed the balance of things just by being here. Now, she is recklessly playing with people’s lives. It’s terrifying to think about.

  Matthew has his hands locked behind his back in a stony stance. When Jane falters, he efficiently coaxes, “Do proceed, Miss Peterson.”

  “Yes. Well anyway, in my free time I am also a Civil War reenactor. It’s a hobby . . . a way to create an impression of this period in history.

  “Civil War reenactments are held at historically significant places, like battlefields and forts. To recreate the persona of military and civilian life, we all wear period clothing, carry period things with us and basically, live history, giving tours and talks about the war and this time. The men even hold battles that look real, but of course they’re not.” Enough of that! How flippant, pretentious and insensitive this must sound to them.

  “One of the places we go to act out history is Fort Pulaski.” Jane decides to skip the part about how she is affiliated with the 48th New York and all the men in her group are Union soldiers. No need to add insult to injury. “The fort is a beautiful state park, a well-preserved Civil War monument people go to see a hundred and fifty years into the future. We were there on the weekend of my birthday. It was only my second event, my second reenactment. I had this jewelry box with my ring in the Colonel’s Quarters where the ladies stay during the event and somehow both of these items ended up here. How? I have no idea.”

  The words that have been locked in Jane’s head for so long are just pouring out. She hopes in some order that makes sense. “On April 10th, 2012, I somehow traveled through time. Bizarre and irrational as hell, but here I am,” Jane shrugs. “And a key, an antique key dating back to the 1700s that my dad discovered in the bottom of this box, could be the mechanism that transported me.

  “It’s not the tiny key on the bone tassel you saw, Mary.” Jane takes a quick look at her friend who has a curious expression on her face. It’s not one of surprise. It is something else.

  “The key I’m talking about was hung on my chatelaine in 2012 and, just for fun, I fit it into the lock of an old door at Pulaski. It ended up being the door to the storeroom where your men found me, Matthew.” Jane’s mind repeats the well-traveled steps she and Sophie took that night. “All of a sudden I was in the year 1862 and the key that got me into this mess was gone. With all the chaos that night, with the siege and all, there was no chance to look for it. Now, with Union troops there, it’s a lost cause. And who’s to say it’s in that room, in this century, anyhow? The key may very well have been left behind in 2012.”

  Jane lifts the lid of the box. No money. Smart move Mary! Her chatelaine. It looks so pretty against the rich colored lining. It makes her think of home. Jane lifts one of the chains, “This is where I kept the key. You can see the hook and part of the chain is missing where it was torn off. But there’s something else I want to show you. Some of our currency has presidents from history on them . . . one of our coins came through the portal with me in my clothing.” Jane opens the tiny mesh purse Anna had given her, “It’s not here!” Jane’s heart sinks and she looks sharply at Mary.

  “Gracious me, child, I didn’t touch your chatelaine.”

  “But where did my penny go?” Alarmed, Jane runs her finger inside the purse one more time. Her mind tries to rush to conclusions, although she has no immediate answers.

  “Your box has been locked away. And I can assure you I had no knowledge . . .”

  “Please, Mary. Don’t say another word. I would never, ever think you had anything to do with it. It’s just that . . .”

  “It’s just that . . .” Both women turn at the sound of Matthew’s voice.

  “It’s just that an incriminating piece of evidence is best out of our hands, at least for now wouldn’t you say? It appears someone has done us a favor,” Matthew finishes smoothly. “Am I to guess this coin of yours, this penny currency, has the despicable image of Abraham Lincoln on it?” He rolls his eyes and mumbles under his breath, “Why they would honor such a man is beyond my comprehension.”

  Jane’s expression drops, “Yes. Lincoln’s profile and it is stamped with 2012, the year it was minted. It’s not much, but it is the only physical proof from my time.” Who has my coin? When and how did it go missing? Tessie is the only other person that has seen it and, like Mary, she is completely trustworthy. Jane would in no way doubt her two closest friends.

  “Well then!” Matthew clasps his hands together, “There we have it. You share an amazing tale, my dear. Your sudden appearance has been a great mystery and it is plain you are not from here. But the future!” he laughs gleefully and the sound fills the room. “Ho! Now that is one for the history books. Oh pardon me. I stand corrected. To you, we ARE the history books!”

  Jane gives the man a curious, sideways glance. There was the tiniest catch at the end of his laugh that was hard to read. Could it be a hairline fracture in his bravado? Or was it more like disappointment or a hint of sadness. She’s not sure. “Are you two okay? This is a bit hard to digest. I’m still dealing with it.”

  Jane turns to study her friend’s
face. So far Mary’s reaction has been uncanny. She acts as if Jane has just told her a bit of news from her day at the hospital over afternoon tea. She is calm, alert and appears impervious to the whole business.

  “We need to get you to a safe place,” are Mary’s first real and decisive words as she swishes over to pull the heavy gold cord that rings a bell heard in another part of the house. “We will leave directly.”

  There is a whir of activity as the house comes to life with preparations for a hasty departure from Savannah. In short work necessities are packed, the horses are harnessed, and the carriage made ready. Finally, Jane, Mary and one of Mary’s servants, Mattie, climb in and with a jerk they are off. Matthew follows them on horseback to the far outer-edge of town. The carriage travels in a direction away from where the night sky has dimmed to a pale orange glow. Then, he peels off to head home. He has the safety of his grieving family to attend to.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT

  Sophie can’t make the call quick enough. She had just come back from lunch with Mrs. Dallas and Mrs. Aronson and didn’t want to wait until she got home from work, “Pick up. Pickup . . . pickup . . . pickup,” she chants.

  On the fourth ring, Bryce answers out of a deep sleep. He worked the graveyard last night at the hospital and was only going on two-hours sleep from the day before. “Shit, yeah, hello.” He hadn’t checked the screen to ID the caller and had bumped his elbow on the end table in a blind attempt to snare his phone.

  “Bryce! It’s Sophie. You sound horrible! Did I wake you . . . I am so sorry!”

  “That’s okay,” he clears his throat and sits up, rubbing his arm and checking the time. “Umm . . . what’s up?”

  “You aren’t going to believe this! Remember those ladies from the historical society? Well, I finally was able to track them down and they said they could arrange for us to have the key on permanent loan if we want. They’ve checked it out and don’t see any reason to hold on to it. Isn’t that the coolest thing ever?”

  “Pretty cool, Soph,” Bryce is trying to get his head to clear. “In fact, that’s the best news I’ve heard. Definitely worth a wake-up call,” he smiles, trying to sound more enthusiastic.

  “Better believe it. Anyway, I told them it may just be another key to them, the society, the fort, but it was Jane’s key and really meant something to her family. That she had it, ya know, that night at the fort. They were very nice, sympathetic even, and completely agreeable to returning the key to us. They said they could get us some sort of release paper so it’s all legal-like, since the fort is a stickler about that sort of thing.”

  “So when can we get it?”

  “I hadn’t really thought about that part yet. Ben said he would take care of things with Jeff. He usually spends a lot of time with the Park Rangers making all the preparations for our event and getting everything and everyone lined up. We were thinking the key is safe right where it is until you can get here. What do you think?”

  “Well, yeah, that sounds really good. Fantastic work Soph! Amazing. I am thinking we probably should let Art know too. He might want a say in it.”

  “I can call him if you want. I know work and school are keeping you busy. I will be glad to call Art.”

  “Works for me. I’ve only talked to him once since my trip to the storage unit. Tell him I said, Hi, okay?”

  “So you didn’t hear anything more about the jewelry box, huh?”

  “Nope. Listen, Sophie, it’s the end of another semester and final exams are kicking my butt. The only chance I’ll make it down will be your reenactment weekend in April. That’s a few weeks from now.”

  “It’s YOUR reenactment weekend too.” Sophie reminds Bryce, sounding a little disappointed.

  “You’re right. Remember though, I warned you and Ben I’m not into the dress up in awkward clothing and do without modern conveniences thing. So don’t get your hopes up,” Bryce chuckles. “It’s just your intriguing idea of recreating the Jane, door, key scenario that has aroused my curiosity. It’s crazy, but I really like that part. And now we have the key. That’s super Soph.”

  Sophie is pleased with herself, “Well, I have my ways of recruiting people into the hobby, don’t I. You promised to keep an open mind now and who knows, maybe you’ll like it just a little. Ben is excited about teaching you the ropes, even if it is just for a couple of days. He has your period outfit from your cap down to your brogans and has found a prize musket to loan you with all the accessories. You’ll have everything. All you need to do is show up. Come on. It will be fun! We are both glad you’re coming. Everyone is.”

  “I know, I know. You got me this one time.”

  “Just think, Bryce, I know we were kidding around and all, but we were actually talking about breaking into that cabinet at the Visitor Center and taking the key. Now, we don’t have to.”

  “Sure. Sure! With my luck, we’d be caught stealing red handed. I don’t think they let criminals with a felony-one into med school.” Bryce laughs. Sophie was always thinking up stuff and could easily draw him in. He wasn’t real sure about his decision to join the couple and their group at Fort Pulaski in April. And he is definitely not looking forward to feeling completely ridiculous, however, something tells him it is important that he go. The two had certainly made a big effort to convince him. And in addition, Sophie had come up with the whole reenactment within a reenactment idea to replay the steps she and Jane took that night that led to the frightening account Sophie has had to live with all this time. Bryce thinks it will probably be good for all of them to play the thing out.

  “Yeah, two regular jail birds. Well, no worries now.” Sophie says happily. “We have the key now for our little scheme. Pretty neat, huh.”

  There’s dead silence on the other end of the phone that makes Sophie uncomfortable, “Bryce, are you all right?”

  Our scheme. Bryce doesn’t know why, but he isn’t too keen on the way that sounds. He hopes Sophie and Ben aren’t making too much out of this. Well, no matter. “I was just thinking. It will be a year and about time we all find closure.” It’s long overdue. Bryce has made up his mind this is the last of it for him. The time he spends at Fort Pulaski, doing something Jane loved, being where Jane was during her final hours, will be his way of saying goodbye.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

  “Just watch it now. See how it ca…catches the light and then holds on to it somehow?

  Corporal Donnelly stares at the pouch moving the lantern back and forth over it, staring, his eyes clamped on to something magical. He detects Maguire’s movement in his peripheral. “Stay right where y’are, friend,” he warns. “What do you think it ‘tis?”

  “Don’t know. I was about to f…find out when you came along.” Gus’ disposition is about as nasty now as the acidic taste in his mouth.

  The Corporal is baffled by what he sees and twists and turns the object in the light. “Never heard of a woman named Nike before. See here, that’s what it says. Like Mike, only with an ‘N’ out front. Who do you think she is?”

  “No idea. And don’t you go lookin’ at me like that, Sean Donnelly! I was just sittin’ here mindin’ me own business and sss…seen her caught up on them pilings over the side there.” Gus nudges his chin toward the end of the ramp and shoves his cold hands into his pockets. He feels around for the gold hoop and is satisfied it’s safe.

  Gus adds sourly, “Who can say how long she’s been stinkin’. Anyhow, that thing you have there was strapped round her waist good and tight. Couldn’t work the buckle loose so I had to cut it off.”

  Gus is a stuttering fool, but he proves no threat to anyone, especially when he’s one sheet in the wind. Sean decides to relax his guard a bit and throws his trusted Enfield rifle over his shoulder. His boots, his belt and the rifle he carries were picked off a dead Yankee a couple months back, the latter being a hell of a lot more reliable than his army-issued flintlock musket.

  He turns the item over in his hands, “Don’t weigh much of anything
does it? Light as a feather. It’s sealed tight too. These tiny black teeth, see,” Sean runs his finger along them. “And this here piece on the end may be a device to open it. Never seen the likes of it . . . have you?”

  “No sir. Can’t say that I have.” Gus picks up his empty bottle, stretches way back and pitches it as far out into the river as he can. There is a long silence and an audible plunk in the distance. “I think I’ve had about enough. Reckon I’ll head bah…back.” He picks up his lantern and hops up onto the platform, swaying clumsily as he rights himself. “She’s all yours.”

  “Now where do you think you’re off ta?”

  “Do what you w…want with it. I best be shovin’ off.”

  “Like hell you will.” Gus is a real talker and Sean doesn’t want him spilling his peace after downing another pint at the corner pub. It would be wise to keep the man’s hand in it. “I figure we might take a peek at what’s in here. Maybe split it. What do you say, Gus?”

  Gus eyes Sean up and down. He doesn’t trust anyone. It was all his anyhow, until the Corporal happened along and stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.

  “Come on man. What would it hurt? Like you said, Nike sure don’t need it.”

  Gus stands for a minute playing with his gloves. “Well, I guess it won’t hurt n…none, but I don’t want noooo trouble, ya hear.”

  “Look, you can do the honors if you want.” Sean offers up.

  “No, I…I’m fer holdin’ this here lantern.” Gus jumps back down onto the dock’s tilted ramp and wonders if he’s made a mistake. The voice in his head speaks a clear warning, and surprisingly without impediment. A sharp contrast to the labored words he has to force unwillingly out of his mouth. He coughs up a wad of phlegm and spits it recklessly at Sean’s feet. It misses the Corporal’s left boot by less than an inch, which makes Gus grin in satisfaction, showing a string of broken teeth from a fight that got the best of him. “Well, get on with it!”

 

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