Page 7 of Ghost Walk
“I see ya are becoming vexed, but you must listen to me.” The guy who lookedwaaaytoo much like Jamie Riordan stepped closer to her, quickly closing the distance she’d created. His gaze was frantic now, like he was afraid to even blink for fear she’d disappear. “You’re the one I’ve been waiting for. You can’t be leaving me, lass. I need your help.”
She gave her head a frenzied shake. “You aren’t real.” She whispered, her eyes locked on his way-too-real-seeming face. “This isn’t happening. I just need to think about peaceful green cornfields and you’ll go away.” Her parents’ farm was still the place she returned to in her mind when she was stressed. Her therapist had told her it was all about “centering” herself, but mostly it was about Grace wanting to recapture an elusive feeling of safety.
“Cornfields? Are ya mad?”
“Apparently,yes! I am! I’m seeing you and you’re not really here!”
Blackbeard waved that aside. “Of course I’m here. Donea be daft. We musttalk. Well,Imust talk and you must listen. I have beenscreamingfor someone to listen to me for centuries.”
“Peaceful green cornfields. Peaceful green cornfields. Peaceful green…Why aren’t you going away!?”
“I’m not goinganywhere!” He loomed over Grace, like he was instinctively trying to get as close to her as he could. “Two hundred years I’ve waited in this dismal place. I needhelpand you’re here to provide it. I’m not leaving your side, woman.”
Grace squeezed her eyes shut and tried harder to find her calm place. The pressure ofnotfinding it just added to her growing anxiety and made it all the more impossible to find. “Peacefulgreencornfields, peacefulgreencornfields, peacefulgreencornfields.”
“Would you bloodystopthat?!”
“Are we sure this is part of the tour?” The frat guy’s girlfriend asked no one in particular. “The guide lady is acting kinda wiggy.”
The rest of the group clearly agreed with that diagnoses, edging away from Grace like she might be contagious. Their wary looks weren’t helping her feel frigging peaceful!
“I’m not insane.” She snapped at them, mostly trying to convince herself. “I just can’t be around stress.That’swhat this is about. I’m under too much stress and it’s manifesting in some kind of Colonial-era delusion.”
“You’refeeling stressed? Try being dead, woman!”
“You’re not even real! I told you, you’re just adelusion. And don’t call me ‘woman!’”
The tour group exchanged nervous looks, wondering if they should make a run for it.
“Listen to me.” The delusion laid a hand against hischest, obviously trying to appear sincere. “This is really happening. It is. I’ll explain it to you, alright?” He nodded like he had some magic words that would suddenly make everything logical and clear. If the real Jamie Riordan had been half so convincingly earnest, the lynch-mob never would have executed him in the first place. “I’m not a delusion. I’m aghost.”
Grace gave a high-pitched laugh at that lunacy. “Oh, of course you are!”
“It’s true. My name is Captain James MacCleef Riordan. I was hanged in this accursed town on July 4, 1789, for crimes I didn’t commit.” He gestured towards the oak tree stump. “I wasframedfor killing those girls and I’ve been stuck here ever since. I swear it. Ya have to assist me in finally clearing my name.”
“No, no, no, no, no.” Grace kept backing away from him. “I don’t have to do anything, except my deep breathing exercises. This is all inside my head. You’re a manifestation of my anxiety and my weird fixation with that stupid picture.”
She should have known her obsession with that painting would lead to badness. Her first sex dreams had been about a murderer. No wonder she was so screwed up.
Jamie Riordan (No,notJamie Riordan!) moved closer again. “Mistress Rivera,please. You were clearly sent to me for a reason. I’m not going to hurt you. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. Regain your equilibrium and everything will begin to…watch out!”
Grace was passed the point of even hearing him. She had to get out of there before she had a complete meltdown. As she retreated, the heel of her old time-y shoe wedged between two of the street’s cobblestones. Caught off-guard, Grace toppled backwards, her arms pin-wheeling for purchase.
“Shit!” The-delusion-who-maybe-wasn’t-a-delusion reached out to try and grab her as she fell. Instead of catching hold of Grace and steadying her, his fingers passed right through her wrist with a strange jolt of energy. She hit the ground, her skull whacking against the pavement. Stars flashed in front of her eyes.
The very last thing she saw before the world went dark was Jamie Riordan’s stunning face hovering over hers, his patriot blue eyes bright with concern. “Donea leave me, lass.” He said very clearly. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you.”
Chapter Two
June 20, 1789- HC snuck in to see me last night, after the Ball. I woke up with my hands tied to the bedposts and his mouth between my thighs. He seemed intent on punishing me for dancing with JMR (He quite detests the Pirate!) and I was begging him for forgiveness by the end. I cannot even write all the wicked things he did to my body while I was helpless. I’m sure Eugenia knows what we did and the gloomy little prude knows thatIknow that she knows, which makes it all the more delicious.
It was quite a marvelous evening!
From the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth
“I wish you’d let the ambulance take you to the hospital, just to check you out.” Mrs. Anita Beauregard-Smythe frowned, visions of lawsuits dancing in her head. “You really don’t look well and our insurance provider is very clear about getting timely doctors’ reports.”
As head of Harrisonburg’s tour office, Anita was visibly worried about what the guests’ comment cards would say if one of her guides had a psychotic break. With lacquered blonde hair fixed in a permanent bubble and a face that never lost its empty smile, Anita had probably been born in her middle-aged pants suit. She couldn’t care less about the welfare of her employees, although she tried to cover that bean-counting callousness with Southern manners. Under the phony empathy and flawless make-up, her only real focus was ruling her office fiefdom with an iron fist.
