Ancestral

Redemption

Ben took a step back, while Helmut leaned over to me and whispered, “I thought you were only supposed to see ghosts at night. Doesn’t she know the rules?”

“I don’t think there are any rules, at least not like that.” I did indeed recognize her. I took a step closer to her and greeted her. “Hello Maggie, I’m happy to meet you at last.” She continued to stare but didn’t respond. “I wanted to say thank you for letting Ben know when I was hurt the other day.” She nodded at me to acknowledge this and then nodded at Ben. He took a step back and swallowed hard.

She then turned her attention to Helmut and smiled. Despite all the muscles and macho bullshit, he stepped behind me, grabbing my shoulders and keeping me between them. She began slowly circling him, finally bringing a hand up to caress his face. He let me go and stood frozen in fear. She continued behind him, running her hand along his shoulders and back. When she finished the circuit, she stopped in front of him, facing him with her hand on his chest. She stood there for a moment and looked him up and down, allowing her grin to grow broader. Then without warning she shoved her hand down the front of his pants, while putting her face right in front of his.

Helmut’s mouth dropped open, but he didn’t utter a sound. She held him like this for a brief moment, then putting her other hand on his shoulder she pushed him back toward the bed and forced him to sit. He seemed to have no control over his body and was lost in the moment. She freed her hand and, pulling up her skirts, climbed on top of him, settling herself on his crotch. His eyes rolled shut and, leaning back, he began moaning in pleasure. She rode him for only a minute or two before his hips lifted off the bed and he began to violently spasm. As he came, she threw her head back in ecstasy, her moans of pleasure distantly echoing throughout the building. She then evaporated into a mist which rose to the ceiling and disappeared. A moment later we heard her faint laughter and then silence.

Helmut seemed to come to himself at that point, and pushing himself up he asked, “What the hell just happened?”

“What always happens when you have an encounter with a ghost?” I pointed to the growing wet spot on the front of his trousers and grinned at him.

“Shit!” he jumped when he saw the stain on his lap. He stood up and looked inside the front of his pants. “Damn! That was one huge load.”

As he tried to adjust himself, I asked, “Don’t you remember?”

“Not really,” he struggled. “I kind of fell asleep or something, and I think I was having a sex dream, something about fucking a woman. Haven’t done that in years, but it brought back memories.”

“Well, you fucked one today, or rather she fucked you. Only this woman was dead.” Turning to Ben, I asked, “Do you think the blow job I gave you on her grave whetted her appetite for dick?”

Ben was getting creeped out again and Helmut wasn’t far behind. Why was I the only one who could see the humor in this situation? “Have you seen enough? Ben insisted, “I have. Let’s go!”

They began winding their way through the labyrinthine hallways as I took one last look at Sylas’s room. Then, slipping the photo into my pocket I followed them out.

I spent most of the evening pouring over the journal. I wanted to look for more references to Dell, and I also realized that I had almost entirely skipped the sections where he talked about the construction of the house, so I decided to look more closely at those. I hoped that I might find some clues about the stone room, or the identity of Dell.

I discovered that Captain Foster's time working as a slaver had made profound changes in him. He wrote an account on his last voyage back from Africa in which he was deeply troubled. It had been a difficult run and they had already lost ten percent of their “cargo” to illness and dehydration. Every time they had to throw a body overboard, he couldn’t help but think of them as a person, not just cargo. And he couldn’t help but think of how he would feel if one of his brothers or sisters were kidnapped, only to be thrown away like so much garbage. He chronicled looking into the faces of as many of the slaves as possible and seeing the terror in their eyes.

He saw the beauty of these people and one in particular caught his eye. He had been defiant at first, earning himself more than one beating for his spirit. Josiah watched as the light went out of his eyes during the trip, and by the time they reached port, he, like the other slaves, was a broken man. Josiah couldn’t bear it and used his earnings to buy this man. Nothing more seemed to be said about him

There was a gap of about two months after this, but the very next entry was the first one to mention D. He was not labeled as beloved yet but was clearly viewed with affection. Josiah spoke of his new job transporting sugar to Massachusetts, and the pleasure he felt while watching D. walk with confidence through the town. The next time D. was mentioned the captain had moved to Massachusetts and was commenting on D.’s success and his ability to afford a better apartment. This entry referred to D. as he, and I realized I must have missed it earlier or just not read closely enough to pick up on the gender. Either way, as I continued to read it became clear that D. was a man, and that their friendship was deepening over time. There was never any mention of sexual contact between them, but that didn’t really surprise me. In that era, it was considered unspeakable and discretion was absolutely necessary.

I finally found the entry where Captain Foster recorded the return of the love letters. By then they had both married and had children, and the captain had moved up north to work shipping lumber. They had not seen each other for many years, thus the letters, but their affection seems to have held strong. He said surprisingly little, but it was poignant. He wrote:

“My life has been torn from me. For him I forsook my homeland to move north. For him I broke the laws of God and man. For him I built a home of safety. And for him I risked all. Now I am bereft and shall never more know joy.”

‘Home of safety’? What could that mean? It reminded me of my other topic of interest tonight, so I decided to take a break and come back to look over the entries that chronicled the building of this house before bed.

I headed to the kitchen both so I could stretch my legs and to get a snack. Hearing me stir, Heather cracked her door and called me to her room excitedly. “Miss M. warned me not to bother you tonight, but I’m just bursting to tell you. I found the two people who worked at the Hathaway.” She pulled out some photocopies and brought them to me. “Right here. Sylas worked there for three years, and Maggie for four. See, Sylas Donovan, and Pearl Dawes. Maggie was hard to find, it took me a while to figure out that it was a nickname for Pearl. But I found it! These are from some ledgers that are gathering dust at city hall. I also checked out the museum and found something unexpected. There are three boxes full of papers from the Foster Inn after it closed. They include a bunch of personal papers from Mariah Foster, as well. I haven’t had time to look through that stuff yet, but it looks interesting. The archivist was so happy that someone was actually showing interest. I think I’m going to like working with her. When do you think I’ll be able to start?”

That was way more energy than I could handle at the moment. I thanked her for the update and encouraged her to keep up the good work, but I needed to return to the quiet of my room. Thankfully, the kitchen was empty, and I was able to return without further interruption. I spent the rest of the evening engrossed in the journal, finding surprise after surprise. At about eleven, a soft knock on my door pulled me out of my reverie, and Ben stuck his head in to say good night.

“Oh my God! I’ve got to tell someone. Come in. Sit down.” It was all beginning to make sense to me at last. “I think I know why we weren’t able to find the stone room. It was designed to stay hidden. It’s a secret room.”

Ben settled in. He knew me well enough to know that when I got this excited there would be no stopping me until I was done. “So why did old Captain Foster build a secret room? Was he a mad scientist? Did he need a place for late night assignations? Was he smuggling?” He was joking, but he had hit it.

“Smuggling,” I said coolly.

“Really?” Ben found this mildly interesting and a bit humorous. “Alcohol? Weapons? Drugs? What?”

“People.”

“What? Eww, it wasn’t some form of human trafficking was…” He suddenly remembered that we were talking about the period just before the civil war and started to understand.

“Former slaves,” I clarified. “He built this house as a safe house for the underground railroad, and he was ferrying escaped slaves to Canada. The hidden room was designed to give them a hiding place if the authorities ever showed up to search the house. He designed it during construction and the basement is deliberately constructed to conceal the presence of the extra room.”

“Woah, that is seriously cool!” Ben was actually interested now. “Does it tell you where it is and how to find it?”

“There are hints, but he never states any of this outright. I’ve had to read between the lines, but it all makes sense. He mentions some shelves against a wall, maybe it’s the shelves under the stairs. I know there’s something odd about them.”

“Yeah, well I’m not going back down there while it’s dark, and certainly not without Andi and everyone else. I don’t care what she says that little girl was scary.”

I agreed with him. “There will be time for that, but I haven’t told you everything yet.”

“There’s more?”

“Do you know why he did all this?” He shook his head and I continued. “I found out who Dell was. He was one of the African men kidnapped on Captain Foster’s last voyage as a slaver.