Elias - 5. Part 5

It was a couple weeks before I picked up the ring on my nightstand again. I was angry and wanted to put it out of my sight. When I looked at it, I looked at the inner circle and I saw a set of initials. J and M. Neither of them were on the ring before so I knew it was something that he was somehow able to do before he left this world for the next. It also miraculously fit comfortably on my index finger so I wore it now. He didn’t just leave though, he ripped himself away from me and I knew that it was all my doing. I had promised to help him find all that he lost. I understood why he left, he had found whatever it was that tied him here and he had found his peace. It didn’t make it any easier, maybe if I knew beforehand I would have slowed it down a little. How was I to know that all he needed to leave was for someone to know his story, because he never got to tell it himself.

I didn’t regret doing it, I felt at peace with that. He left me knowing that he was Elias C. Blakely when he spent hundreds of years not knowing. And he wasn’t even a Blakely, even though when I got brave enough, I went and read about them in the archives. They had three children, he had two sisters, one his age, and one younger. His parents loved him, but they never knew how Elias died, both my relative and Abigail Henry got away with it. She died loved while Elias died young with secrets and I knew that hating her and the man that killed him was stupid, they were long dead, just as he was. I couldn’t help it though and I spent one embarrassing night in the drunk tank cursing a woman named Abigail Henry in my cell until Dad came to drag my ass back home. To my credit, I hadn’t made it all the way to the graveyard from the bar that actually believed my fake I.D. I was determined to get there so I could talk to her face to face.

Mom hovered and Kaelie came over the next afternoon when I was hung over to laugh at me. She drove all the way up and through the night from college to laugh at me. That is when I knew I had to get over it, to move on. So now I was at the museum, it was a few hours before Margret’s debut. I had volunteered to help Marilou get everything ready. Mostly little things like making sure the bathrooms were clean and well stocked. I dusted the bookshelves and made sure all of the out of bounds and storage areas had sturdy locks on them. Marilou would be giving a tour of the grounds, since so many of the people involved in Margret’s story were buried there. The portraits that I found myself staring at during down time were all here now. His entire set from baby to a year before he died. It was the most complete set of portraits at the museum before photography was invented, but it was these paintings that held all the magic of the place for me.

“Hey,” someone said as I was just about to take out the trash on the sidewalk. Looking up I saw a young man standing in front of me. He had on a pair of sunglasses and a ballcap, but he had his phone out in front of him and when he saw that I heard him he smiled.

“Hey,” I said then shook my head as I tucked the empty sack that I was about to put into the bin into my back pocket.

“My phone brought me to this little museum,” he said as he reached up and pulled off his sunglasses and that’s when I saw the line of freckles that dotted across his nose and pale blue eyes. I felt my breath leave me as I stumbled forward, I was about to shake his hand and ask him if he was here for the upcoming event. We were getting more and more attention as the date got closer. Marilou even had to start selling tickets to keep the numbers down to a manageable amount. People wanted to know about the witch trial, because it was the only one in our area and pretty much unknown compared to the famous ones that happened in other parts of the world.

“Are you,” I started, then cleared my voice. “Are you here for the unknown witch?”

“No, not exactly,” he said and I watched his eyebrows raise as he smirked and I glanced past him to the street before turning back to him. “My family is from here, apparently we were one of the founding families.”

“What’s your last name?” I asked and I hoped he didn’t take it the wrong way. Feeling awkward I smiled briefly as my heart raced in my chest.

“Henry,” he answered smiling as he reached up and pulled off his cap, smoothing out his hair with his hand.It was brown and wavy and I felt my stomach tighten, I had to take a deep breath and I knew that he had to notice my reaction.

“Yeah, there’s quite a few Henrys back there,” I said, nodding my head towards the graveyard. I had to force myself to blink and stop staring at him. “I can show you their archives if you like, if you come back for the unknown witch you’ll hear more about them.”

“Really?” He asked as he stepped up onto the sidewalk.

“Yeah, a bit of a scandal,” I answered and when he laughed shaking his head I smiled.

“That sounds about right,” he said as he looked past me to the museum.

“So you’ve heard a little about them?” I asked glancing past him just to give myself something else to look at.

“Yeah my family has been a little wild, but I don’t know if I can make it to the new exhibit, I have to get home soon,” he said, frowning slightly. “But if you know about my family, we could go get a cup of coffee and talk about them.”

“I’d like that,” I said, nodding. “I can probably just finish this and head out if you’d like to go now?”

“That would be great,” he said, then he tilted his head and looked at me. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Asher Carlson,” I answered and I saw his eyes widen at the sound of my name as he shook his head. I knew I wanted to hear the story he had to tell that I could see behind them. “What’s your name?”

“Rhett, Rhett Henry,” he answered and I smiled and grabbed the bag from my pocket and opened it then I looped it over the rim of the bin then replaced the lid back on the top.

“Let me go wash my hands and I’ll be right out,” I said and when he smiled and nodded I bolted for the door and fumbled to get it open. As my face warmed I headed for the bathroom, confident I could tell him everything he wanted about the Henry family, including Elias C Blakely, the lost boy of the witch’s stone.

After following him to the coffee shop though, I couldn’t help remembering why I was even here. The debut of the unknown witch was tonight, the first retelling. Marilou had a popcorn vendor and everything. All of the displays were double locked. The front of the museum just before you got to the bookshelves had been curtained off and rows of chairs were lined up and waiting. Behind those curtains were the portraits of Elias, the first two that I saw the day he left me.

Seeing Rhett now and knowing Elias, I didn’t want him to leave without seeing the exhibit, the opportunity was too good to pass up. I knew that if I told him the story of the unknown witch, he wouldn’t stay. Seeing the flesh and blood face, hearing the similar rich voice, the hint of a beard that haunted me for weeks. I wanted to know him, even if I already knew his family’s history. I had traced it all the way down and through the civil war. After the Henrys left office, they grew old. They had a son that expanded the Henry name by six more sons and three daughters. Emilia Henry married shortly after Elias died, she had three daughters. Their last names were Pearce, they moved further north and settled in New York where they all married rich and had more children. It was the sons who stayed that I was more interested in though, the ones connected to this town. They had all dispersed, the last family moving away around the 1940s. Knowing they were all gone had bothered me more than it should’ve. It was the dead end that I hadn’t been able to work my way around, and I ended up not really wanting to. Marilou only wanted old history, the stories connected to the ghost town still standing. She did add my findings to the archives, just for anyone who wanted to read that far down the family line.

Killing the engine, I slid out of my car. He was parked beside me, already out and waiting on the sidewalk. He was driving a deep red Chevrolet Suburban, a family man type of car. It was bulky and made my little Charger look even smaller.

“Hey again,” he greeted with a smile and I had to release the breath I held, hearing his voice. The way his full lips formed the words were different from Elias’ who still had a very youthful look about him. Although similar, Rhett had been able to grow, he was broader, taller. It was difficult to compare him with a ghost though. There were slight differences, the shade of blue of his eyes were wrong, although still pale. His wavy hair was shorter as well, and had a more modern cut. It was a still night out tonight, no air was stirring and I would have given anything to see his hair blowing in the breeze.

“Hey,” I said as I closed the door behind me and stepped up onto the sidewalk. The coffee shop by night and diner by day was small and usually deserted. Tonight though, the place was full and the smell of coffee was stronger than usual. Looking through the window as we walked down the sidewalk to the entrance, I saw a line.

“This is a full little town,” he said as he opened the door and held it for me.

“We’re getting pretty big,” I said smiling as I stepped past him. “It just took us a while.”

“A couple hundred years,” he said as the door closed behind us and we stepped in line behind two women. They were talking about the witch and I looked around and wondered how many people here were waiting for the exhibit debut to start. When I glanced over at Rhett he smiled and we took a small step forward as the line shortened by one.

“So what brought you here?” I asked as I ran my thumb over the ring on my index finger. I had caught myself doing it so many times, that I was well aware it had become a habit. I hated that I had changed so much in a short span of time, but I didn’t know what I wanted to do after high school. The year off was to find myself and I still didn’t think I had, but at least I did have something to occupy some of my time until I did.

“I’m writing a book,” he answered, shuffling forward as he smiled at me. “About my family.”

“Then you really should stay for the exhibit,” I said, glancing forward to see how many more people were ahead of us. I wasn’t a coffee drinker, but the place had good hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls. “Your family will be featured front and center, maybe some family you didn’t know you had.”

“Really?” He asked as his smile widened and I had to look away. “Why don’t you tell me, like you promised.”

“I don’t remember a promise,” I answered, smiling at him. “Just a cup of coffee, I might throw in a cinnamon roll.”

“Tell me about your family then,” he said and I shook my head.

“Not much to tell,” I said as we stood second in line. “We were farmers before the civil war, during the civil war, and after it. Then if you guessed farmers during the world wars, you’d guess right too.”

“Really?” He asked, laughing as he studied me.

“Up until the nineteen fifties,” I answered shrugging. “About as boring as it gets.”

“Well I know for a fact that’s not the whole truth,” he said as we stepped up to the barista. Looking at the woman, she looked fussed and overworked, but relieved that the line had somewhat died behind us. With a smile she waited for us to order.

“I want a cinnamon roll and a hot chocolate,” I ordered and when I glanced over at him, he smirked.

“Just a black coffee,” he said and I grimaced, shaking my head.

“Will that be to go, or for here?” She asked as she totaled up our order and when it flashed on the screen I grabbed my wallet.

“Here,” I said, glancing at Rhett for confirmation. When he nodded I saw the girl smile and finalize the order as I handed her the money. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you,” she said and I watched her drop the change she gathered out of the register into a large tip jar.

“What’s not the truth?” I asked as she disappeared behind the bar where everyone else was buzzing around. The smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls threatened to make my stomach growl, but the place was loud enough that I didn’t think he would hear it.

“Farmers and only farmers,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. “Not when one of my really old uncles and one of your really old ancestors were practically outlaws.”

“Really?” I asked as the woman returned with my cup of hot chocolate and a cinnamon roll wrapped in paper. Taking it from her with a smile, she carefully handed Rhett his cup of coffee.

“Well I wouldn’t call them outlaws,” he said as he fell into step beside me as I led the way to one of the only empty tables remaining. It was warm in here and there was soft music playing that I probably wouldn’t have liked if the place was more empty, like usual on a night like this. “They didn’t rob banks or kill anyone or anything, but they were wild.”

“How so?” I asked as I sat down and scooted my chair up to the table. I unwrapped my cinnamon roll and sat down my cup of hot chocolate. Taking a small bite I saw him smile as he grabbed some creamer out of the racks that held sugar.

“They were traveling together, seeing the sights,” he said as he unwrapped a small stirring stick from its plastic. “Before they took up studies to become lawyers, but they got too far into the drink and women of looser morals.”

“Really?” I asked and when he nodded he smiled. “It’s what my Grandpa told me, he was sort of a history freak. They were pretty notorious for causing scandal everywhere they went.”

“Is that why you’re writing the book?” I asked just before I took a second bite of my cinnamon roll.

“Yeah, he got me interested in it,” he answered and I saw a flash of sadness that told me his grandfather was no longer here. “He only told me the interesting stuff though, like that, what I need are the names, dates, the whole tree.”

“I’d much rather hear the other stories,” I said, remembering all the work I already did. “I’ve read through your family archives, I expanded them a lot.”

“So tell me about my family then,” he said as he leaned back with another smile that I wanted to stare at, put to memory. Looking out the window and knowing a few minutes down the road was the most important story his family tree had, at least for me.

“I’m not a good story teller,” I countered looking back at him. “Marilou is and she’ll be talking about your family tonight.”

“I was hoping to be back on the road by this evening,” He said, wrinkling his nose. “I didn’t expect to be coerced into procrastinating over coffee so easily.”

“You can’t get much done in one evening anyway,” I said, shaking my head. “Only paper copies of the archives, which won’t help you, and they’re a quarter a sheet.”

“That’s highway robbery,” he countered with a smirk.

“It really is,” I said as I finished off my cinnamon roll and started on my hot chocolate.

“So if I go to the exhibit, hear the story,” he said as he leaned slightly forward and I released a breath. I felt the punch of his presence in my gut and I felt myself leaning away from him until my back hit the back of the chair. “Will you promise to fill in the gaps?”

“I swear to,” I said, holding up my hand. “It will be worth it, to stay.”

“Don’t talk it up too much,” he said trying to keep a straight face, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. “I’d hate for it to fall short, I might have to blame you.”

“Blame away,” I said as I lifted my cup and sipped on my hot chocolate. “It starts in about twenty minutes.”

“Alright,” he said as he finished off his coffee. “Are you coming with me or am I going alone?”

“I’ll go, I’ve been waiting for this story too,” I said and when he pushed himself away from the table and stood, I followed him.

The drive back to the place was slower, people who had tickets to the first showing were filing into the small parking lot. It was already packed, spilling out onto the curb. Marilou’s assistants Gina and Lidia were accepting tickets while the Sheriff deputy blocked traffic and helped people park. I didn’t really know how many people the small museum could hold and when I was pointed to an open spot, I grimaced and clinched my butt cheeks together until I successfully parallel parked.

Getting out, I looked up the sidewalk to see Rhett standing awkwardly just out of line, people were shouldering past him. After closing my door, I ran my finger over the ring on my index finger. When he turned around, catching my eye I smiled and I stepped up onto the sidewalk and made my way over to where he stood.

“I don’t have a ticket,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. “They have already turned away a few people that didn’t have them.”

“I know the people who work here,” I said as I shuffled around him. “I’ll get you in, believe me it will be easy.”

“How?” He asked and I saw his eyes crease at the edges as he studied me. I only shrugged and smiled before I looked away. If I kept looking at him, I knew I would laugh and he already thought I was weird.

“Hey Asher,” Lidia said as she was handed a ticket from an older couple in front of us. They moved around us and walked inside. Most of the crowd here were of older people, I would probably be one of the youngest people here, not brought against their will by their parents. I had told Dad and Mom about the presentation, how our family played a small part in the stories Marilou was going to tell, but neither of them had been interested. I also failed to really explain why I had been so interested. The night Dad pulled me out of the drunk tank at the local jail, I had to answer a lot of questions. I decided to come out to them, that was the only plausible reason for me to act out in such a weird way. It wasn’t like I could have told them about Elias, the only thing that would get me were more staring and a lot more questions that I had already suffered through.

I was met with tears and hugs, then tea and an all night conversation. It ended in a lecture. Not a bad one, just Mom fretting over me, apologizing, and then telling me that I shouldn’t have waited so long. That I shouldn’t have taken on the burden on my own when I had her in my corner. Looking back, I should have known. This was the lady that stormed a football field when my oldest brother got hurt. She was always there with band aids and tea. I had never doubted her devotion to us growing up, I knew where I stood and that was firmly and unconditionally with her. Dad was the one I had always been worried about though, but he was the one that cried the most and the one I felt the worst for not telling sooner, as I had never seen him cry before.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have a ticket,” Rhett said and I blinked and looked down at Lidia’s outstretched hand.

“He’s my guest,” I said, stepping slightly forward.

“You’ll need to run that by Marilou,” Gina said as she smiled up at us. Lidia was the younger of the three of them, but Gina was the warmest. “She’s just inside directing people to seats.”

“Alright,” I said and I looked over at Rhett and nodded my head for him to follow me.

“I can just come back to the later showing,” he said as he fell into step beside me. I had already grabbed hold of the door, considering the possibility of catching the later showing with him instead. I could suggest a proper dinner, since it was around the time I usually ate dinner anyway.

“Do you have the time to wait?” I asked as I opened the door and held it open for the next group that was in line behind us to enter.

“No, I don’t, I have a bit of a drive home after this,” he answered and I nodded hoping he didn’t see the frown I attempted to hide by looking away.

“Then you better hope Marilou is still open to my charm,” I said, smirking as I looked back at him and waved him inside.

The place was dimly lit, just the back row of lights were on and they were along the far wall behind the bookshelves. The rows of seating had doubled and spilled out onto the other side of the museum. All the work that I had done earlier, had been slightly rearranged and when Marilou saw me she smiled and pulled her glasses off her face.

“We’re sitting the younger crowd down in front, on cushions,” Marilou said as she folded her glasses and held them in her hand. “You don’t look like you’ll have any trouble getting back up off the ground.”

“No ma’am,” I said as she patted me on the shoulder.

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” she said as she playfully squeezed my shoulder.

“This is Rhett, my guest,” I said as her eyes fell on Rhett, probably wondering why he hadn’t stepped around us to be taken to his seat. “Rhett Henry.”

“Henry?” She asked and I glanced at Rhett just as Marilou clutched her chest and shook her head as she took a step backwards. “Of the Henrys, the Henrys?”

“Yeah one of those,” I answered, chewing on my bottom lip.

“Well we’ll make room,” she said as her curls bounced on her head as she nodded and unfolded her glasses and slid them back onto her face.

“Thanks,” I said as her mouth fell open again and as I was about to step past her, she grabbed my elbow.

“Oh my word,” she whispered when I shook my head.

“I know, right?” I asked and she finally seemed to realize she was still clutching her chest and let her hand fall back to her side.

“How on earth,” she said as she blinked, still staring at Rhett who was looking more uncomfortable by the second, looking between Marilou and me. The slight tilt of his head and furrowed brows, told me he had questions, it was the same expression that haunted me most nights.

“We’ll go take our seats,” I said and she let go of my arm with a smile and a nod towards the people queuing up behind us.

“What was that?” He asked as we made our way around the back then down the middle aisle.

“Marilou is a bit eccentric,” I answered shrugging as I smiled and looked forward.

“Is there something I’m missing out on?” He asked as we made our way to the front row where Marilou had placed poofy looking cushions and old bean bags on the ground. There were a few kids sitting in front on the opposite end. Not wanting to deal with them getting more and more bored as the night went on, I skipped the first seat and knelt down onto the floor and claimed my cushion.

“Coming?” I asked when Rhett scanned the room then down to where I waited.

“Sure,” he said smiling quickly as he joined me and we were the only two grown ass adults opting for the cushions in front. I knew I wanted a front row seat and would have sat on the cold tiled ground if I had to.

“Do you have your notes with you?” I asked as I felt his elbow graze mine as he shifted on his own cushion, trying to get comfortable. I didn’t know if these makeshift seats were going to hold up all night, but we had some space to stretch our legs if we needed to. We were still a good six or so feet away from all the covered displays. Displays I knew all too well.

“In the Suburban,” he answered, looking over at me. “Do we really have to sit on the floor like dogs?”

“This will be the best seat in the whole place, believe me,” I answered as I shifted from one butt cheek to the other. “Maybe not for our asses, but for the view.”

“Yeah I probably won’t be able to feel my legs before long,” he countered, but he smiled and knocked his shoulder against mine.

“Well if you need to, you can lean against me,” I said as I turned and scanned the crowd. There weren’t many seats left open and I knew there wouldn’t be. We were sold out, except for the spur of the moment cushions, I knew that going into today that it was a packed house. There were a couple more to follow in the weekends leading up to Halloween, which was the largest night, the presentation was going to be given at the stone on that night. Under a large tent, sheltered from the chill of the evening and any rain.

“Okay, we’re all settled in,” Marilou announced and the murmur of many conversations trickled to silence as she made her way down the aisle to the front. “We are so blessed to have you here and so lucky to have stumbled onto such a find.”

“The fear of termites, who knew?” Gina offered as she came up to stand at the displays, ready to unveil them. Some people in the crowd laughed, but I looked at the edge of the sheet on the largest portrait. It was the one that held a younger Elias, on the edge of adulthood standing next to a fireplace. It had been painted in the upstairs library, the portrait of his father hung there now, surrounded by hundreds of books.

“We want to thank you all for coming and donating,” Lidia said as Marilou took a drink of water. She would be doing most of the talking in a minute. “It will help us restore the Mayoral Estate and grounds back to the proper time period with the rest of the town, so we really appreciate your interest.”

“Okay,” Marilou said as she placed her bottle of water down on a wooden stool she planned to sit on if she needed to. “Time to get to the part of the evening that brought us all here.”

“Ready?” I asked, glancing over at Rhett.

“You better not disappoint,” he answered, cocking his eyebrow before turning back towards the front.

“I can’t wait,” I said and I saw him glance at me briefly as I turned away from him. Smiling, I leaned slightly next to him, just enough to feel his shoulder against mine and rested some of my weight on my hand behind me.

“The witch under the stone in the lone graveyard,” Marilou started as she grabbed a clipboard with her notes written down on it. “Has been a mystery all these years, to this day we are fascinated with her story. There were so many questions left unanswered, so many things covered up by a town that still believed in true evil and black magic.”

“This is going to be good,” Rhett whispered and I felt him press against my shoulder.

“When we stumbled upon the portraits behind me,” Marilou continued as she glanced down at me. “I didn’t know what we had, the portraits alone were breathtaking, the grandness of them in their gilded frames. The yellowed parchment, the scribbled notes, and the long hidden records that were hidden under them, in the floors, finally will allow us to tell a story of a young woman, wrapped in mystery, feared by many. We finally know her name and here is her story.”