Ghost Soldier (11 page)

“What if someone took it and kept it?” he demanded, pacing angrily right through the weeping willow branches. I closed my eyes and tried not to watch. No wonder he couldn't take Louise's box, the way he just passed through things like that. It made me feel queasy. “I'll never find it then!”

He turned to face me, his eyes blazing. “There has to be some record of them—there
has
to be!”

I sat on top of one of the picnic tables with my feet propped up on the bench, and wished I knew what to tell him. Finally I said, “I don't know what records we need to look at, and I probably couldn't find them even if I did know.” I shook my head. “I don't know how to find your family, Rich. I can't even seem to keep my own family together. Maybe I'm just not strong enough—or brave enough.” I took a deep breath. “You should have chosen a different out-of-timer.”

He stopped pacing and looked at me silently for a few long moments. “You were brave enough to withstand Fort Stedman, Alexander,” he finally said. “Anyway, it was not a choice—you were the one who was meant to help me.” He came to the picnic table and sat beside me, his coolness wafting over as if I'd opened a refrigerator door. “Did you ever think that perhaps your mother's leaving had nothing to do with you? My mother didn't choose to leave me.”

“Your mother died,” I said, impatiently wiping my face. “It's not the same thing!”

“Louise didn't choose to leave me, either,” he said evenly. “Yet she left. Your mother left for her own reasons, not because of you.”

“Then why didn't she take me with her?” I whispered.

He shook his head. “I don't know.” He thumped the butt of his musket helplessly on the air above the bench. “I wish I had answers for you, Red. But—” He paused. “I think there's a difference between your mother leaving and what happened to my family.”

I knew he was right, and I knew I didn't want to hear it. “Yeah,” I told him. “In your family, you're the one who left. And they waited for you as long as they could. But when you got back, they were gone … and now you've lost them.”

“I haven't lost them forever,” Rich whispered. “I'll find them.”

I looked down at the table's surface and traced a pair of carved initials. “Well, I haven't lost Mom forever, either.”

After a moment, Rich said, “If I could help you find her, I would.”

I knew he meant it. And I wanted to help him, too. I just didn't have any idea how to begin. Then I remembered what Dr. Seagraves had said about searching for her family. Tentatively, I said, “Maybe we should try some sort of county records or the Genealogical Society or something.”

Rich straightened up, his pale face brightening. “The county courthouse would have records of when the Yankee Reconstructionists seized the farm, and there'd be postal records, too. I wrote Louise the day before we attacked Fort Stedman. The Confederate postal service was still working, but mail could take a few weeks. If the letter didn't arrive before she left, they must have sent it on.”

He added, “Someone from the regiment would have written to my family—if they weren't there to receive it, the letter must have gone somewhere.”

But where? I shook my head helplessly, gripping the splintery edge of the picnic table.

“Hey, Alex?”

I jerked around and saw the guard waving at me from the corner of the building. I didn't think he'd been there long enough to hear me talking to the ghost, but I wasn't sure. I climbed down from the tabletop and started over to him.

“Your folks are just about finished,” he said, leading the way back to the front reception building. “I thought you'd disappeared!” He chuckled, but it didn't sound too lighthearted. “I looked out to see if you were okay, and I couldn't find you.”

Had he come over while we were at the creek? I wondered in alarm. Then I told myself, so what if he did? It wasn't illegal to take a walk. “I was just on the other side of the lake, sir,” I said. “Exploring.”

“Yeah? What did you see?”

I looked at him steadily. “Some trees and grass and a little creek that's dying. Anyway, what's wrong with my walking around?”

His eyes narrowed, but he kept his voice friendly. “Nothing at all, Alex, as long as you stay outside the secure area. It's just the labs and the plant we keep an eye on.”

Yeah, right, I thought, but didn't say anything. These security guys kept their eyes on everything. I figured they liked it—maybe it made them feel important. “Well, you don't have to worry,” I said, joking a little to see if I could loosen him up. “Dad's the computer whiz in the family, not me.”

He shook his head. “What is it with kids, always deciding whatever their parents like isn't good enough? I'm a football fan—played in high school, too. So what does my kid decide to take up? Soccer! If I'd played soccer, he'd probably be in a football uniform today.”

I gave him a half smile.

“Alexander, hi!” Dad called. As we got closer, I saw he was frowning. His eyebrows almost met in the middle of his forehead again. Maybe the interview hadn't gone too well.

“I'm sorry,” he said as the guard headed back to the building. “I know I promised you lunch, but it turns out Don—the guy who's interviewing me—wants to talk a while longer, then take us out to lunch and show us around the plant this afternoon.”

“No kids, in other words.”

Dad looked embarrassed now, instead of frustrated. “Well, yeah.”

“But
she's
going with you,” I pointed out, rubbing it in.

“Come on, Alexander—Paige set this whole thing up!”

“Right. Whatever,” I said, sighing. “So I'm supposed to hang out in the willow trees until you guys get back?”

He looked confused. “The recreational area?” I reminded him, waving my hand in the general direction of the place.

Dad looked relieved. “Oh. Well, Don said the guard could take you to the bus center and you could head straight back to Duke.”

I thought about spending a boring afternoon at the Hambricks' house while Dad and Mrs. Hambrick were being lunched and fussed over. “Hey, what about lunch? And sightseeing?”

He glanced over his shoulder at the closed building. “We can sightsee tomorrow. I need a little support here.”

I sighed. “How about I take the bus into downtown Durham, grab a burger, and do a little sightseeing on my own? I won't get into any trouble.”

“Nicole said she'd be glad to show you around—” Dad began.

“You mean Mrs. Hambrick
told
Nicole to show me around if I didn't want to come with you guys,” I reminded him. “Come on, Dad—you let me spend the afternoon in Indianapolis alone all the time.”

“But this is a different city,” he objected.

“So? It's not that big, and there probably aren't very many sights to see anyway. Nothing's going to happen to me. And it's better than sitting around here all afternoon, or getting stuck with Nicole.”

He tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. “Well, you're sure you'll be okay?”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

Dad dug out his wallet. “Here's some cash, and some singles for the bus. Remember, Dr. Seagraves is coming over for supper, so don't be late.”

Dad turned and waved at the building, and a minute later the guard showed up, driving a black pickup that looked exactly like the one that stopped us earlier that morning. I wondered if the company had a fleet of them.

Dad opened the passenger door and I climbed in, followed by Rich, who didn't seem to mind when Dad shut the door halfway through him. “He'll take you to the bus center, okay?”

Dad still looked kind of concerned behind his smile, so I took pity on him and gave him a little wave. “See you later!” I called.

He waved back, and the guard drove away. “In the mornings,” he explained, “when people are coming to work, and in the evenings when they're going home, there's a shuttle that circles through the Research Triangle to and from the bus center. But it doesn't run during the day.”

“Thanks for driving me,” I said.

“No problem.” He smiled at me. “It's easier than trying to keep an eye on a kid who likes to explore.”

I had the feeling he was sure I'd been up to something, and I was relieved it took only a couple of minutes to get to the bus center. He pulled the truck up beside the curb and told me, “You can find a map inside, Alex. Look for the Redline route—that takes you back to Durham. The bus should be leaving in the next ten minutes.”

I nodded and climbed out with Rich. “Thanks again.”

The guard revved the engine and waved, and I headed inside, then looked around for that map. I had an idea. The map clearly showed the Redline bus running into downtown and then up to Duke University, just a couple of blocks from the Hambricks' house. But the bus stopped at other places in Durham, too. “Rich, where's this county courthouse of yours?”

He smiled at me, and for once his black eyes seemed to shine.

Then he peered at the map. He ran his finger along the roads, but he was looking southeast, away from Durham.

“No,” I said, pointing at the map. “Durham's that way.”

“I know. But Durham is in a different county. It didn't even exist when I was alive—there was just Orange County and Wake County here. Anyway, the Wake County courthouse is in Raleigh.”

I groaned. Dad would be furious if he found out I'd gone to Raleigh when I told him I'd stay in Durham. Then I saw that the same Redline route that came to the bus center from Duke University left the center five minutes later, going straight to Moore Square in downtown Raleigh—just a few blocks from the street mall marked on the map, and the courthouse Rich was pointing to. And it would only take two dollars and forty minutes to get there.

I was the one who suggested the whole thing, after all. And if I could help Rich, at least for once I'd feel like I'd been brave enough to do what Mom would have done. It was less than a five-minute wait for the next bus—just long enough to make me wonder how I'd find those records he was searching for. Then I stopped wondering and boarded the 10:45 bus headed to Raleigh instead of the one headed back to Durham and fed two dollar bills through the electronic fare box.

Although the seat next to me was empty, no one sat down in it. I guess they could sense the cold, even if they couldn't see the Confederate ghost perched awkwardly above the molded plastic seat, holding his musket and looking at me like I was some kind of hero.

Chapter Ten

S
URPRISES IN
R
ALEIGH

I barely saw anything during the drive. Rich was as bad as Carleton—he wouldn't shut up.

“It was quite a walk to get to the Wake County courthouse, I tell you! There were no buses like these.” He eyed the hard plastic seat appreciatively. “And every step I took, I kept worrying that they would send me home. I knew I was old enough to fight. Some things you just know; I could imagine a Yank soldier coming after Louise, and I knew I'd fight him—even kill him if I had to—to keep her safe.” Rich looked serious as he said that.

“I thought of Louise at Fort Stedman, there at the end. I remembered what Noah told me, and I imagined she was there at Two Stirrups and the Yankees were coming. I thought about some Virginia soldier standing in front of her, holding back Sherman's raiders, and it was as if I were there in his place, not in Fort Stedman at all. I was fighting for my family.”

He was silent for a few minutes, and I watched the state fairgrounds pass by the window. Then he said, “It must sound like I always thought about looking after Louise as though it were a life-and-death matter.” He laughed a little. “We were just close. Amalie was close to George in the same way. I suppose that's why Amalie never got too angry with me and Louise when we hid instead of doing our chores when we were small, or slipped into the kitchen for extra treats. Sometimes I'd catch Amalie looking at the two of us with tears in her eyes after George enlisted—he signed up right after Fort Sumter in April of '61. But she would never admit how much she missed him.”

He smiled a little. “You must be fair sick of hearing so much about these people you don't even know.”

I shrugged. No one seemed to be paying attention to anyone else on the bus, so I muttered, “I kind of feel I do know them a little. What did Louise look like?”

His smile broadened. “Oh, she was beautiful! She had black hair, like me, but it was long and curly. It always got in her way so she kept threatening to cut it off. She said it wasn't fair that girls couldn't cut their hair short like boys. Her eyes flashed when she got mad—they were black like mine. When we were little, Mother used to dress us the same, and strangers thought we were twins.” He sighed. “Father had blue eyes, and George and Amalie inherited them. When she was small, Louise used to cry because she didn't have Father's eyes. After Mother died, she didn't complain about it as much. I think our black eyes were something of Mother's to hold on to. And she didn't want to look like Amalie, after all!”

I grinned as we passed a sign announcing North Carolina State University. I tried to picture my mother—her black eyes, like mine, laughing.… Her long dark hair, loose and flowing across her back. Her hair was curly, too, wasn't it?

I suddenly realized I wasn't sure. I just couldn't bring her into focus—it had been too long since I'd seen her.

I shut my eyes and briefly saw her standing outside. She was looking down at the ground, and her hair hung limply. Her face was sad, and her whole body drooped.

I opened my eyes quickly. I didn't want to think of her like that. She only looked that way just before she left. I liked to think of her laughing and spinning in the garden. She'd turn round and round—I'd spin with her and get so dizzy I'd collapse in the grass. Above me, she'd just go on spinning and spinning.