Last Ghost at Gettysburg (36 page)

“Well, I think you were incredibly brave,
T.J.,” said LouAnne. “If you—”

“Excuse me, dear,” said Mike to his daughter.
“Let me handle this. Yes, T.J., what you did was foolhardy at best.
And if I hadn’t accidentally come across the empty pistol case
while I was getting my rifle ready, I never would’ve known what you
were up to. But once that gun went missing I more or less figured
it out. My decision to bring some old bullets was just a lucky
guess. Fortunately, I have a small stash of period ammo that I’ve
accumulated over the years. So, I decided to keep an eye on you two
out there and help out if it was necessary, which obviously is what
happened.

“While I’m furious at you for not letting me
in on all this, I realize I would have forbid you from setting foot
on that battlefield with a loaded gun. And I have to give you
credit, you stared down that guy and probably would’ve shot him if
I didn’t do it first. I don’t know if you understand anything about
football, but you could play on
my
defense anytime.”

T.J. felt his eyes brimming as his uncle went
on.

“I’ll tell you one thing, though. That’s the
last time I’ll ever fire a gun, or do any reenacting, for that
matter. For that one instant, I knew what it was
truly
like
to be in a battle, and I don’t care for it at all. I think it’s
time I took up golf.”

Mike turned to his daughter. “And as for
you
, young lady, I don’t know where you get off thinking you
can just do whatever you want, whenever you want. I don’t even want
to know where you got your hands on that uniform. You put everyone
at risk this afternoon, and if it wasn’t for Bortnicker making like
Lawrence Taylor, you would’ve gotten trampled out there.”

Bortnicker, who had a mouthful of potato
salad, waved off the compliment. “It was nothing, really, Mr. D,”
he said with mock modesty. “All in a day’s work.”

Even Mike couldn’t help but smile, and the
tension lifted.

“All I know,” said LouAnne, holding back
tears, “is that you are the bravest two guys I’ve ever met. I
don’t know what else to say.”

“Well,
that’s
a first,” said Aunt
Terri.

“Uncle Mike,” said T.J., “do you think it’s
really over?”

“Time will tell,” said Darcy, “but my guess
is that we’ve seen the last of Major Crosby Hilliard. Hopefully now
he’ll rest in peace.”

At that moment the phone rang inside. “I’ll
get it and come back with dessert,” said Terri. “Apple pie with
ice cream sound okay?”

“You know it!” said LouAnne brightly, dabbing
at her eyes.

But seconds later, Aunt Terri reappeared,
without the dessert. “This day just doesn’t end, it seems. T.J.,
your dad’s on the phone from Paris. He doesn’t sound too good.”

T.J. ran inside and scooped up the receiver.
“Dad? What’s going on?” he asked.

“Well, son, looks like I’ll be flying home
tonight. The local office will be taking over the project from
here, and it’ll be in capable hands.”

“What about Wendy? Is she okay?”

“Ah, Wendy. Well, T.J., it seems that she’s
taken a fancy to a young Frenchman, a waiter in our hotel, in fact.
She’s going to be staying on, I’m afraid.” He sounded crushed.

“Oh,” said T.J. “But, hey, Dad, that means
we’ll just have more time to spend together. We’re going fishing,
right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And lots of barbequing.”

“Sounds good to me. And will Bortnicker be
joining us?”

“Of course!” T.J. smiled inwardly. “And Dad,
when you get back, we have a seriously amazing story to tell you on
the ride home.”

“I can’t wait. But, looking back, I feel a
little foolish, T.J. I hope you’re not mad at me for dumping you at
Uncle Mike’s for so long and running off with Wendy.”

“Mad? Are you kidding? This was the best trip
ever!”

* * * *

“I’m glad you’re so excited about your dad
coming home, T.J.,” said Aunt Terri as she served the boys a second
helping of pie. “Too bad the thing with his girlfriend didn’t work
out.”

“There will be others,” said Mike with
confidence. “The Jackson men are regular chick magnets. Right,
T.J.?”

“Daddy, you’re such a butt,” said LouAnne,
but they all noticed she was blushing.

“Hey, Cuz,” said T.J., “we running tomorrow
morning? Last chance.”

“Are you sure you two are up to it, after all
you went through today?” asked Terri.

“No problem, Mom,” assured LouAnne. “As long
as Bortnicker and you cook one last breakfast feast together.”

“Consider it done,” said Bortnicker, heaping
a spoonful of vanilla ice cream onto his pie. “And I assure you,
there will be no scrapple served.”

Chapter
Thirty-Three

That last morning it was hot and dripping
with humidity, the same as it had seemingly been for T.J’s entire
stay.

The two cousins stretched in the shade of an
oak tree and then set off down Seminary Ridge toward Reynolds Woods
and the Battlefield Park entrance.

“Think your dad’s really gonna give up
reenacting?” said T.J., gliding easily over the pavement.

“Well, when he says he’s gonna do something,
he rarely changes his mind. I guess he’ll just stick to being a
really good park ranger.” They went a ways farther and she added,
“And I don’t know how much longer I want to do the Charney Inn
thing. I mean, it’s good money, and I’m good at it, but sometimes I
feel this whole town is just cashing in on other people’s tragedy.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get over this whole thing with Major
Hilliard. He was only one minor story in a war where thousands
upon thousands died. I know they all felt they were fighting for a
just cause, but it’s all so senseless and sad.”

They wound through the battlefield, silent
cannon, monuments and statues in their wake, and T.J. wondered if
he’d be able to look at social studies class—or life in general—the
same way again. One thing was for sure, he’d pay attention from
now on. To everything.

As the cousins reached the Darcy front yard
and slowed to a walk LouAnne said, “I wonder how many miles we’ve
put in since you’ve been here?”

“Too many to count,” said T.J., wiping his
brow with his tee shirt.

“You’ve gotten a lot better, Cuz,” she said
with a smile. “Remember how you were sucking wind that first
day?”

“Don’t remind me. It was embarrassing.”

“Maybe so, but I think I won’t be the only
one making All-County in the near future.”

“Uh, Cuz, there’s something I’ve been meaning
to ask you,” said T.J. uncertainly.

“What is it?”

“Well, you’ve asked me a lot about my life
and my family and such, but you’ve never mentioned the fact you’re
adopted. Do you ever wonder—”

“T.J.,” she cut in, “I was put up for
adoption when I was like one day old. I don’t know what the
circumstances were, and I don’t care. My parents weren’t able to
have kids so they adopted me, and I couldn’t have asked for a
better life than I’ve got. Mom is like my best friend. She’s really
soft-spoken, but she’s a strong person inside, and a great
listener. And as you can see, I’m pretty much the center of Dad’s
universe. They’ve brought me up with a pretty good set of values, I
think. So, I consider myself one hundred percent Darcy.” She paused
and shot him a wink. “Well, ninety-five percent anyway.”

Suddenly T.J. stopped short. “Omigod,” he
said. “There’s something we gotta do.”

“Before we even eat breakfast?”

“Before we even shower. Something we
should’ve done last night. Come on!” He grabbed her hand and they
ran inside, scooping up LouAnne’s cell phone from the kitchen
counter on the way.

* * * *

“Dude, no way!” said Mike Weinstein from
Michigan, where
Gonzo Ghost
Chasers
was filming at an
abandoned insane asylum. “You actually saw the Confederate
cavalryman?”

“And talked to him!” said LouAnne
proudly.

“So I wasn’t delusional after all.”

“Not in the least,” said T.J.

“Wow. Far out. Well, that just means I’ve got
to keep on chasing ghosts for a living till I actually get one on
tape. Hey, you think this guy’ll ever come back to Gettysburg? The
cavalry dude, I mean?”

“Nah,” said T.J. “We’re pretty sure he’s
moved on.” He smiled and LouAnne gave him a wink.

“Well, cool,” said Weinstein. “Listen you
guys, if you ever want to do a guest spot with my team, you know,
like a
Junior Gonzo
thing, just let me know. We’d love to
have you aboard.”

“Thanks,” said LouAnne, “but I think we’ll
leave the ghost chasing to the experts.”

* * * *

Aunt Terri and Bortnicker outdid themselves
on this day, with Belgian waffles smothered in whipped cream and
fresh strawberries.

“Bortnicker, when are we ever gonna eat like
this again?” said T.J., pouring himself a huge glass of milk.

“Don’t know, Big Mon,” replied Bortnicker,
forking waffles onto his plate. “We must’ve gained ten pounds
apiece.” Everyone cracked up, especially Mike, who for once had
decided not to be the first person at work.

Tom Jackson, Sr. arrived as Aunt Terri was
cleaning the breakfast table. After a bear hug from Mike and a kiss
from Terri, he did a double take when presented with their
daughter.

“LouAnne
?” he asked. “Is that
you?”

“Of course, Uncle Tom, who’d you think I
was?” she answered, giving him a hug.

Over her shoulder Tom looked at the boys, who
both gave “cat-that-ate-the-canary” smiles.

“Hope these two characters here haven’t been
too much trouble, Terri,” he said as she handed him a cup of
steaming coffee.

“Oh, stop it,” she said. “It was a pleasure.
I’ll just miss my assistant chef,” she added, mussing Bortnicker’s
permanently mussed hair.

“Tom,” said Mike Darcy, “I think having the
boys with us was the highlight of the summer.” He threw a muscular
arm around his nephew. “You’ve got quite a kid here. Same thing for
Bortnicker. I hope they come back to visit.”

“You can count on it!” said Bortnicker. “And
speaking of visits, Mr. Jackson,” he added slyly, “any chance of
us hitting the Strasburg Train Museum on the way back to
Connecticut?”

“I think we can arrange that,” said Tom as
T.J. rolled his eyes.

* * * *

Finally the boys were packed and their bags
were loaded into Mr. Jackson’s SUV. They’d left their Civil War
uniforms behind, except for their caps, as a donation to the
72
^nd
Pennsylvania Infantry. As the adults chit-chatted
about Paris and possible future visits, the three teens stood
apart, all feeling awkward and empty.

As was her nature, LouAnne broke the
silence.

“Bortnicker,” she said, poking his chest and
looking him in the eye, “you’d better keep in touch with me. I want
to know about all the girls who are chasing you in Connecticut.”
She pulled him close and whispered, “Thanks for saving me. I owe
you one.” They parted, Bortnicker a dark red from embarrassment,
and maybe something else.

Then LouAnne turned to T.J., her eyes wet
with emotion. “Well, Cuz,” she said, her voice wavering, “this is
it for now. Tell that Katie Vickers if she doesn’t treat you right,
I’m coming after her.” And with that she kissed two of her fingers
and pressed them to his lips.

T.J., overcome, swallowed hard. “See you at
Christmas?” he managed.

“You never know,” she said with one last
maddening toss of her hair. Then, without missing a beat she put
her arms through theirs and led them to the SUV, where they hugged
Mike and Terri goodbye and then climbed in.

They slowly drove through the still-crowded
town on the way to the Interstate, T.J. and Bortnicker pointing
out places of interest to the elder Jackson. “Man, you two could be
tour guides here,” said Tom. “I had no idea you’d like it this
much.” They came to a red light and then, suddenly, Carlton Elway,
who’d been crossing the street with the ever-present Tiffany,
marched over to the car. T.J. hit the window button and it slid
down.

“Answer just one question for me,” he said.
“Did it happen?”

“Oh, without a doubt,” said T.J. Then the
light changed and both boys snapped Gettysburg’s most famous ghost
hunter a military salute as they pulled away.

“So,” said Tom, eyeing the boys suspiciously
in his rearview mirror, “I believe you have a story to tell
me?”

“Allow me to begin...” said Bortnicker.

Author's Note

Gettysburg has been one of my favorite places
since my first visit as a Cub Scout in the 1960s. I have returned
many times and consider it a powerfully mystic venue. It’s no
wonder a story involving Gettysburg’s history has always been
percolating in the back of my mind. During my most recent visit in
2010, my college-aged daughter, Caroline, and I walked the route of
Pickett’s Charge and even paid a nighttime visit to the National
Cemetery and other parts of the battlefield, just to appreciate the
atmosphere that T.J. and other characters experienced. If you ever
get the chance, I strongly suggest you visit the Gettysburg
Battlefield Park, as well as those others whose place in history is
no less formidable: Antietam, Fredericksburg, Manassas, Shiloh and
Vicksburg to name a few. It will only enhance your appreciation and
enjoyment of this novel and of American History. And while you’re
there, don’t be afraid to ask questions of our national park
rangers, whom I have always found to be extremely knowledgeable and
friendly. The dedication of the character, Mike Darcy, to his
profession is surely not an exaggeration.

As for the events portrayed in the story,
Major Crosby Hilliard is purely fictional, but the unit in which he
served, Hampton’s Brigade, was much distinguished in various
campaigns and battles throughout the war. Its movements in the
novel before and during the battle of Gettysburg are completely
accurate.