Sir Tristan's Estate (Legends Unleashed Vol.1) (2 page)

“It’s not his actual name that matters,” Tom
said passionately. “It is the significance of the nature of naming
that matters.”

“You’ve completely lost me,” Skye said,
shaking her head in confusion.

“What does a name mean to you?”

“I guess…a name describes an individual,”
Skye replied, after a brief pause to think about her answer.

“An individual is a human, correct?”

“I…I guess,” Skye answered, startled at the
obscurity of Tom’s question.

“Humans are represented by their physical and
emotional needs. Sir Tristan suppressed those needs in order to
help others. Therefore, he doesn’t need a name; he wasn’t really a
human. He shouldn’t even be called Sir Tristan, but alas, our
society feels compelled to name everything.”

“Helping others should be beneficial to both
parties,” Skye pointed out. “Sir Tristan died in sadness.”

“And your conclusion is…?”

“Although Sir Tristan helped a lot of slaves
and women, it left him void of happiness and led to the destruction
of his estate,” Skye replied. “Therefore, his actions were done…in
vain?”

Skye and Tom approached the door to the
estate. It loomed ten feet tall, with fine details of roses and
their jagged stems engraved into the door. When Skye held up the
lantern, she saw the marvelous work more clearly.

“If only Sir Tristan knew that at the time,”
Tom said with a heavy sigh.

“What?” Skye asked. She had been so engrossed
in the design on the door that her mind was no longer concentrating
on their conversation.

“If Sir Tristan knew how to live a balanced
life maybe he wouldn’t be doomed to come back to Earth to find that
moderation.” Tom used the same large silver key to open the
estate’s door and waited for Skye to enter. “Are you going to stand
out here all night?” he asked with a laugh.

“Do you really believe that Sir Tristan’s
ghost has come back to look for happiness?” Skye was a believer in
ghosts. She had even thought she’d seen one while photographing the
interior of Sterling Castle in Scotland.

“He’s back,” Tom said, his voice now more
formal and chilling. “But he’s not only looking for happiness; he’s
looking for that balance I mentioned earlier.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“I know all about the estate,” Tom replied.
He sounded like an automatic telephone recording, not the
passionate individual he’d been just moments ago.

“Okay,” Skye said, rubbing her hand against
her forehead. “I’m really tired and I’m starting to develop a
headache. Can you take me to the estate’s bed and breakfast?”

“Of course,” Tom said as he led her
throughout a dimly lit hallway.

They reached a more modern part of the estate
a few minutes later. Everything looked like a normal bed and
breakfast and Skye felt her previously tense body relax as she
traded the lantern for her suitcase.

“Mrs. Bradford will give you the key to your
room. You should feel honored – she’s been ordered to stay in the
estate especially for you!”

“Poor woman,” Skye muttered. “What would have
happened if my flight was delayed?”

“Nothing, the owner of the estate wouldn’t
let her go until you came.”

“Poor woman,” she repeated. She stepped
towards the woman behind the desk and suddenly whirled to face Tom.
“Hold on a minute,” she retraced her steps. “I thought the
government of Virginia owned the estate.”

“Not anymore. The blood relative of Sir
Tristan owns the estate now. It’s back in family hands, where it
truly belongs.”

“They found the descendant of Miss Kathleen
Tristan?” Skye asked in surprise.

“Yes.”

“This is too much for me to comprehend all at
once,” Skye said, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. “If you
would be so kind as to explain everything tomorrow morning, I’d
really appreciate it. However, I just want to sleep right now. I
think I’ll fall over if I don’t get to a bed soon.”

Tom chuckled. “All right, Ms. Huntington. Go
see Mrs. Bradford; she’ll show you to your room.”

“Thank you for all your help!” Skye called
out as Tom walked away.

“Have sweet dreams.”

Tom’s wishes for a good night seemed unusual
to Skye. Instead of analyzing it, she decided to blame her sleep
deprivation on her view of his evasive nature.

“Can I get my room please?” Skye asked.

Skye had only been asleep for an hour when
she heard people shouting. The shouting was indecipherable but very
nearby. Groggily, she stepped out of the bed and into her white
fuzzy slippers. Just like the change in the bedroom’s temperature,
her slippers were suddenly very cold.

Skye tiptoed towards the bedroom door and
listened silently. As her ear pressed against the cold door, she
strained to hear the conversation that seemed to be happening
beneath her.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Skye heard a young man
say regretfully. “But I cannot marry Eleanor.”

“She’s a fine woman,” the mother argued.
“You’ll never find a wife better suited for you. She’s a fabulous
homemaker and comes from the best breed in all of Virginia.”

“Eleanor is lovely,” the young man agreed.
“But she is not what I want.”

Skye felt her blood run cold. She was sure
that the voice belonged to Tom. Unable to resist the urge to know
more, she quietly opened the bedroom door and crept into the
hallway.

“If you don’t desire Eleanor, who
do
you want?” The woman’s voice rang closer and clearer than ever
before.

Skye carefully made her way to the banister
and looked down. What she saw made her scream.

She was no longer looking at the bed and
breakfast’s front lobby, which should have been there. Instead,
Skye saw an elegant, but decades old living-room. The walls and the
furniture were dark and the large paintings that hung on the walls
were illumined by a fireplace that crackled and glowed. The finer
details of the living-room were obscured by a thin layer of fog
that seemed to surround everything. It was like a mist lending an
ethereal pall to the scene unfolding before her. The young man – a
splitting image of Tom – and his mother were oblivious to Skye’s
scream. They continued their somber discussion.

“I don’t want anyone or anything!” Tom cried.
“I don’t want to live a life that is just about personal
achievement. I want more than the accumulation of wealth and
status.”

“Don’t you dare belittle your father’s work,”
the mother scolded. “He worked hard to make something of himself
and to provide the very best for you and I.”

“I am not insulting father’s work,” Tom
interjected. “But his work enslaved many African-Americans and kept
women oppressed.”

“Tom thinks he’s better than his parents!”
the woman exclaimed. “We send you to university and this is how you
repay us? You say that you want more than personal achievement and
more than just money and status. Every sentence you say has the
word “want” in it. You sound greedier than all the kings and queens
of the world.”

“You don’t understand, Mother,” Tom replied
with the same passionate tone that Skye had heard last night. “To
achieve everything I want, I must want nothing.”

“You make no sense.” The woman’s shoulders
dropped as she shook her head.

Skye watched as the woman hurried out of the
room and as Tom’s head fell unhappily down to his chest. Suddenly,
he looked up and stared directly at Skye.

“You’ll be the one to save me!” Tom cried in
unbelievable pain and expectation.

Skye gasped and turned around quickly, her
slippers flying from her feet. She hardly noticed their loss as she
ran to the bedroom and locked the door. She jumped in the bed and
threw the covers over her head, shaking in fear as she thought
about what she had seen.

* * * * *

Skye woke up the next morning in a tangled
mess of blankets. It took a full minute of twisting and turning
until she was free.

She shivered as she thought about the weird
dream she had last night. It was so real and scary. She concluded
that it was induced by Tom’s story about Sir Tristan’s unusual
belief system. Since Tom was the one to make her aware of Sir
Tristan’s belief, it was reasonable that her unconscious mind would
choose him to play the part of Sir Tristan.

Skye hurried out of bed and opened the
curtains. She moaned when she saw a thick layer of fog blocking the
sun. Although the clock indicated that she’d slept for eight hours,
she still felt tired.

Her feet grew cold against the hardwood
floor, and she searched the bedroom for her white fuzzy slippers.
After five minutes she gave up the search and hurried to get
dressed for her breakfast appointment with Tom.

Skye crept to the staircase and saw something
out of the corner of her eye. She stared in disbelief.

“How in the world did my slippers get out
here?” she whispered, knowing there was no one to answer.

“Hello, Skye,” Tom said as she entered the
bed and breakfast’s dining-hall. “You look lovely.”

Skye’s blood went cold. Lovely was the word
he’d used to describe Eleanor last night in her dream.

“That’s a lie.” She meant to sound friendly
but her tone came out harsh. “I look awful. It feels like I haven’t
slept at all.”

“But you did sleep,” Tom stated.

“Yes,” Skye said slowly. “But how would you
know that?”

“The quality of our mattresses is the finest
in America; everyone sleeps well here.”

“If I slept so well, why do I feel so
tired?”

Tom walked Skye to a nearby chair and handed
her a menu. “I know just the thing to liven you up.”

Skye scanned the menu. “What is it?”

“You won’t find it on the menu,” Tom
answered. “You will, however, find it on the itinerary. How does a
day of viewing some of Virginia’s finest attractions sound?”

“Wonderful. Unfortunately, sight-seeing isn’t
part of
my
itinerary. I should really get some work
done.”

“You won’t accomplish anything if you’re half
asleep,” Tom pointed out. “You have to let me show you Rocky Falls.
It’s the most beautiful place in Virginia.”

Skye glanced out the dining-hall’s large
window. “I guess I would benefit from some fresh air, but it looks
like it’s going to storm.”

“It’s not going to storm,” Tom assured her.
“It won’t even rain. Virginia’s weather is always like this;
threatening but never producing anything harsh.”

“All right,” Skye agreed, flashing her most
devious smile. “I’m willing to put my assignment away for a few
hours if you show me Rocky Falls. I want to take some pictures of
Virginia for my personal use.”

“Don’t you ever put your camera down?” Tom
laughed.

Tom’s laugh echoed throughout the nearly
empty dining-hall. A couple of guests turned to stare at them.
Donned in professional dress, Skye guessed that the few others
staying in the bed and breakfast were reporters.

“I love photography,” Skye said, directing
her attention away from the other guests and back to Tom. “Why
would I want to put my camera down?”

“Your camera can come along, but only if you
allow me to buy you breakfast,” Tom bargained.

“Sounds fair to me,” Skye giggled like a
thirteen-year-old. She hadn’t felt so excited and adventurous in a
very long time.

With a fully loaded stomach and camera, Skye
followed Tom through the estate and out its metal gates.

“Are we going to walk there?” Skye asked in
surprise, hurrying to keep up with Tom’s fast-paced steps.

“Yes,” he answered, grabbing Skye’s hand and
urging her to quicken her own pace.

At first Skye felt awkward with Tom holding
her hand. However, as they ran through the high lush green grass,
she suddenly felt completely carefree. The thick layer of fog that
surrounded them caused the loss of her inhibitions. She felt as if
she could do anything and not be seen.

“Are we almost there?” Skye came to an abrupt
halt, making Tom stop as well. The morning dew clung to her legs as
she tried to wipe it away.

“Almost, just over this hill,” he replied,
pulling her forward again.

“Rocky Falls is on the estate property?”

“You’ll soon find out.”

Skye and Tom struggled up the hill, their
feet slipped and their breath came in shallow rasps.

Skye’s breath caught in her throat as she
reached the top of the hill and settled her eyes upon Rocky
Falls.

The large waterfall loomed high in the
distance. Although fog had surrounded the estate just moments ago,
the air around the waterfall was clear and pure. Blue water poured
down the rocky cliff face and fell at the bottom with bursts of
white mist. The water ran into a small pond where it lay.

“Can we go closer?” Skye begged. The beauty
of the waterfall and pond was too much for her to resist.

“Of course,” Tom replied, running ahead.

Skye’s legs carried her quickly over the
damp, long grass until she reached Tom. She stopped at his side and
took a deep breath of air so pure that she gasped in surprise.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Skye whispered,
more to herself than Tom.

Skye leaned over the still water to see her
reflection. She gasped in horror as she realized that Tom reflected
no image in the pond. Skye quickly stood and turned around. She was
relieved to see that Tom had moved away from the pond and was a few
steps behind her.
His reflection
wasn’t in the pond
because he wasn’t there
, she thought, trying to calm her racing
heart.

“What are you doing over there?” Skye
asked.

“Looking at you and the waterfall. You look
wonderful there. Can I take a picture of you?”

“All right,” Skye handed him the camera. “You
push that black button when you’re ready to take the picture.”