The Guidance

chapter Nineteen

"Anyone want anything from the kitchen?" Celia asks.

I stifle a yawn with the back of my hand. "I'll have another Diet Coke."

Taylor looks up from the diary she's reading and shifts her eyes to the clock. "It's way past one, Kendall. You'll never get any sleep with that much caffeine in your system."

"Like I ever really sleep anymore."

You need your sleep, Kendall ...

I bolt up, startled by Emily's appearance in my thoughts.

Where have you been?

Trying not to get in your way ...

But I need your help with this ghost, I nearly beg inside my mind.

You're doing just fine. Your friends are all the help you need right now ...

"But—"

Emily's gone though, just as quickly as she popped in.

"Check this out," Becca says. She moves the pile of papers Celia printed out from Stephanie's computer and comes over to where Taylor and I are sprawled on the rug. "There's this passage here in Ada's diary that mentions spending a lot of time with a Union soldier named Major Nathan Fair, from Columbus, Ohio. She says he was kind to her, 'not like the rest of those beasts.' Wonder if that's our guy?" She clutches the sketch Celia did, as if she's trying to see if the drawing matches what she's been reading about.

"I didn't realize people from Ohio were in Sherman's ranks," I say.

Celia sticks a pen behind her right ear. "Sure. By that time, a lot of the corps and divisions were scattered and devastated due to loss of life and armies splitting to go in different directions. After Sherman left Atlanta, he divided his army into two wings that went separate ways to the sea. I think one of them headed to Macon, while the other moved toward Savannah and Augusta. They flanked each other by about twenty or so miles, never getting too far apart, in case they needed to pull back together for any leftover Confederate resistance."

"And that's when they did all of the raping and pillaging?" Taylor asks.

I shake my head. "It couldn't have been that bad, since Ada Parry wrote about it in her diaries so calmly, like Miss Evelyn said."

"Sherman and his guys were real dicks," Celia assures us. "They ravaged farms and livestock and God knows what else. I mean, it horrified Southerners. All that time, they'd thought they were safe in their own homes, but there comes Sherman and his band, and soon people were hungry, had very few belongings, and were generally demoralized in every way. You saw Gone With the Wind. Seldom did the Union troops show sympathy for the towns and farms they raided, so it's an anomaly that Ada would write about any of the soldiers in any kind of a romantic manner."

A pent-up sigh escapes from my lips. "Wars are just the stupidest things ever. Started by men because of pride and power and prestige. And who gets hurt? Women, children, animals, and soldiers who had to fight for what they thought was right."

"Yeah, if women were in charge, things would be different." Taylor raises her fist high and cries out. "Alimenter aux femmes! Power to women!"

I know I started the topic, but the pain from so many Civil War soldiers—from both sides—permeates the very land and air here in Radisson. The jillions of tombstones in the Radisson cemetery from that time are a testament to the death toll in the town. Citizens, strangers, slaves, and Indians. Death wasn't discriminatory. "I don't mean to put a damper on your twenty-first-century suffragette movement, but we need to concentrate on the diaries," I say. "Can we get back to this Major Fair character?"

"Sure," Becca says. She carefully flips a couple of pages back in one of Ada's journals and reads out loud:

"'Today Major Fair brought me an egg. I haven't had one in weeks. The soldiers have taken all of our chickens and either eaten them or cooped them up to take when they leave. If they leave. The egg was a special gift and an answer to my prayers to God. I believe Major Fair took pity on my soul because a few days earlier he had found me praying in what was left of my mother's treasured rose garden. I was crying to the Heavenly Father, asking his mercy and deliverance from this fate we were experiencing. Major Fair approached me with his hat in his hand and extended a tattered and yellowed handkerchief. The gesture was appreciated, even if it was from a Yankee.'

"Then three days later, there's another entry," Becca tells us.

"'Major Fair brought me vegetables today, along with two roasted chicken legs. One carrot, one potato, one radish, and one beet. I used the ingredients to make a soup for Father, who is still feeble and weak from the scarlet fever that spread through the county. Major Fair understands that my concern for Father and my younger sister is greater than that for my own well-being. I simply want these Yankees off my family's land so we can start anew.'"

Jason clomps into the room holding a diary. "Are y'all talking about the Union soldier Ada had a crush on?"

"A crush?" I ask, somewhat taken aback. "What have you been reading?"

"Yeah," Jason says, thumbing through the journal. "She took walks with him and he brought her flowers and courted her like a proper gentleman, even though it was a weirded-out sitch."

"You can say that again," Celia chimes in.

"Go on," Taylor prompts her brother.

"Well, Ada gushes on for a ton of pages about poetry they talked about and music and how she always wanted to travel to Vienna, Austria. He told her about Columbus, Ohio, where he was from, and how the people weren't any different than Georgians. The people of Columbus were just as affected by the war."

As an aside, Celia says, "Did you know that ninety percent of the bullets used in the Civil War—and the railroad ties of the time—came from the factories in Ohio? The North's industrial strength allowed it—"

I stop her with my hand. "Celia. Not now. History class is Monday."

She blows her bangs out of her eyes. "But it's all part of the puzzle, Kendall. The more we understand about these people and what they experienced, the more we'll be able to talk to this soldier on his own level and convince him to leave Courtney alone, once and for all."

My heart pings as I remember that I also need to help this ghost cross into the light. Into peace. "You're right, Cel."

"What else did you read, Jason?" Taylor asks.

He scratches his blond head. "I know I'm just a guy and stuff, but I swear Ada was bat-shit crazy over this Fair person, even though he was the enemy and occupying her land. He treated her like a lady and protected her from the other horny men in the unit."

Becca snickers. "You just said horny and unit in the same sentence."

Jason smacks at her with the old diary and the two of them laugh. Celia dives over to retrieve the precious historic book.

"Jesus, Tillson! That thing's like a hundred and fifty years old! Careful!"

"Sorry!"

These diaries allude to a special relationship between Ada Parry and Major Nathan Fair, but was there more? I reach up and take the journal from Celia and clutch it to my heart. The metal buckle on the outside of the book radiates energy that tickles the ends of my fingers. Is this Ada's vigor coming through to me, like when I held Evelyn Crawford's keys?

"Ada, if you're here, please talk to me," I whisper.

Nothing. No psychic vibrations. No headache. No tingles.

"Ada? I'd really love to connect with you."

"We have a lot of questions," Celia pipes up, trying to help.

Still, the airwaves are silent.

I grip the book tighter, like that's going to help. "Please?"

She's long passed, Kendall ...

So are you.

It's different ...

How so?

Ada Parry has crossed over and is at peace.

And you're not. My shoulders sag forward. I can't even help Emily. How am I supposed to help Fair?

I breathe in the musty tang of the old pages, trapped in time and filled with flowing memories of a society long gone. I can't fathom what it must have been like for Ada Parry—only eighteen years old—when the Union soldiers marched into her town and took over her home. Her mother gone and her father sick, Ada was the only barrier protecting her eleven-year-old sister, according to her missives. It was a total tectonic shift to her entire world. Gone were the afternoon picnics on the lush green lawns. No longer did their ballroom ring with sweet string melodies for fine ladies and gentlemen to reel along with. Those days of wine and roses were gone, replaced with hardships, lack of food, and immense poverty. Still, I clearly see Ada, her clothes dirty and torn, her hair falling from its usually neat bun, forging ahead through all of this. She stands tall against Sherman's men, keeping her family first and her own needs second.

Until...

It's so lucid to me, almost as if I'm sleepwalking through her life. No, that's not a good way to put it. It's more like flashed images. Frame-by-frame instances. The overall plot of her life's tale spun out for me. The message is clear. In a world gone mad around her, Ada Parry found love. Not just any love, but the love of her life. The kind that poets write about and pop singers croon about. A deep, powerful adoration based on mutual respect and intense attraction.

"Ada Parry was in love with Nathan Fair."

Jason's eyes pop and he stares at me. "Damn, Kendall. You are good. I'd just gotten to that part in the diary."

Taylor holds up a bundle of letters that's held together with a faded pink ribbon. "That might explain these. Love letters."

"They're from Fair to Ada, aren't they?" I don't even wait for her answer because the flowing words of unadulterated devotion scroll across my mind like I'm reading them myself.

"My Southern beauty who's been touched by the sun to shine on my dreary day and make it bright with the light of your heart's glow."

Wow. Fair knew how to woo.

Taylor carefully rummages through the letters, scan-reading as fast as she can. At times, she places her hand to her heart. At others, her blue eyes fill with tears.

"What is it?" Celia asks.

One droplet escapes down Taylor's cheek, and she quickly swipes it away. I can see that she's thinking of the love her own parents once shared. Seeing the love of Fair and Ada on the page before her is conjuring up the melancholy she tries so hard to keep below the surface.

"This is poetry to the one he loved," she says with a sniff.

Jason's true thoughts are betrayed when I see him roll his eyes at his sister from across the room.

"He professes his love and affection for her in such a beautiful way. Star-crossed lovers. Enemies in their time. Yet they found a way to be together."

I need details. "Can you sum up what you've read?"

Taylor nods and then shuffles through the precious memories in her hand. "Major Fair was in Radisson for two months while the brigade gathered supplies and made decisions as to the next course of action. He was with the part of the army that was portioned off to go to Savannah. He didn't want to go—begged his commanding officer to let him stay—but soon he was off. There's a letter here from Savannah and another from Augusta."

I take over, using my psychic senses, because everything is suddenly crystal clear. Like a light has illuminated the pathway before me. All I can do is follow and relay what's being told to me. "I see him. It's the soldier I've run into. He matches the drawing Cel did. He's the one who constantly laughs in my head. The one who's toying with Courtney. The one who was so totally butt-crazy in love with Ada. Now, he's ... well, he's very bitter about everything."

How does a romantic near-poet like Major Nathan Fair become so cynical and vindictive? What happened to him while he was in Savannah and Augusta? "It's obvious that he's angry at having to leave her, but—" I rub my temples, trying to get the terminology correct, but none of the phrases of Ada and Fair's era work here. "There's no way around it. He's rip-shit that he never heard from her." I grip my chest as the searing heat intensifies and spreads throughout my lungs like blistering air, stifling my breathing. "Why did she give up on him? Why didn't she answer him? Was she even alive? Had something happened to her? He's crazy-mad with doubt and the insatiable need to get back here to Radisson, despite orders from his commanding officers to stay with his unit."

I slice my eyes over to Jason, then Becca, then Taylor. "Did he come back here?"

Taylor shakes her head. "Ada's diaries just sort of trail off. There's no ending, per se, that I can see."

Celia glances about. "Do we have them all?"

Becca shakes her head. "That was all Stephanie's mom gave us."

Unexpectedly, my visions shift, like dark gray thunderclouds covering the brilliant blue sky. The information seems jumbled and garbled and I can't see clearly what happened to Fair or Ada anymore. Come on, Emily ... help me out, please.

Silence reigns in my brain, which is free of any hints or clues from anyone.

"When did you die, Major Fair? On your way back to Ada?"

I steer my gaze over to Celia. She gives me her trademark shrug. "We've hit an informational brick wall."

I raise my voice. "Come on, Fair! Talk to me!"

Nothing but the sound of the fall wind dancing with the dried leaves outside on the lawn.

Celia groans. "We'll just have to see what we get out of the spirits tomorrow night at Stephanie's house. We will get to the bottom of this."





Another Saturday night at the Crawford house. Only this time, there's no party.

"Are we going to do another séance?" Stephanie asks.

"No." I'm not doing anything of the sort. I'm neither experienced enough nor prepared for that. "We're doing this the old-fashioned way. We're going to talk it out with the spirit ... if he'll listen to me."

"Ahhh, the UN of the paranormal world, eh?" Stephanie says with a laugh.

"You could say that."

And again, it's another Saturday night in Radisson and I'm doing an investigation. However, Jason understands this time, because he sees the severity of the case and how it's touched us all. He knows it's something we all have to do.

I have my work cut out for me tonight, since I need to make Nathan see that what he's doing to Courtney is wrong. This has to end.

Celia walks up to me, wearing jeans, a long-sleeved black T-shirt, and her ghost-hunting vest. An EMF meter and a temperature gauge hang off her belt, making her look like a paranormal gunslinger. "Base camp is set up and we're good to go. We have cameras in the front parlor, the library where Courtney had the séance, and the ballroom."

"Sounds like it's time to go dark," I say. "Becca, is the place wired?"

"Like a CIA tap job!" She blows a huge bubble with her gum and then pops it. Chewing quickly, she says, "Digital recorders in the rooms, as well as a couple of handhelds to try to get some EVPs."

"I've got night-vision cameras in the rooms," Taylor says, "a mini-DVD, and my standard Sony camera. Clay's going to take digital pics for me so I can concentrate on the video."

Clay stands tall and gives Taylor a proper salute.

"What do I do?" Jason asks.

My first thought is, Hug me, to stop the slight tremors rolling through me. But it's not the time to see him as my boyfriend. He's a teammate right now, albeit the skeptical one. That's good though, because it keeps us honest and questioning our findings.

I hold Stephanie's cell phone out to him. "We need you to get Courtney here."

His blue eyes blaze. "Why me?"

Celia steps up. "Because Fair's just waiting for Kendall or me to approach Courtney for help so he can block us. He knows we're on to him. If you call, you can appeal to Courtney on her girlie level, and Fair will allow her to come see you because it's something he won't be able to resist." She casts a sidelong glance at me. "Ummm, well, that's at least what we're hoping will happen."

Jason lifts his shoulders to protest, then drops them. "Whatever. I just don't want her—or whatever you think is in her—to make a move on me. Not cool!"

"Just make the call, please."

He smiles and dials.

Jason puts the phone on speaker, and I hear Courtney knock something over at the sound of his voice.

"Come over to Stephanie's," he says to her.

"Why there?"

He swallows deeply, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "'Cause Kendall won't think to find me over here. She's in Atlanta with her mom anyway, and Stephanie's having some people over to watch movies. It'll be ... like old times." He sneers at the memory, and my heart swells with total love for him. He's the best boyfriend ever.

Clicking off the phone, Jason says, "She bit."

Evelyn enters and clears her throat. "You have more help," she says.

Loreen walks in with a backpack slung over her shoulder. Her T-shirt reads, "The More I Know the Living, the Less I Fear the Dead." True dat, sistah.

Then I gasp when I see who she's brought.

Father Massimo steps out from behind her, wearing his priest attire and his vestments.

"Did you get the bishop's permission?" I ask through my dry lips.

His smile is heavenly bright. "I decided that you needed me, Kendall."

Loreen smacks him hard on the arm.

"Ouch! What?"

Indignantly, she says, " You decided? Like hell you did." Her sentence is punctuated with a girlish laugh.

"Okay, okay. Loreen stopped by and basically told me—well, it had to do with me growing a certain male part that she felt I was missing."

We all laugh, and I go to hug my priest for being here to support me.

"I'm here when you need me. All you have to do is look my way." He tousles my hair for good measure.

"Then let's get this show on the road."

Loreen passes around a vial of holy water and we all say the prayer to Saint Michael in unison—even Jason. Father Mass stays quiet, knowing this is our show until he feels the need to step in. And with that, we're ready to go.

Little does Courtney Langdon know that waiting for her will be a ghost-hunting team, a parent, a psychic, and an Episcopal priest, all ready to free her of the evil that haunts her.

Well, maybe not all of her evil.

We can only do so much.





Courtney arrives fifteen minutes later. I witness a hint of confusion on her pale lips as she steps into the ballroom where we're all gathered.

"I thought you said Kendall was in Atlanta."

Jason winces. "Sorry, I lied."

He takes her hand and escorts her into the middle of the room. Somehow, this contact doesn't bother me at all. Through her weary gray eyes, I see a scared girl.

"Why am I here then?"

Jason bends down to whisper to her and I hear him say, "We're going to help you."

Fair swiftly takes over. His own sinister scowl morphs onto her face, making him completely recognizable to the discerning eye.

"He's here," Loreen whispers from behind me.

"I know."

Courtney works up a good spit and propels it onto Miss Evelyn's expensive Chinese rug. "Wha'd'ya want?"

Stephanie grimaces and moves forward at the action, but Taylor holds her back.

"We'd like to talk to you, Major," I say as calmly as possible, even though I pretty much want to throw up Mom's famed chicken and rice casserole. "We haven't been formally introduced, even though we've run into each other a lot. I'm Kendall Moorehead."

"I know who you are."

"Yes, sir," I say, trying to be polite to him in spite of his hostility. "These are my friends."

Courtney's face seems aged and weathered. "How do you know me?"

"I've read all about you, Major. Major Nathan Fair from Columbus, Ohio, assigned to the Seventeenth Corps of General Sherman's army. We're here to help you, Major."

"You're not here to do anything of the sort," Courtney growls in a deep voice. Then she coughs and sputters out, "Help me!" in her own cheerleader falsetto. She falls to her knees and begins to cry.

Father Mass doesn't hesitate. He steps forward and holds out a cross. "God of gods and Lord of lords, Creator of the fiery ranks, and Fashioner of the fleshless powers, the Artisan of heavenly things and those under the heavens, whom no man has seen, nor is able to see, whom all creation fears: Into the dark depths of hell you hurled the commander who had become proud, and who, because of his disobedient service, was cast down from the height to earth, as well as the angels that fell away with him, all having become evil demons. Grant that this my exorcism being performed in your awesome name be terrible to the master of evil and to all his minions who had fallen with him from the height of brightness. Drive him into banishment, commanding him to depart hence, so that no harm might be worked against your sealed image. And as you have commanded, let those who are sealed receive the strength to tread upon serpents and scorpions, and upon all power of the enemy. For manifested, hymned, and glorified with fear, by everything that has breath is your most holy name: of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, now and ever and into ages of ages. Amen."

"Amen," we all repeat. Wow—he did come prepared.

This prayer only serves to anger Fair even more; Courtney begins pounding her fists on the carpet. "You don't understand! You'll never understand!"

I drop to my knees as well. "Then make me understand!"

I toss holy water around Courtney until she starts screaming. The piercing sound stabs at my chest, breaking my heart in two. Is this Courtney yelling out in pain, or Fair unleashing his rage?

I try to comfort the girl who dislikes me so. "Courtney, can you hear me? You've got to help me help you."

Totally ignoring me, Courtney/Fair knock me backward as she gets up and paces around the room like a caged animal. Jason's lips flatten and his eyes darken. Now's not the time for him to get all alpha male on my ass. Sometimes dealing with spirits can be a little rough. I'm okay.

I put my hand to his chest, feeling his uneven breathing underneath my fingers. "It wasn't Courtney. It was Fair."

"Either way, I'll rip his throat out."

"He's dead," I note.

"That's right. So I'll have to hit him harder."

Ahh, my alpha wolf. Tres cute.

Meanwhile, Courtney's screaming continues at decibel levels that would make a dog's ears bleed. Loreen can't take it anymore; she crosses the room and puts herself in Courtney's/ Fair's face.

"Get out of the girl, you monster, and enter me," she nearly commands. "She's not strong enough. I am. You can speak through me and we'll do whatever we can to assist you."

The laugh—that nasty dark one—reverbs off the walls of the near-empty ballroom. Courtney's lips lift in the corners and she says in a deep growl, "You aren't strong enough for me, Loreen Woods."

Loreen and I make eye contact. Behind us, Father Mass is still reading from the Book of Occasional Services. Something's got to get through to this ghost.

A soft hand is on my shoulder, and I look up to see Loreen's concerned expression. Her eyes plead with me. "You've got to talk to him, Kendall. Make Fair listen."

"I don't know what to say."

"Just try," Loreen says. "You're the one he approached first. If anyone can convince him to move on, it's you."

I wheel around in time to see massive tears gushing out of Courtney's eyes. No longer do I see the cocky bitch who terrorized me with pomegranate applesauce or the cheerleader who mockingly called me Ghost Girl. I see the good inside Courtney that's crying out for help. I concentrate on her soul and the peace it's seeking. As I try to connect with her on a spiritual level, her face becomes blurred in my sight. Her image shifts into that of a man in a blue uniform. Tall, too thin, and terribly hurt and confused. He steps forward, away from Courtney, but not totally out of her, and she slumps to the floor.

"What do you want, girlie?"

I'm standing face to face with Major Nathan Fair.

And, boy, is he pissed.