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