Out of Touch, Out of Time - Chapter Twenty-Three

July 9, 2008

“This was once one of the most stately homes in Bluewater.” Jonas said as they approached the front door. The drive back from the cemetery had been relaxing. It was good to know exactly what he wanted for the first time in his life.

“I think it’s still one of the most stately homes in Bluewater. Despite how I feel about it, however, most people only see an old, broken down haunted house. I’ve even known some of the kids around here to cross the street rather than walk in front of it.”

“But the house isn’t haunted and people see you and me coming and going.”

“They didn’t used to. After John ran off, I never left the house. That’s when it got the reputation; I even heard from Kyle that kids at school thought I was the ghost of Agatha Hucksinger.”

“Good lord, I certainly hope she didn’t look like Lydia, because if she did, you’ve been insulted.”

“I don’t know, I never met Agatha and the only picture I’ve seen of Lydia looked like she had a stick up her butt holding a baby.”

“That was Lydia. I knew that woman for many years, and never once did she smile. Not even on her wedding day.”

“Was it an arranged marriage?”

“By the time Hucksinger married, arranged marriages had long-since stopped. No, it was a marriage of convenience. Hucksinger was too busy being a perfect citizen to want a wife he had to pay attention to and Lydia just wanted to be left alone. She brought added wealth as well as an equally prestigious name. She was the daughter of Arthur Bleu.”

“Wasn’t Bluewater named after him?”

“Yes.”

As they entered the foyer, he noticed papers spilling on the floor out of her office.

“What the hell?” she said.

They slowly approached the doorway; too shocked to say anything. Cheyenne walked into the room before he could stop her; not that he probably could have even if he’d had a chance to try.

“Shit, shit, shit, goddamn it, shit!” She stood in the middle of the room turning in circles.

“Stay here, I’ll-“

She pushed past him and charged down the hall to the room where the boxed photographs were waiting to be picked up.

“Son of a bitch! I thought the photographs might have been stolen; I didn't expect this. Isn’t it bad enough to steal my computer without destroying my photos? Mark is going to be livid. How the hell can I get ready for a show in two days?”

Jonas was stunned; he hadn’t even noticed that the computer was no longer on the desk where it always sat. Why would anyone cause such destruction if their intent was to take the computer?

“Stay here,” he repeated more firmly this time.

Before she could protest, he took off. A quick check of the rest of the house and grounds showed that only the office and the spare room were the targets of the thief who appeared to be long gone.

When he returned to the spare room, he was surprised to find her still there. He watched as she paced back and forth reminding him of a caged animal trying to decide which of the spectators to attack, but knowing they are out of reach.

Finally he took hold of her shoulders, but she shook him off without even acknowledging him.

Frustrated, he picked her up, holding her tight and fought to control his rage. He wanted to hunt the bastard down, but she needed him to be calm, not angry, so he tried to push his anger aside.

She buried her head in his shoulder and cried as he carried her to a chair in the living room; her pain tore him apart.

Holding her close, he let her cry out her frustration, anger and loss.

“Why... why would anyone do this?”

“I don’t know, but you have to call the police, and Mark may just have to delay the show a day or two until we can get the frames replaced and the photographs reprinted.”

She looked at him and smiled, “Why Jonas Salinger, that’s the most 21st Century thing I’ve heard you say.”

“Well, that is what needs to be done isn’t it?”

“Yes, and you remembered the police because of the camera, didn’t you?”

“We had police in 1890, too," he smiled, sometimes she forgot that 1890 wasn't the dark ages. "You never told me what they said about the camera.” He should let her up, but he was enjoying the warmth of her too much to want to let her go just yet.

“They said they’d keep an eye out, but they highly doubted I’d ever see the camera again and that I should file a claim with my insurance. Which I did. Damn, they’re going to raise my rates when I tell them about this. First my camera, now my laptop and photographs. Why the hell is this happening?”

A knock at the door caught their attention. “Oh, shit Mark’s guys,” Cheyenne said pushing off his lap.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Four