Ghosts of Bliss Bayou Page 10

  Then inside the spirals of light, I see shapes and faces. People in magic robes, or in Victorian clothes, and Native Americans in deerskin and feathers. All people who have lived by the springs. Then I see other beings—spirits. Dark creatures, like Shadow Man, shapeless and shifting like clouds. But also angels with eagle wings, goblins, fairies of the woods, sprites of the water.

  None of it frightens me. I have no fear at all.

  I am in the Circle of Harmony, protected.

  I feel only bliss.

  

  After a time, I don’t know how long, the vision fades.

  Granma and Kevin help me to stand.

  Violet steps forward and gestures with her wand. “Arise, dear friend and companion of the quest, Fighting Eagle, True Magician.”

  She hugs me, and her energy helps bring me back to earth. I notice her robe—a deep, glossy purple, with gold and white symbols of the sun and moon.

  “Now we may tell you our secret names,” Violet says. “I am called Amor Verum, a motto which means ‘love of truth.’”

  Kevin embraces me next. His robe is gray, with red and black figures that look like African totems. “Welcome, Fighting Eagle. I am called Simano, which means ‘wanderer.’ It is a name chosen in honor of my ancestors.”

  I turn to Granma, who beams and takes my two hands. “My dear Fighting Eagle, I am so proud of you. In the Circle I am known as Silver Bird—a name chosen because I love silver and birds.”

  Everyone laughs as Granma hugs me.

  They direct me to sit down and rest while they dismantle the magical chamber. First Violet walks around the room with her wand. She stops at the four directions and thanks and dismisses our “friends of the four elements.” Then she and Kevin and Granma put away the pictures and cups and other magic implements.

  Later, after changing our clothes, we all sit in the dining room and share toast and tea, oranges, and strawberries with whipped cream. My nerves are still tingling from the energy of the Circle, but I feel calm and happy.

  Violet shows me a folder full of papers, photocopies of typewritten pages. There are exercises to practice, records of visions received by the founders, and essays to read and study.

  “This is the basic curriculum given to new initiates,” Violet explains. “Or rather, all of it that I was able to find. Some of it has been lost over time, unfortunately. But I might have other bits somewhere in the house. I’ll keep looking.”

  “I’ll look at my papers too,” Granma says. “I still have them up in the attic.”

  Violet smiles at her. “I’m glad you’re back with us, Kat.”

  “I am for now,” Granma says. “For Abby’s sake. For myself, I’ll have to wait and see.”

  Violet nods. “Anyway, Abby, you should study these and reflect on them, and come to us with questions. The main thing is that you practice this one, the Daily Ablution, every morning when you first wake up and every night before retiring. It teaches you how to visualize each of the Springs as centers of energy and move them around your body. The Five Springs have been awakened in your aura. Now they must be properly mixed and balanced.”

  “It’s very important that you do this every day,” Kevin adds. “It’s the basis for all the other practices.”

  “I will.”

  Violet hesitates, then goes on. “When you visualize one or another of the Springs, you might meet a spirit or entity. This is rare for most beginners, but in your case I’d say it’s very possible. Any being that you meet, treat with respect, but be guarded. If asked who you are, say that you are Fighting Eagle, initiate of the Circle of Harmony. Then demand their name in return. It’s okay to ask them questions and gather information, but be careful you are not seduced. Do not follow them anywhere, and do not accept any gifts. If they threaten you, visualize the Five Springs in your body and let the waters gush out and wash them away.”

  “Okay…”

  “Don’t worry, Abby,” Granma says. “You can handle it. Remember, you’re a true magician now.”

  9. Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of strange?

  Wednesday evening, Granma and I eat dinner in town and then walk over to the Presbyterian church. Signs in the driveway announce the Save Harmony Springs community meeting, and the parking lot is filling up fast. We follow the crowd to the auditorium, which is a separate building behind the church.

  Fiona Alden-Gathers stands at the door greeting people. She thanks us for coming and introduces us to her husband, Adam. Adam is tall and good-looking but seems uncomfortable. I sense that he feels this is Fiona’s gig, and she’s in charge.

  Rows of folding chairs are arranged facing the stage. I spot Molly near the front. She’s promised to save us seats. As we walk down the aisle, I see she’s sitting with Ray-Ray and an older guy in a police uniform. They all stand up, and she introduces me to her father, Chief Arthur Quick. He’s a heavyset man with a mustache and dark circles under his eyes. He seems serious and distracted as he tips his cap to us.

  “And I think you’ve already met my brother, Ray-Ray.” Molly smiles innocently.

  “Right,” Ray-Ray says. “The girl at the Parkers’ house. The day of the skunk ape.”

  If feels like they’re both teasing me, and I’m a little embarrassed.

  “Actually it was the devil at the Parkers’,” I correct him. “The skunk ape was another time.” I don’t like being teased.

  Ray-Ray smiles and looks me over as we sidestep him to get to our seats.

  I sit down next to Molly, who goes back to typing furiously on her tablet keyboard.

  “The opposition showed up,” she says, tilting her head toward the other side of the room. “This is going to be real interesting.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “That group in the third and fourth rows over there. They’re owners in favor of selling out. The blond guy in the blue sports coat is Phil Deering. He’s a lawyer, and he owns a bunch of rental properties. And that guy next to him? I think he may be with the Texas-Brighton Land Company. I’m going to go find out right now.”

  She takes out her phone and opens the voice recorder app. When she jumps up, Ray-Ray grabs her wrist.

  “Don’t antagonize anyone. Please?”

  Molly gives him a sweet smile. “Of course not! I’m just giving them the opportunity to state their side of the story.”

  She slides away, and Ray-Ray rolls his eyes unhappily.

  “Irrepressible, isn’t she?” I ask him.

  “You’ve noticed.”

  I’ve also noticed there are two more police officers standing on the sides of the hall. “You’re not expecting trouble, are you?”

  Ray-Ray shrugs. “I hope not. But things could get heated. Lots of strong feelings around this.”

  As soon as Molly comes back, she starts typing again. “He’s from Texas, all right. You should see the silver belt buckle. And inlaid boots! My god, he thinks he’s a cowboy—a very oily cowboy, in my opinion.”

  The auditorium is almost full, and people are still coming in. When the seats are all gone, they stand along the side walls and in the back. There’s a constant buzz of conversation.

  Fiona and her husband come to the front of the room. They’re walking with an older man in a black suit and minister’s collar. He goes up onto the stage first and asks everyone to stand for a prayer.

  After the prayer, the reverend welcomes everyone and thanks us for coming. He explains that the meeting was originally organized by Fiona Alden-Gathers to discuss development issues affecting the town, and to let everyone know about her organization, Save Harmony Springs. On hearing about the meeting, he says, Phillip Deering requested time to present an opposing view, representing some property owners on the springs. In the interests of fairness, the reverend felt he should allow this, and Ms. Alden-Gathers graciously agreed.

  With that he introduces Fiona, and she comes up onstage. I admire how super-poised and confident
she appears. She holds a clicker in her hand, and when she presses it a slide lights up the screen behind her. It shows a photo of the head of the springs, with the clear blue water, and the logo for Save Harmony Springs.

  Fiona begins by talking about how she grew up in Harmony Springs, and what a special place it is. She then describes how she and her husband have been involved in many development projects.

  “I am in no way against development,” she says. “But I have seen how irresponsible development can destroy the very qualities that make a place desirable to live in. I want to show you some examples.”

  She clicks, and the screen shows a lovely rolling countryside with green hills and a farmhouse. Fiona explains that this was a site in Georgia that was targeted for development. The next slide shows the same site three years later. The farmhouse and trees are gone, the hills hidden behind close-built houses that all look the same.

  “Awful,” Granma whispers beside me.

  Fiona shows another example, a wooded riverbank with three widely spaced cabins in Tennessee. In the next picture, the woods have mostly vanished, and the river is lined with oversized mansions.

  “Excuse me.” Phil Deering has stood up and raised his hand.

  “Sit down!” someone yells, and I see Chief Quick and Ray-Ray tense.

  Fiona shows another slide. She says this is a project developed by the Texas-Brighton Land Company. The first image is an aerial photograph of farmland, a patchwork of open fields. The next picture shows the same fields, now covered with roads and closely packed houses.

  “Excuse me!” Phil Deering shouts over the angry murmur of voices. “Ms. Gathers, this is quite misleading and dishonest.”

  “My name is Alden-Gathers,” Fiona replies. “And there is nothing misleading or dishonest about it.”

  “Please! Please!” Phil Deering is holding up his hands. “No one involved in the proposed development is talking about clear-cutting the woods or building dense tract housing. And while we’re at it, no one is talking about destroying endangered sea turtles or torturing puppy dogs.”

  This incites a lot more shouting, from people all over the room. Chief Quick jumps up and yells in a booming voice for everyone to settle down.

  When the uproar subsides, Fiona says, “Frankly, we’ve tried repeatedly to get clarification from Texas-Brighton on exactly what they are intending. And to discuss if they are willing to accept restrictions on what can be built.”

  “No one’s gonna tell me what I can do with my own land!” some guy in the back yells.

  “Quiet!” Chief Quick says. “Any more interruptions like that, and you’ll be escorted out. Let’s have an orderly meeting here, folks.”

  “Thank you, Chief Quick,” Fiona says. “At this point, rather than go on with my presentation, I think it well to let Mr. Deering take the floor. Perhaps he and his friends can tell us what they do intend. I yield the floor to Mr. Deering.”

  Phil Deering looks surprised but collects himself quickly. He and the guy Molly said is from Texas-Brighton shuffle out of their seats and walk to the stage. When they get to the podium, Phil blinks at the projector, which still shows the ugly tract housing in Texas.

  “Can we turn this thing off, please?”

  “Certainly.” Fiona, who is standing to the side, nods to her husband. Adam leans over and switches off the projector.

  Phil Deering introduces the man beside him as Elston Tyler, a representative of the Texas-Brighton Land Company. Then he describes how he was first contacted by the company about their interest in buying his properties. He’s personally checked their financial statements and visited several of their projects. He believes they are a solid firm and that they build quality communities that people can be proud of. Most importantly, he’s confident they will deliver on their financial obligations. Development is inevitable in Florida, he says. The town needs to be forward-thinking and choose a quality partner to work with.

  Some people shout “No!” Others respond with “Quiet!” or “Shut up!” I glance at Granma beside me. Her lips are tight and her eyes angry.

  Elston Tyler addresses the meeting next. He’s relaxed and soft-spoken, with a Texas drawl. He says it’s premature to talk about restricting the number or types of houses. It will depend on how many properties the company is able to acquire. Of course, they will also need to obtain necessary building permits, which will be subject to normal government review. It will be a long process, and people in the community will have the opportunity to give input at every step.

  He goes on to assure everyone that the Texas-Brighton Land Company wants to be a good partner with the town, and they will be happy to discuss their plans with “full transparency” as they move forward. Anyone who wants to speak with him can obtain his contact information from Mr. Deering.

  After that, they open the floor to questions. Someone asks why they can’t be more specific about their plans. Someone else wants to know when they will be able to say more. But Tyler and Deering just keep repeating that plans are “still fluid” and that they’ll be “disclosed as soon as decisions are made.”

  “So much for full transparency,” Molly whispers.

  As the two men go back to their seats, there’s scattered talking in the audience, and a few people applaud.

  Fiona takes the podium again, shaking her head. “Thank you, gentlemen. I understand your reluctance to reveal specifics. Still, I know I speak for many of us here when I say that’s just not good enough. You’ve provided absolutely no concrete information, just vague promises to let us know later. I’m very much afraid that if we don’t act today to stop you, we will wake up tomorrow to find our beloved springs destroyed.”

  This causes another uproar. A few people gesture angrily and storm out. Molly jumps up and starts recording video on her tablet. Chief Quick and the reverend both stand and plead with everyone to calm down.

  Eventually order is restored, and Fiona continues. The projector is back on, showing the first slide with the logo for Save Harmony Springs. Fiona explains that her concerns about preserving the springs inspired her to speak to other residents. She introduces the neighbors who have agreed to be part of her committee. They are sitting in the front row, and each of them stands up in turn. One of them is the reverend—Reverend Johnson—another is Elizabeth Hopkins, the town librarian. Two more are older gentlemen, owners of homes on the springs.

  Fiona then outlines the group’s proposal. First they intend to petition to have the property along the springs, from Founders Park north to the source, designated a National Historic District. This by itself would not provide protection, but it would make it legally feasible for the town council to place easements on the properties. Fiona says this is a proven mechanism for protecting historic places. Under easements, owners would still be able to sell their properties, but any new construction would have to be approved and stay consistent with the historic character of the springs.

  As this idea sinks in, more discussion starts in the audience and quickly grows louder. A bunch more people get up to leave.

  “No one’s going to tell me what I can do with my land!” shouts the man who shouted this before. Chief Quick turns to glare at him, but the guy’s already walking out.

  When things quiet down, Fiona answers questions about the proposals. If easements are approved, she explains, a committee might be elected to review building permits, or the reviews could be done by the Florida State Historic Trust. She admits that these plans will take time to set up. In the meantime, the committee is prepared to pursue other avenues to delay development. These include demanding environmental and water purity assessments, lobbying the county commission, and filing lawsuits if necessary.

  All of this is going to take effort and money. Fiona asks everyone who shares the committee’s concerns to sign the petition for designating the springs a historic site. And she asks further that everyone pitches in—either with financial contributions or by volunteering tim
e. A slide comes up showing the Save Harmony Springs email, phone number, and social media sites.

  As the meeting breaks up, many people move to the front table to sign the petition. Others stand around in clusters, discussing or arguing. Ray-Ray and his dad wander off, to make sure it all stays peaceful.

  Molly turns to me. “I’m going to volunteer. How about you?”

  I’ll only be in town another week and a half, but I want to do anything I can to help. “Sure.”

  Granma says she wants to sign the petition and chip in some money. She joins us as we head to the front and mingle with the crowd surrounding the committee members. While we’re waiting for our chance to talk with Fiona, Molly holds her phone in the air and takes pictures.

  Something up on the stage catches my eye. Standing beside the curtain is a tall woman in a black dress. I squeeze my eyes shut and look again.

  It’s the woman from my nightmares, the one with the proud, glaring eyes.

  No one else seems to see her, and she’s not paying any attention to me. She’s staring down at Fiona, who’s busy working the crowd. I’m struck by a sudden, horrible suspicion.

  She wants to kill Fiona.

  I'd like to ask if anyone else can see her, but I’m afraid I already know the answer.

  Then a glance at Molly gives me a crazy idea. I take out my phone and slip to the edge of the stage. I center the woman in the viewfinder and snap two pictures.

  When I open the photos, they show no one. When I look up, Ghost Woman is gone.

  Damn.

  “Photographing the empty stage?” Ray-Ray is standing beside me.

  I tense, then look stupidly at my phone. “Um…no, I was… checking the exposure?”

  Oh, what’s the use? I shove the phone in front of his face. “I don’t see anyone in this picture. Do you?”