SPOOF BEGINNING

(I just imagined this moment and I laughed when I thought about it, so think of it as a spoof beginning)

"-And I'm buried up to my neck in paperwork." Zach finished wearily. Cammie kissed his cheek comfortingly.

"It'll be worth it, hon." She assured him.

"I know. It's just really tiring." Zach said, taking her hand. As they passed the portrait of Gillian Gallagher, Zach stopped to look up at her. "God, I bet she had it so easy."

Cammie shrugged. "Maybe. Come on, let's go." Cammie pulled him along to go meet up with Liz and Macey. As they left, the ghost of Gilly watched them and smiled a small smile.

'She had it so easy'. If only they knew...

October 1864

"Which is why I would like the extra 2000 dollars funding for equipment to use to train the girls at my school." I finished, raising my chin to show that I was sure of myself. I wasn't, really. I was nervous. The head of the Board chuckled.

"Miss Gallagher, while the Board... appreciates the case you are trying to make, I am sure I speak for all of us when I say- women are darn good at being wives, nurses, mothers, teachers, but they're not strong enough to be spies." Mr Whitaker took out an impressive gold pocketwatch and looked at the time. "And I do believe your five minutes is up."

My cheeks burned as I left the room. I didn't know what I was more upset about- the fact that I hadn't gotten the funding, or that Mr Whitaker had actually laughed in my face. I bit the inside of my cheek and kept focusing on items around the hallways - oil paintings. mahogany bookshelves, golden candelabras, rich carpets imported from Turkey- to distract myself from crying. Strong women do not cry. Gallaghers do not cry. I told myself sternly. I let myself out of the Board's house. My carriage was waiting outside for me, with my driver- Alistair- was feeding the horses a handful of oats.

"Miss Gallagher?" Alistair greeted me uncertainly when he saw me.

"Take us back home immediately, please, Alistair." I said stiffly. "But be careful."

"Yes, miss." My driver helped me up into the carriage and quickly jumped into the driver's seat. The sky was beginning to darken, and the streets were starting to light up with the lights from the few pumpkins or candles people had managed to find. Despite the war, the village council had decided to put together a small Halloween celebration. I had offered to let them use the Gallagher grounds for the celebration. As we drew closer to the school, I could see the front steps of the mansion had pumpkins on them, and there were candles in the windows. Already, some people from the village had set up stalls- apple bobbing, witch shooting, fortune telling and other things. Alistair helped me out of the carriage then went to take the horses to the barn. I forgot to remind him to take the horses to the stables round the back- I was thinking of converting the barn into a training room.

"Gillian." Helena Abel, the woman in charge of the village planning committee - which, to be honest, did nothing else other than order people to knit gloves and socks for soldiers in the hospital- came bounding up to me wearing a halloween mask with bright orange leaves on it. "I just wanted to thank you again for letting us use your house grounds for the-oh, no, I told Mary not to put the soup stall there! Excuse me."

"School. School...grounds." I corrected lamely, but Helena had already disappeared. "Nevermind then." I walked into the school to my room to get changed into a comfier dress. Men had it so easy, they didn't have to spend a whole ten minutes getting into a dress with a corset so tight I could barely breathe. The only thing the dress was good for was hiding weapons.

I finally put on a midnight-blue mask with silver crescent moons on it and went back outside. The first thing I saw was Miss Leslie Wallace trying to hold a seance with teary-eyed widows trying to contact the spirits of their husbands and brothers who died in the war. She was wearing a purple scrap of embroidered material over her head and yelling "I can feel the spirits! Oh, Charles, husband of Hattie Beckhouse! Contact me from the beyond, if you can hear me!" Unfortunately for Hattie Beckhouse Miss Wallace was 72 and a bit gone with the wind, especially after her only grandson died. He was only 19, the poor boy.

I wandered around a bit more, and stopped by a man leaning on a crutch, one leg cut off below the knee. "Miss Gilly Gallagher, I haven't seen you in three years! How are you, m'dear?"

"Mr Kent, is that you?" I barely recognised him. He used to run the apothacary shop in town, but enlisted for the war three years ago. I hadn't heard anything about him in so long I thought he died. "I'm fine, thank you. I've nearly got the school finished." I pointed proudly to the mansion.

"I can't belive little ten-year-old Gilly Gallagher is gon' become a big-time teacher. Just watch those damn Yankees don't come an' trash your fancy mansion." He furrowed his brow angrily. I supressed a sigh. The Union was fighting for the right cause and the Confederates were obviously losing. They were just too angry to see it. "Ah, never mind about that. How would you like to know the first initial of your true love's name?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "I don't know about true love, Mr Kent. I've got no time for that."

"It'll only take a second, I promise." Mr Kent took an apple out of his pocket. "Well, a second and an apple."

I smiled ruefully. "Well, if it'll only take a second. How does it work?"

Mr Kent pulled out a pocketknife and started peeling the rosy red skin of the apple into a long strip. "Little game the boys do when they're bored and want to brag about their sweethearts. You close your eyes, blow on the peel, and when I drop it into the water it'll twist an' curl into the first initial of your true love."

I smiled and closed my eyes, and blew on the apple peel. I opened my eyes to see the curl curling into the letter u.

"There we go. It's u. Or maybe it's c. This type a magic ain't always precise. I don't know which way it's s'posed to be pointin'"

"Miss Gallagher I do believe I'm the one you're looking for." A silky voice whispered in my ear. I spun around and behind me there was a tall man with dark curly hair and bright blue eyes.

"Nate? Nathaniel Carlyle?" I frowned. "It is you!"

Nate scooped me into a hug. I could feel the judgemental stares of all the old ladies who still thought girls and boys in such close proximity should be chaperoned burning into my back. "How are you? I hear you're becoming a teacher for spies."

"Excuse me?" I pulled back to look quizically at Nate. My lord, the last time I saw him was back in Ireland when I was 8, just before we'd moved to Virginia. His family had moved from Chicago- his parents wanted to change the scenery from a cold city to rolling green hills.

"Gilly, please, I know you're a spy. That innocent Irish girl disappeared a long time ago didn't she?" Nate smiled a little bit at me.

"Well, from now on, my school is for... exceptional young ladies. Don't give the game away." I warned him. "Mr Carlyle, could you accompany me around the grounds?"

"Yes, Miss Gallagher, it would me my pleasure." Nate offered me his arm. Things had changed so much in ten years. His american accent had a pleasant Irish lilt, his once-straight hair had gotten curlier- and he had gotten handsomer. "Woah, whose the dead man walking?"

I looked towards where he was staring. "Ah, that. Ioseph Cavan. He lives in this huge fancy mansion on the other side of town, not to mention he has a bunch of mansions in every other state. He's a bit creepy, but he's mostly harmless I think."

"You've changed so much. You don't sound Irish anymore. I barely recognised you." Nate looked at me sadly as we walked past the Young Ladies of the War Knitting Campaign (real Roseville group, I am not lying) doing a knitting competition to see who could knit six-foot long scarves the fastest, in return for a small sponshorship so they could then send said scarves to the men. They wouldn't ever gather enough money though.

"I barely recognised you too." I smiled ruefully.

"Gilly, I-" Nate started. But I didn't get to find out what he was going to say, because this happened next:

The barrel of water being used for apple bobbing exploded and water shot out everywhere. Then Mr Jonas (a fake name, I was sure), my informant, ran up towards me soaked in water and blood.

"Gillian! Quickly, you have to know. They're trying to kill me for it- but you have to stop them." He fell into my arms, soaking my dress.

"What is it?" I asked. A masked man wearing both Union and Confederate uniforms came running across the plain of grass with a musket. He shot at Mr Jonas, but missed but a few inches. The ground exploded five inches away from the hem of my dress.

Then Mr Jonas leaned in and whispered five words that would change my life- "They're planning to assassinate Lincoln."

All the women screamed, and the men shouted as more bullets flew around us. "You damn Yankees will never get me!" A drunk old man yelled, pulling a small handgun out of his pocket. Then one more shot rang, and Mr Jonas collapsed limply to the ground, his blood spraying on me. The women fled away from the gunman, and the men ran towards the gunman.

I screamed, and Nate pulled me away.

Keep calm. Keep calm. Keep calm, I kept repeating to myself. The guests swarmed all around me, screaming and yelling. Alistair appeared from nowhere and snapped me out of my reverie.

"We've gotta go, Miss, it's all goin' to hell there." Alistair dragged me to the safety of my school. I picked up my skirts and ran away- angry at myself that I had forgotten to put a weapon in my skirts somewhere, so I could stay and help. Then I remembered- Nate. I looked wildly around for Nate but he was nowhere to be seen. Old man Cavan watched the chaos from the edge of the crowd of people, smoking on a cigar and scowling like he always did.

Happy Halloween indeed.