Specter~Chapter 10
Inside the library, it was abuzz with activity. Not like the library I remember, she thought suddenly. These vague and intermittent thoughts were nearly making her nauseous. She walked to the desk in the center of everything going on.
"The genealogy department, please," she mumbled.
The library technician at the desk, a young man, handed her a brochure that gave information about what local history was held at the library and looked at her closely.
"Are you okay? You seem pale. There is a cafe just to your left where you can get a water," he said to her.
She smiled wanly. "I'm fine, thank you."
The genealogy department was located upstairs at the back of the library, so she headed that way. Sam floated along after her, also interested in what she might find.
She found a desk off the beaten path and set up her laptop, happy to see they had WiFi and power sources at the desks. Sitting down and focusing on her research calmed her nerves a bit. She had her list of names handy and began with those from the first few days of research. It didn't take too long to research those folks and enter their info into her laptop. She then searched for and found some local history books. She wanted more information about this Lizzy Dean shipwreck in 1852.
The first surprise she found was that one Arthur Abrams had been one of the main designers of the schooner. The article she read went on to give his history quite in depth. Apparently, he blamed himself for the shipwreck of the Lizzy Dean due to his faulty design, which wasn't true...Captain Dean had veered off course in the dense fog. He went on to better educate himself about ship building, used that skill during the Civil War, and then used the money he earned to build his large estate. He began allowing widows of the men from the Lizzy Dean to live there. He was quoted as saying it "was the least he could do" for the families of the men who died at sea.
The second surprise she found was a picture of the Lizzy Dean crew, taken while they were in Portland. Sam floated behind Quinn as she read the article about his doomed ship. He, of course, remembered the incident in great detail and didn't quite enjoy recalling it. He remembered the day they took the photograph...the second time his image was captured. It was a daguerreotype and they had to stand still next to the boat for at least 10 minutes. He stood next to Finn Hudson and behind Lucinda's father who had just told him that he may ask for her hand in marriage. He remembered his smile that day, even after 10 minutes it was still plastered to his face.
Quinn studied the picture closely and read the caption. She followed the names with her finger until she saw an R. Fabbrae. She found him in the picture, or who she thought was him. A quick scan of the names revealed no other Fabbraes. This man was older, with a long thick white beard, holding his hat in his hands. The next row of names revealed an F. Hudson and S. Evans, standing directly behind Fabbrae. She squinted at the picture. She could see Finn Hudson quite well since he was fairly tall. He had a dopey grin on his face and dark brown shaggy hair. Sam Evans, though, was harder to make out, being partially obscured by Mr. Fabbrae in front of him. He appeared to have lighter hair and also sported a dopey grin. He looked so happy in that picture, though, she thought. She made a copy of the picture for her records. She read about the schooner's return trip and the crash into the rocks in the middle of the night. How terrifying that must've been, drowning in the icy cold waters of the unforgiving sea. She read through the list of the dates the men were found, those dates considered their date of death. She saw that Sam Evans was the last one found...date of death was logged as November 10, 1852.
The next thing she studied was the 1850 census. The first name she looked up was R. Fabbrae. She found Lucinda listed under this name. The family was listed as such:
Fabbrae Russell T M Head 42 Sailor
" Judithe A F Wife 38 At home
" Frances A F Dau 18 At home
" Lucinda Q F Dau 14 School
" Beatrice J F Dau 12 School
The census taker thankfully had noted in the margin where these people lived. The Fabbraes lived on West County Road 100 South. Now, Quinn had Lucinda's parents' and siblings names and ages in 1850 and their occupations, even where they lived. The next name she looked up was Sam Evans. She found his family living on Washington Street.
Evans Jona M Head 38 Clerk
" Mary F Wife 36 At home
" Samuel F M Son 15 School
" Steven J M Son 10 School
" Stacia A F Dau 8 School
Sam read over Quinn's shoulder. He remembered the tall skinny man with the pointy beard coming to their home and asking his mother all the questions, their names, ages, what they did. He remembered his little brother and sister running around like chickens with their heads cut off, at least that's what his mother had said once the census man had left. He smiled at the memory.
Quinn noted Finn Hudson living close to the Evans. She found his listing interesting:
Hummel Albert M Head 37 Wagon repair shop
" Caroline F Wife 36 At home
Hudson Finn M Stepson 16 School
Hummel Kurt M Son 15 School
If she thought Finn Hudson's entry was interesting, Rachel Berry's entry totally intrigued her:
Berry LeRoy M Head 50 Theater manager
" Rachel F Dau 15 At school
And right next door to them was a Hiram Berry, single and living alone, age 50, theater owner. Rachel's diary had mentioned "fathers" several times but no mention of a "mother."
She made copies of all the census information. A picture of these people was coming together in her mind. Her next bit of research was to look for anything else remotely associated with Lucinda Fabbrae and Sam Evans. Unfortunately, all she found for Sam Evans was his entry on the 1850 census, the notation of his service on the Lizzy Dean, and where he was buried. There was a bit more for Lucinda since she lived until 1916.
Quinn noticed Lucinda began showing up more in records around the 1880s. Before that, she had been noted on the 1850 census and a couple times in the daily newspaper. At some point in the 1880s, Lucinda acquired a camera and began submitting photos to the newspaper. Quinn held her breath as she read about Ms. Lucinda Fabbrae's photographie workshop, held at the publick schoolhouse in 1902. The only other mention of Lucinda was her obituary, which Quinn made a copy of as well.
She stretched and looked at the time. She had been there for four hours, the research consuming her. Her tummy grumbled at her and she realized she had skipped lunch. Since the library was getting ready to close being a Saturday, she decided to stop at one of the cozy cafes along Main Street. She loaded up her laptop and research into her backpack and left the library. As she passed the help desk for the genealogy department, she asked the lady there where the old pioneer cemetery was located. That would be her journey for Sunday.
xxxxx
She stopped at the Battenfield Inn café and sat down at an outside table. She looked over the menu and ordered a seafood salad and a Lizzy Dean, a virgin drink containing ginger ale, pineapple juice, cranberry juice, apple juice, and orange juice. Her lunch came and she sipped on the fruity drink, thinking about her research and her odd erratic thoughts from earlier in the day. She pulled out her notebook to write them down.
-Thought of Evans homestead at Washington Street; census proved he lived there
-Thought of fresh eggs at the general store, ? ?
-Thought of photography lessons at the old school; newspaper article proved Lucinda gave lessons there
-Thought that library had been updated, ? ?
She just didn't know what to make of all this. She also was curious as to where Lucinda had lived before moving to the Abrams estate, to see if any odd thoughts came to her there. She sighed. It was all overwhelming to a degree. She decided that her Sunday research would be riding the bike to find the Fabbrae residence if it still stood and finding the old pioneer cemetery.
She walked back to the Abrams estate, pretty much exhausted from the exercise, just getting back as the sun was setting. It was a lovely night so she sat on the balcony of her suite and gazed out at the ocean. She had had no more thoughts and no more chills that day to suggest she was experiencing anything paranormal so she was able to relax a bit.
Looking down at the ocean's edge, she noticed a long pier she hadn't seen before and a long set of steps leading down to it. The landing of the steps was tucked in a tidy flower garden that she hadn't noticed when exploring earlier. The pier seemed to be reinforced with similar stone as the house was made of. She grabbed her camera and wandered down to the landing of the steps. It was going to be a long walk back up, but she told herself the exercise would be great for her and she began her descent.
She slipped down the stone steps quickly and walked out onto the slightly swaying pier. She walked to the end of it, snapping pictures up and down the coast and of the sunset. The breeze from the ocean was wonderful. She could taste the sea spray on her lips. She turned and took pictures of the estate from this vantage point. She walked a couple steps back down the pier then stopped at one of the supports. Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of sadness washed over her.
I won't cry...it won't bring him back...she thought. Quinn stared at the large protruding sharp rocks at the shoreline, every muscle in her body clenching. Her breathing became gasps, then sobs. She slid down against the support, wrapping her arms around herself, confused as to why she was suddenly so sad and crying on the pier. Sam watched her from the stone steps.
He came back for me, just like he promised...The thoughts were racing through her mind as the cries shuddered through her body. He should've never got on that rickety boat! Damn him all to hell!
Sam floated down toward Quinn and sat next to her. She felt the coolness streak down her arm to her hand. She calmed her crying and looked at the empty space.
"You're here..."
She heard just the sound of the tide moving to and from shore. He'd give anything to talk to her.
She was weakened by the whole episode; she felt as though she were grieving. She stood up, still the coolness holding her hand, and headed for the stone steps. She held onto the coolness as she walked up the steps slowly and it stayed with her all the way to the estate.
Once in the suite, she looked through the pictures on her camera and saw the smoky streaks on the steps. Whoever the spirit was, they had been with her the entire time she was on the pier, watching over her. She fell into a fitful sleep, her dreams filled with darkness and a bell ringing and yelling. And the sound of the ocean.
She awoke with a start, thinking why me?
A/N: I tried to set up the census information in columns but couldn't format it that way, that's why it's all jumbled together. :-( Hope you are enjoying the story so far; we're halfway through...I've already got it finished! So, drop me some reviews and I'll post the subsequent chapters. :) Thanks for reading!