Another chapter!
I want to give a huge virtual hug and cookie to ghostbuster03 for giving me my first review! You are awesome! And, I've tried to follow some of your suggestions in this chapter. I agree that this is moving a bit slow, but I wanted to set a few things up for later in my story…
Enjoy the chapter!
-Christianne
Nikki POV
Later that day - CJ's Restaurant and Bar - 11 pm
"Really? In the frying pan?" Sam asked, taking the new beer I was handing him over the bar.
"Yup." I confirmed, an embarrassed smile on my face. "Opened it up, and there it was."
"The bird," Sam asked, confirming what he already knew.
"Flew out, and right at me." I said, smiling, but my mouth was scrunched up at the memory of my sophomore Home Ec. class.
"That's..." He trailed off, eventually shaking his head and taking a drink of his second beer when he couldn't think of a good adjective.
"Yeah." I agreed, leaning on the bar, looking around Sam at the crowded restaurant that had grown much louder since I'd gotten Sam his omelet this morning. My conversation with Sam had lasted well through lunch.
"Hey! Can we get a refill over here honey?" A man called, waving his empty bottle in the air.
I sighed and grabbed a tray, along with four bottles, one for the obnoxious guy, and three for his idiot friends. I used the bottle opener on the counter to pop the lids off before I brought them to their table.
"C'mon sweetcheeks! We're getting antsy!" The guy called again.
"Whatever happened to a simple 'Excuse me'?" I asked Sam, who nodded in agreement, sending a quick glare to the guys before taking another drink of his beer.
I sucked in a breath before I went to their table, and put on a fake, mandatory, polite smile that Jeremy told us to have on our faces when we delivered food and drinks to customers.
"Here you go gentlemen," I said, the fake smile still on my face as I set the four bottles down on the table and took the empty ones. "Let me know if you need anything else." I told them, turning around to go back behind the bar. I saw Dean sitting at the same booth he was in earlier, eating a bacon cheese burger I'd made a few minutes ago and looking through what looked like a datebook, busting at the seams with papers
I caught his gaze and he gave me a grin with his mouth full of food, and raised one hand to give me a thumbs up. I rolled my eyes at him, and started to continue back to the bar, where I saw Sam watching me from. I walked back behind the bar and took a long drink of my coffee cup.
"Everything go ok?" He asked me, his puppy-dog eyes taking in my stressed expression and tired eyes.
"Yeah...Sometimes you just can't avoid the dicks in life, you know?" I said with a sigh.
"I'll drink to that," he said, raising his bottle. I smiled and tapped my coffee mug against it before I took a drink.
"This place, at night when it's full of drunks, stresses me out." I stated, resting my chin on my hands.
"I can see why," Sam said, watching as someone ran out of the bar to the porch, then leaned over the rail and hurled.
"Ah crap. I have to clean that." I heard Wendy groan a few feet away from me. "Hey...Nikki-"
"Not if you paid me." I said, cutting her off. Sam chuckled at my abrupt answer, and Wendy pouted.
"So, what do you do?" Sam asked me, looking genuinely interested. "I mean, besides refuse to clean up vomit."
I shrugged. "I work here. Every day." I told him honestly. "I try to get out and take pictures-Oh shit." I cut myself off, setting my coffee cup down and pacing around behind the bar, thinking of my beautiful vintage camera, sitting in the dirt and wet leaves of the woods.
"What? What's wrong?" Sam asked me, looking at me with concern coloring his eyes.
"No, it-it's nothing...I just left my camera in the woods this morning...Dropped it..." I mumbled, checking the clock on the wall. Almost midnight. Still had two hours. Then again, I didn't take my lunch break today...
"Hey Wendy! I'm gonna take my break!" I yelled to her, grabbing my jacket and a flashlight as I jogged out the door and started to walk quickly down the road. I gnawed on my lip as I walked to the woods where I had been this morning. I was honestly a bit nervous to go back there. I didn't want a repeat...
"Hey! Nikki!" I heard someone call. I stopped and spun around, seeing Sam jogging towards me. My eyes widened in surprise, and stayed wide until he came to a swift stop next to me.
"What are you doing?" I asked, honestly confused.
He shrugged. "It's getting a bit crowded in there, and I thought you'd like some help finding your camera." He said, an awkward smile on his face. "And...You know...It's late, dark out-"
"Aw, you gonna protect me Sammy?" I teased, shoving his shoulder, which was as effective as pushing a parked car.
"It's Sam," he corrected me again, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked beside me. We walked in comfortable silence until we got to the part of the woods I had been in this morning.
"Yeah...It-It's just up here," I said, walking off the path and up the grass to the woods, Sam followed close behind. I turned on my flashlight and shone it around, trying to find where I had been when I dropped it. I saw another beam shine around; Sam had his own flashlight.
"Boy Scouts?" I guessed, making him look up.
"Huh?" He asked, the flashlights illuminating just enough to see his perfect looking, yet confused features.
"The flashlight...You know, 'Always be prepared'..." I explained awkwardly, holding my side with one hand, moving my flashlight beam around with the other.
"Oh...Uh, no, never in Boy Scouts." He mumbled awkwardly.
"You know, I'm surprised you came out here." I said a few minutes later, still looking around for my camera.
"Why?" He asked, gently kicking aside a leafy branch.
"Most people are a bit freaked out by the story of what happened in the woods. There used to be a plaque on a tree at the edge of the woods, but Sid took it down a few years ago. He thought it was killing the tourist intake, which is a play on words if you ask me." I explained, still holding my side as I waved my light around.
"What happened?" Sam asked, sounding genuinely interested. I stopped, and shone my flashlight towards him. He squinted and shielded his eyes from the light.
"Sorry," I mumbled, moving my beam. "Not used to people asking me that...Do you want the short answer, or the history major answer?" I asked him.
"History major?" He asked.
"Yeah, Yale." I said proudly, the same way he said 'Stanford.'
"Oh...Is there a third option?" He asked, looking away from me as he grinned.
"Yeah, secret option number three, the curious tourist option," I teased.
"So, in the 1860s, there was this girl, Jane Howard." I started, pausing for a beat to look under a bush. "Her dad founded Janesville, named it after her. When she was younger, she was considered the perfect girl. Any time she stepped out of the house she was surrounded by people. Boys who wanted to court her, girls who wanted to be her friend, adults to wanted her to come to their children's parties to play the piano and sing, it was constant for her.
"When her mother died, Jane's dad, Howard-"
"Wait, this guys name was Howard Howard?" Sam asked, shining his light towards me, chuckling.
"Unfortunate, I know," I waved him off, continuing my story. "Like I said, after Jane's mother died her dad kinda went off the deep end. He claimed he was seeing his dead wife everywhere, that he was having dreams where she's come and kill him, stuff like that. Jane, being the perfect daughter, never left her father's side. Then, he started to get sick. Like, really sick. He'd cough up blood, lost a ton of weight...But what killed him was what convinced people he was the victim of witchcraft." I paused again to adjust my Ace bandage and look behind a rock.
"How'd he die?" Sam asked, still sounding genuinely interested.
"You know the expression 'cough up a lung'?" I asked him.
"Yeah," He answered, sounding slightly confused.
"Well, Howard Howard literally, coughed up a lung." I said, trying to suppress a laugh like I always had to when I told people.
This time, I squinted from a light in my face. "Coughed up a lung." Sam repeated, not as shocked as I expected.
"Yup." I confirmed with a nod. "Coughed it right up into his lap."
"Are you sure that's what happened? I mean, it was a long time ago-Hey!" He yelped at the end when I flashed my flashlight in his face.
"I'm a history major. This, is what I do." I said, smirking at him as he rolled his eyes at me.
"Ok, ok, so, what? The angry townspeople convict Jane of witchcraft, burn her at the stake and now her sp-her ghost haunts the town?" Sam guessed.
"Close, but no." I told him. "Howard Howard wasn't exactly the nicest guy, speaking in business terms. He had run countless families into the ground for various reasons. He was like a nineteenth century Al Capone. One family, the Hart family, went from being near royalty, to being average upper class citizens.
"Mary Hart was the wife of the man Howard drove to the point of suicide. She was the one who found his hanging body, and had been in a delirious state for years after. She was practically bedridden by 1864.
"Mary's delusions went from her mumbling to invisible people, to screaming at nothing. Her children ended up having to tie her to a bed at night so she would hurt herself or someone else. One night, one of her daughters, Katherine, stayed with her to see if having someone there would stop Mary's screaming. At midnight, Mary's screaming became understandable. She was screaming about how Jane standing at the foot of her bed, chanting.
"The next night, Katherine decided to put an end to her mother's dilutions. She boiled a pot of water just before midnight, and waited for her mother to scream at 'Jane.' When midnight rolled around, Mary screamed at 'Jane', blaming her for her husband's death and the death of her son." I said, feeling ecstatic to talk about this. I loved history. I shone my light in his direction to see his reaction.
"Her son?" Sam asked, his brow furrowing under his brown fringe, over his inquisitive, curious eyes that were the prettiest mix of blue and green, with a bit of hazel mixed in there. God I could stare at them for hours.
"Yeah, not much on him really." I said, sucking a breath and looking away from Sam. "The Hart boy killed himself after being declared a coward for running away from battle, he was in the Union Army, Civil War. Died at 22, unmarried...That's really all I found." I sighed, that still frustrated me. I know the number of buttons on Mary Hart's sister's wedding dress (57), and I can't even find out the oldest Hart boy's first name.
"Anyways," I said, continuing the story. "Katherine threw the boiling water at the foot of the bed where Mary claimed Jane was standing. It all just fell on the floor, didn't look like it hit anything.
"Mary started laughing. She said 'Revenge has a sweet taste, Howard witch!' Then, she died. Just died.
"The next day Katherine told the town judge and priest about what had been happening, and accused Jane Howard of witchcraft. The paranoid town of course agreed on the fact and went to Jane's estate with torches, pitchforks, the whole sha-bang. Jane answered the door half-dressed and wearing a thick black veil, and didn't say a word as they loaded her up on a cart and hauled her to the courthouse.
"She didn't even make it into the building before she was convicted."
"Why?" Sam asked, sounding more interested. Again, I was surprised. No one liked to hear me talk about this.
"Under her veil, Jane had burns. All over her face, neck, arms, chest...The types of burns you'd get if someone threw a pot of boiling water at you." I explained. Sam's eyebrows rose as I said that.
"Normally, something like that left untreated would kill a person. Since it didn't, the townspeople thought she was immune to heat, so they couldn't burn her. Instead, they tied her hands and feet together, gagged her, and threw her in the river." I finished my explanation.
"Now, Jane, The Witch as we locals call her, haunts the town. Supposedly she has this whole plan about how to get a body again, and anyone who is a part of that plan comes through town and can't leave. They might get sick, lose their keys...have car troubles." I said, sending Sam a glance. "Another version of the legend, is that if you go within fifty feet of the river, she kills you."
"So, the ghost of a witch is keeping Dean's car from driving us out of here?" Sam asked, then laughed. "Please let me tell him."
"Yeah, I guess it is...If you believe that kind of thing." I started, not wanting to sound...You know...Crazy.
"Do you?" Sam asked, honestly asking. And, I couldn't lie to him.
"Definitely." I said with a small smile. He chuckled slightly at my answer. "Do you?"
"Do I what?" He asked. Seriously?
"Believe in ghosts and stuff like that," I clarified. He stood up from squatting down to look under a bush and shrugged.
"I think there are some things that can't be explained. Not really into that sort of thing though." He said, and spun his flashlight around in his hands expertly.
"Wait, do that again," I said, turning my own flashlight off and walking closer to Sam. I got an odd look from the tall man next to me, but he flipped his flashlight around in the air, catching it perfectly, easily. But, I wasn't really watching his hands, I was watching for the reflection that I thought I saw. And, I saw it again.
Sam must have seen it too, because his eyebrows furrowed, and he looked up, trailing his flashlight around the trees.
"Huh." He said, his eyebrows raising abruptly, almost disappearing under his brown fringe.
"Well I'll be damned." I said, looking up at my camera, hanging by the strap, on a branch about ten feet up in the tree.