Chapter Nine

    The morning light on his face caused Patrick to stir.  He stretched his long frame as best as he could in the little bed, but he did not open his eyes.  Behind his eyelids he replayed the events of the day before. 
    He had witnessed a butterfly emerge from the safety of her cocoon.  As April began to engage and get to know a part of her family she hand never known before, she came alive.  She was in her element and she thrived.  His long time friend changed from being a play-it-safe momma's girl to being a creature full of life and curiosity and energy.  She had amazed him.  He wanted to know more about what this woman was like when she stopped hiding in the safety of her coffee shop world.
    As the early morning silence was overtaken by the sounds of the house coming to life, Patrick finally opened his eyes and embraced the possibilities of this new day.
    "Patrick," Alice called as she gently tapped on his door.  "Coffee is ready and breakfast will be served in twenty minutes."
    "Thank you," he called in response.
    He pulled the covers off the bed and started getting ready for the day.  As he brushed his teeth, he examined his thoughts more thoroughly.  Was he becoming infatuated with April or simply fascinated?  The more awake he grew the more certain he was that it was only fascination and nothing more.  He smiled at himself in the mirror, and determined that there was no way he could become infatuated with her.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Brett slapped the old handwritten volume shut in frustration.  For months his research had been leading him on a wild goose chase.  Each bit of information he found only led him to other bits of information.  He was almost ready to give up hunting ghosts and get back to what he did best, diving.
    Granted, during all that time and travel, he had learned much about Captain Thomas Lodge and his crew.  From what he could piece together, Thomas Lodge was born in 1692 to a merchant sailor family in England.  His father must have been at sea at the time of his birth, because when his mother died a few days after his birth, he and his brother were in the care of his mother's sister.  From there on the boys went from family to family like foster children.  At one point in their lives they lived with the local vicar and his family.  When Lodge came of age he joined the Royal Navy.  But at some point he left the navy and took the commission from the Colonial Governor of Carolina to be a privateer.
    But what continued to elude him was why.  Why had he been so keen to leave the navy and take that commission?  Why was he later so keen to abandon it for piracy?  What he did know about the good captain simply did not fit with a lust for blood or treasure.  There was something, a big something, he was missing.  It seemed to Brett that something happened while he was in the Carolina Colony.  For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what. 
    Time was running out.  Blackwood had several other possible wrecks on the "Deep Seeker's" dive schedule for the season, and he was running out of patients with the constant delays.  Brett had to find something solid before New Year's Day or give it up.
    The quiet stuffy rooms of library after library were not helping his mood, either.  What Brett needed was salty breezes and sunshine.  He needed to be back on the "Deep Seeker" and doing something productive.  He pushed himself away from the heavy wood table and stalked out passed the librarian without a word.  All he wanted at that moment was a beer.

------------------------------------------------------------------

    April sat quietly, appearing to listen as Alice jabbered on about all the points of interest on their way to the museum.  She was more lost in her own anticipation about what the day was about to bring than the Charleston gossip. 
    Resting on her lap was the special document transport case that had been give to her by the University Documents Lab.  Inside the case were two packages of documents.  Once was for the Charleston Historical Society and contained the Civil War era letters of Martha Pruitt.  They were destined for display in the museum.  The other packet was April's personal property.  She hoped she held the keys to solving a few mysteries.
    During the fall while April was acting as liaison between the Historical Society and the University for the negotiations for the Pruitt letters, she found out about a museum mystery.  At some point the museum had acquired a set of journals from the colonial period, but they had never been able to authenticate their authorship.  According to all surviving public records, Mary Anne Cooper never existed.  There were records for Rachel Cooper Bellemy and her family, but nothing about a sister.  April hoped that the handwritten correspondence between the two would help to prove that those journals were indeed Mary Anne's.  Then with the information in the journals, she could begin to solve a few personal mysteries.
    But first there would be official business to attend to.  They were greeted by museum staff as they pulled up to the main museum entrance.
    "Oh, my, April, they are all there," Alice commented as the walked in.  "It's not often all the members of the board are together for something other than and official gathering.  But then again, everyone is excited about the letters."
    A tall distinguished gentleman approached them ahead of the others.
    "Mr. Thornton, so nice to see you again," he addressed Alice as gave her a cordial hug.  "How is your father?"
    "He's doing quite well.  He only needs a cane for a little extra stability now.  The doctors are impressed."
    "Well, Mr. Ashley was always a strong-willed sort."  He then turned his attention to Patrick and April.  "How do you do," he drawled as he shook their hands.  "I'm Brian Kirsch, President of the Historical Society.  You must be Ms. Roberts," he smiled warmingly and held her hand in his a moment longer than necessary.
    "A pleasure, Mr. Kirsch," April blushed a little.
    "Professor Worley, a great pleasure to meet you, sir."
    "Thank you, Mr. Kirsch."
    "Let me introduce you both to the rest of the board.  This is Evie Rutherford, Marcus Allen, Emily Watson, and the honorable Michael McWhorter."
    More hand shaking went all around.  Patrick mentally noted how well connected some of these people were; a circuit court judge, the wife of a US Senator, powerful people indeed.
    "If you will all follow me, there are pastries and coffee awaiting us in the board room," Mr. Kirsch directed.
    More pleasantries were shared as all helped themselves to a morning treat.  Once all were settled, it was time to get down to business.
    "I would suppose you are anxious to see the museum's newest acquisition," April smiled as she laid the document case on the table.
    Speaking for all, Mr. Kirsch responded, "yes indeed, Ms. Roberts."
    With a bit of a flourish, April popped open the case and announced, "ladies and gentlemen of the board, may I present the newly discovered letters of Mrs. Martha Pruitt."
    She withdrew a couple of official forms and the packet of documents.
    "Of course, before I can officially hand them over to you, there is a little matter of paperwork."
    The forms were passed between Kirsch and Rutherford for two official signatures.  April and Patrick both signed on behalf of the University and Alice signed as witness.  Possession of the rare Civil War letters was officially passed to the Charleston Historical Society.  As April passed the packet across the table, Mr. Kirsch buzzed the intercom.
    "Chloe, could you and Shelby come in please, and bring enough gloves for everyone."
    Within moments, the two young women entered with a box of archivist gloves.
    "Ms. Roberts, Professor Worley, this is Ms. Chloe Wilson, our Rare Books and Documents Curator and her assistant Ms. Fleming."
    "Good to meet you both," Ms. Wilson smiled at them as she continued to pass out gloves.
    Once all were ready, Mr. Kirsch opened the packet and began leafing through the old pages.  For several moments the letters were passed around in reverent silence.
    Judge McWhorter was the first to speak.  "These are in better condition than I could have imagined.  They look as if they were just penned."
    "That would be the work of a dear friend of ours in the Documents Lab at the University."
    "Absolutely amazing," added Mrs. Watson.  "The formal unveiling of the exhibit tonight is going to be a sensation."
    "I'm glad you are all pleased," April replied.  Her desire to see the journals was intensifying by the moment.
    "Well, If everyone is satisfied, Shelby needs to get them ready for display, and Chloe needs to take Ms. Roberts to the archives."
    As April repacked the case she overheard Mr. Kirsch invite Patrick to his office to discuss a further relationship with the University.  Patrick gave her an "it's a part of the job" smile and followed Mr. Kirsch out of the room.  Within moments, Chloe was leading April down a back passageway to the parts of the museum off limits to the public.
    "Thank you again, Chloe, for granting me access to the archives.  I am hoping what I find answers a lot of questions."
    "I'm certain that you have answers to several of our questions about these journals, so granting you access to them benefits everyone.  Personally, I can't wait to see the letters and the journals side-by-side," replied Chloe as they entered the reading room of the archives.
    The room was very quiet and only dimly lit.  Most of the light was concentrated on a heavy oak table in the center of the room.  Arranged in the pool of light were two leather bound volumes, several note pads, and an assortment of pens and pencils.
    "Is it too dark in here, I can raise the lights," Chloe offered.
    "I'm fine," April responded as she approached the table and laid the document case next to the stack of notepads. 
     (Will be adding more details later)



    "Through here," she heard Patrick ask someone outside.  "Hello, book worm, how's it going?"
    Not wanting to stop reading, April waved him into the other chair.
    "You've been at this for most of the day.  Alice sent me to get you."
    She still didn't look up.  He could only see a portion of her face from behind the curtain of auburn hair that had fallen forward as she read.  At some point she had become so absorbed in what she was reading, she had stopped making notes.  Yet another side of April was coming to light, the intense scholar.  Patrick almost hoped that everything that happened during this trip would keep her from going back to the coffee shop.  This passion and drive she had suited her far better than her work-a-day life.  If Dr. Clayborn could see her now, he'd be so proud.  But Aunt Alice would scold them both if he didn't get her moving out the door.
    "Chloe's made arrangements to leave everything in place so you can come back to it tomorrow.  But we really should . . . "
    "Okay, okay," she interrupted.  "I just wanted to finish that passage."
    "Good, let's get going.  The car is waiting and it's turned cold out.  Where's your coat?"
    "Over there I think," she gestured across the table as she began gathering her notes.
    "Is everything okay?  You seem very quiet."
    "Yeah, sure.  I'm still absorbing everything I've been reading."
    "Okay," he conceded as he helped her with her coat.
    April sat quietly in thought all the way back to the Thornton home.  It was just as well, because there was to be no quiet when they arrived.  The house was buzzing with preparations.  Alice and several family members were busy putting up decorations and getting ready for the evening's festivities.  Alice had invited several people to stop by after the Christmas banquet.
    "There you two are," she exclaimed as they came into the vestibule.  "I've got you gown all laid out in your room, dear.  Hurry on and shower and I'll come up in a bit to help you with your hair.  You're going to be the guest of honor tonight."
    April smiled and dutifully followed orders.
    "Patrick, honey, would you mind helping Robert with a few things in the dining room?"
    "Not at all, Miss Alice."
    Alice giggled at Patrick's use of the very southern form of address.  "There's a good boy."  She patted his face on her way out of the room.
    Patrick snickered under his breath.  He rather like the charming lady.
    After an hour of climbing up and down ladders, helping Robert hang Christmas decorations all around the dining room, Patrick was finally free to go get ready for the banquet.