Lacewood Read online

  Every house has a story to tell...

  Lacewood

  A Novel of Time and Place

  Jessica James

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Other Books by Jessica James

  Dedication

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Part II

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Part III

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Walking the Boundary Line

  Fine Line

  by Jessica James

  Other Books by Jessica James

  Connection Links

  About the Author

  A Few of the Author’s Favorite Charities

  Sign up for Jessica James's Mailing List

  Further Reading: Above and Beyond

  Also By Jessica James

  Other Books by Jessica James

  AWARD-WINNING HISTORICAL FICTION

  LACEWOOD

  THE LION OF THE SOUTH

  SHADES OF GRAY

  NOBLE CAUSE

  ABOVE AND BEYOND

  LIBERTY AND DESTINY

  AWARD-WINNING ROMANTIC SUSPENSE

  MEANT TO BE

  DEADLINE

  (Phantom Force Tactical Book 1)

  FINE LINE

  (Phantom Force Tactical Book 2)

  FRONT LINE

  (Phantom Force Tactical Book 3)

  LACEWOOD

  Copyright © 2019 by JESSICA JAMES

  www.jessicajamesbooks.com

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, locations, and events are all products of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to actual events or real persons are completely coincidental.

  ISBN: 9781941020234

  Edited by: Demon for Details Manuscript Editing

  Cover Design: Historical Fiction Book Covers

  Interior Design: Patriot Press

  Dedication

  To U.S. service members—past and present—and to all those who epitomize the American spirit by working to ensure our safety, to protect our heritage, and to safeguard our way of life.

  Part I

  Lacewood 2019

  “WE HAVE COME HERE, not for things that die, but for things that cannot die. For human history is not a dead sea. It is a flowing river.”

  – General Joshua Chamberlain Oct. 18, 1866

  Gettysburg Battlefield

  Chapter 1

  “RECALCULATING.”

  Katie McCain smacked the steering wheel with both hands and then glared at the navigation screen.

  Renting a car and heading due west into the Virginia countryside seemed like a good idea when she bolted from a ritzy fashion show in Washington, D.C. earlier this afternoon. The charity event she’d been roped into attending had devolved into a made-for-television spectacle courtesy of a few attention-seeking B-list celebrities. The whole debacle rekindled her craving for green grass, open space, and solitude. But with no planning and little thought put into this impulsive excursion, she was now hopelessly lost.

  “What made you think you could find it?” Katie muttered as she admitted to herself this fateful flight involved more than her need to escape the small talk and fake smiles of the Beltway elite. Did you think you could simply stop and ask someone where Esther Bennett lived—twenty years ago?

  Katie shook her head and tried to look at the bright side. The scenery was lovely and the traffic was light. Her agent, thinking she would enjoy another day in DC, scheduled her flight for tomorrow. Even if she didn’t find the old farmhouse where she spent so many happy summers with her grandmother, all was not lost.

  But she was disappointed. Just when the landscape seemed familiar enough to spark flashes of recognition, the narrow road widened into two lanes and houses replaced horses in the fields. Parking lots and pavement fragmented all remnants of the quaint countryside she remembered, and sprawl replaced the scenic views she’d been hoping to reconnect with during her sentimental journey.

  Stopping at a traffic light, Katie glanced to her right and sighed at the size and opulence of the house sitting in the middle of a professionally landscaped yard. The home appeared out of place among the rolling hills, as did the cluster of similar structures lined up in monotonous rows on each side and behind.

  Trees that could have provided both beauty and shade were nowhere in sight. But air conditioning systems, meant to keep the occupants cool and comfortable behind their locked doors, emitted a low-pitched hum loud enough to compete with the drone of idling engines.

  Katie studied the extravagant entrance identifying yet another new development in ostentatious lettering—Fair Hills. She peered past the sign to some newer houses sitting on recently leveled land and winced at the absurdity of the description. Like all the others—Fox Den, Tall Oaks, Deer Run—this community bore the name of something that no longer existed. The fox, the deer, the oaks, and even the hills, had been destroyed, run out, cut down, or leveled in order to make room for the developments that now proudly carried their names.

  For all she knew, Katie’s grandmother’s farm might have fallen victim to the same type of growth and expansion. The century-old house certainly wouldn’t fit into this smug, suburban setting where anything less than brand new was considered outdated and obsolete. The demand for swanky, upscale neighborhoods left no room for history and antiquity. Crooked shutters, sagging porches, and squeaky screen doors would not be welcome here.

  Katie envisioned monstrous bulldozers leveling her grandmother’s home, pushing it into a hole and covering it with sod. Such rituals took place every day, performed without a second thought or a moment’s hesitation...like sweeping dirt under a rug.

  High-pitched static on the radio yanked Katie back to the present. Nothing seemed familiar now. One gently rolling hill followed another on an undulating road that was sometimes paved and sometimes only gravel. Thick forests began and ended abruptly, plunging her into a dark tunnel one moment and blinding her with dazzling sunlight the next.

  Katie continued driving because the views and the countryside kept her spellbound. Horses meandered through belly-deep grass in meadows kindled gold with sunlight or streaked blue with shadow. Clusters of sunny daffodils embroidered the hillside where cattle dozed contentedly beneath ancient trees bursting with buds. A tractor in the distance caught Katie’s eye as it crawled through a brown sea of soil, tilling the earth in even waves that seemed to go on for miles.

  Drawing in a long, deep breath of fragrant spring air, Katie lowered all the windows in the car. She never drove like this in the city, but she reveled in the rush of air blowing through her hair today, and delighted in the pungent, freshly-plowed smell of the earth in the distance. It made he
r feel young again. Carefree. And it generated a scrapbook of images that unleashed a cloudburst of tears.

  Darn it. There goes my mascara. Katie pushed the memories away and wiped her cheeks, then checked in the visor mirror to see how much damage she’d done. If she ever found someone to ask for directions, she didn’t want to scare them with raccoon eyes.

  Glancing at the clock on her dash, Katie calculated she’d been driving for three hours and had now officially arrived in the middle of nowhere. The navigation program continued to tell her to make a U-turn where none was possible, after instructing her to turn onto roads that didn’t exist. You don’t know where I am any more than I do.

  Annoyed by the unrelenting static on the radio, she turned the volume down, as if silence would help her think. Just as she glanced back up, she noticed a small road sign with big letters: New Hope.

  A town! Maybe she could find a restaurant to grab something to eat—and get directions back to DC. Spurred on by newfound confidence...and a growling stomach, she kept driving. And driving.

  And driving.

  “Did I miss a road or sign?” she wondered out loud. She hadn’t seen a town...not one recognizable as such, anyway. She began to worry that she was getting farther away instead of closer.

  As she rounded another curve, Katie impulsively jerked the wheel hard to her right, thinking she’d discovered a place to turn around—but immediately stopped the car to reconsider.

  The road fell off into a ditch on both her left and her right before disappearing into a narrow, gloomy passageway in front. Her only options were to back out onto the main road, or go forward and hopefully find a place wide enough to do a U-turn.

  She sat with her hands on the wheel, peering into the dense foliage. The ancient trees created a canopy of twisted branches like a mysterious tunnel into another world. The only evidence of civilization was a dilapidated sign with a faded arrow saying FOR SALE.

  No, thank you. The narrow, overgrown lane brought to mind the opening of a horror film. I’m not going to be the woman who takes the road to nowhere and ends up fighting for her life in zombie land.

  Shifting the rental car into reverse, Katie turned her head and began to back up. But no matter how she moved or shifted in her seat, she couldn’t see beyond the blind curve. Although traffic had been sparse, her wild imagination conjured a fully loaded logging truck flying around the bend in the road, totaling her rental car. And her.

  Impatient to get moving, Katie shoved the vehicle into drive and inched forward, intent on finding a place to turn around.

  Bad decision. Rain and neglect had carved deep ruts in the road, and untrimmed branches hung low, scratching the car on both sides. No matter which way she swerved, at least one wheel dropped into a pothole. She rolled up the windows to keep from getting sideswiped by thorny branches, but the limbs scraping the sides of the rental sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard. She turned up the radio again. Loud.

  Glancing down at her phone, Katie considered calling someone for help. But who? And what would she say? Hello? I’m lost somewhere in Virginia. Can you send help?

  Luckily the road began to widen and then forked off to the right through intermittent beams of sunlight. Relieved, Katie attempted to make a wide turn, and almost hit another FOR SALE marker.

  What could be for sale way back here? Trees and rocks and grass?

  The arrow pointed toward two stone columns marking an entrance of some sort. Only when she started to inch closer did she notice a weathered wooden sign. Vines obscured most of the wrought iron post where it hung, and even this close the lettering was too faded to read.

  When she saw a breeze rustling through the trees, Katie reached over and turned down her radio so she could listen.

  What she heard was a strange, bone-chilling screech as the signboard swayed back and forth on rusty chains. Was this mysterious breeze beckoning her on?

  Or warning her to go no farther?

  Katie glanced around at her surroundings, and for a fleeting moment had the strange sensation she’d been here before. She chuckled at the thought. How could she have been here before when she didn’t even know where she was?

  With her curiosity and her sense of adventure piqued, she edged the car forward, but then slowed to a stop again. Should I?

  She thought about how far she’d come and shrugged. Another few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

  Turning to the right, she proceeded through the stone entranceway and traveled only a short distance before catching a glimpse of blue sky ahead. When she finally broke out of the forest altogether, she hit her brakes so hard she almost bumped her head on the steering wheel.

  The sight before her had to be taken in slowly, and with deep breaths.

  Dogwood trees, fleeced in their finest spring attire, lined the lane as far as she could see, creating a spellbinding view. The trees themselves were stunning, but the lush blanket of blossoms carpeting the road captivated as well. The dramatic contrast between the murky forest behind her and this vibrant view transformed the scene into a magical entranceway to a fairy-tale land.

  No longer interested in turning around, Katie kept her foot on the gas, moving slowly, her head on a swivel as she took in the marvelous sights.

  She blinked to clear her eyes. Is this a dream?

  After ascending another rise in the road, Katie glimpsed a wide chimney towering above a grove of trees in various stages of fresh spring growth. Nothing else was visible until she made her way up a winding path and pulled into a weed-covered circular driveway. Even then the ivy-covered gate and wall concealed most of the house, but hints of the property’s former grandeur were everywhere.

  Katie studied the scene, trying to take in everything at once. Two venerable trees with snowy-colored limbs stood like giant sentinels on either side of the house. The trees were striking in both their size and prominent placement, but the ghostly white bark imparted a mystical quality that stunned and mesmerized her.

  She turned her attention to the four enormous pillars lending an air of Southern charm to the mansion. Like the fencing, the pillars were heavily laced with ivy and velveted with the greenish hue of moss. Katie glimpsed subtle signs of the estate’s original splendor, but its overall appearance was one of abandonment and neglect.

  Still, as far as Katie was concerned, she’d stumbled upon the most beautiful, secluded, enchanting spot ever created. She turned off the engine and sat spellbound, imagining the house as it must have once been. In place of the faded façade and dilapidated porch, she visualized gleaming white pillars and a welcoming front door. Instead of the weeds and vines, she imagined a haze of daffodils, with here and there a splash of red tulips thrown in for contrast.

  A sudden tap-tap-tap on her window, caused Katie to jump from surprise. A police officer stood outside, signaling for her to roll down her window. She hesitated, then glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the marked police cruiser. She’d been so intent on the house she hadn’t even heard him pull up behind her.

  Rolling down her window, Katie stared into the deep brown eyes of a handsome officer about her age.

  “Can I help you, miss?” He bent down, his expression one of curiosity more than disapproval or displeasure.

  “I’m sorry,” Katie said. “I was lost and wanted to turn around, but then I saw the FOR SALE sign and kept driving...” She realized she was rambling and stopped.

  “Where are you heading? Maybe I can help with directions.” He seemed impatient now. A little stern, even.

  She almost said “back to the rat race,” but stopped herself. “I have a flight out of DC tomorrow...” Her gaze returned to the iron fence and the view beyond.

  “Sorry, ma’am, no way to get there from here.” He sounded so straightforward and serious, Katie didn’t realize he was kidding until she spotted the glimmer of humor in his eyes. They were smiling even if his mouth was not.

  She let out a breath and then turned her attention back to the house.

  “
Beautiful place at one time,” the man remarked. “It’s in bad shape now.”

  There’s the understatement of the year. Nevertheless, something about its remoteness and rustic magnificence gave Katie pause. With its shutters tilting haphazardly and its porch steps all askew, it appeared unhappy. Hopeless.

  Whatever glory the place once flaunted had long since faded, but it wasn’t hard for Katie to look past its imperfections. Something about it reminded her of second chances and new beginnings...a lost world waiting to be discovered.

  His gaze followed hers. “A shame it’s been vacant for so long.”

  “How long?”

  He shook his head, still staring through the gate. “Long time. Hasn’t been rented since I was a kid.” He glanced back at her and laughed. “And that was a long time ago.”

  “So you’re from around here?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Born and raised.” He reached his hand through the window. “I’m Sheriff Ferguson, by the way.”

  “I’m Katie McCain. Pleased to meet you.” After shaking his hand, she strained again to see through the heavy vegetation. “Why is it abandoned?”

  The sheriff leaned forward and propped his arms on the window frame. “Well, there’s lots of work that needs done, as you can see. Problem is, we don’t have many high-paying jobs around here, so nobody has the money to take it on.”

  Katie nodded absently. “So New Hope is a quiet place, I guess. I don’t remember passing through a town, though. That’s why I needed to turn around.”

  He chuckled. “There’s not much to see. Nothing but a country store. And the post office, of course. Then there’s old John’s place...he does car and tractor repairs...along with the farm supply and the Old Mill bar and grill. You can’t miss it. Which way did you come in?”

  Katie pointed with her thumb over her shoulder. “Whatever the road behind us is.”

  “Oh, well, that’s why.” He straightened up, glancing to the left. “You must have missed the turn and circled around. Another couple miles and you’d be smack dab in the middle of New Hope.”

  “Maybe I’ll stop on my way out.”