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fresh with a hint of vanilla. She wandered about the room. The window was frosted over
with a glaze of dirt and grime, the wooden floor covered only by two beautiful wool rugs.
She opened the closet and saw a wardrobe of beautiful period clothing. Velvet, brocade,
cotton, the woman who had lived there had exquisite taste in clothing and furnishings she
decided. How could the clothes have been preserved so perfectly for so long? How could
the room and its décor be preserved? The thought slipped in and out of her mind, but she
didn t dwell on it, not now, not yet, she decided.
She pulled the small deacons bench into the bedroom and placed it under the
window. As she sat down the bench gave slightly under her weight indicating its hollow
interior. She stood quickly, then opened the bench to find a small leather book, gilded
gold edges and the word Journal in gold, graced the deep brown cracking leather cover, a
red ribbon marked the last page of the calligraphic handwritten pages.
Nicole closed the lid on the bench and sat down on the floor, her back resting
against the bench to peruse the journal. Inside the cover was Ambrosia Garnet s name
and dedication of the journal to her niece Katie and nephew Dominic and the date graced
that parchment page. Nicole marveled at the beauty of the pen that had created the
nameplate. Also, there preserved forever in its pages was the yellow Lady Slipper
flower. Chills stood the soft hairs on her arms on edge rippling as though an invisible bug
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J.J. Massa, Sassy Rebel, Logan Blue
walked hair to hair across them. Or was it her, Madame Ambrosia wanting to read over
her shoulder? Nicole felt like a voyeur but still, she felt she must, she was compelled by
some invisible force to read the journal. She turned the page into ambrosia s private
world and read.
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SHADOWS FROM BEYOND
Chapter Three
The journal was titled, THE YELLOW LADY SLIPPER, but the yellow was
crossed out and inserted in its place was, CRYSTAL LADY SLIPPER.
If memory served Nicole correctly, the Lady Slipper wild orchid, though
strikingly beautiful, is a poisonous plant. Was that the reason she renamed the place The
Crystal Slipper instead of The Yellow Lady Slipper--unless they grew here then, like they
do now, abundant, wild, free like her girls , the women who lived and died here.
Not safe after dark. Oh no, I wouldn t go there even in the daylight hours.
The journal entry in Ambrosia s pen began. Nicole felt a nudge close to her on the
bench.
I heard the comments. They were for my benefit. They always tittered with gossip,
these women. It was as though they never had anything else to do.
One night stand.
Challenge the widow-maker, the slammerkin, go ahead, see what she says, the
one said jabbing a bony elbow at the other and pointing in my direction as though I was
blind, deaf and perhaps as stupid as they were.
I ignored their rudeness and continued placing things on the grocer s counter.
Could I have five yards of the green crushed velvet too, please? I believe your wife
special ordered it for me from New York. I said listening to the gasps from the gossipy
old women behind me. I don t care what they think of me. They should sweep their own
porch first before they throw dirt at mine. Their husbands, among others, keep the
Slipper and my girls in coin and laughter. If they would tend to their husbands, we
wouldn t have to. I glared at the woman known as Dimity Able, my thoughts rambled
away with her as the subject. She was by no means diminutive or able, and to me she
resembled a fat cow. She could be construed as dim certainly. Oh, it helped to keep your
sense of humor. I held back a belly laugh. That would not be lady-like; after all, it
appeared I was the only real lady in the place.
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J.J. Massa, Sassy Rebel, Logan Blue
Those were the same ladies who loathed me, those ladies who tried to burn my
place down. Those ladies who tried to have the sheriff close me down, or tried to stop
their men from visiting the Slipper. I saw them all die. I believe their bitterness buried
them. Not a one of them knew how to enjoy life, to laugh at its little vicissitudes. But that
was then, those many years ago even before Adam tried to rescue me tried to move me
west to a new life.
I struggle now to turn even slightly. Ah, but I need to, to look at Prometheus, my
love. My black angora cat that lies with his body draped over the arm of the green velvet
settee looking for the entire world like a dollop of warm licorice dropped from the sky,
plopped and dripping off the edge of the arm. The bulk of his weight sags toward the
floor side on the arm of the settee. I wonder how he can balance there. Prometheus has
been part of my life almost as long as The Slipper. Together we have been through a lot. I
wonder what will happen to him when I am gone. It s hard on a cat to be acquired by a
new owner what will Prometheus think of that?
I feel so weak. It won t be long now. The disposition of the place then, will be left
to those vultures my niece Katie and nephew Dominic, my soul heirs. Indeed, heirs to
my soul. This place is me. It is my soul. It is all. Alas, what is to become of my beautiful
Crystal Slipper and my girls who can never leave here?
Like Annabelle, sweet little Anna. No one could have guessed that Nathan
Johansson had slipped over the edge. He always came to see Annabelle. Think he was
sweet on her. No one heard them argue. No one heard her plead and beg for her life.
Everyone was wrapped in their own lives, drinking and carrying on. Poor Anna, no one
heard.
I didn t hear Anna. You know I would have come to help you. You know that
don t you, Annabelle? My voice crackles and doesn t sound like me in its weakness. I
feel Anna s kiss brush my cheek and a smile tugs at my mouth. Dear sweet Anna, always
so forgiving. That Nate and she seemed soul mates. How could he take her life so
violently? If the lure of the Gold Rush in Yukon Territory was stronger than his love of
her, why couldn t he just leave her behind? We would have watched over her. Surely, he
couldn t be jealous of some other man wanting what he already didn t want. But, he
didn t run, he didn t walk, he merely killed himself. It all seems so senseless now.
It wasn t until morning we found them together. Her bed crimson with her blood.
Him dead on the floor in a pool of his own blood, gunshot wound to the head. It took
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SHADOWS FROM BEYOND
weeks to clean the room. It took longer for any of the girls to use the room again. None of
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