Mysteries by Gloria Kenmare Grant plus Kenmare/ Kenmore history
Home | More Books I have written | Can You Hear Me | http://www.PublishAmerica.com | Contact Me | Sneak previews | Sneak Previews #2 | Gloria Kenmare Grants Photo Album | Linking up with friends page | Kenmore/ Kenmare/ Kinmore/ Kenmar

Sneak previews

img078.jpg

Sneak Preview:

"Can You Hear Me"

Sarah's Civil War Journals

By Gloria Kenmare Grant

Soon after that I heard Daddy and Granny whispering in the house and then Daddy spent the next month digging a root cellar out back, not near the house but between the hay stack and the barn, he fixed the door to lock tight from the inside, you could not see it from the house or the barn.

When he finished he took me out to it and said, "Sarah, I want you to learn how to hide in this root cellar, should anyone come you must get in here and stay." At first I was full of questions, "Won't you and Granny be in it too?"

"Yes, if we have time, if not you must do it alone. I am depending on you to do it, promise?"

"I promise, Daddy, but…"

"No buts, you must just do it!"

He kept saying, "It's just in case. I am sure we will never need it but you grab a bit of food and a jug of water and high tail it in here if ever me or Granny tell you to and no arguments, you hear?"

"Yes Sir."

We practiced shutting the door just enough to get an arm out to spread the hay over it to conceal it.

The rest of the year went along with nothing happening. It was 1862 and I was turning nine soon. Daddy had promised this year I could have a party.

The weather had started turning cooler and Granny was feeling poorly. She was resting in her room. I busied myself in the kitchen. I had made her a tray and started up the stairs with it when I saw the soldiers coming through the field. There must have been about a hundred of them, maybe more, all wearing blue and carrying rifles with knifes sticking out of them.

I ran up the stairs yelling for Granny at the top of my lungs, my heart was pumping so hard I could hear it in my ears. Granny was up looking out the window when I burst into the room spilling her tray.

She grabbed me and told me "Go hide in the root cellar, locking the door the way you had been taught and not opening it no matter what you hear? Sarah, you must promise me you won't come out till it's safe."

Hugging me close she said, "Sarah child, you remember, when it has been quiet for a long time, peek out and see if it's safe to come out. If you can't find your dad, or me I want you to head for your uncles. Stay near the road south, keeping away from strangers until you arrive there."

"No, Granny, come with me." I was crying and yelling.

"Shh, Child I would never be fast enough, you must go now, Hurry."

"I love you, Granny" I hugged her tight.

"I love you to child, now go, but you must be quiet and hurry child. Don't forget your food and water. Please hurry!"

I took another look towards the field as I ran down the stairs. They were closer. I grabbed a loaf of bread and a jug of water as I passed the kitchen and ran for the cellar. As I closed the door and pulled the straw over it I heard a shot. It was all I could do to keep from screaming.

The darkness was unbearable as the door closed completely. I fumbled at the lock. I knew the candle was in the back of the small room, but for a long while I just sat on the steps holding my hands over my mouth…my dry mouth. It seemed as if all the moisture in my entire system had turned off. No amount of licking seemed to produce any moisture. Instead, each time I licked at my lips, it seemed I was licking chalk. I uncorked the jug and took a sip of the water. At long last I could swallow.

I heard noises above me. Shouting and running. I heard the chickens squawking and the cow's bell ring. I could only guess what they were doing up there. All the stories came back, "killing the chickens, stealing the horses, no telling what all they do to the women folk."

I thought of Granny, all alone. Surely no one could hurt Granny; she was so sweet and would not hurt a fly. What reason could anyone have to hurt her? She was harmless.

I thought of Daddy, he was in the fields working, He probably did not see them approach; I told myself, "Yes, that's it, Daddy is still working in the field, he will come soon and I can come out and every thing will be fine. Daddy will take care of every thing."  

I whispered, "Please God, please let Daddy come for me"

The noises seemed to fade a bit and I crawled toward the candle. Daddy had tested to make sure no light shone from the outside, so I knew I could light the candle safely. Yet, I was shaking so badly I could not get the match to light. After a few more attempts the match flared. Finally as the small candle lit, its small flame illuminated a bit of the cellar. I took another drink from the water jug and at last I could swallow better.

I crawled over to the potato sacks on the floor and lay down. I was so tired and it seemed that I had been there for hours. I could not stop crying, I held my hand over my mouth trying not to sob.

I must have dozed because when I woke there were no noises over me. I decided to wait a bit longer to open the door and peep out.

I blew out the candle thinking I should save it, there's no telling how long I would have to stay down here. "Daddy will call me soon and I will open the door," I whispered into the darkness. "I will just wait on Daddy." I said my prayers and went back to sleep,

When I woke again, I lay and listened for any kind of noise, there was none. I was so very afraid as I opened the latch. When it made the click sound of unlocking, I did not remember it sounding so loud. I stop breathing, I was sure I would be heard.

Slowly I lifted the door only a crack, I was quietly talking to myself, "Slowly now, careful, easy does it." 

I felt safer in the dark. I could not see the house, only the side of the barn and no one was there. Slowly I inched forward to where I could peep around the haystack. There were small fires everywhere. Men lay sleeping around them. They were still here.

I slowly inched my way back into the cellar, reaching out and pulling the hay back on top then locking the door, holding my breath as the lock made its click. I went back to my sacks and once again I softly cried myself to sleep.

Thus Sarah's Journey Begins:
Buy a Book: Barnes&Nobel, Amazon.com  or PublishAmerica.com 

img582.jpg

The large two story frame house sat near the river, a reminder of bygone days.  A long cast iron fence surrounded it, the majestic oak trees covered in Spanish moss, swayed in the breeze. The large porch still provided shade on the hot summer days allowing one to sit enjoying a breeze from the mighty Mississippi river and cool off from the hot summer sun. The small town of Hawkinsville had grown around it.  The days of the horse and buggy were nearly over. The old house had stood the winds and rains of time. The old out house has been replaces with roses after the newly bath room was finished. Times had changed and the days of lamps and candles had passed. Now as in most city homes with the forming of Mississippi Power five years ago it had new electric lights.

Below the house, the streets were busy and life went on.  New Model A cars blew their horns and on the corner the newspaper boy shouted, “Read all about it -Black Tuesday - Today October 29th, 1929, Stock Market Crashes, get your paper.” The paper he held in his hand showed the pictures of despair in New York City.

People of means were already outraged over how the stocks had drastically fallen since Thursday. They gathered on the sidewalks, reading the news and loudly blamed everyone but themselves. They blamed investors for taking chances on the market and driving stock prices well in excess of fundamental values.

They knew the answers to the questions they asked.  They knew it was all because the masses lost faith in the value of stocks and opted to sell -- all at the same time! This is what had caused a panic. Stocks started to decline precipitously, leading to more selling. The investors couldn’t pay the interest on their margin accounts causing the banks that had loaned the money to go out of business. Then the house of cards came tumbling down, and they have no one to blame but their own greediness and desire to be rich without having to work for it.

But the stock market was not the only place that men wanted riches with no toil.

Just above the street in a stuffy hot bedroom of the house, a get rich plan was working in one man’s mind…

img548.jpg

 

“We all know that hate is an ugly word, but there are times when life deals you a hand so bad, you can‘t deal with it alone. That is when hate is all you have going for you. You wake up with it. Nurse it all day and when night comes, that same hate feeds your dreams when it allows you to sleep.

Yes, you get to the point it feels right to hate. It feels good to plan all the different ways to inflict the same pain onto the person or persons who gave you this hate.”

This is what she meant about answering the questions; she was doing it almost the instance they popped in Morgan’s head.

“Yes, it was given to you! You did not want it. You did nothing to earn it. Yet there it was in an instance. It can come anytime, morning, noon or night. It just walks right up to your front door. I know, because you see, that's what happened to me. For me it came at nine in the morning on that fourth day. It came with the man in the police car, wearing the dark blue uniform, with his hat in hand. He did not know he was bringing it. That is not why he came.

I remember when I had let him in the door. He did not look at me. I offered him a seat, he declined. I am sure he told me his name, but I do not remember it. He had just stood there looking at the floor. It was then he told me of finding her, saying how sorry he was for my loss. He said it so softly, I thought I for sure I had misunderstood him. In my mind, I can still see him, standing there. I think I knew why he came. I think he thought he came alone. But he did not, he bought hate with him.

He just stood there, as he fiddled with his hat, turning it around in his hand.  He said again, he was sorry to have to be the one to tell me, that they had found her, but she was dead.

That was when hate first showed it’s self to me, and soon we would be on speaking terms. Yes, believe me, hate talks to you, you think at first it is you, your thoughts, but it is not. I am here to tell you, that it is hate, pure and simple. It talks; it starts out small and grows and grows. Like weeds taking over a garden, you pull one and three more take its place.

I look back and remember the poor man had just stood there as I screamed at him, that he was lying. Telling him over, and over, no, it can’t be! Asking, were they sure? Stating, someone was mistaken. It was someone else... until at last my voice trailed off.

He had stood there repeating, “I am so sorry.”  All the while still staring at the floor, not wanting to look and see the hurt in my eyes or the hate.”

She paused for another sip of water, reached up and fiddled with the pearls around her neck.

“Then the man asked when Amelia’s husband would be home. I told him late that afternoon or night, but only if he made the connections. He then said since her husband was not here, he would have to ask me to go to the morgue and identify the body. My heart hurt, for a few minutes I could not breathe, I had shaken my head no. How could they expect me to do that, I asked why?

Again, he said he was so sorry and he knew all this was awful for me, but he said it was procedure; a family member must do it. He had orders to wait for me and bring me down town to the morgue, but I should take my time. Take as long as I needed, he had said. He told me that the two detectives working on the case would meet us there; we would go whenever I was ready.”

Kathleen Page paused again and sat looking at her hands. Then she looked towards the doors, searching for the right words. She took a deep breath and said.

“I know for certain now, that is when hate came, because as I climbed the stairs to wash my face and get my coat, it went with me. It had watched as I had stood looking in the bathroom mirror wondering why. Why had this happened? What had I done that every thing I loved was taken away from me? It sat beside me on the bed as I hugged her picture to my chest, rocking and crying.

When at last I had run out of tears, I went back downstairs. The officer still stood by the door; it was as if he was stuck on the spot. He helped me with my coat. I told him I was ready and let him help me into the patrol car. He had opened the door for me, waited for me to get in, and then asked if I was comfortable.

Hate rode with me on the long quiet ride to the morgue. It was watching as I twisted the hankie in my hands. Then when the police car pulled up to the door, it made sure I saw the big muddy black van parked near by. The van sat there with its back door still open. It walked with me down the long white hall leading to the double doors. Listening as our feet made the clicks, clicks on the shiny black and white tile floor.

It grew bigger as the doors opened, bigger still as I saw the gurney in the center of the room. Lying on that gurney was a large black bag. There were three people waiting there, I recognized two of them as Detectives Gibbs and Hansen, who were assigned to the case.

The third man I just presumed to be the coroner as he wore green scrubs. He took my arm and led me to the side of the gurney. He commented on how sorry he was to have me do this. The two faces of Detectives Gibbs and Hansen waiting there were emotionless. I remember I kept looking from one to the other; I was searching, for some signs of emotions. I saw none. I thought, how could they just stand there, I waited for one of them to make eye contact with me, neither did, not once!

I watched as the coroner’s hands fumbled with the zipper on the bag. It is strange what you remember, you know I can still close my eyes and to this day I can still see the bright shiny band of his wrist watch, as it was made to sparkle by the large light over head. As I stood there, I tried hard not to tremble, yet it felt as if my entire body would at any minute erupt into convulsions.

It seemed to take forever for him to reach in and lift the cover from the face. As I waited, my heart was beating in my ears, thump, thump, and thump. I wondered why it was beating so slowly. It should be racing. I had never had so many emotions running through me at the same time.

I did not want to be here, I wanted to run, yet I just stood there listening to my heart. There was a pain in my chest, a tight aching pain, I reached up and placed my hand on it.

I looked up at the big clock on the wall and saw the second hand as it ticked off the seconds, they too seemed slower, than they should be, the clock showed twelve noon. I heard the sound as he slowly unzipped the bag. I felt as if I was going to scream.