Chapter Five
Carolina tried to rememberthe last time that she had seen Richard. He had been away for so long that by the time he finally returned from overseas she’d barely recognized him. Richard had left St. Augustine still very much a boy and returned with the face and body of a man. His shoulders were wider, the scruff on his face fuller. He had a haunted look in his eye that all of the other surviving local boys shared. He had also returned with an undetected case of Spanish Flu.
Three days. They’d only had three days together before quarantine was enforced. Together they strolled through downtown St. Augustine and dined at the Floridian. They met up with old friends and talked about old times, but still, it was apparent that the war had changed them both. Richard was ready to settle down and start a family. To have a home, comfort, and security. Carolina wanted to see the world. She wanted to be free.
Still, the obvious rift that had settled in between them during wartime didn’t stop Richard from proposing to her. The Castillo de San Marco was lovely at sunset, and Richard did look very much like a prince down on one knee with the old, castle-like fort rising up behind him over Matanzas Bay. Carolina had said yes, even though her heart wasn’t so sure. It was a lovely ring, and Richard was still recovering from the terrors of war after all. It would have been cruel for her to say no.
She remembered the persistent headache and sweat-inducing fever. The hacking, rib-crushing cough. The bone-tired body aches and tremulous chills that shuddered through her entire being. She remembered the look of worry on her mother’s face, and the way her father’s eyes became dark at the mere sight of her. If it weren’t for the citrus canker that had all but depleted the family fortune, Carolina’s mother and father would have been able to send her to Bermuda to recover in the fresh island air as her own consumptive grandmother had done some four decades before. Instead, Carolina was forced to endure those last dark days at the highest point in Jacaranda Manor where she could be kept apart from her family, her sudden, on-set disease hidden away and contained.
The third floor attic space of Jacaranda Manor, which was once happily Carolina’s own private art studio, had unwittingly become her eternal jail cell. While she had languished at home, Richard stayed in the quarantine unit in nearby Flagler Hospital under care of doctors and nurses. Her last kiss with him at the Castillo was forever emblazoned in her memory, bittersweet and heartbreaking all at once. Carolina had no way of knowing at the time that it would be a kiss goodbye. There was more coughing. More hazy, fevered days. Then nothing. Then silence. Then never ending loneliness and sorrow.
As Carolina tried to portray her haughtiest, most in-charge and intimidating stance as possible to the man—Joseph—she couldn’t help but be reminded of Richard. Not because they looked anything alike, heavens no. Richard had fair hair and bright blue eyes, a delicate nose and delicate hands to match. The man that had invaded her home was broad and dark, with artful features and heavy, brooding brows. It was the look in their eyes that was the same. The haunted, hurting look of a man that had seen and experienced horrible things and lost their way in the process.
Carolina dropped her hands to her sides and tilted her head, waiting for the man to respond. Until now, she wasn’t sure exactly how or why people could see her. Often, she felt invisible over the years whenever someone would wander on the property and try to peek inside the manor. However, Carolina had guessed that it was when someone elicited an intense reaction within her that she could make her presence known. The group of teenagers that tried to break into her home once, as well as the woman that tried to remove the stained glass front doors, all got a taste of Carolina’s wrath and ran from the house screaming.
Now that it was apparent that the boy, the man, and even the dog could see and hear her just fine, Carolina felt a small twinge of guilt. Clearly, something awful had happened to this father and son to cast dark circles under their eyes and cause the corners of their mouths to constantly turn down. Still, Carolina never felt more alive again than when anger coursed through her being, and the state of her family home and its preservation was all she had left to hold on to and evoke emotion. She couldn’t fade into the shadows and just let him do as he pleased. Not if she could help it.
“Well?” she finally said, as the man stood still as a statue with his lower lip hung open. He finally blinked and let out a quick, low breath before speaking.
“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to comprehe...” he said, looking back at his son, then back at Carolina again. “Are you a ghost?”
“Well it appears that way,” she said, her eyes flashing open wide. “I wasn’t absolutely sure until your boy, River, helped me to gain a little self-awareness. It’s a fact I’m afraid I’m not too happy about.”
Joseph stood there with his lips pressed firmly together again, his eyes darting up and down her figure. In any other case she might feel compelled to give him a piece of her mind for eyeing her in such a way. However, even in her perturbed state, Cartolina could appreciate the fact that her presence was something of a shock.
“River, have you been talking to this... lady?”
River nodded.
“We’ve become quite good friends,” Carolina nodded matter-of-factly. “He’s a sweet and thoughtful boy. He’s in need of a haircut though.”
“I know,” Joseph said, still looking dazed. “Wait, I don’t want you talking to my boy. This doesn’t feel right.”
“Don’t worry Dad. Carolina is nice. She’s teaching me to paint,” River said.
“She’steachingyou?” Joseph said, his voice raising an octave.
“So, when will you be moving out, hmm? River is a nice little boy, but I’d like to be getting back to my peace and quiet if you don’t mind,” Carolina said.
“We’re not moving out,” Joseph said, steadying himself with one hand on the mantle. He wound his other arm around the boy's shoulder. “This is our home now.”
“I tried to tell her you’re going to make it look nice,” River chimed in, giving Carolina a nod. She smiled back at the sweet little boy. He had a way of taking the edge off of her bristly nature.
“Well, River, your father isn’t doing a very good job,” she said, waving her arm around the sitting area. “You’ve trashed all of my mothers imported ebony wainscoting. I suppose next you’ll remove the French crystal chandeliers and replace them with some ghastly electric light fixture?”
“The wainscoting was ruined,” Joseph said, clearing his throat. “They were covered in mold and buckled from water damage. They had to go.”
“Oh,” Carolina sniffed. “Well at least you could replace them with new boards, for heaven’s sake.”
“I can do that,” he said, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. “And the chandeliers aren’t going anywhere. They’ll be a major selling point for the house.”
Carolina held a hand to her chest.
“Selling point?”
“Yes,” Joseph said. “As soon as we get this nightmare house renovated we’ll be out of your hair. You’ll have a whole new family to haunt when we sell this place.”
