Forever, Darling (The Gettysburg Ghost #3)

Chapter 1

“I had no way of knowin’ that I only had one hour to live.”

Confederate reenactor and tour guide Jesse Spenser held the rapt attention of the tourists as he told the harrowing tale of the death of a soldier from the First Texas Infantry.

Standing among the huge rock formations in the famous battleground of Devil’s Den, Jesse certainly looked like a poor soldier from Texas.

He wore gray wool pants, a white cotton shirt with suspenders, and a brown slouch hat.

He also sounded like a real Southerner as he spoke with a thick, Texas drawl.

The tourists were spellbound by Jesse’s dramatic tale, but none more than the female tourists, who particularly enjoyed his tall, broad-shouldered build, sweet blue-gray eyes, and, of course, that accent.

“There was bullets whizzin’ from all around, everywhere I turned!

” Jesse exclaimed, his eyes flashing with excitement.

“Then, outta nowhere, a bullet slammed into my right shoulder.” Jesse grabbed his shoulder dramatically and grimaced like he’d been shot.

“But I was okay! Oh, it hurt somethin’ awful, but it wasn’t no mortal wound.

But then,” He paused for dramatic effect.

“Then another bullet came flyin’ at me and hit me.

Right here.” He slowly raised his forefinger and pointed to his left temple.

A hush fell over the group as they waited for him to continue his story. Enraptured as they were, none of them could have guessed his secret.

Jesse Spenser had been a real soldier in the Civil War, more than one hundred and fifty years ago, and he was telling the story of his own death.

Thousands of tourists visited Gettysburg every year, but few were aware that some of the “reenactors” they saw were actually the restless spirits of real Confederate and Union soldiers still wandering the earth.

Jesse had been one of them, having been trapped in ghost form for a century and a half.

Then he had fallen helplessly in love with a living woman named Lucy Westbrook.

After recovering from the shock of learning Jesse was dead, Lucy fell in love with him, too.

Instead of crossing over to heaven, Jesse was given the precious gift of life again.

Now he was employed in the only job he was qualified for: Civil War reenactor.

No one knew more about the town of Gettysburg than he did.

He knew everything that had happened in the small town since he died in 1863.

Jesse groaned as if he’d been shot, then staggered backwards.

He closed his eyes and fell to the ground.

He lay there for a long time. Long enough for people to wonder if he’d really passed out or something.

Jesse heard his co-worker, Remy Waters, giggle softly.

She was used to his theatrics, yet she still found him entertaining.

Jesse suddenly jumped to his feet. “Okay! Now let’s head on up to Little Round Top!”

The tourists laughed and started heading toward the tour bus.

As always, Jesse had sanitized the story of his death just a smidge.

He had been shot in the shoulder and in the head, but unfortunately, that wasn’t what had killed him.

Moments before his death, Jesse had killed a Union soldier with his bayonet.

He hadn’t wanted to, but this was war, and he had feared for his life.

The flag bearer of the 124th New York infantry, Joel Casey, was that soldier’s best friend.

In a fit of grief and rage, Joel shot Jesse in the head and then had stabbed what he thought was Jesse’s corpse with the flagpole.

But Jesse had still been alive. The flagpole being shoved through his stomach was what killed him.

However, there was no reason for Jesse to horrify innocent tourists with such a gruesome tale.

His being shot twice was all they needed to know.

“Oscar-worthy, Jesse,” Remy said dryly, her pretty blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

She pushed her shoulder-length brown hair out of her face as she smiled at him.

She, too, wore a period costume: a simple, long-sleeved blue cotton dress with a floral pattern.

She was dressed in character as Jennie Wade, a civilian who had been killed during the war as she stood in her kitchen baking bread for the soldiers.

A stray bullet had struck her in the back, killing her.

Jennie, not Remy. Unlike Jesse, Remy was flesh and blood and always had been.

“Okay, guys, let’s get back on the bus and head on up the hill,” Remy called cheerfully. An older man stopped to ask her a question, and she smiled warmly as she spoke to him.

Remy was a wonderful tour guide. She was smart, and she loved talking with people.

Warm and friendly, she had a way of making people comfortable within seconds of meeting her.

Jesse would never forget how kind she’d been to him on his first day of the job.

She had no idea that working for the Blue and Gray Touring Company was Jesse’s first real job ever.

He had been terrified of screwing it all up, and she’d put him at ease right away.

Jesse and Remy rounded up the tourists and boarded the bus. Jesse took a seat at the front, while Remy stood up so she could address the group. She held on tight to the metal pole as the bus lurched forward.

“Okay, now we’re headed up to Little Round Top. You might want to get your cameras ready, because you’re in for an incredible view of the battlefields from up there. So, how many of you have seen the movie Gettysburg?”

Some nods from the group, and Jesse raised his hand and said “I have!”

Remy laughed and so did some of the other tourists.

Not only had Jesse seen the movie, he remembered when they had filmed it on location here back in the early 1990s.

He’d been in spirit form then, and watching them make the movie had provided him with hours of entertainment.

As a ghost, he could be invisible whenever he wished and could go whenever he pleased.

He even chose to be visible now and again, and often wondered if perhaps he’d made it into the final film somewhere, mixed in with all the reenactors.

“Little Round Top is the site of the famous, brave fight of the 20th Maine. If you saw the movie, Jeff Daniels played Lt. Col. Joshua Chamberlain, who led the charge.”

Remy continued with the history lesson during the short drive to the large hill.

When they reached the top, she announced, “Okay, we’re gonna stop here for about twenty minutes.

That should give you enough time to look around at the view and take some pictures if you like.

Jesse and I will be available for questions, but other than that you’re on your own to wander for a bit.

There are several monuments here, including one where you can climb to the top and see for miles. ”

Remy and Jesse helped the tourists step down the steep stairs of the bus, taking special care with elderly and children guests.

Once everyone was safely off the bus, Jesse wandered over to find his new friend, Avery O’Rorke. Jesse always went out of his way to chat with Avery as often as he could, because he knew how lonely the man was.

Because he was dead.

Avery had died right here at Little Round Top on July 2, 1863. In fact, he’d been a part of the famous battle that Remy had just described on the bus. The charge of the 20th Maine. Except Avery had been on the losing side—he’d fought with the 15th Alabama Infantry.

Jesse found him sitting, or at least appearing to be sitting, on a huge rock near the 44th New York Infantry monument.

Since he was in ghost form, he couldn’t actually touch anyone or anything.

He could choose to be visible when he wanted, so to tourists he just looked like another reenactor.

If a ghost did choose to be visible, he’d better act like he was alive, lest he terrorize unsuspecting, breathing guests at Gettysburg. Thus, he chose to appear to be sitting.

“Avery, my man!” Jesse called.

Avery turned to him and smiled. He perpetually sported a gray button-down frock coat and gray trousers.

He had brown hair and gentle gray eyes that lit up when he saw Jesse approaching.

Jesse understood how lonely it was to be a ghost. Other than the occasional greeting or smile from a tourist, no one spoke to you.

It was dangerous to get too close to the living, because it wouldn’t be long before they discovered your secret.

“Jesse! How are ye?” Avery called out to him. Though he lived in Alabama while he was alive, he was originally from Ireland and spoke with a strong Irish brogue rather than a Southern accent. He had been part of an entire company in the 15th Alabama who were Irish, called Oate’s Zouaves.

“I’m doin’ well,” Jesse responded. He glanced at the tourists milling around, keeping an eye on the ones wearing bright orange stickers indicating they were with his tour group.

Everybody seemed okay at the moment, wandering around and taking in the sights, so Jesse sat down on the rock next to Avery.

Avery looked over at Remy, who was happily chatting with tourists. He stared at her, watching her brush her hair out of her face. She looked lovely as always, the color of her dress bringing out the blue in her eyes.

“How is she?” Avery asked.

Jesse smiled. Avery never actually came out and said it, but Jesse knew he was in love with Remy.