The Ghost of The Lightner Museum

Chapter Forty Three

"Believe it or not, but she crashed through the ballroom windows, just over there." Aaron spoke in a faraway voice as his ghostly arm raised and pointed to the curved balcony of half-repeared windows on the third floor below. "She wasn't from my time. She had no idea how to survive in my world. But she found me somehow. She loved me and I loved her in return. We got married...but I was murdered in the very same week."

"Wait. Oh my god, so she was the girl the security guard was talking about! Wow! But damn...who killed you, Aaron?" Angel asked, bent forward in avid concentration from her spot on the stone ground. A flock of seagulls flew by from the open arches and the sounds of St. Augustine drifted up to them in enchanted surrealism. Reality was so safely close by, yet from where she sat it felt somehow seperated: it was closed off to her.

Aaron turned to glance down at her from where he stood leaning against the terracotta pillar. His eyes were darkened and his jaw set with underlying anger. A palpable sensation of darkness and negativity surrounded him as he voiced one name.

"John T. Lawrence." He straightened and crossed his arms over his chest, angling his head to scan the city beyond the tower,"It was the night of my painting's debut in the hotel. Charlotte's painting to be precise. We were to leave right after. What was supposed to be one of the best nights of my life quickly turned into the worst."

Angel shuddered from the eery chill that slivered down her arms and spine. Once ghost boy was finally finished with his tragic story, she felt more than ready to leave. Who knew dealing with the paranormal could be so mentally draining?

"Okay. Well...I'm sorry you died, man." She offered, standing back to her feet and slowly stretching after the long sit session, "But I have to go now before I get locked in here so...catch you later?" She looked at him with expectant eyes.

Ghost Aaron smiled softly as he answered in a listless voice, "Farewell, Miss Angel."

"No, what? Ew. Just Angel will do fine, thank you." She corrected him as she adjusted her red coat. Waving bye, she quickly walked back to the elevator and did her best not to look like she was frantically speed walking away.

There were numerous questions and revelations running through her mind simultaneously from the information she had just digested. Yet confirmation was still needed and research had to be done. Even if she had to sweep the libraries, courthouse and every church per square mile for the historical records...she would.

"Damn, this is going to be a lot of work." She muttered as she rode down the elevator with her hands stuffed in her coat pockets.

The days turned into a goosechase around the city. Angel searched every church and cathedral until she found the blessed evidence she had been searching for. The record of Charlotte and Aaron's marriage was there in plain site, and it provided even more answers.

"So your real name wasn't even Charlotte at all...it was Lilith. Lilith Anne Perkins. Well then...Aaron, you didn't even know who you married, boy." She closed the olden book inside the priest's office as he waited patiently.

"Did you find what you were looking for, young lady?" The kindly-looking priest asked while adjusting his spectacles from his desk. Angel cast him a smile of success and stepped away from the bookshelf that lined the side wall.

"I did, thank you. And thanks again for letting me take a peek." She answered, walking to the door.

The priest stood and moved around his desk, opening the door for her and following her out as he answered, "You're very welcome, child. History is meant to be shared and known. It is a valuable necessity to remember our past footsteps in order to see where it is exactly we are going."