Scraps of Evidence: Quilts of Love Series by Barbara Cameron

Author:Barbara Cameron [Cameron, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Abingdon Press
Published: 2014-01-20T23:00:00+00:00

12

Tess watched Logan hand over their tickets outside the Huguenot Cemetery. The cemetery was the oldest in the area and that was saying a lot since St. Augustine was more than four hundred years old.

She was used to showing people around who visited her from another state. Florida was pretty much known as the “drop-in” state. Residents got used to out-of-state family or friends wanting to visit and stay, maybe take in a visit to see Mickey Mouse over in Orlando.

Logan seemed to embrace his new city with a passion, wanting to know more about its history.

Dusk was falling and with it, temperatures were dropping. She’d brought a sweater just in case, although she didn’t think she’d need it. She’d also brought bug spray, and she knew without a doubt they’d need that.

Logan slapped at his arm. “Geez, the mosquitoes are as big as pelicans.”

She pulled the bug spray from her purse and handed it to him. “Imagine not having something like this back in the ‘good old days.’”

When they got there, a small group had already assembled at the cemetery located near the old city gates. Tess thought it was interesting that the city’s welcome center had been located next to the cemetery; so many visitors made a point of visiting its historic cemeteries.

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” she whispered.

“Me neither. But this is supposed to be something a little different about the people who were the first residents of the city.”

“And the tickets were being sold for a good cause,” she said tongue-in-cheek.

The tour guide began telling them about how the cemetery opened so those who weren’t Catholic had a place for burial. An outbreak of yellow fever had struck St. Augustine, so another cemetery became necessary .

A woman appeared in the long, flowing dress of the French Huguenots—the French Protestants—of the sixteenth century. She spoke of the horrors of entire families wiped out by the terrible disease as others watched helplessly.

Survivor guilt. That’s what she’d heard it called. Tess glanced up at the lighthouse peeking through the trees. It was all well and good to say she didn’t believe in ghosts, but in a way, Sam’s death had haunted her. One afternoon when she’d been grieving, she’d gone for a walk on her campus. She’d found herself at the student center talking to a counselor. The woman had listened and told Tess she wasn’t just grieving for her friend—that she was experiencing survivor’s guilt.

It made sense. Too much sense. She and Sam had switched dresses that night, and Tess had wondered if the killer meant to kill her instead of Sam.

“If this is going to make you sad, we’ll go,” Logan said.

She dragged her attention back to the present. “No, it’s fine. I was just thinking of something.”

“Someone,” he corrected “Sam?”

She nodded.

A man in the formal dress of the 1880s introduced himself as Judge John B. Stickney. He sat on a tall gravestone, regarded them solemnly, and then began to talk. The tour members chuckled as he dispensed legal advice to a couple he chose from the group.

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