On the Wings of Time

On the Wings of Time

 

 

The wings of time would connect the two young lovers and Nancy Lee Abernathy, for all time. Unbeknown to Nancy Lee or Leora Grace, a third spirit moved in closer from the far end of the cemetery. Together he and Leora Grace would carry Lady Abernathy through time—a time that would lived forever in this new spirit's mind.

Nancy Lee would suddenly find herself traveling back into Southampton’s past to view for herself the beginning of young love. She would learn for herself the true history of William and Leora Grace Mayweather. Love’s first meeting came in two stages, first a young man meets a child, who years later becomes his reason for living. William Mayweather and Leora Grace Stonewick listened as the elderly Lady Abernathy recounted their amazing love story. Each stood on each side of her filling her memory until she had no other choice, but to voice the whisperings that were spiraling through her mind.

"It will not be long now, until she will be ready to guide the young ones on their quest to end the curse, and fee us my love," whispered the spirit of Captain Mayweather.

"I have sat here long enough feeling sorry for myself. Zane and I had a most amazing life and we loved each other every minute we were together." Glancing around she knew that she must go on. "Something or someone is urging me forward. Whatever it is, I feet it pulling memories from my mind." Memories she had thought long forgotten.

"The legend of Mayweather House began with Captain Mayweather and that is where I must begin." Silent gravestones were her captive audience but she spoke as if telling the story to a child who had the understanding of the ages. "Captain William Thomas Mayweather was the sole owner of the Mayweather Shipping Lines, from 1865 until his death in 1871. He was the only child of Andrew Thomas Mayweather, the founder of the third, largest shipping lines of its day. In the two short years since his father’s retirement, young William surpassed every one of his father’s expectations, building the Mayweather Shipping Lines into England’s only shipping lines, buying out the other two. William’s head for business was unsurpassed and some said he had salt water flowing through his veins."

Glancing around, she half expected to get a laugh from the occupants of St. Paul’s cemetery, at her attempt at humor, then she nervously laughed at herself for even considering it. She never noticed the transparent figure laughing among the gravestones who found her statement quite funny. Continuing she rambled on.

"William’s mum, the former Rebecca Philpott of the London Philpotts, was well respected in England’s high society. Rebecca had wanted to fill her home with children, but she had only been blessed with William, named after the two most important men in her life—her father and her husband. All her time was devoted to young William, and being a devoted mum, she made sure William was well versed in the social graces. Rebecca beamed each time someone would comment that William not only had a head for his studies and hands for work, he was also growing into a true gentleman." Nancy Lee could almost see Rebecca Mayweather schooling her young son on the proper etiquette.

A ghostly figure made a deep bow to the elderly woman who was singing his praises, although she never noticed him at the time. Captain Mayweather remembered his mother telling him when he was just a young lad what people would remember. "Son, you may become a giant in the shipping business like your father, but what will be remembered is how you conduct yourself as a gentleman, you mark my word, Son." Now he was listening to a woman over a century later sing his praises. The sudden memory of his mother brought a tear to the corner of his eye, and a sudden thought occurred to William Mayweather. I can imagine how my mother must have suffered when she received word of his death. The handsome young spirit suddenly felt the pain his mother endured, and hung his head in sorrow.

Shifting her weight on the cold stone bench, Lady Abernathy pushed back tendrils of silver hair that had been blown into her eyes by a sudden cold blast of wind, chilling her to the bone. Pulling her sweater tightly around her, she folded her arms across her chest against the chill in the air. Shivering, she felt the sudden drop in temperature as if the ghost of Captain Mayweather had suddenly joined her for the telling of his story, never realizing that he, along with Leora Grace, were implanting those memories in her mind. Was it the chill of their icy breath that stirred the sudden frigid air?

It was getting late, and Lady Abernathy knew she should leave, but her unwilling legs refused to lift her from the stone bench. It was almost like a hand pushed down on her shoulder holding her captive, making it impossible for her to stand. Someone or something wanted her to unlock all the memories she had stored in her mind, plus more memories belonging to both a beautiful gentle spirit and a strong masculine spirit, who walked among the gravestones. An evil presence lurked there as well, waiting for a chance to descend upon her. The protection of the two spirits kept the evil from coming in too close. They had protected her since the day she was born, and they had always been successful in keeping the evil at bay. Staring straight through the rows of gravestones, and only seeing her dear old friends, she continued her vocal thoughts, smiling as each face filled her mind.

"Leora Grace Stonewick was the only daughter of the late Samuel David and Nanette Leah Stonewick. Orphaned at the tender age of eleven, she and her brothers, Clyde, Buddy, Garland and three week old Sammy were taken in by their godparents, Lord Winston Charles Mayweather and his wife Caroline Rose, Captain Mayweather’s aunt and uncle."

The Mayweather’s word had always been their bond and they took their responsibility as godparents very seriously, showering their goddaughter and godsons, with all the love they would have showered on their own children if they had been so blessed."

"In the summer of 1867, twelve-year-old Leora Grace met William Mayweather for the first time when he and his parents visited her godparents home in Guildford, on the outskirts of London. William, who was twenty-one at the time only saw Leora Grace as the cute little girl who had been taken in by his aunt and uncle, nothing more. However, upon his next trip three years later he no longer saw a child, but a girl in full bloom of her womanhood. She wasn’t the cute little girl he remembered. At the age of fifteen she had blossomed into a real beauty. At first glance that summer in 1867, William fell madly in love with the lovely Leora Grace. They were married three and a half years later when Leora Grace turned nineteen. The happy couple left on their year-long honeymoon on February 28, 1871, a honeymoon that would end in tragedy. Their departure date was on the day Leora Grace celebrated her birthday most years. Leora Grace was born on February 29, 1852, a leap year. She would have celebrated her next real birthday in 1872, one that would never be celebrated. Her fate sealed, she would die at sea."

The beautiful apparition put her hands on her hips, as if to say, 'stop telling my story in such haste.' She couldn’t allow her story to be summed up into a few short paragraphs. She needed it told in its entirety. She leaned close to the elderly Lady Abernathy and whispered into her ear, which reached deep into the woman’s subconscious.

Unbeknown to the beautiful spirit, the once-vibrant Leora Grace had no idea that her beloved Captain had the same idea as she. They were both filling the elderly woman’s mind with feelings and emotions that had been held inside by the two tragic lovers for over a century. They began describing the times and events that each held dear. Many of the little things that most young lovers take for granted, Leora Grace and William remembered like it had only been yesterday—treasured memories they had stored in the deep recesses of their hearts. Together, they would fill Lady Abernathy’s mind with the most important facts and soon Nancy Lee would tell of these things to the chosen six. Soon Nancy Lee herself would be taken back in time to experience their great love first hand. Their feelings and emotions would be Nancy Lee’s feelings and emotions, and each moment of their short love affair would be known.

Nancy Lee suddenly realized that she had been summing up this great love story into only a few brief paragraphs. So she took a moment to gather her thoughts. "A love so great should be told from its beginning, but there’s so much information whirling around in my mind. How will I ever put everything in its proper order?"

As she sat there on the stone bench allowing the facts to fall into place within her own mind, she felt the sudden warmth of the sun which had been hidden most of that day by threatening clouds. The overcast skies had blocked the Southampton sun for days now turning the air frigid, but still it hadn’t rained. She had brought her umbrella and now she glanced at it leaning against the stone bench.

"I just might have use of you today," she said, patting the umbrella on the handle that looked like the paw of an animal of some kind. She shivered again feeling the chill in the air, which made the sudden appearance of the sun a very welcomed sight. She leaned her head back allowing the full warmth of the sun to bathe her face in its warm glow. She had always steered clear of the sun’s rays during her youth knowing that it would wrinkle her delicate skin. "No one would ever guess me to be eighty-three years of age, sixty at the most" she spoke directly to the gravestones. "But I can't fool my friends here, now can I?" Knowing that any of the old crowd who slept beneath the cold hard ground, knew well her age. Zane always said that I didn’t look a day over forty, Nancy Lee thought to herself, feeling quite proud of her looks. Now, in her advanced years she could enjoy such simple pleasures as the warmth of the sun without any qualms. The years had already done their worst, and now she can relax and soak up the warm rays, wishing now that she had the Abernathy gardens to putter around in, remembering the flower gardens at Abernathy Manor made her homesick for the old home place. She had spent all of her adult years in that grand old house, and she could put her entire flat in the great hall of Abernathy Manor. "How many days had I spent out in those gardens wearing a big floppy hat and long sleeves so the sun wouldn’t do its damage?" She vocalized her thoughts, without even realizing it. "Nevertheless, if I hadn’t worn those big floppy hats, would my skin look so young today." She remembered her cousin Mercedes and how wrinkled her skin was on her last visit from the States. She is twenty years my junior and she looked forty years my senior. All those days spent in the hot Florida sunshine had done its damage. "Well old mum," she told herself. "You are old enough now that the sun can do its worst and it won’t matter in the least. I bet cousin Mercedes wishes she had owned a few floppy hats."

Suddenly, she turned towards the street that ran alongside the church yard cemetery, a thought entered her mind. "What would passers by think, if they heard me talking to myself sitting here in the middle of a cemetery? They would look right past my youthful image and only see a senile old woman." Most people believed that any one over sixty was on the verge of senility? Her pride caused her to lower her voice for a moment. "But I don’t look a day over forty, according to my beloved Zane, and my mirror this morning told me that he wasn’t just being kind. People would think, me senile. Maybe I am senile, didn't I mention before that Zane thought I no older than forty. Do I really care what people think, at my age? Yes, I care, but—, No! They would just think I was crazy." Which is worse, she thought, and lowered her voice again. Lady Abernathy spoke just above a whisper as she told the dead of a love that couldn’t die.

"The Mayweather love story began during the summer of 1867." She began speaking directly to the cold gravestones, never noticing the apparition who stood among the gravestones or his beautiful counterpart sitting beside her on the stone bench, both listening to her ramblings. They had filled her mind with their haunting memories and they waited patiently to relive the moments that had been lost on the wings of time. Captain Mayweather watched with those deep-set eyes as he longed to return to that moment so long ago.

"William spent the entire month of May in London the spring of 1867, buying out his last competitor. A month of wining and dining investors had worn him to a frazzle and he was in need of a much deserved rest. Leaving a few days earlier than planned, William made an unscheduled stop in Guildford, on the outskirts of London, at his uncle’s estate, hoping for a few days rest before returning to Southampton."

The two star-crossed spirits suddenly realized that a picture was worth a thousand words. Leora Grace took hold of Lady Abernathy’s right hand as Captain Mayweather took hold of her left. They were on their way into the past. They would allow the elderly woman to view the actual events of their lives long past, as they really happened. Before the elderly woman could blink, she had been transported into the past, of the village of Guildford, England, to the home of Winston and Caroline Mayweather.

Without any warning, she realized that she was actually watching the events of first love unfold. How is this possible? Nancy Lee's voice echoed in the silence of my mind. As she watched, she could smell the summer air, and the spring flowers in bloom. Wild flowers dotted the landscape as she soaked up the sights and sounds of Southampton’s past. She squeezed her eyes shut. I was just seeing things. It’s not the spring of Southampton’s past I smell. It is the flowers of St. Paul’s church. She opened my eyes again, and it wasn’t St. Paul’s church. She saw the sign at the front gate that read Mayweather Manor, home of Winston and Caroline Mayweather.

"This can’t be," she said rubbing her eyes. Nancy Lee looked from the sign to a girl standing on the veranda. As the young girl's face came into focus, Nancy Lee realized that it was Leora Grace Stonewick. In utter confusion Nancy Lee watched Leora Grace as she stood on the veranda of her godparent’s home. Leora Grace stood all of five feet tall, her waist looked to be about 18 inches after being laced up in the tight corset of that day and time. The sky-blue summer frock that she wore made her eyes appear bluer than they actually were. Her eyes were mesmerizing with tiny specks of gold that glittered in the sunlight, almost hypnotizing. Her long flowing golden blonde hair had the appearance of spun gold, like the princesses in all the fairy stories. When she smiled, her entire face lit up like her inner light was shining through her entire being, bursting forth and cascading all around her, giving her, an actual glow. She hummed a little tune that Nancy Lee didn’t recognize, but was quite catchy. A little blue bird perched near the veranda where Leora Grace had been filling the bird house with seeds. The tiny creature seemed to be waiting for her to ring the dinner bell calling it to dinner. Two little squirrels scampered up and down the big oak tree at the side of the house, then across the veranda roof, hoping to steal a few seeds for their winter storeroom in the giant oak.

 

Leora Grace watched the carriage enter the front gate, wondering at first who was coming to call. She hoped that it would be anyone but Tommy Ray Hussyman. Tommy Ray followed her everywhere she went, at the Cunningham’s party last evening until she could no longer think of a reason not to dance with him. When Kent Cunningham cut in she could have kissed him for getting her away from Tommy Ray. She clung to Kent’s arm the rest of the evening. She hated to use Kent in that manner, giving him false hopes, but Tommy Ray was relentless. He just wouldn’t take no for an answer. Kent had been such a good friend since she and her four brothers came to live with her godparents that she was sure he didn’t mind.

"No its not Tommy Ray, thank God," she said under her breath. "But who could it be?" When her eyes focused in on William’s face, her heart skipped several beats. If her godmother had known that William was going to pay them a visit she had omitted telling her. Godmother always informed the family days ahead, when she was expecting guest. So why did she omit telling me about William’s visit? Leora Grace asked herself in the silence of her mind. Has Godmother guessed how I feel about William? No, I’m sure that she hasn’t.

"How do I know her physical features? I have never laid eyes on Leora Grace Stonewick or even seen a portrait of her, at that age. How did I know what she was thinking?" Nancy Lee asked herself out loud. Everything was so confusing. Then she remembered the portrait that hung in the great room at Mayweather House. "That is how I can see her. That portrait is embedded in my mind from that one day all those years ago. But that doesn’t explain how I can read her thoughts. Who is this Tommy Ray, she had tried to avoid at the Cunningham’s party? Who are the Cunninghams? They couldn’t be ancestors of James Cunningham, could they?"

As Nancy Lee's eyes left Leora Grace’s angelic face, her eyes beheld William Mayweather for the first time. His mesmerizing brown eyes sparkled with the same golden specs that Leora Grace possessed, almost like they were soul mates. Nancy Lee gazed into his mesmerizing, almost hypnotic brown eyes, and at one moment she thought he was actually looking right at her, but she knew that was impossible, or was it? A few strands of dark brown wavy hair fell across his forehead from beneath his captain’s hat that made him appear much taller than he really was. When he smiled, identical dimples, lit up his face causing those amazing eyes to glisten in the sunlight. William was muscular in stature with broad shoulders, narrow hips and hands that looked strong and rugged. She was sure that Captain Mayweather had many a Southampton beauty swooning whenever he walked into a room.

 "Is it possible that I am really there, in Southampton’s past, watching the real Leora Grace and William Mayweather, as they were on that day back in 1867? Was there a portrait of Captain Mayweather at Mayweather House? I just don’t remember seeing it, if there was. No, I’m sure there wasn’t. What other explanation is there? Am I there or do I have a very vivid imagination?" Just then William Mayweather lit his pipe. "Now that’s not my imagination, I smell his pipe tobacco." And if what I am seeing and smelling is real, then I have traveled on the wings of time to another place in history. I can see the past unfolding before my very eyes. All my senses are awake to my new surroundings, but how can that be possible . . . ?

Reviews

[deeps]

nancy i have read many writes from you and this one is just amazing.
Compassionate, caring and sad. This is well expressed and so emotional.