A Ghost of Brother Johnathan's by Elizabeth Eagan-Cox Read Free Book Online Page B

anxiety.
“More questions? Have at it.” Marta’s blue eyes glittered with excitement. Looking back at the moment, I swear that the paranormal energy in her little dining room was tactile, and that at any moment it would manifest into a fiery bright orb, consuming all in its path. Was I scared? Most certainly. Would I back down? Not a chance.
“Okay. When did Rupp’s distant relatives take ownership of the tavern and land?”
Marta shot back the answer. “Late July, same year Jonathan died. Oh, and let’s call him Jonathan, instead of Rupp. We will be naming numerous Rupp family members the deeper we get into talking about his background and my background.”
“Who took over the land and tavern?” I asked as a follow-up query.
“His one and only sibling, a sister, the ancestor I am in direct lineage. Technically, she was in Missouri when she received the letter from the court. She had gone to Missouri to be with a friend who had lost her husband in a horrible bridge accident. Long story short is that the man was a bridge construction worker and he was hoisted underneath a railroad bridge. The hoist line he was on broke and he fell to his death. Anyway, back to my ancestor. Her name was Lillian Rupp Warner. She was born and raised in Missouri, as was Jonathan. She was twenty years younger to Jonathan’s age, and odd dynamic, for which I have never found a logical reason. Anyway, she married when she was eighteen, that was about 1888 and years after that, she moved to Lily Dale with her husband, Elmer. They had three children, I’m related to their middle child Alden, their only son. It was Alden who came out to Eureka and took over ownership of the land. He operated the tavern for a very short while, not to any success, mind you. He was, by profession, a photographer and he met with great success here in Eureka. He built this house. Remained here the rest of his life.” Marta stopped talking, allowing me time to absorb this information.
I pondered over a few obscure bit and pieces of what she said. “Marta, by Lily Dale, do you mean the village of Lily Dale in New York?”
Marta gave me a sly look, a Mona Lisa smile. “Yes. Exactly”
“Okay, so your family was involved in the Spiritualist Movement?”
“In a way. Though, keep in mind that most historians fix 1916 as the cornerstone year for the inception of Lily Dale as a hamlet of interest to mediums and psychics. It was not until the Fox sisters, Kate and Maggie, made their home there in 1927 did the spiritualist movement take hold and Lily Dale became a famous headquarters for the movement. Jonathan died in 1912, his sister had gone to live in Lily Dale around 1904 or 1905. She was ahead of the curve in the emergence of the spiritualist development.”
My eyebrows sprinted up. “You mean to say that Lillian was a medium?”
Marta sighed. “I guess so, at least that is what she would be labeled as today. I never thought of her that way. I guess I never cared for medium or psychic . I prefer to call her a seer or a diviner. By all accounts, Lillian was a very gentle soul.”
I nodded my understanding. “Marta, earlier this evening you mentioned the others, and said you keep your lights on for them. Who are the others?”
She looked perplexed, and avoided direct contact by looking out the window. Marta kept her gaze on the darkness outside, in a low voice she said, “I’m not sure of all their identities.”
I leaned over the table and in a calm voice, I asked, “What did they say to you, most recently, that is?”
Marta turned to face me, and with strong, unwavering eye contact she said, “It sounded like, She’s cagey…, see. ”
“Was it a male of female voice?” I asked.
Marta relaxed in her chair and faced forward. Suddenly she was far more at ease. “Oh, male voice, most certainly. I, uh… I thought it might be Jonathan.”
“What gives you the impression it is Jonathan?”
“When Brother Jonathan performed in the circus, he had a theme