EXCERPT
To Live Forever:
An Afterlife Journey of Meriwether Lewis
An Afterlife Journey of Meriwether Lewis
by Andra
Watkins
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Description
Explorer Meriwether Lewis has been stuck in Nowhere since his mysterious
death nearly two centuries ago. His last hope for redemption is helping
nine-year-old Emmaline Cagney flee her madame mother in New Orleans and find
her father in Nashville. To get there, Merry must cross his own grave along the
Natchez Trace, where he duels the corrupt Judge, an old foe who has his own
despicable plans for Em.
Excerpt
Explorer Meriwether
Lewis Dead at 35
The Natchez Trace,
south of Nashville, Tennessee - Meriwether Lewis, renowned co-captain of the
Lewis and Clark expedition to the Pacific and territorial governor of Upper
Louisiana, died Wednesday, October 11, 1809. He was thirty-five.
Accounts suggest his
death was a suicide, though murder is still being investigated. He was found
with gunshot wounds to the head and abdomen. No one witnessed the incident.
Meriwether Lewis was
born on August 18, 1774 near Charlottesville, Virginia. After a successful
military career, he served as personal secretary to Thomas Jefferson, third
President of the United States. Jefferson selected him to lead the Corps of
Discovery, an expedition to find the Northwest Passage to the Pacific. Along
with William Clark, Lewis guided the thirty-three person team through thousands
of miles of unexplored wilderness.
Upon his triumphant
return in 1806, Lewis was appointed governor of the Upper Louisiana Territory,
succeeding James Wilkinson. While he accepted the appointment with great
promise, colleagues noted that he struggled in the position throughout his
tenure. A source said he was more outdoorsman than administrator, more
scientist than politician.
In September 1809,
he journeyed to Washington DC, both to explain his gubernatorial affairs to
James Madison’s administration and to publish his prized expedition journals.
No one knows why he diverted from his planned water route through New Orleans
to the notorious Natchez Trace in Tennessee, where he died.
Authorities are
still evaluating the circumstances of his death. Lost in mystery, may his
spirit rest in peace.
Chapter One
A New Orleans Courtroom
Thursday
March 24, 1977
Thursday
March 24, 1977
A drop of sweat hung from the end of my nose. I watched it build,
cross-eyed, before I shook my head and made it fall. It left wet circles on the
front of my dress.
"Emmaline. Be still, Child." Aunt Bertie fanned her face and
neck with a paper fan, the one with the popsicle stick handle.
A popsicle would be so good.
The waiting room of the court in New Orleans was full. People were
everywhere I looked.
Reporters in stripey suits talked with some of Daddy's musician friends.
I loved to watch their fingers play imaginary guitars or pound out chords on
their legs. Once or twice, Daddy's band members came over to squeeze my arm or
pat my head. “In spite of what they’s saying in that courtroom, we all love
your Daddy, Kid.”
Everybody loved Daddy. Well, everybody except Mommy.
My nose burned when I breathed, because the whole room stank like sweaty
feet. My face was steamy when I touched it, and my lace tights scratched when I
kicked my legs to push along the wooden bench. I left a puddle when I moved.
I snuggled closer to the dark folds and softness of Aunt Bertie. She
turned her black eyes down at me and sighed before pushing me away with her
dimpled hand. "Too hot, Child. When this is done, I'll hold you as long as
you want."
I slid back to my wet spot on the bench. The wood made a hard pillow when
I leaned my head against it and closed my eyes. Wishes still worked for
nine-year-old girls, didn't they?
I thought and thought. If I wanted it enough, maybe I could shrink myself
smaller. It was hard to be outside the courtroom, imagining what was going on
inside. Behind the heavy doors, Mommy and Daddy probably shouted mean things at
each other, like they used to at home. Both of them said they wanted me, if
they had to fight until they were dead.
I watched Mommy's lady friends go into the courtroom: Miss Roberta in her
drapey dress with flowers, Miss Chantelle all in white against the black of her
skin, and Miss Emilie in a red skirt and coat that tied at her waist in a
pretty bow. They all went in and came out, and they always looked at me. Miss
Roberta even left a red lipstick kiss on my cheek, but I don't like her, so I
rubbed it off.
Aunt Bertie took her turn inside the courtroom, leaving me to sit with a
reporter. He watched me from behind thick black glasses, and he asked me all
kinds of questions about Daddy and Mommy. I didn't understand much. I knew
Daddy was famous, at least in New Orleans, but I didn't understand what the
word “allegations” meant.
My daddy was Lee Cagney. People called him “The Virtuoso of Dixieland
Jazz.” He played the upright bass, and when he sang, his voice made women act
silly in the middle of Bourbon Street. They cried and screamed. Some of them
even tore their clothes.
I understood why women loved Daddy. I adored him, too. But some grown
women sure did act dumb.
Anyway.
None of the lawyers asked me who I wanted to be with.
The Judge said I was too little to understand, and Mommy agreed. But if
they asked me, I would shout it all the way to Heaven: I wanted to be with
Daddy.
When he sang Ragtime Lullaby, the sound of his voice put me to sleep. He
always splashed in the fountain with me in front of the Cathedral and gave me
pennies to throw in the water. Thursday afternoons before his gigs, he sat with
me at Cafe du Monde, sharing beignets with as much powdered sugar as I wanted.
He didn't even mind my sticky fingers when he held my hand. He wasn't always
there when I had nightmares, but he came to see me first thing in the morning.
People around me whispered about Daddy's “adulterous proclivities.” I
didn't understand what that meant, but it had something to do with his loving
other women besides Mommy. No matter what they said, Daddy didn't do anything
wrong. When he wasn't playing music, he was always with me.
Wasn't he?
A skinny reporter held the courtroom door open. "The Judge's
ruling." He whispered, but his voice was loud enough for everyone waiting
to hear. He kept the door open, and I saw my chance.
I struggled through all the legs to the door. Mommy's red lips curled in
a smile as the Judge addressed Daddy. The Judge's face was loose, like the
bulldog that lived in the house around the corner, and his voice boomed in my
chest. When he stood and leaned over his desk, his hairy hands gripped the
gavel.
"In the case of Cagney v. Cagney, I am charged with finding the best
outcome for a little girl. For rendering a verdict that will shape the whole of
her life. The welfare of the child is paramount, regardless of how it will
impact the adults involved.”
The Judge stopped and cleared his throat. I held my breath when his baggy
eyes fell on me. I counted ten heartbeats before he talked again. “Mr Cagney, I
simply cannot ignore the fact that you had carnal relations with your
then-wife's lady friends repeatedly, both under your shared roof and in broad
daylight. The photographic evidence coupled with the testimonies of these poor
women damns you, regardless of your expressed love for your daughter. From
everything I’ve seen and heard in this courtroom, the evidence does not support
your claim that you were set up. Justice demands that your nine-year-old
daughter be delivered into the arms of the person who has demonstrated that she
has the capability to be a responsible parent."
He looked around the room and sat up straight in his chair. "I am
granting sole custody of Emmaline Cagney to her mother, Nadine Cagney, and I
hereby approve her request to block Lee Cagney from any and all contact with
his daughter until she reaches the age of eighteen. Mr Cagney, should you
violate this directive, you will be found in contempt of this court, an offense
that may be punishable by imprisonment of up to 120 days and a fine of no more
than $500 per occurrence. This court is adjourned."
He pounded a wooden stick on his desk, and everyone swarmed like bees.
Daddy stood up and shook his fist. He shouted at the Judge over all the other
noise. “Lies! Set out to ruin my reputation—my memory—in the eyes of my
daughter! I'll appeal, if I have to spend every dime of my money. I'll—"
The Judge banged his stick again, lots of times, while my eyes met
Daddy's. I ran from the doorway. The room was like the obstacle course on the
playground, only with people who reached for me while the Judge boomed,
"Order! Order! I will have order in my court!"
Daddy's lawyer held him and whispered something in his ear. It was my
chance. I ran toward Daddy and his crying blue eyes. They matched mine, because
I was crying, too.
Daddy elbowed his lawyer into the railing and reached out his hand. “Come
to me, Baby.”
I kicked at pants legs and stomped on shiny shoes. At the front, I stuck
my hand through the bars and stretched as far as I could. My fingers almost
reached his when my head jerked like I was snagged at the end of a fishing
pole.
Mommy had the ties at the back of my white pinafore. Her glossy red lips
fake-smiled. "I'm taking Emmaline now, Lee. Good luck to you."
She squeezed my hand. Her red fingernails dug into my skin.
"Ow, Mommy. You're hurting me."
Her high heels clack-clack-clacked as she dragged me through the chairs
and down the aisle toward the waiting room. I planted my heels and tried to get
one last look, my mind taking a picture of Daddy. Before we got through the
door, I saw his shoulders shake. Three policemen held him back and kept him
from following me. The world was blurry like the time I swam to the bottom of a
pool and opened my eyes underwater.
Mommy picked me up and cradled me in her arms. Her blood-tipped fingers
stroked my hair, but her lips whispered a different story, one the crowd
couldn’t hear. “Stop crying, Emmaline. You know this is for the best." She
shifted me to the ground and adjusted the wide sash of her floor-length dress.
Its sleeves fanned out as she pushed the bar on the door. I wished she'd take
off and fly away.
Summer heat turned my tears to steam, and my eyes ached. Mommy struggled
to pull me along through the reporters that blocked the path to the car. They
shouted questions, but I didn't hear them. All I heard were Daddy's words.
"Come to me, Baby."
Mommy smiled and pressed our bodies through the people. She kept her gaze
glued on the car.
Aunt Bertie waited behind the wheel of Mommy's fancy red Cadillac
Eldorado. Mommy always said the whole name with a funny accent. The engine was
running. "There's Bertie. In you go, Emmaline. I'm ready to be done with
this madness."
My legs squeaked across the hot back seat. Mommy ran her fingers under my
eyes to wipe away my tears, but they kept coming. “Please. You’re upsetting my
daughter.” She shouted over her shoulder.
The door slammed, and it was like a clock stopped. Like I would never be
older than that moment. Everything would always be “Before Daddy” and “After
Daddy.”
Daddy.
His face appeared in the slice of back window. I put down the glass,
trying to slip through, but Mommy ran around the car. She screamed and hit him,
over and over. "You stay away from her, Lee! You heard what the Judge
said!"
Her black hair fell out of its bun as she pounded him with her fists. He
tried to move away from her. Toward me. He reached his hand through the window
and touched my face. His mouth opened to speak to me, but a policeman came up
behind him and dragged him away from the car.
"I'll write you, Emmaline! Every day. I promise,” he shouted. “I'll
prove these things aren't true! I’ll give up everything to be with you!” The
policeman pushed him through the courthouse door, and he was gone.
"I'll write you, too, Daddy." I whispered it, soft so nobody
but God or my guardian angel could hear. "Somehow, I'll make us be
together again."
Featured Review
I'll be honest. Yesterday, the weather was beautiful and I was looking
forward to spending maybe an hour or possibly two, reading a little in my
Adirondack chair. Andra Watkins had me so engaged in her book that I spent the
entire afternoon reading her first book. I loved the journey that led Em and
Merry to "freedom". Not to spoil a thing, I'll just say that I loved
your ending, too. Thank you for this great book!
About the Author
Andra Watkins is the first living person to walk the 444-mile Natchez
Trace as the pioneers did. Natchez, Mississippi, to Nashville, Tennessee, 15
miles a day. 34 days. Alone. Her historic walk launched her debut novel To Live Forever, a mishmash of
historical fiction, paranormal fiction and suspense that follows Meriwether
Lewis (of Lewis & Clark fame) after his mysterious death on the Natchez
Trace in 1809.
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