Read an excerpt . . .* Set in
Victoria, BC, Seattle & Everett, WA. Another
family-friendly 'feel good' novel from BCs popular,
bestselling author and his wife.
* A mortal angel time travels his way through some
hilarious and poignant adventures, meeting historical figures and other
fascinating characters, including a lovely teacher from Everett!
Chapter One:
With time on his hands
between assignments, he often returned to the courthouse
experiencing some of the interesting court cases that
did not involve American citizens or, he wandered the
streets of Victoria, and that fateful night of December
5th, 1916 was no exception.
A storm, with its
relentless rain and biting winds had, for the past 24
hours, raged down the Strait of Juan de Fuca blowing in
from the Pacific, permeating every nook and cranny. Now
deserted, the city streets became small rivers making
travel, even on those which were paved, precarious.
Moving from bar to bar
and trying to keep dry in his travels, by midnight
Oliver found himself in the Brown Jug Saloon on
Government Street. Not seeking conversation, he made his
way to a small empty table in the shadowy corner. A
soft-spoken loner, Oliver didn’t make friends easily and
usually drank alone.
Half an hour later,
struck with an impulsive thought, he gulped down the
rest of his drink and left the saloon. Pulling his hat
down hard on his head, he stepped out into the storm.
With his coat collar buttoned tightly against his
stubbly chin, he fought his way south along Government
Street, his diminutive height making the distance a
greater challenge. Walking purposely and, as quickly as
humanly possible despite oft-concealed puddles, he
passed the Empress Hotel and cut through the trees near
the old Douglas House leaving the street lights behind.
Now on Douglas Street, it took only minutes to reach
Beacon Hill Park, its stark darkness appearing on his
left while, to his right, several lighted houses gave
him some measure of comfort. Listening for the sound of
the waves, he soon found himself on a gravel surface—the
main coastal thoroughfare, Dallas Road. Turning eastward
he struggled on, unaware he was wet through, but
blatantly aware of the crashing sound of angry waves
pounding the shoreline only feet away.
Walking for what
seemed like hours and having no idea where he was going
or why, a single strike of lightning suddenly flashed
before him, illuminating the wrought-iron gates of Ross
Bay Cemetery. Instantly, he knew this was his
destination.
He pushed the heavy
gate open and moved cautiously through the darkness.
Sober now and, his senses heightened, he was even more
aware of the noises as the wind roared through the trees
combining with the rumble of the sea.
A chill ran up his
spine when a shaft of moonlight appeared lighting the
graveyard and displaying an amazing array of
monuments—granite crosses of all sizes, religious
statues, and even a mausoleum—making his heart thud in
his chest. Sitting gratefully on a flat-topped
gravestone, he experienced a moment of lucidity.
What on earth am I
doing here? he thought.
Imagination pushed
logic to one side when he thought he heard his name
being called. Looking around, he was not prepared for
what happened next. From behind him, in the moonlight’s
dim light, a ghost-like figure materialized. He tried to
run away, to scream, anything, but terror held him
rooted to his seat. He could only watch helplessly as
the ghostly figure came closer. Eyes wide and teeth
beginning to chatter, he smelled a hint of tobacco as a
rush of cold air brushed his cheek, and a firm hand
clamped onto his shoulder. It was the last thing Oliver
remembered before his life changed forever.
Feeling a strange
sensation, he became aware that he was no longer sitting
on the hard surface; flailing his arms about, he felt
tree branches pull at his clothes. In seconds, the
darkness gave way to moonlight. I’m above the clouds and
it’s not rainy! I can’t believe this, his thoughts
screamed. And then he noticed he was not alone.
For the first time
since feeling that strange sensation, he became aware of
his ghostly chaperone.
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