In the Shadow of the White Oak

Character Glossary

The Travers Family: Live in Buffalo, New York in the twenty-first century.

Maude Travers: Wife of Don. Mother of Billy and Glen. Co-owner of the Antique Lamp Company and Gift Emporium, located on the corner of Main and Chippewa Streets in Buffalo, NY. In addition to owning her own business, Maude is also an anthropologist, an author of historical fiction and a psychic medium.

Don Travers: Husband of Maude. Father to Billy and Glen. Co-owner of the Antique Lamp Company and Gift Emporium.

Glen Travers: Eldest son of Maude and Don. Elder brother to Billy.

Billy Travers: Youngest son of Maude and Don. Younger brother to Glen. Boyfriend to Sheri Gilbert. Bartender and psychic medium.

Sloane Family: Traveled from Inishmore, County Galway, Ireland to Buffalo in 1835.

Ian Sloane: Husband of Mary. Father to Ciara, Patricia, Martha and Katherine. Died aboard ship on the voyage from Ireland in 1835.

Mary Sloane: Wife of Ian. Mother to Ciara, Patricia, Martha and Katherine. Died aboard ship on the voyage from Ireland in 1835.

Ciara Sloane: Eldest daughter of Mary and Ian. Sister to Patricia, Martha and Katherine. Wife of Dr. Michael Nolan. Mother to young Ian and young Daniel. Adopted grandmother to Shane and Declan Nolan.

Patricia Sloane: Second daughter of Mary and Ian. Sister of Ciara, Martha and Katherine. Wife of Rolland Thomas. Mother of Mary Karen Thomas.

Martha Sloane: Third daughter of Mary and Ian. Sister to Ciara, Patricia, and Katherine. Wife of Johnny Quinn. Mother of Robert Quinn. Poorhouse physician.

Katherine Sloane: Youngest daughter of Mary and Ian. Youngest sister of Ciara, Patricia and Martha. Died aboard ship on the voyage from Ireland in 1835.

The Nolan Family: Came from Ireland to Buffalo at the end of the eighteenth century and early nineteenth century.

Dermod Nolan: Brother of Daniel Nolan, Grandfather of Connor Nolan. Great-grandfather of Declan and Shane. One of the earliest settlers of the Niagara Frontier after the War of Independence.

Daniel Nolan: Brother to Dermod. Husband of Katherine. Father to Michael. Grandfather to young Daniel and Ian. Came to Buffalo in the early nineteenth century. Owned Nolan’s Dry Goods Emporium on Main Street.

Michael Nolan: Son of Daniel and Katherine. Husband to Ciara Sloane. Adoptive father to Patricia and Martha Sloane. Father to young Ian and young Daniel Nolan. Respected physician in Buffalo.

Young Ian Nolan: Eldest son of Michael and Ciara. Brother to young Daniel. Died in the War Between the States.

Young Daniel Nolan: Youngest son of Michael and Ciara. Brother to young Ian. Husband to Felicity, father to Ian (named for his uncle who died in the war), Charles, Sean and Wee Paul. Adoptive father to Declan and Shane.

Eva Nolan Barstow: Wife of Conrad. Mother of Nina, Johnathan, Amelia and Matthew Barstow. Sister of Grace Nolan. Was murdered in her home in 1924.

Grace Nolan: Sister of Eva Nolan Barstow. Aunt to Nina, Johnathan, Amelia and Matthew Barstow.

Other characters

Alva Awalte: Lived in Buffalo and Cassadaga in the late nineteenth century. Friend of Martha Sloane Quinn. Clairvoyant Healer. Defender of those persecuted for their special gifts. A founding member of the Cassadaga Lake Free Society.

Christine Jankowsky: Lives in Buffalo in the twenty-first century. Friend of Maude and Don Travers and part-time employee of the Antique Lamp Company and Gift Emporium.

Sheri Gilbert: Lives in Buffalo in the twenty-first century. Girlfriend of Billy Travers. Descendant of Eva and Grace Nolan.

Charlotte Lambert: Lives in Buffalo in the twenty-first century. Friend and spiritual counsellor to Maude Travers. Psychic Medium.

Abby Stevens: Lives in Buffalo in the twenty-first century. Friend to Maude Travers. Genealogist and researcher.

Part One

Chapter One

Maude Travers trudged through Delaware Park on a cold and damp March afternoon second-guessing the decision to volunteer again for the annual spring clean-up. She was careful not to utter a word about the weather lest she suffer an ‘I told you so’ from her husband Don, who had complained enough for them both. It’s never nice this time of year in Buffalo, he’d reminded her when Maude told him she’d signed them both up for the spring clean-up. He had no interest in a chilly day of collecting the plastic bags and other mysterious refuse that had gotten trapped beneath the snow during the long winter. Plus, scooping poopscicles in the freezing cold is not my idea of a good time.

Where is your sense of community? Delaware Park is a local treasure; it’s even listed on the National Register of Historic Places, Maude scolded. We use the park all the time and should do our part to keep it up. It was true that they visited less now that they’d moved out of North Buffalo and their sons were grown, but there was no need to remind Don of that. Maude would also not tell him the real reason she had agreed to sign up was that their employee and close friend Christine had begged her.

The current object of Christine’s affection was on the board of the organization which oversaw all matters concerning the park. Richard Bernhardt wasn’t the type of board member who just showed up at meetings and fundraisers. He had a genuine love for landscape architecture and of this park, where he had spent so much time as a child. Although he spent most of his time in expensive Armani suits, Richard wasn’t afraid to get dirty if he believed in the cause.

Thanks for giving me a lift, said Christine, who looked as if she just stepped out of an L.L. Bean photoshoot. Prancing alongside Maude, seemingly oblivious to the cold while wrapped in a sapphire fleece pullover and flannel lined jeans tucked into duck boots, she would happily spend her day picking trash from between layers of ice and rock salt if it was with Richard. Maude wondered about her choice in gloves. She wouldn’t have chosen cream fingerless cashmere, but Christine was one of those people who could remain spotless even doing the dirtiest of tasks. Do you see him? she asked, scanning the crowd.

Is that him over by the soccer field? Maude pointed toward the meadow, where a tall man in a black Carhartt jacket and knit ski cap was directing volunteers.

Christine looked in that direction, recognized Richard and immediately began adjusting her hat. How do I look? She waved in Richard’s direction and started across the field. No matter, Maude would never have told Christine that her face looked puffy in that hat.

Maude decided to overlook the fact that both Christine and Don would likely spend more time socializing than picking up trash, reminding herself how good it felt to see green grass again. Frostbite be damned, she’d do her part to keep the park looking like it had when it was a playground for the elite over a century ago.

In the mid-nineteenth century, the burgeoning city of Buffalo was the ideal place for the elaborate parks system designed by Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux. Delaware Park was the crown jewel of that system, which consisted of six parks throughout the city connected by a system of parkways. Today volunteers were working in the meadow portion of the park, an area meant to be reminiscent of pastoral England. It once featured a large, open, green space which was the grazing grounds of sheep, elk and deer. Gone were the meticulously landscaped bridal and foot paths where the well-to-do North Park residents took their leisure. In their place now were soccer fields, a golf course and a track for cyclists and runners. An expressway separates the Meadow Park from the Water Park, featuring a man-made lake and adjacent large boathouse and casino, in addition to an elaborate rose garden, and trails that were once traversed on horseback, and now traveled by foot or bicycle.

Maude looked across the meadow in search of her husband. He was busy talking to a few of their old neighbors and likely wouldn’t notice if she wandered off for a bit. With a quick second look at Don, she set off across the grass to a large white oak tree in the middle of the golf course.

An archaeologist colleague had told her that this white oak was the oldest tree in the city. Previously, the honor had been bestowed on a Sycamore on Franklin Street thought to be just over 300 years old, however Brian Jameson had assured her the white oak in the meadow beat it by about ten years. The giant tree stood radiating quiet strength, waiting patiently for life around it to wake from the long winter slumber. She couldn’t help but wonder about all it had seen in over three centuries of life and now she had the skills to find out.

Maude Travers was an anthropologist, a small business owner, and a psychic medium. She’d realized her extrasensory abilities late in life, a full decade after she had left academia and opened the Antique Lamp Company and Gift Emporium with her husband. As she continued to dabble in anthropological research projects, a strong connection with the past became evident. Specifically, Maude was linked with Martha Sloane Quinn, an Irish immigrant who had been orphaned along with her two older sisters on the journey to Buffalo in 1835. Martha spent time at the Erie County Poorhouse as a resident with her siblings, then studied to be a medical doctor, serving in the very institution that had given her refuge as a child.

By touching objects, as well as through dreams and meditation, Maude was able to connect with the past. Frederika Kaiser was a poorhouse inmate whose remains were unearthed in an archaeological dig. Maude had spent hours in the lab cleaning her skeleton for analysis and each time she touched a healed fracture with her bare hand, she was transported to a painful moment during the woman’s life. Many years had passed since that experience, which had been Maude’s first indication that she possessed inner sensory gifts. She’d spent those years coming to grips with the nature of her abilities, and then fine-tuning them with the help of her mentors in Lily Dale, a modern spiritualist community about an hour south of Buffalo. Today, Maude’s intention was to use those gifts to see what the great oak might show her.

Up close the tree was gigantic. If she and Don had linked hands, they still would not be able to wrap their connected arms completely around it. Maude looked to make sure she was alone. There was no telling what the tree might tell her, or how she might react. She’d been able to feel Frederika’s pain when she touched bones that had been broken by her abusive husband. Don had seen her collapse from the severity of it. To be sure she wasn’t seen by the other park volunteers, Maude walked to the other side of the large trunk, closed her eyes, and placed both hands on the gnarled bark.

It was important to show all living things respect, and the tree was no exception. First, she said a brief prayer of gratitude for the presence of the tree in the park and for its survival all these years. What do you have to tell me, grandfather? Maude whispered to the tree. She’d learned that oak trees were powerful symbols of male energy. This one radiated both patience and wisdom, like a tribal elder. A few slow, deep breaths helped her connect with its energy. Maude was tingling with anticipation as the vision became clear.

Instead of a single picture, she saw several images in rapid succession: a small band of Native Americans making their way across the untamed meadow. They had a girl with them, who was not one of them. Maude could feel her distress as she struggled to keep pace with her captors. The branches were thick with green leaves and promised respite from the heat of the day. They sat beneath the tree and began to rummage through their packs, taking out small, wrapped bundles. The young girl was given one, which she unwrapped, quickly stuffing the contents in her mouth.

Maude caught a profound, yet fleeting sense of relief before the scene abruptly changed to a man and woman walking on the footpath opposite the tree. The woman had a parasol and the man was pushing a pram. Their sense of peace and joy was palpable. There was pride, too, perhaps over the birth of their child. The couple’s pace was leisurely and the weather mild as they strolled along, briefly acknowledging well-wishers along the way.

Again, in an abrupt shift, as if someone had changed the channel on a television, she saw a man and woman sitting under a tree. The woman was crying. Maude could feel shock and devastation radiating off her. There was conflict there, too. In the man she sensed profound guilt and regret. That was all she could take in before she was thrust back to the present.

The vision stopped as suddenly as it had started. Maude sank to her knees, the pain and remorse of the final vision still coursing through her. She tried touching the tree again, but it would reveal no more secrets. There were footsteps approaching and she knew they were Don’s.

Hey, Maudie, whatcha doing all the way over… He stopped mid-sentence. The distress showed plainly on her pale face, which could only mean one thing. What did you see?

Maude walked closer to him before she answered, glancing around the park to make sure no one else had seen her. I touched the tree. It’s always fascinated me. I mean, it’s been here since before there was a city of Buffalo. I wanted to know what it had to tell me.

Well, judging by the look on your face, it didn’t tell you anything good. Don gestured beyond the tree and they walked further into the golf course. Tell me.

Not one to shirk any responsibility, Maude continued to collect stray coffee cups and power bar wrappers as she told Don about what she had seen. I’ve never had a vision like that, where I’m shown three different points in time.

All in the same place?

Yes, I feel like they were all right here, in this meadow, by the tree. She went on to describe her vision in vivid detail, in part so that Don might remember any details she forgot when she was able to write it down. He had an amazing memory for details.

Did you recognize any of the people?

I don’t think so. Certainly not the Native American people. They’d have been Seneca, I think. This was Seneca territory before the Revolutionary War. The young girl with them was wearing Colonial era clothing. The Seneca were the largest of the six nations that made up the Haudenosaunee Confederacy. They were known as The Keepers of the Western Door because they occupied the westernmost region of the Haudenosaunee territory. Part of that territory encompassed what is now the city of Buffalo.

Maude closed her eyes, trying to bring back more details. The man and the woman walking with the pram had Victorian clothing on. I could see some of the woman’s face but didn’t recognize her. Her husband - I’m assuming he was her husband - was wearing a hat and had his head angled toward her as they walked. The couple sitting under the tree was dressed in early twentieth-century fashions. I could see the man clearly, but I did not recognize him. The woman was sobbing in his arms, so I couldn’t see her face.

Don looked at her, trying to gauge the impact of what his wife had just witnessed. So, is this the beginning of something?

Maude knew what he meant. She was both upset and intrigued by the vision and would track down the details until a clearer understanding of it emerged. That meant using her abilities both as a researcher and a psychic medium. It would be an exciting change of pace to pursue a mystery on her own terms, one she had sought, rather than something that had been presented to her by Spirit in an unsolicited dream or vision. Yes, I believe it is. I feel like we’ve been hibernating all winter. It will be nice to have a reason to get out of the house.

Don was pleased to see her so enthusiastic. Maude had powerful gifts and only recently had grown comfortable with using them. Do you think there might be a book here? A few of her supernatural adventures had been developed into historical fiction novels. Well, at least those who read them thought they were fiction. It turned out one of her most efficient methods of channeling the past was writing, and she had come to rely on it as an effective tool for investigating historical events.

A writer’s trance was what she called the deep meditative state Maude had so many times unknowingly achieved. I don’t know. Maybe. I see my writing more as method now, rather than art. Does that make sense?

Yes, but it can be both. You can use writing to connect with the past and still write a great story.

Maybe, but I’m more interested in the journey than in a marketable final product. Besides, I’m not really comfortable labeling my work as fiction when I know it’s not. Maude was sorry she spoke the words as soon as she heard them coming from her mouth.

You know you don’t have to do that, Maude. You are a registered medium at Lily Dale, and your credentials are legit. You could just write truthfully about your experiences.

Maude felt herself squirm at the suggestion. I’ve told you before, Don, I’m never going to do that. Only her family and a few close friends knew that Maude had undergone training at Lily Dale and had successfully passed the intense scrutiny of its board of directors to become a registered medium there. She still had connections at the university and would not jeopardize her relationship with colleagues there by publicly revealing her abilities.

Don knew better than to continue in that direction, but since they were on the topic of her books, he thought a bit more nudging would not hurt. You’ve put that agent off long enough. Don’t you think you should at least talk to her again?

Over the winter Maude had been contacted by a literary agent who was interested in representing her. There had been a bit of local curiosity about her books, but Maude really hadn’t done much in the way of marketing them. Sandra Shea was from a big firm in Manhattan but had grown up in Buffalo. She came across Maude’s books while visiting family over the holidays and contacted her a few weeks ago with promises of big publishing houses and six figure contracts. It was all very overwhelming, and Maude needed time to think things over. With the kind of money Sandra was talking about, she could write full time if she wanted. The problem was that Maude didn’t know what she wanted.

You’re right. I need to talk to her again. She spied a crushed beer can peeking out from under a layer of frozen leaves and bent to pry it loose. It all just feels so deceptive. I could never tell Sandra that what I write is true, so I’m deceiving her. If she can convince some publishing house to release the books, I’d be deceiving them and my readers, too. It would also become harder to keep my gifts a secret if I’m in the public eye.

You don’t know that for sure. How many of your favorite authors could you recognize on sight? As for deception, I don’t think you are being deceptive at all. You are telling stories nobody expects to be true.

Those are fair points, I know. They’d had a similar conversation a few times before, and Don patiently repeated his advice each time. It was potentially a life-changing decision and he could not make it for her. I’ll call Sandra in the morning.

Don dropped his trash bag, took Maude in his arms and kissed her soundly on the lips. That’s great news. Now what about this vision? What’s the plan?

Maude looked at him and smiled. Well, we’ll finish up here and then we can go home and talk about this more over dinner.

We’ll drink a toast to new and exciting projects!

I’ll pour, and you cook! With a wicked smile, she turned and continued her search for frozen trash.

As they were making their way back toward the track, Maude was distracted by a commotion going on at the soccer field. I think that’s Christine, she said, quickening her pace toward the small group of people gathering around a woman on the ground.

They arrived to find Richard seated on the damp grass holding Christine, who looked a bit pale, but otherwise appeared okay. Really, I’m fine, she insisted. There’s no need to call an ambulance.

Maude pushed her way through the group while Don did his best to disperse them. What happened?

She collapsed, Richard told her.

Did she lose consciousness? Don asked.

No. It was Richard who answered.

Christine placed a hand on his arm and gave him a look which suggested that she was quite capable of answering for herself. I just got a little dizzy and stumbled. I haven’t been sleeping well lately. It’s no big deal, really. She attempted to get up, but Richard wrapped his arms around her, insisting she stay put. One of the park volunteers was a physician who lived directly across the street. He had run home to get his medical bag and was heading back in their direction.

It was humiliating, but Christine allowed Richard to carry her across the meadow to the lodge, so the doctor could examine her. Your blood pressure is slightly elevated, but I don’t see a need to go to the emergency room.

Thank you, doctor, Christine told him after shooting an ‘I told you so’ look to Richard. High blood pressure is not unusual for me.

Still, you should go home and get some rest. If your symptoms return, promise me that you will see your primary care physician. When she agreed, he resumed his work in the park.

Maude and Don went to retrieve Richard’s car, leaving the couple alone in the lodge. Richard, you’re hovering. Christine kissed him on the cheek and then gently pushed him back a few steps. The doctor said I am fine. Let’s just stop by your place. I’ll hop in the shower to warm up a bit and then we can have our lunch as planned.

I’m taking you home, so you can rest. We can pick up something to eat on the way or order in. He spoke with authority to mask his own anxiety. Seeing Christine collapse in front of him had dislodged some strong emotions, only one of which was immediate concern for her well-being. That moment of crisis made him realize that he loved her and with that came the need to tell her, to plan the rest their lives together. Richard was a rare man who knew how to feel his emotions, however now was not the time. He’d also learned when to keep his thoughts to himself.

Panic and annoyance vied for the upper hand as Christine considered her response. He was being bossy and overprotective, which rankled, though the thought that he would see her apartment was horrifying. While Christine was meticulous when it came to her personal appearance, her living space was another matter entirely. The few times Richard had been over, she had spent the entire previous day cleaning. There was no way she would allow him in today. You are being ridiculous. I’m fine and I have no intentions of spending the rest of the day in bed unless I’m not alone.

Richard was not taken in by her seductive smile. She’d collapsed in the park with very little warning, and he was still shaken by it and suspected Christine was, too, although she was doing her best not to show it. I’m taking you home and you are going to bed, alone.

He spoke like he would’ve to his staff, who likely complied immediately with his every command. Christine, however, had never taken orders well. I don’t care much for your tone. I am not one of your underlings and you cannot boss me around.

They hadn’t been dating very long, yet Richard had come to understand that stony stare. You’re right, I’m sorry. Still, you really do need to rest. Why don’t I take you to my place? We can order in and watch movies all afternoon.

The stony stare turned quickly to a satisfied smile. That would be lovely.

Chapter Two

Maude was up early the next day, comfortable at the kitchen table in yoga pants and fleece. Her morning companions were a spiral notebook, laptop, and a steaming mug of coffee. The classical violin playing quietly in the background pushed the rest of the world away, leaving only the work at hand. She didn’t hear Don approach and was surprised to see him standing in the doorway when she looked up to ponder a stray thought. He was still dressed in the t-shirt and flannel pants in which he’d slept. Maude loved Don in the morning with rumpled hair, in need of a shave. He made scruffy look sexy. Were you planning on saying ‘good morning’, or were you just going to watch me for a while?

I know better than to speak when you are so focused. I didn’t want to startle you, so I figured I’d give you a few more minutes before I gave up and hit the shower. He smiled and kissed her cheek. Good morning.

Looking out the kitchen window, she agreed it was.

This project isn’t like any of the others I’ve worked on. Maude had come to think of her supernatural