Claudia Hall Christian is a beekeeper who writes novels and serial fiction.
Disclaimer: This weblog, and contents, express the opinions of the author, please investigate facts on an individual basis.
If you’re a writer, find the time (about 20 minutes) to watch this video. It’s not about writing. It’s creating a life where you are radiantly alive and you’re living the life you want.
How many of us wait until the moment when we’re able to write? How many of us play the “if/then” game? (If I get on the New York Times Bestseller’s list, then I’ll be happy.)
Life’s too short to be wasted.
If you’ve been around this limb for a while, you might remember me talking about the Croke Patterson Mansion.
From Legends of America :
Built in 1890 by Thomas B. Croke, this sandstone residence was one of the country’s most elegant homes. Now serving as an office building, it is also said to be one of the most haunted.
According to the legend Thomas B. Croke, only entered the palatial mansion one time and was so emotionally shaken by “whatever” was there, that he never returned. Just two years later it was sold to Thomas M. Patterson, who’s family kept the home for several decades. Over the next several years, the building served many purposes, including a dance studio, a radio station, and a boarding house before it was converted to an office building. During the renovation to office space in the 1970’s, construction crews began to experience a number of strange occurrences.
After a long days work, they would often return the next day to find that the tasks they had completed the day before had been “undone.” After this had occurred several times, guard dogs were left to protect the property from what the workmen thought might be intruders. However, the next day they found the two Doberman Pinschers dead on the sidewalk after having apparently jumped from a third-story window. Once the renovation to office building was complete, employees almost immediately began to notice equipment, such as typewriters, copy machines, and telephone that mysteriously began to operate by themselves.
When a séance was held to determine who was haunting the building, they found it to be the spirit of a little girl whose body was supposedly entombed in the cellar. However, when the basement was excavated, they found a hidden chamber was found, filled with sea sand, but no remains of a little girl.
A ghostly image has often been sighted gliding up and down the main floor stairway and otherworldly voices have been heard here as well. Thomas Patterson, former owner of the home, is said to have been spied numerous times in the courtyard between the mansion and the carriage house.
When the building still served as an apartment building, occupants on the lower levels were known to complain about wild parties taking place on the third level. But, when these parties were investigated, they would be met with only silent emptiness.
(Photo gallery of Croke Patterson mansion)
I’ve read that it’s the second most haunted building in Colorado and in the top ten buildings for the Western United States.
My first psychotherapy office was in the Croke Patterson Mansion from 1996-1997. (My office was the door to the left next to the second floor mirror.) when a Veterinarian purchase the office building with the desire to turn it into a private residence. He and his new wife moved into the home with her two children. They turned the house into a private residence then went bankrupt. The house has been empty for at least two years.
It’s been for sale for at least a year. Originally it was for sale for 1.3 million dollars. At last check, it was $495,000. D asked me a number of times if I wanted to look at it. Usually, I love to look at old houses, and I love to house shop. But I wouldn’t allow myself to get drawn into the demons, ghosts, and otherwise evil spirits of the place.
Someone has recently purchased the home.
May God have mercy on their souls.
We had a couple of gorgeous days of spring… Now back to our usually scheduled rain and snow.
Oh well, at least we have Mutterings. These tiny little word prompts (created by the birthday girl Pea at LunaNina) help refresh the mind and soul. Or at least they are fun to do.
How do you play? Simply answer the word prompts in the comment section. When you’re done, take a look at what other people have said. It’s an awesome way to see how different and similar we are.
Here are your prompts:
Here are my answers:
Happy Sunday! When you play I’ll link to you here!
Previous Chapters
Recap of the Beginning and character summary
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
Sunday — 11:16 A.M.
“Heather!”
Blane yelled as he ran in the house. Slamming the door, he ran toward where he could hear her voice.
“Heather?”
“We’re in here,” she said.
He jogged toward the den off the kitchen. Heather was sitting in a rocking chair with Mack on her shoulder.
“Hi,” she said. “How are you?”
“Missed you guys,” Blane said. “Can I?”
“Sure.”
Standing, Heather held Mack out to him. Impulsively, Blane hugged them both. Heather laughed. He kissed her cheek then took Mack from her. Mack made a happy sound in recognition of Blane. He kissed Mack’s face then settled him on his shoulder.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’ve been at the hospital with Sam and…. I’m just happy to have you guys.” He smiled at her. “That’s all.”
She hugged him.
“Sorry you missed church,” Blane said.
“Mack and I went with the girls. We just got back,” Heather said. “He was an angel.”
“You fed him before you went?”
“In the car. Like his Mama, he’s happy with a full belly,” Heather laughed. “Can I get you something?”
“No, I’m just home for a shower. I have to help Jake today. Does that work for you?”
“Of course,” Heather said.
“Jake’s has a big mess today. The sites were closed yesterday and the Castle’s falling down and… Oh it doesn’t matter.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Why is the resolution of every B horror movie so anti-climatic?” Raz asked.
He stood between Matthew and Troy watching Alex work. Standing on a chair, Alex played eeny, meeny, miny, moe with the square at the top of the north wall.
“Because it’s a resolution?” Troy replied. “Alex, have you found a…”
Alex hit the last square and there was a soft click. A door sized one-inch depression appeared in the wall. Alex cursed.
“Our exit is covered…” She started.
Troy punctured the depression with the knife from his mini-tool. The small blade stuck in the dry wall. Pulling a nine inch bowie knife from its sleeve on his leg, Matthew held the larger knife up to Troy.
“Now, this is a knife.” Matthew gave his best Crocodile Dundee.
“Don’t start dissing my mini-tool or…”
“OLIVAS. MAC CLENAGHAN.” Alex jumped down from her chair. “Knock it off.”
Mumbling, ‘He started it,’ the men cut the dry wall around the door. Raz grabbed pieces and threw them off to the side. They revealed a metal sliding door.
“Hutchins? Tell the Jakker we’ll be five minutes,” Alex said.
Vince relayed the message to Alex’s Sergeant then disconnected her pocket computer.
“Gas masks. Check to make sure your oxygen is working. Check the person next to you.”
The men put on their gas masks then checked each other.
“Special Forces first,” Alex commanded. “Prisoner in the middle. Agent Rasmussen and Captain Hutchins and I will take the back.”
Sliding open the metal door, Troy revealed another concrete door. He groaned. Alex swatted him out of the way. There was a combination lock on the door. She opened the padlock then stepped aside. Matthew and Troy pulled open the door.
“Everyone. Guns out. We do not know what we’ll encounter. Let’s make certain we are on guard.” Seeing Jessie ahead, she said, “Ok. Go.”
Alex put on her mask when Matthew and Troy ran down the tunnel. Raz checked her oxygen. Reaching a turn, Troy ran ahead. Matthew signaled for the Weasel and his guards to enter the tunnel. Alex watched their backs as they moved down the tunnel. Raz nudged Alex into the tunnel.
They heard the sharp report of machine gunfire.
“Go,” Alex yelled.
Raz and Vince ran down the tunnel. Using all her strength, Alex yanked the cement door closed then reset the lock. Running down the tunnel, she found Raz waiting for her. They ran together down the rest of the tunnel.
“They were shooting so Zack would notice them.” Raz shouted through the mask. “They are going up on wires.”
“Can you make a wire?” Alex asked.
“No other option,” Raz said.
Alex shook her head at his usual response to his back pain. She opened her mouth to ask again about his option to have surgery then realized it was pointless. He was going to do what he was going to do.
They slowed at the entrance. Troy and Matthew had hacked enough space to step around the enormous Cottonwood tree trunk that grew over the tunnel’s entrance. On fire, the tree dropped flame and ember in the opening. Raz stepped a leg through the opening. Pressing his chest against the smoldering tree trunk, he shifted to pull his other leg through.
His back seized. With Alex pushing on one side, and Vince pulling on the other, they managed to get him through opening.
When Alex stepped, her left hip cramped. Vince pulled her through the opening. They stood in a small clearing surrounded by burning timber. She pointed to the wire. Vince clipped himself to the wire and went up with Raz.
Her forgotten ear bud squealed then began working.
“Heya Alex,” Zack said. “I’ve got everyone. You gonna hike out?”
Alex waved up to him. She saw movement in the passenger compartment and Troy slid down with a wire. Hooking her to the wire, he wrapped himself around her.
“To what do I owe this pleasure,” Alex yelled through her mask.
“Lost a bet,” he laughed. “Your hip’s off. I didn’t think you could make the wire.”
She smiled her thanks. At the passenger compartment, the men pulled Alex and Troy into the compartment. They piled their gear and masks into a cargo container then took their seats.
“Where to?” Zack asked through the intercom.
“Super Max,” Alex replied. “We’re taking this one home.”
“WAIT!” The Weasel screamed.
Troy pulled the helicopter door closed and the men clicked into their seats. Following Alex’s lead, they ignored the Weasel protests. The helicopter flew across Southern Colorado then slowed as they approached the United States Penitentiary Administration Maximum Facility.
“Last chance,” Alex said. “Talk now or forget it.”
The Weasel motioned her to sit next to him on the helicopter. She responded by forcing him to sit next to her. Untaped and undocumented, for the remainder of the trip, the Weasel told Alex everything he knew about the murder of the Fey Special Forces Team. When the helicopter landed, the Weasel’s mouth closed. Without saying another word, he and his guards left the helicopter.
“What was that?” Raz asked.
Alex shook her head. Buckling into her seat, she stared out the window at the dark clouds of the snowstorm.
What was that indeed?
FFFFF
Two hours later
Tuesday Night
March 25 – 7:30 P.M. MDT
Military Intelligence, Buckley Air Force Base
Alex waited until the last of the men checked through medical before returning to her office. She sent her Sergeant home, shut off the phones then began filing out the stack of paperwork on her desk. Every assignment came with at least one stack of papers. This year, she and the men had completed one stupid assignment after another until the paperwork towered on Alex’s desk. Flipping on her coffee maker, she settled in for a long night.
The coffee maker had finished its last burble when a coffee mug entered her line of site. She looked up to see her boss, Colonel Howard Gordon. He was wearing a dark cap and his overcoat as if he stopped by on his way home.
“I was surprised you didn’t look up when I came in,” he said. “Fascinating paper work?”
“Oh…” She sighed. “I fill in the boxes while I think about something else. I was miles away.”
He sat down across from her.
“How did it go today?” he asked.
“Which part?”
He laughed.
“You might have missed the reports, but there was an incident while attempting to interview the Weasel.” Alex shrugged. “I know you’re busy.”
“Yes, Major. I missed entirely the destruction of a national wilderness area.”
“I guess that’s not funny,” she said. Holding up a stack of pages, she added, “But it does provide for some excellent paperwork opportunities!”
“You have a Sergeant to do your paperwork,” he said. “You have a second in command. Hell, you have an intelligence officer in training who has nothing to do.”
“Oh shit, I completely forgot about him,” Alex said. “Is he still locked away at Fort Carson?”
“He was released by Captain Mac Clenaghan. While you were with Agent Rasmussen at the hospital, Captain Mac Clenaghan drove to Fort Carson for Sergeant Flagg. They are on their way to Denver right now.”
“Oh, thank God,” Alex said. She took a long drink of her coffee. “See, my second in command can’t do the paperwork. He’s busy with Flagg.”
“Major Drayson.”
“Yes sir,” Alex said.
“How did it go with your team?”
“What team?” Alex asked. “They fought with each other. They thought I was crazy. I had to yell at them to knock it off more than once. They were like competent tornados each working toward their own end. I… “
She shook her head.
“I suck,” she said. “I can’t do this ‘command a team’ thing.”
“Every leader feels that way sometimes,” Colonel Gordon said. “You need to get your feet under you.”
“I was wondering, sir, if I might join a team?”
Colonel Gordon’s scowled. This was not the first time he had heard this request.
“I’d happily take a lower rank and…”
He opened his mouth to say something then changed his mind. Shaking his head, he looked away from her.
“There are two wars going on, sir,” she said. “I’m an okay intelligence officer. And as you know, there’s more than a hundred people held hostage in the world at any given time. I could join the team that replaced us and…”
“Alexandra Hargreaves!”
“Sir?”
She scanned his face. His bushy eyebrows betrayed his worry over his obvious anger. She smiled as if he caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. He sighed.
“Maybe I could go back to drawing maps?” She gave him a big smile.
“Alex.” Pulling his cap off, he ran a hand through is bushy gray hair. “Every leader goes through exactly what you’re feeling. Hell, I’ve had many sleepless nights over this very same issue. The key is to find what works for you.”
“Charlie was so…”
“Charles O’Brien is dead, Alex,” Colonel Gordon said. “He was an exceptional man, a natural leader, and my friend. But he is gone. You have to learn to carry on without him.”
Nodding, Alex pursed her lips to keep from displaying her desperate grief at the words: ‘Charles O’Brien is dead.’
“Listen,” Colonel Gordon said. “I’m sorry. I see so much potential in you and wish you could see it yourself. You collected these men from assignments around the world. They came to here to work with you. Each man is the best soldier in his class. Period. And they aren’t easy. You didn’t pick them because they were easy. You picked them because they were your friends. And they left great assignments to work here with you.”
“But sir…”
“They’re pains in the ass. Every single one of them. Did you hear the feed from the Jakker while he waited for you? He disobeyed a direct order to return to base. A big fat ‘fuck you’ from the Jakker.”
“Are their repercussions to his defiance?”
“Christ, Alex. That’s my point. Everything the Jakker does is defiant.”
Alex shrugged.
“It might help if you filled the other slots in your team with neutral players,” Colonel Gordon said. “You still need…”
“No Marines,” she said. “I’ve never had good luck with Marines, sir.”
“You need at least one more Navy and two Marines. That’s not to mention your glaring lack of medics.”
“See, I suck as a leader.”
Alex tried her ‘please-sir-can-I-stop-doing-the-job-I-suck-at’ smile. Colonel Gordon glared in response. Her smile faded.
“The Fey Special Forces Team’s first year was not easy, you know.”
“But we had…”
“Charlie,” they said together.
“Yes,” he said. He softened. “Listen, I’ve never known anyone who has continued working after what you have been through. Most people retire.”
“I could retire,” she said. “Ben said he’s retiring this year. I could…”
“You know you cannot retire,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I could draw maps.”
Her eyes lit up with glee at the idea of retreating into the solitary joy of cartography.
“The Admiral would like you to return to extracting hostages. You’re supposed to be…”
“Creating a team that will extract hostages around the world,” Alex finished his sentence. “Problem is? I suck.”
“Alexandra.”
“Ok, you know what I’m really good at?” She pointed to the paperwork on her desk. “Paperwork is my specialty.”
Colonel Gordon raised his hands in submission to her sarcasm.
“What do you need to make this work?” he asked. “I’m authorized to give you any resource, training…”
“I need Joseph Walter,” she said. “He would know how to pull this team together. You’re right. We need to a few neutral members. He’d know how to choose the right people.”
While Colonel Gordon nodded his head, he eyes spoke his remorse.
“But?” she asked.
“It’s complicated. Fort Carson had dibs on him for their training staff. He can’t come here and be there. You know that.”
Alex nodded. She did know that. She just hoped for the help she needed. Sometimes she felt as if she was set up to fail. She sighed at her no-win situation.
“Don’t give up, Alex,” he said. “That’s really what I came in here to say. Everyone struggles, especially their first year. Just don’t give up.”
Picking up his cap, he stood to leave. He stopped in front of a photograph of the Fey Special Forces Team goofing for the camera. The photo was taken after they had rescued their first hostages – five journalists from the jungles of Central America. Colonel Gordon leaned closer to look at their faces. They seemed so young and happy. He stepped back from the photo.
“What did the Weasel have to say?”
“Nothing. Everything. Who knows?” Alex replied. “There are so many little itsy bitsy pieces to this puzzle. Somehow they fit together, but how? I have no idea how to connect the dots.”
“Perses was there? I always thought he was a myth or legend.”
“Perses accepted a contract to assess the viability of a hit on the Fey and the Weasel. He led us to Shelter 17. I probably could have found it but not in time. Plus he had the key.”
“Odd behavior for an assassin.”
“He owes me a favor or six. And, yes sir, he’s odd.”
“Well good night,” Colonel Gordon said. “We’ll talk again tomorrow.”
“Yes sir.”
“And Alex, go home. You’ve done enough today,” he said. “Let Sergeant Flagg become an expert in paperwork.”
“Yes sir,” she said.
He raised a hand in ‘good-bye’ then walked out of her office. Looking from stack to stack, she finished her mug of coffee then poured another. She wandered to the place where Colonel Gordon stood. Her finger touched each face.
“Go home, Alex,” Jesse said appearing beside her. “There are no answers here.”
Nodding to Jesse, Alex dressed in her winter gear. Limping on her injured hip, she pulled her office door closed.
“Walk you to your car?” Jesse asked.
She nodded.
“Did I ever tell…?”
FFFFFF
Tuesday night
March 25 — 9:40 P.M. MDT.
Fillmore Auditorium
Denver, CO
John and Max were watching the roadies finish setting up for DeVotchka.
“Remind me. Why are we here?” John yelled to Max over the background music.
Max raised his eyebrows. He nodded his head toward the Slavic Sisters. The women trapeze artists were testing their aerial silk cloth.
“Yes, very interesting,” John nodded. “But…”
John felt a hand on his shoulder. He grimaced to Max then turned to see who touched him.
“Hi John,” the woman said. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
John tried to remember the woman’s name. She worked at St. Joseph’s Hospital or at least he thought she worked at the hospital. She spent so much time pushing her inflated chest and lips in John’s direction that conversation was nearly impossible. Too polite to actually dismiss her, he avoided her as much as possible.
“I heard your wife is out of town.” Her tiny hand caressed his arm. “When I saw you here, I figured you were looking for some company.”
John stepped away from the woman. She bat her long eyelashes at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Max laughing at him.
“Listen,” John started but his words were lost over the trumpet playing announcing the start of the concert. His attention jerked to the stage. Maybe if he ignored this woman…
While the band played their first song, the Slavic Sisters vibrated the aerial silk to the music. The silk tapestry billowed down from the stage hitting John’s face. He stepped back to stay out of the way. The trapeze artist winked at John then flipped the fabric from his face.
Smiling her crooked smile, Alex stood in its place.
In a breath, she was in his arms. She giggled when he lifted her from the ground. She wrapped her legs around his middle, their lips fused in passionate consumption.
When John pulled back to look at her, DeVotchka’s lead singer, Nick, yelled, “Drayson, get a room!” The crowd cheered in agreement.
With a nod to Max, John carried his laughing Alex through the crowded venue to Colfax Boulevard. He set her down for a moment then instantly regretted the decision.
“The cab’s waiting for us,” Alex started.
He lifted her back into his arms and carried her to the cab. Nestled in the back of the cab, they took the short ride to their new home. John scooped her off the sidewalk and carried her into the house. They kissed and stroked their way up the stairs until, unable to wait any longer, they made fast love on the third floor landing.
“Wanna try out the bath?” Alex asked.
“Very much so. But the water’s not hooked up to it yet.”
“What?”
“It’s a long story. Shower?”
“Bed?”
“You’re so traditional,” he said.
Opening the door to their bedroom, they were hit with a blast of cold air.
“NO HEAT?!?”
Alex ran to jump under the covers.
“You weren’t due back until tomorrow.”
“Lemme guess, long story?”
“I know how to warm you.”
Slipping under the covers, he did just that.
F
Learning to Stand is the second novel in the Alex the Fey thriller series
written by Claudia Hall Christian.
The novel is available in paperback at Amazon, our store, your local library and bookstore.
Entire chapters are be published at On-a-limb.com,
StoriesbyClaudia.com and AlextheFey.com.
Join the Alex the Fey Facebook Group
How to look like you’re a member of the Fey Team
Recently I joined a cool program called ItStartswith.us
ItStartsWith.us is a cool program designed to get people involved in making a positive impact on other people. Once a week, Nate, the founder of ItStartsWith.us, sends out an email with a weekly mission. The weekly mission is a 15 minute simple idea that can positively impact another person. So far, I’ve been asked to do something special for a child and reconnect with an old friend.
We were in Craig for the book signing the week of doing something special for a child. I was able to spend some time with my young friend, Caroline. Over dinner at her mother’s house, I went through all of her birthday wishes including American Girl baby items. Ok, it doesn’t sound like much of a challenge but trust me. This American Girl stuff is creepy. It was all I could do not to scream “WHAT THE HELL?” We also bought our usual case of Girl Scout cookies. And hopefully, Caroline felt like a special girl.
I was able to reconnect with a friend from Junior High School via Facebook. Facebook is such a weird adventure where past and present combine. Anyway, I enjoyed getting a chance to find out more about a woman who was a good friend to me in a time that I needed it.
Doesn’t sound very hard, does it?
So why not join ItStartsWith.Us? It’s free, costs you only 15 minutes a week, and you get to do something positive for someone else. If you’re worried about what you’ll be asked to do, click here to download a copy of last years challenges. Again, they are easy, fun and you can really make a difference in someone’s life.
There’s no downside to this! Go ahead – join! 
“Remember that as today’s dead flower carries
the seed of tomorrow’s bloom so does
today’s sadness carry the seed of tomorrow’s joy.”
– Og Mandino
Happy Monday!
Just say no to snow! At least that’s what I’m doing. So far so good this morning! (Of course there’s a 60% chance of snow, so my wishes will probably be denied.)
At least we have Unconscious Mutterings to depend on. You play this game by simply answering the word prompts (created by LunaNina) in the comments section. It’s a fun way to clear out the unconscious and get the week going!
Let’s play! Here are your word prompts:
Here are my answers:
Happy Sunday! When you play I’ll link to you here!
Previous Chapters
Recap of the Beginning and character summary
CHAPTER NINETY
Saturday morning — 1:20 A.M.
Sandy opened the door to her condo apartment and took a deep breath. She’d always loved the smell of her very own home. Even after being closed up for so many weeks, her home still smelled safe. That’s how she had felt first time she’d stepped into the condo – safe and at peace. She sighed. She needed safety and peace this morning.
Tomorrow, her Godfather’s daughter would move into the condo for the summer. Seth hadn’t asked. Instead, his daughter Elizabethe (not Lizzie like she 
used to be called) had telephoned and begged her for a room in her condo. Now eighteen years old, Seth’s second daughter from his second marriage wanted to see if she could forge a relationship with her father the summer before she started college. Sandy had agreed to let her stay for three hundred dollars a month. Of course, Sandy had set the terms when she thought she had access to Aden’s money to help cover their expenses.
Luckily she liked to work. But not today. At the hospital last night, she’d called all her scheduled clients to cancel their appointments. Today, she would sleep until two, maybe three.
Sandy checked the guest bedroom where Lizzie, no Elizabethe, would stay. She put fresh sheets on the bed and made sure all of the kids’ stuff was out of the closets and cabinets.
Delphie had been to the condo when Sandy was in the hospital after getting shot by her father. Delphie had packed up Sandy’s clothing, cleared out the refrigerator, and got the flat ready for Sandy’s stay at the Castle. She’d even arranged for Rosa and her team to clean the condo top to bottom. Looking around her home, Sandy saw tokens of Delphie’s usual love and care.
Delphie. Beloved Delphie.
|
|
© On a limb with Claudia. Say something clever here. Or not. You decide.
