Things Half in Shadow by Alan Finn Page A

would have found another way to get you to do my bidding. I’m quite good at that, as you’ll soon learn.”
    â€œI think I already have.”
    â€œWhat I don’t understand,” Mrs. Collins said, “is why you changed your identity in the first place. Certainly no one would think any less of you because of what your father did.”
    Ah, but here she was wrong. People would think less of me. I knew because they had done so in the past. My father’s aunt, for one, had wanted nothing to do with me. The school she had banished me to was even worse. Boys can be cruel to begin with. Put the son of a confessed murderer in their midst and they’ll become absolutely savage.
    I’m ashamed to admit that I joined the army not out of a strong desire to keep the union whole, but to be among men who might not know who I was and would therefore have no reason to pass judgment. But anonymity wasn’t enough. I wanted to rid myself not only of my father’s deeds, but his name as well. I couldn’t bear to be Columbus Holmes, a name I had always disliked. It was too ornate, too showy. I longed to be a David or a Franklin. A name that blended easily into a crowd. A name that wasn’t associated with the death of my mother. So when the opportunity to acquire a new one presented itself, I grabbed it without hesitation.
    â€œPeople will always judge,” I told Mrs. Collins. “The sins of the father always reflect poorly on the son.”
    â€œSpeaking of your father, what does he think about this change of identity?”
    â€œHe doesn’t know,” I said. “I haven’t seen Magellan Holmes since the day he was arrested. The night my mother died, he became dead to me as well. Now please, Mrs. Collins, if you don’t mind, I don’t want to discuss this any further.”
    â€œThen I won’t bring it up again,” she replied. “Except to say that, since I know your real name, I’ll allow you to start using mine. Please call me Lucy. Mrs. Collins sounds like someone who’s nearing seventy.”
    â€œBut wouldn’t the use of our first names imply a familiarity with each other?”
    She blinked at me demurely and asked, “Are you saying you want to be familiar with me, Edward?”
    â€œHardly,” I said. “Which is why I wish to be addressed as Mr. Clark.”
    â€œWish all you’d like, Edward . But seeing that we’re going to be spending plenty of time together, we might as well become better acquainted.”
    I crossed my arms over my chest and expressed my displeasure with a huff. While I had the urge to throw open the coach door and jump into the street, I knew such an act would prove useless. Any escape I made would only be temporary. Lucy Collins, I was certain, would surely track me down again. There was no way around the fact that I was, for the moment, trapped.
    â€œFine,” I said. “So tell me, Lucy , what made you turn to Spiritualism as a way to earn a living?”
    â€œDesperation.” Lucy Collins gazed out the coach window, her face the very picture of stoicism. “There aren’t many opportunities for women like myself. Marriage is considered the easiest way to keep a roof over your head and food in your stomach, although it’s more like indentured servitude, if you ask me.”
    â€œIt sounds like finding another husband isn’t high on your list of priorities.”
    â€œI would prefer to be hanged than endure another marriage. I’m perfectly happy in my current situation.”
    â€œDeceiving people,” I said.
    â€œ Helping them,” Lucy replied. “And for your information, what I do is far more difficult than you think. Customers arrive with different needs. My task is to understand what those needs are and then fulfill them. It’s hard to keep up.”
    I furrowed my brow. “Keep up with what?”
    â€œThe latest tricks, of