Free Karen D. Badger - Yesterday Once More by Karen D. Badger Page A

expectancy couldn’t have been more than eighty or eighty-five years for the average female.”
    Jordan sat back and contemplated Kale’s remarks. “I wonder when she died?” Jordan clicked on the link marked Deaths. “Here it is. Margaret M. Downs, born April 16, 1988. Died, March 29, 2019. Cause of death: severe C-spine fracture and traumatic aortic dislocation sustained in a horse riding accident. Kale, she died so young!”
    Kale reread the cause of death. “Severe C-spine fracture and traumatic aortic dislocation. She must have had a pretty bad impact injury to cause that much damage. If her aorta was torn, she would have bled to death in a matter of minutes.”
    Jordan narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you think it’s odd that she died from a horse riding accident on this very farm? I survived my accident, but only just barely.”
    “What do you mean? Accidents happen on farms all the time. I don’t think it’s that unusual.”
    “I don’t know. I can understand how my accident happened, but an injury like Maggie’s must have been caused by a catastrophic impact. I wonder how it happened. She couldn’t have sustained that injury just by falling out of the saddle. Was she thrown from her horse? Something doesn’t feel right. Don’t ask me why, but it just doesn’t.”
    “Maybe we can learn more from her obituary,” Kale suggested.
    Jordan clicked on the link to the Burlington Free Press obituary page and searched the records for Maggie’s name. A three-dimensional holograph of a woman emerged from the computer. Jordan was stunned. The woman had creamy white skin, green eyes, and long, wild, curly red hair. Her face was heart-shaped with a finely chiseled nose and well-defined lips.
    “She’s beautiful,” Jordan whispered.
    “She was beautiful, you mean,” Kale said. He read aloud. “March 29, 2019, Shelburne, Vermont. Margaret M. Downs, ‘Maggie’ to those who knew her, was killed in a horseback riding accident yesterday, just two weeks shy of her thirty-first birthday. Her body was found by a stable hand at the bottom of a cliff by the shores of Lake Champlain on the western fringes of her property. Although it appears she was thrown from her horse, the cause of the accident is still unknown. She was declared dead at the scene and taken to the Fletcher Allen Medical Center.”
    Tears flowed from Jordan’s eyes. “She died on the farm, Kale. She died on my farm.”
    Kale lifted Jordan’s chin and looked into her tear-stained face. “Are you all right?”
    Jordan met Kale’s eyes. “I’m okay.” She looked back at Maggie’s holograph. “She’s more than beautiful. She’s breathtaking. It’s such a pity she died so young. I wonder if she had a partner.”
    Kale frowned. “Partner... as in female? How do you know she was gay?”
    “Let’s put on a pot of coffee and chat for a while. I have something to tell you.”
    Jordan continued to look at the holograph of Maggie while Kale made coffee. He sat down at the table as he waited for it to brew. “What is it you have to tell me?”
    “There’s something odd going on in this house.”
    “What do you mean, odd?”
    “Do you remember when we talked about my nightmares, and you joked that maybe a ghost was trying to contact me?”
    Kale sat back and looked at Jordan with wide eyes. “I was joking. You didn’t take me seriously, did you?”
    “At the time, no. But now I’m not so sure.”
    “Come on. You’re kidding, right?”
    “No, I’m not. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I’ve had this particular dream in this particular house, and I don’t think finding the diaries is a coincidence either.”
    Kale’s brow furrowed. “What are you getting at?”
    “I think Maggie is trying to contact me.”
    “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Do you hear yourself? Maggie died a hundred years ago.”
    “Then how else can you explain this? The diaries? The dreams? You’re going to think I’m nuts, but I really think this is some