Harnessed Passions
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D. T. Jones
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259K
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101
Chapter One
AUGUST 1876
Julia lay in the darkness of the small berth, staring at the ceiling, the only sounds being those of the tracks beneath the large wheels of the locomotive. Memories of the past few days came rushing in on her, and once again, she heard the echo of Sharon Farnsworth, forcing her to close her red, swollen eyes to the pain.
“You’re a cold-blooded murderer,” Sharon shrieked; her angry words could be heard over the rumbling of thunder in the dark skies. “You killed my sister, admit it. You were jealous of her and pushed her into that damn pond. You drowned Heather out of jealousy and greed.”
The chill of anguish washed over her as the tears began to slide down the side of her face.
It was just two days ago that she stood in the worst place on Earth. The sound of thunder rumbled in the skies as dark clouds blocked out the sun.
The breeze that blew through the area reminded everyone of the solemn day and why they had been there, standing around an open hole in the ground.
Julia’s long gown was a simple black taffeta skirt with a modest bodice and long sleeves. She wore a plain black wool mourning hat with a black veil that hid her swollen, red eyes.
Reverend Parker stood next to a dark walnut coffin, offering prayers while the family of Heather Farnsworth stood around sobbing.
Mrs. Farnsworth was supported, not by her husband, but by the banker, Mr. Hollings, and Mr. Farnsworth stood between his son Peter and daughter Sharon.
Seventeen-year-old Julia stood with her parents, Victor and Louise Turner, and her younger brother Jeremy. She felt the arms of her mother and brother, yet the cold emptiness surrounding her heart couldn’t be warmed.
The six pallbearers took long, thick cables and lowered the coffin carefully into the hole as the sobbing grew louder. The flowers that each of the family members held were tossed onto the closed lid.
Reverend Parker offered yet another prayer as the cemetery workers moved closer, ready to cover the grave with dirt.
Julia fought to hold back her sobs as she turned. Her brother’s arm was around her waist for support.
She walked next to her mother and father, and was nearly at their Dearborn when a shrill voice echoed from behind them.
“How dare you show your face here?” Sharon shrieked, causing the Turners to look back, as well as many of the mourners who were heading to their carriages.
“You’re a cold-blooded murderer,” Sharon said, coming closer to Julia, only to have her path blocked by her younger brother, Jeremy. “You killed my sister, admit it. You were jealous of her and pushed her into that damn pond. You drowned Heather out of jealousy and greed.”
“I didn’t,” Julia said as the sobs took hold of her words. “I’m sorry…”
“That’s quite enough, young lady,” Victor Turner said, moving to stand beside his son. “Heather’s death was an accident.”
“That little bitch murdered my sister, and everyone knows it,” Sharon screeched, pulling her arm away when her brother grabbed it. “She deserves to die. She needs to rot in hell for what she did to Heather.”
“Sharon, that’s enough,” Peter argued. “Get in the carriage this instant.”
“She’s a murderer,” the girl screamed, stomping her foot in the dirt, pointing at the grave and the workers who stood beside it, staring at the woman. “She should be in that grave, not Heather. She deserves to die.”
“Sharon, I said, stop it,” Peter told her as their parents came to Peter’s aid. “This isn’t the place to be starting your tantrums. Now, go home.”
“Not another word,” Mrs. Farnsworth told her daughter. “Hasn’t there been enough grief for one day?”
“How can you ignore the fact that that witch killed your daughter?” she growled.
“Get in the carriage,” Peter ordered firmly.
“You’d better watch your back, Julia Turner,” Sharon told her. “One day you’ll get what’s coming to you. Just wait and see. If fate doesn’t get you, I will. I’ll make you pay for murdering my sister.”
Those words echoed through Julia’s mind as she tried to pull the pillow around her ears. Murderer. You’re a murderer. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape the pain.
Sheriff Patrick and Dr. Stewart deemed Heather’s death an accident, but Julia knew better. It was because of her that Heather was dead.
It was her fault. She should have been the one to die.
Wiping her tears away, Julia drew a deep breath. Maybe this was her punishment.
Maybe living was the hell she deserved for what she had done. Perhaps she was meant to suffer and feel the gut-wrenching guilt for the rest of her life.
Julia slowly drifted to sleep, the tears staining the pillow beneath her head as images of Heather’s dead body came into her mind and Sharon’s shrill voice continued to echo.
“Murderer. You killed Heather. You should be in that grave. You killed Heather. You’re a cold-blooded murderer. One day, you’ll get what’s coming to you, Julia Turner. If fate doesn’t get you, I will. I’ll make you pay for murdering my sister.”
