The Ghosts of Peppernell Manor Read Online Free

nodded.
    I realized how tired I was as I was putting Lucy to bed. I returned downstairs, bid everyone good night, and went to sleep early.
    Lucy and I woke at the same time the next morning to the sight of sunshine streaming through the tall windows and the sounds of songbirds chirping loudly outside. At our home in Chicago we rarely heard birds singing, so their presence outside the windows was quite a treat for both of us.
    We went downstairs and greeted Phyllis in the kitchen. We sat at a long table and had a hearty breakfast of grits, eggs, and fruit. I hadn’t eaten grits in years and this was Lucy’s first experience eating them. They were delicious.
    Evie came in while we were eating and suggested that we take a look at the outbuildings of Peppernell Manor before going into Charleston to visit some of the textile and paint shops that I would be using for the restoration. I eagerly agreed and she and I set out with Lucy in tow.
    We went outdoors where the moist, sticky heat, even this early in the day, was oppressive. We strolled slowly down the driveway to a turnoff that led toward the outbuildings, also called dependencies. We walked through a wide grove of thickly planted trees that separated the buildings from the manor. I remembered that I had loved exploring the dependencies on my previous visit. As I recalled, there had been a barn, a carriage house, a kitchen, and a privy. The barn was still in use, though a much larger and more modern barn stood down the road.
    We hadn’t gone far into the grove of trees before we saw four very small, very old, decrepit buildings. I couldn’t remember having seen them before.
    â€œWhat are those?” I asked Evie.
    â€œSlave cabins.”
    I was struck by her words. Although I knew Peppernell Manor had been home to slaves before the Civil War, the sight of those cabins made the slaves’ existence somehow more tangible to me.
    â€œThey’re not in great shape,” I noted.
    Evie nodded. “They probably should have been torn down years ago just for the sake of safety, but they’re part of Peppernell Manor’s history. I would hate to see them disappear.”
    We walked along in the silence of the trees for a moment, lost in our own thoughts. Lucy remained quiet, seeming to sense our pensiveness.
    When we emerged on the far side of the wood, green leafy fields stretched out before us under the morning sun. In the distance, several men and women walked slowly among the field rows, hauling large baskets and picking late summer vegetables. Two tractors stood between the rows, ready to haul away the harvest.
    â€œHow many people work on the farm?”
    â€œIt depends on the time of year. Right now we have about fifteen men and women working. They’re all migrant workers from Florida; they move around the South all year long to plant and harvest different types of crops.”
    We continued walking along the edge of the wood until we came to a large stone building.
    â€œYou remember the old barn,” Evie said. “We keep some farm equipment in there and Gran’s office is in there—she runs the farm—but mostly the barn is still there just because it’s part of the property’s past.”
    I walked into the barn through the enormous open double doors. Sure enough, there was a hayloft above me, complete with pitchfork. Antique saddles and harnesses hung from iron hooks on the walls. The barn was dilapidated; I could see from the large cracks and crevices that the foundation would need work. I peeked into a room that had been built onto the side of the barn. Though it was a newer addition, it had a vintage look to it that matched the rest of the building. A desk, filing cabinets, and an old table that held a large basket of fresh produce were the only furnishings. Cora-Camille’s office, I supposed.
    We left the barn and continued our walk between the fields and the woods. Soon we came to another stone