Legacy: The Mark of Merlin. Gerald Pruett

      “Tanya was killed in the same auto accident that killed Michael,” Shannon said. “Avery, Harris and I will be taking her body back to London when we go.”

      “I’m sorry for your loss as well,” Mitchell said sullenly.

      When Shannon and Avery nodded, Brandon asked, “Since you are talking to us, Ellen, what do you know about our family’s Legacy?”

      Ellen glanced towards her group before asking, “Should I tell them?”

      “They deserve to know as well,” Shannon said.

      Ellen nodded before telling her dad and uncle, “The wizard Merlin existed and we are his descendants.”

      “You can’t be serious,” Mitchell replied.

      “I’m serious,” Ellen assured him. “That moon-stars birthmark that grandpa had is called the mark of Merlin.” Ellen gestured towards Harris before continuing, “He recognized the birthmark and explained to me what it was.”

      “Harris, how would you even see the birthmark?” Brandon quickly asked.

      “I described it to him,” Ellen rattled off before Harris could respond. Harris and the others just gave Ellen curious looks. “And he recognized it because he, Tanya and Shannon are too descendents of Merlin.”

      “Our common ancestor is too far in the distant past for us to be related though,” Harris added.

      “Okay, well, assuming that we are descendants of Merlin, what does that have to do with our family’s Legacy?” Brandon asked.

      “Our family’s Legacy is a collection of diaries that our ancestors had written out,” Ellen explained.

      “Diaries?” Mitchell echoed incredulously.

      Ellen nodded while saying, “Uh-huh, and I want to find them. I want to know our family’s Legacy.”

      “I guess I have to be a girl to understand the allure of diaries,” Mitchell said while shaking it off.

      Ellen shrugged before saying, “I guess we should let you get back to whatever it is you’re doing to your truck.”

      “What I’m doing is trying to find out why it won’t start,” Mitchell said.

      Ellen gave him the thumbs-up sign before saying, “Good luck with that.”

      “Thanks, but I’m thinking that my truck is part elephant and had recognized this place as a cemetery,” Mitchell said.

      “Okay,” Ellen said in a confused tone. “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

      “Elephants are believed to travel for a long distance to their burial ground before allowing themselves to die,” Mitchell explained. “Of course the old Tarzan movies are where I’ve heard that so that could be Hollywood’s doing.”

      “Okay, well, again good luck,” Ellen told him.

      “Yes, well, good luck with you on finding those diaries,” Mitchell said.

      “Thanks,” Ellen said with a grin.

      “Bye again,” Shannon said with a wave followed by everyone else.

      Once everyone had said his or her ‘goodbyes’ Ellen and her group continued towards the SUV.

      Once the six were out of earshot of Mitchell and Brandon, Brandon said, “Ellen isn’t telling us everything.”

      “I know,” Mitchell said as he checked the tightness of his battery terminal. “I didn’t want to press the issue though.”

      “I don’t have to be in Hannibal anytime soon,” Brandon began. “Perhaps we should help Ellen track down those diaries.”

      “I was thinking the same thing,” Mitchell said. “If I ever get this truck started, we can go to Saint Louis.”

      Harris looked back at Mitchell and Brandon and saw that they were out of earshot before asking, “From your quick response, Ellen, to a question directed at me, am I correct to assume that you don’t want them knowing about Sonya?”

      “I don’t,” Ellen confirmed quickly. “I’m afraid that I would be going to prison for patricide if he would do anything to harm Sonya.”

      Allyson put her arm around Ellen before saying, “You and Sonya are now legally in my and Harry’s care. We wouldn’t let your father do anything to harm Sonya or you.”

      “I’m afraid that, that might be easier said than done,” Ellen said.

      “For a person who had never really been around her father growing up, you’re certainly a cynic when it comes to him, Ellen,” Jane pointed out.

      “Yes, well, he frightened the hell out of me with his life story when he was trying to bond with me a few years ago,” Ellen said as they were approaching the SUV.

      Allyson just gave Ellen a consoling hug before removing her arm from around Ellen and entering the SUV.

      Minutes later, as Ellen and the others were returning to the house, they saw a well-dressed man with a briefcase and a middle-aged couple at the door.

      “Who’re they?” Ellen asked as Harris was parking the SUV in the driveway. The three at the front door turned to look.

      “We only know as much as you do, Sweetie,” Allyson told Ellen as the ones seated by the doors went to open the doors.

      As the six were getting out of the SUV the person in the suit spoke out, “Harris Bradley?”

      “Who’s asking?” Harris asked.

      “I’m Jack; Jack Hart from the Hart Realty Agency,” he said as the six were walking towards the three at the door. “We spoke yesterday on the phone.”

      “I think there’s a misunderstanding,” Harris began. “The house won’t be ready to be placed on the market for another two weeks. I thought I had made that clear on the phone yesterday.”

      “Yes, you did, but when I had told these two that this house was preparing to come onto the market, they insisted to speak with you,” Jack said.

      “I’m Doyle Stevenson and this is my wife Claudia,” the man said.

      “I used to live here from the age of five to the age of fifteen,” Claudia added. “When I was fifteen, my dad took a job that moved us away, and I hated moving from this house.”

      “So you two are moving back to Kansas City from where?” Ellen asked.

      “Doyle isn’t originally from Kansas City, but we’re moving from Scott Air Force Base, Illinois,” Claudia said.

      “I’m retiring from the air force after thirty-five years,” Doyle added.

      “Cool,” Ellen said.

      “Were you in the air force too, Mrs. Stevenson?” Jane asked.

      “No. I actually commuted each morning to Saint Louis, Missouri,” Claudia said. “I worked downtown Saint Louis.”

      “In the Saint Louis’s record office?” Ellen asked in a hopeful tone.

      Claudia gave Ellen a curious look before answering with, “No.” A disappointed expression came across Ellen’s face. “You need information from the Saint Louis’s record office?”

      “My great-grandparents were from Saint Louis… one set of them were anyway, and I was hoping to find out what house they had lived in,” Ellen replied.

      “I actually had worked with someone who currently works closely with the mayor,” Claudia said. “So I may not know anyone who works in the record office, but my friend might.”

      “I don’t want to impose on you,” Ellen told her.

      “My