LITMIR.BIZ

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acting. That had proved to be a huge asset, because he was also an associate executive producer and kept the books for the film, making sure they spent the budget wisely, especially the state’s money.

      Louisiana had made a concerted effort to woo the film industry, and Brad had received a state grant to help him cover expenses for props and equipment.

      Charlie and her friends weren’t tabloid names—yet. But most of them were making a decent living at their craft, just like thousands of other actors who weren’t yet household names and might never be. This film was her first chance at a lead role, and since she hailed from St. Francisville herself, she was also in love with the historical incident on which Brad’s script was based.

      It had occurred one day in the middle of the Siege of Port Hudson during the Civil War. Port Hudson had been incredibly important to both sides, since it was at the junction of the Red and Mississippi Rivers. Admiral Farragut from the North wanted it taken, so the US Navy was determined to take it.

      In that effort, they shelled Grace Episcopal Church.

      But one day, suddenly the shelling went silent. And a small boat, bearing US Navy men and a white flag of truce, made its way to the shoreline below the bluffs.

      The commander of the Albatross, one of the ships involved in the shelling, had died by his own hand. Since he’d exhibited no signs of depression in a loving letter written to his wife just days before, it was later assumed that he’d grown despairing during a fit of delirium, perhaps due to yellow fever. A good commander and a Mason and a kind man full of concern for the wounded of both sides, he had been well loved.

      Two of his officers and best friends aboard ship hadn’t wanted to consign his body to the waters of the Mississippi, so they’d gone ashore to find out if there might be brother Masons anywhere near, and if there was any way that Commander John E. Hart could be afforded a proper service and burial. One of the largest Masonic lodges in Louisiana—Feliciana Lodge #31 F&AM—was nearby. The White brothers, who lived in the area and were touched by the plea of Hart’s friends, set out to see what they could arrange.

      The Grand Master of the lodge was serving in the Confederate Army. But the Senior Warden, William W. Leake, also with the Confederate Army, had his “headquarters in the saddle” and was in the area. The White brothers found him and explained the situation, and Leake said he couldn’t imagine any military man—not to mention a brother Mason—not having a proper burial.

      Word was sent back to the Albatross, and the ship’s surgeon and a few fellow officers made their way, carrying the body in the June heat, swearing and determined, up the bluffs to the church. They were met by the White brothers, W. W. Leake, a number of other Masons, the Reverend Lewis and a company of Confederate States Marines.

      For a few precious moments in time, on June 12, 1863, there was peace. Commander John E. Hart was buried with full military and Masonic honors in the Grace Church graveyard.

      Of course, the war went on afterward. Vicksburg fell on July 4, Gettysburg turned the tide in the East on July 3, and Port Hudson was surrendered on the 9th, following the longest siege of the war. There were five thousand Union casualties and more than seven thousand Confederates. Once Vicksburg had fallen, General Gardner felt that to continue to hold out would simply cause more useless bloodshed and death. He was right, but he was overruled by his superiors. From then on it was more blood and the tragic loss of life for both sides until the day at Appomattox Courthouse almost two years later when, for all intents and purposes, the country was reunited.

      William Leake went on to become Grand Master of the Feliciana Lodge, and for forty-nine years, he tended to Hart’s grave. When Leake died, he was buried next to Hart, and the two were now honored every year with a reenactment ceremony called The Day the War Stopped.

      The whole story was covered in Brad’s movie, which made it very special to Charlie. Her mother’s great-great-grandfather had been one of the Confederate States Marines who had attended the funeral services for Commander Hart. She’d always loved the story, because it was about the goodness that could be found in people even amid the tragedy of war.

      But Brad’s movie wasn’t historical; it was a suspense movie about a piece of land hallowed by the blood of the soldiers who’d died there and was now threatened by drilling, people trying to save it and other people sabotaging efforts at negotiation, while a few evildoers were ready to kill to have things their way. It was timely, and those on both sides were drawn as complex characters. At the end, the would-be killers were stopped by the very ghosts who made the land so special. Or, possibly, by what they saw in their own imaginations. The truth was, the ending of his movie was left to the eye—and the imagination—of the viewer.

      As Charlie and the decaying soldiers, along with Harry Grayson and Blane Pica—who played the scuzzy oil baron and sleazy senator trying to kill Charlie—and assorted crew members got a look at the footage, she had to agree with Brad. It was great. Also really creepy. If the rest of the footage was as good, they would have a surefire hit.

      “Thank you, and that’s a wrap for the day,” Brad said, smiling. “You’re free—until your 7:00 a.m. call if you’re in the fight scene. Check your schedules and have a good night.”

      Grant laughed and called out, “Brad, check your schedule. It’s a 7:00 p.m. call tomorrow.”

      Brad winced. “Sorry. Go and enjoy your night.”

      Charlie smiled at Grant. She wasn’t on call at all for the next several days. Due to her commitment to a web series she was also filming, she had returned to Francisville only five days earlier, and she’d been on call pretty much nonstop since. Now she had only a few scenes to go.

      “Sounds good to me,” Jennie McPherson said, as she glanced over at George Gonzales—another Tulane classmate—who was doing double duty in set design and as a prop master. The extras had been returning their hats, swords, guns, belts, buckles and the rest of their accessories—everything but the period uniforms they were still wearing—and George was frowning.

      “Missing a belt buckle, a canteen and a knife,” George said.

      “Come on, let’s go. Showers for one and all,” Jimmy said, wrinkling his nose as he got a whiff of himself.

      “I’m going to stay and help George and the set guys retrieve whatever fell in the fields,” Charlie told him. “We can’t afford to lose any of our props.” She loved George. He was one of the hardest-working and funniest friends she had, claiming descent from both slaves and also from their Confederate masters. He loved to chime in on their historical discussions, especially since his mother—who, confusing things even more, was Israeli—had been born in New York City. He considered himself a Confederate/Yankee/African American, and liked to say that gave him a unique perspective.

      “Yeah, don’t want to leave George in the lurch,” Jimmy said. “I guess I can stay, too.”

      “You have a call tomorrow night. I don’t. Go have fun, then get some sleep,” Charlie said.

      “Oh, man, thanks, Charlene! There is so much we have to be so careful with! Money, you know,” Jennie said. She was a petite blonde, and with her hair in a ponytail, as it was now, she looked to be about fifteen, but she’d actually turned thirty on her last birthday. Brad had met Jennie working on a project in New Orleans. She liked to lord it over George, who was her junior by a year. “We have to be so careful about costs.”

      “I’ll stay and help, too,” Grant offered.

      “No, you do the books, you do the budgeting, you write the checks—and you’re an extra every time Brad needs one. I’ve got this,” Charlie said. “Go.”

      Jimmy and Grant left, looking more like ghostly apparitions than ever as they headed toward their cars. Brad didn’t notice; he was studying shots with Mike, his brother and main cameraman.

      “I’m off to look for your missing props,” Charlie said. “Can Barry light up the field for me?” Barry Seymour was in charge of lighting. He was also an electrician, which made him perfect for the job, because

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