Grave Heritage

by Blanche Day Manos

  Grant took my hand. “The only thing I need to make it perfect is…”

  He stopped and stared out of the side window.

  “What?” I asked. “What is it, Grant?”

  “A truck,” he said. “I just caught a glimpse of it going over the hill. Somebody is trespassing. If he left the gate open in the south pasture, the cattle will get out. I’m going to drive down a little farther.”

  Starting the engine, Grant drove quickly down the hill toward the cave.

  “I’m going to get out and take a look around,” he said.

  “Wait. You’ll need an umbrella. I’m going with you.”

  We left his truck, ducked under my umbrella, and walked toward the mouth of the cave. Tire tracks showed plainly in bent-over grass. In the distance, I heard a motor growing fainter.

  “What would somebody be doing out here on such a day?” I wondered.

  Grant shook his head. “I didn’t see the truck well enough to identify it. Did you?”

  “I didn’t see it at all,” I answered. “Maybe some sightseer just wanted a look at the flooded river.”

  “Could be,” Grant said. “Come on, let’s drive over and check the gate, then I’ll take you back to town.”

  The romantic, warm mood was definitely over. I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or relieved.

  Sure enough, the pasture gate was wide open. Muttering about trespassers, Grant drove through the gate, got out and closed it, then followed the lane to get back on the main road to Levi.

  When I got home, I found Mom, not serenely drinking coffee, but pacing the floor and wringing her hands.

  “Oh, Darcy,” she said as I opened the door from the back porch into the kitchen. “I’m so glad you are home. Hiram called and said he thinks somebody has been digging where the old cellar was at Ben’s farm. He said he’s been seeing lights out there at night, but when he went to investigate, he couldn’t find anybody.”

  “Whoa, wait a minute, Mom. Slow down. Hiram Schuster called you?”

  Putting my arm around her, I guided her to a kitchen chair.

  “Yes, Hiram! You know he’s putting the finishing touches on Ben’s Boys and it’ll be ready to open this fall. He’s been staying in the main house at night, trying to catch whoever is digging. He said whoever it is has made a trench about two feet deep on top of that mound of dirt and rocks that was once the cellar.”

  Going to the stove, I turned on a burner and scooted a kettle of water over the flame.

  “I’m going to make you a cup of chamomile tea, Mom. You are entirely too worked up. So, who does Hiram think it is, and why is he calling you now?”

  “For goodness sake, Darcy, he’s calling because he wants me to know about it! It has been so rainy this summer that the ground is soft and easy to dig, and who knows how far this person is going to go? Maybe there’s an air shaft or something and he will find his way into the cellar and—”

  “You are borrowing trouble, Mom. We don’t know why this person is digging, whether he knows something about what’s under there or if he’s looking for Indian arrowheads or what. Whatever his motive, though, he’s got to know that he is trespassing, at the very least.”

  “It may be a good idea to tell Grant. Maybe he or Jim could stake it out some night and catch whoever it is.”

  Maybe. Maybe not. Grant would give me a lecture about not getting involved with trespassers and, after our closeness today, I hated to bring up a subject that might do anything to change that.

  Putting some dried chamomile into a diffuser, I placed it in a cup, covered it with hot water and gazed through the window at the summer storm. If anybody got out in weather like this, he had to be very determined.

  Adding a dollop of honey to the tea, I carried the cup to Mom and sat down across from her at the dining table.

  “Thank you, Darcy,” Mom said, cradling the cup between her palms. “It must be this damp weather that makes me feel cold. I’m getting to be really tired of all this rain!”

  “I know,” I said. “Missing people don’t help our moods either. And two deaths.”

  We were both silent, listening to the rain drumming on the porch.

  “As soon as the rain lets up, do you want to go out to the school and take a look?” I asked.

  Mom nodded. “Maybe we should stop by the Jenkins house first and find out about more food missing. Isn’t this a tangle?”

  “Indeed,” I agreed. “’Through many dangers, toils, and tangles, I have already come,’” I sang, changing slightly the words to “Amazing Grace.”

  She shook her head at me and a ghost of a smile flitted across her face. This was the effect I had hoped for.

  “Darcy! Stop that! That’s almost sacrilegious.”

  “Sorry. Let’s get into our rain jackets and go to the Jenkinses’,” I said. “Rain or not, we can certainly talk to Miss Georgia and Miss Carolina then go on out to the school, if the rain lets up.”

  Chapter 31

  The rain stopped before we got to the Jenkins home. The sun came out, gilding every leaf with a washed-clean glow.

  I parked in the Jenkinses’ driveway. Tim Johnson, a toolbox in his hands, was kneeling beside the porch step’s railing. He turned to us with a grin spreading across his ruddy face.

  “There!” he said. “Good as new. Maybe better. I’ll bet that old railing had been near to coming down for a long time.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Mom and I will be the first ones to test your handiwork. I gave strict orders to the twins that they were to use the back door until this railing was fixed.”

  Tim shook his head. “Sure wish I had nailed it back before that poor fellow fell to his death. Makes me feel responsible somehow.”

  “Nonsense! I’ve been meaning to tell you how much I appreciate your mowing the grass at our house. You are a much better mower than I am.”

  Nodding his thanks, Tim Johnson carried his toolbox to his truck. We went up those steep front steps and knocked on the Jenkinses’ door.

  Miss Georgia and Miss Carolina always hugged us when they saw us, even if that happened to be twice in the same day. Surprisingly, this time they did not offer us hot tea but the iced variety served in tall, frosted glasses, with sprigs of mint atop the ice.

  Miss Georgia shook her head.

  “We’ve gotten rid of that troublesome flask,” she said. “I just didn’t realize it would ever cause someone to fall to his death.”

  Mom squeezed her hand. “Don’t be too hard on yourselves,” she said. “Are you certain that more food disappeared?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Miss Carolina. “This time, it was a loaf of bread, some peanut butter, and a quart of milk.”

  Lifting the mint from off a floating cube of ice, I crunched it and eyed Miss Carolina.

  “Have you seen any more flitting people in white?”

  Looking down at her folded hands, she shook her head. “No. Nary a one. No more ghosts or anything.”

  “We haven’t even smelled Papa’s pipe lately,” Miss Georgia said. “I guess that’s a good sign.”

  A niggling suspicion was just below the surface of my consciousness. Could it be possible that the missing food and missing people were somehow connected?

  “Mom, didn’t you think it odd when Jasper didn’t eat all the food you fixed for him but took about half of it with him?”

  “Yes, it was certainly strange,” Mom mused. “I’ve never known anybody with a larger appetite than Jasper. When he was a lot younger and came to Vacation Bible School, why, at snack time, it was almost impossible to fill that boy up.”

  So, it seemed that Jasper had always had a hollow tooth or leg. My mother’s patience with Pat’s son never failed to amaze me.

  “I wonder if anything over at Miss Pat’s has gone missing. Besides Jasper, I mean.”

  Mom snapped her fingers. “The other day, she said she couldn’t find a quilt that her grandmother made a long time ago. I put it down to Pat’s forgetfulness. With Walter�
�s death and Jasper’s disappearance, it’s a wonder she doesn’t forget her own name.”

  Miss Carolina raised her eyebrows and glanced at Miss Georgia, who shrugged and looked bewildered.

  I realized that the twins probably did not know a lot about recent goings-on, other than the strange happenings here in their own home.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Pat’s son Jasper has been hiding out since his father’s death, but he came to our house the other night and conned us out of some food.”

  “Oh, my,” Miss Georgia whispered. “The poor boy. All he’d have to do is ask and we’d give him all the food he wanted.”

  Mom frowned. “Darcy! He didn’t con us out of anything. He asked for food and I gave him food.”

  “Did you tell Grant?” asked Miss Carolina.

  “Not yet,” I said, “so please don’t breathe a word to anybody else.”

  Miss Carolina giggled. “I love secrets.”

  “If he’s hungry, why doesn’t he just go home? I doubt that his mother would turn him in to the sheriff,” Miss Georgia said.

  Mom set her empty glass on the tray on the coffee table. “Jasper is the most secretive young man I’ve ever seen. He enjoys knowing things that nobody else knows. He knew where Ben Ventris was a long time before we finally found him. He’s more at home in the woods and with the animals than he is with people.”

  “Help me out with this,” I said. “Melanie, Trace Hughes’s sister, was last seen in this area of Oklahoma, according to the woman in Tyler. Right?”

  Mom nodded and the sisters shrugged.

  Talking slowly, I tried to put my suspicions into words. “Jasper likes to help people or animals he thinks are needy. Jasper is in hiding because he’s afraid Grant will look on him as a suspect in Walter’s death.”

  “And Jasper could never bear being locked up,” Mom interjected.

  Standing, I bent to pick up the tray of empty glasses. “Two things about Jasper’s character are his love of being secretive and his compassion for animals and birds. He sympathizes with anything or anybody needing protection. Melanie may be hiding because she doesn’t want to be sent back home. She’s young and scared and certainly would qualify for Jasper’s sympathy,” I said. “And the disappearing food could be going to Melanie.”

  Mom gasped. “You don’t mean it!” she said.

  “Do you mean our missing food?” Miss Georgia asked.

  “It’s just a thought,” I said.

  Carrying the tray to the kitchen, I set it in the sink. Something about this kitchen was not right. Something was different, but what? I turned full circle, peering at the old-fashioned stove, the polished oak table and chairs, and the china cabinet full of fragile antique cups and teapots. As I glanced at the pantry and cellar doors, my heart skipped a beat then thudded.

  That was it! Someone had tampered with the cellar door.

  Going back to the living room, I put my finger to my lips and said in a loud whisper, “Come into the kitchen, but come quietly. I want to show you something.”

  The Jenkins twins tottered after me, their eyes wide. Mom trotted along behind them.

  “What in the world is wrong, Darcy?” she asked.

  I pointed to the cellar door. The deadbolt which I thought had been rusted shut was slid back. The door was no longer locked.

  The three women gasped.

  “What does it mean?” Miss Carolina whispered. “We haven’t unlocked that door for years.”

  Mom patted her arm. “I think it means someone has been using your cellar.”

  I looked around at the three wide-eyed women. “And that someone may be down there right now.”

  “Oh, no,” Miss Georgia moaned. “Call Grant. Quick.”

  “No, no. Wait. I don’t think whoever is down there is dangerous.”

  “How on earth could you possibly know that, Darcy?” Mom asked. “Lock the door again and call Grant.”

  Giving my cell phone to Mom, I said, “If I yell, hit Grant’s number. Miss Georgia, do you have a flashlight?”

  “Certainly, Darcy honey, but I really don’t think…” began Miss Georgia.

  “Here it is, Darcy,” Miss Carolina interrupted. “Now, be careful. Those old steps are rickety.”

  “I’ll say a prayer for you,” whispered Miss Georgia.

  I smiled at her, eased the cellar door open, and shone the light into the darkness below me. One by one, I descended the steps until I reached the stone floor of the basement. Beaming the light around the dark space, I spotted a huddled shape in one corner. The shape moved and whimpered.

  “Please, I’m sorry for trespassing,” said a feminine voice.

  A young woman, wrapped in a quilt, sat against the cellar wall. My light shone on long, dark hair, a white face, and large, frightened eyes.

  “Don’t be scared,” I said softly, going to her and offering my hand. “I’m Darcy Campbell and you are in my grandmother’s house. I believe I know who you are. Come on up and meet the rest of us.”

  Chapter 32

  Melanie Hughes sat at the Jenkins dining table, clutching Pat’s quilt around her shoulders, shaking. She looked much the same as the photograph I had seen in Tyler, only more like a scared child instead of the confident teenager in the picture.

  Miss Georgia brought out her seldom-used coffee pot, and soon each of us cradled a warm cup. We tried not to stare at the young, frightened girl sitting with us.

  I waited until she had finished half of her coffee before voicing what was uppermost in my mind.

  “How long have you been in that basement?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe a week. Jasper thought it was probably a week,” she said, her teeth chattering.

  “Jasper?” Mom asked. “Has Jasper been helping you?”

  A shaky smile lit her face. “Oh, yes. I don’t know what I would have done without Jasper. He brought food, this quilt.”

  Miss Carolina shook her head. “To think you’ve been right here in our house and we didn’t know it. Why didn’t you just knock on our door? Why hide out in that cold basement? Why, it’s a wonder you didn’t catch your death.”

  “I noticed a few pieces of furniture down there,” I said. “Did Jasper, by chance, find them in the carriage house?”

  “Yes, he did,” Melanie said, swallowing more coffee. “I’m sorry about using them. It wasn’t exactly stealing, you know.”

  Slipping around the table, Miss Kitty ignored all our laps until she got to Melanie. Leaping up, she snuggled against Melanie, who automatically dropped a hand onto the old cat’s head. So, Miss Kitty probably had known Melanie’s whereabouts all this time and became acquainted with her while the twins were asleep or out of the house.

  A thumping below us jerked our heads in the direction of the basement. Footsteps thundered up the steps and the door beside the pantry banged open. Jasper, wild-eyed and disheveled, stood in the kitchen glaring at us.

  “Why don’t you just let her alone?” he bellowed. “She ain’t done nothin’ wrong. She’s scared, can’t you see that?”

  Mom went to Jasper and put her hand on his arm.

  “Of course we see, Jasper, and you have been helping her the best you knew how. You came through the window downstairs, didn’t you? Come sit down and I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.”

  Between Jasper and Melanie, we soon heard her pitiful story. Yes, she had run away from home, and she had not heard about her father’s death. Nor did she know her brother was in Levi, hunting for her. She was at the end of her small horde of money and not feeling well when she reached town. Jasper found her in the Jenkinses’ carriage house, but he was afraid she would be discovered there. He suggested the basement and tried to fix it up to be comfortable for her.

  “But why did you feel you had to hide?” Miss Georgia asked. “Why didn’t you just tell us your story? You could have stayed right here in a room upstairs instead of stuck away in that musty old basement.”

  A tear slid out of the corner of
Melanie’s eye and she wiped it away with the back of her hand.

  “I didn’t know my father had died. I didn’t want to be sent back to him. He told me I had disgraced the family. He said I belonged in some sort of group home for unwed mothers.”

  Jasper shook his head and my eyes grew misty too.

  “Have you seen Trace?” I asked.

  “No. Isn’t he here in Levi? You said he was here looking for me. I didn’t know. I just didn’t want to face him or…or anybody.”

  Patting her hand, I said, “I’m sure he is here somewhere. We haven’t seen him for a few days. He will be relieved to know you are safe.”

  Melanie pushed back her chair.

  “Thank you for the coffee, the food, and the use of your basement. I’ll go now.”

  “And where will you go, young lady?” Mom asked.

  “I…I don’t know. Somewhere.”

  Miss Georgia got up, went to Melanie, and placed her hands on the young girl’s shoulders.

  “You most certainly are not going anywhere. If you are not going to think about yourself, think about your baby. This old house is too big for my sister and me. We’ve got rooms upstairs just waiting to be lived in again. You are going to stay right here with us and let us take care of you.”

  Mom, Jasper and I stared at Miss Georgia. Miss Carolina smiled and nodded. Melanie looked up at Miss Georgia with something close to reverence. Slowly, she took the old, wrinkled hand that rested on her shoulder.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “You are very good.”

  Jasper grinned from ear to ear. “Didn’t I tell you?” he said. “Didn’t I tell you these ladies are the best in the world?”

  Drawing a deep breath, I shook my head. Never would I have imagined one of our mysteries would be solved in this way. Nobody but God could have planned such an ending.

  Chapter 33

  “Me? Level-headed?” Amy laughed. “This is the first time I’ve been accused of that.”

  I laughed too, but it was true. Amy Smith Miller might come up with some zany ideas, like the ghost walk the night of our housewarming, but in between those times, she was a pretty straight thinker.