by SL Harris
“Dad, we brought lunch,” she yelled.
He turned at the sound of her voice, spying them immediately and smiling a warm welcome. He wiped his hand on his pant leg again as he walked toward them, reaching his hand out to Olivia before Rebecca could introduce her. “You must be Olivia,” he said with a slight country drawl. “I’m Willie, Rebecca’s dad.”
Olivia smiled and took his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Wilcox.”
“No. Call me Willie or Dad, please. Don’t make me feel any older than I already do.” He placed his hand over Rebecca’s ball cap and turned it sideways. “This one already makes me feel old. Seems like yesterday she was climbing up my leg trying to steal the change out of my pants pockets. Now look at her.”
Rebecca thought about just pulling the ball cap down over her face instead of straightening it on her head. “Dad,” she warned and he smiled mischievously.
“Bec, run out and flag down your Uncle Jim while Olivia and I talk.”
She thought about protesting but finally decided she and Olivia would be able to leave more quickly if she just did what he asked.
Her Uncle Jim was at the back side of the pasture and had just headed the tractor toward her. She ran toward him waving her arm to get his attention. When he was about fifty yards away, he slowed and she heard him shut down the bush hog to avoid throwing dangerous broken pieces of trees or rocks at her as he pulled alongside. She quickly stepped up onto the tractor beside him and sat on the fender for the short trip to the truck.
Her Uncle Jim shared her father’s blue eyes and tall, thin frame, but his curly brown hair, so different from her father’s thick and graying straight hair, guaranteed that one would never be mistaken for the other. Rebecca leapt down from the tractor as soon as it stopped and introduced Olivia to her Uncle Jim. She shot her father a questioning look as they greeted each other, wondering what he had said while she was gone but he smiled innocently at her, worrying her even more.
The men were hungry and were glad to get the sandwiches and tea. “What are you girls up to this afternoon?” Willie asked, between bites of chicken salad. He tapped his index finger on the bill of Rebecca’s cap. “You aren’t planning on going deer hunting, are you?”
“No, just showing Olivia around some,” Rebecca replied. “The caps were Mom’s idea.”
“Showing her the highlights of the big city of Springtown, Bec?” he said, jokingly.
“I thought about leaving the car here for a few minutes and walking over to show her Peacock Cemetery. It wouldn’t be a full tour of town if I didn’t show her our haunted graveyard, would it?”
The men both laughed at this, then spent the next few minutes trying to outdo each other with ghost stories they had heard associated with Peacock Cemetery. Rebecca had heard the stories all her life and didn’t believe a word of them. Olivia seemed interested but Rebecca wasn’t sure if she actually believed them or just enjoyed listening to their storytelling. If there was one thing her dad’s family was good at, it would be telling a tall tale. She had learned years ago to look for a certain twinkle in the eye that none of them could disguise when they were getting windy. She could see both sets of blue eyes twinkling that afternoon.
Finally they finished their sandwiches and handed the bag and empty tea jug to Rebecca. Rebecca remembered to remind her dad about the early supper then she and Olivia headed back to the Buick to stow the remnants of lunch. Rebecca pointed to a grove of trees across the field on the opposite side of Uncle Jim’s house. “Peacock Cemetery is just beyond that stand of trees there. Are you up to walking a little more?”
“Sure,” Olivia said. “Especially if it means going to a haunted graveyard.” She laughed as she said this then continued in a more serious tone. “All those stories about people seeing a woman wandering the area looking for her lost baby really makes you wonder, though. Who knows what might have happened a century ago?”
Rebecca held the middle two wires apart so Olivia could step through the fence into the pasture. She showed Olivia how to hold the top wire up as she pushed down the second wire and also stepped through. On the way across the pasture, Rebecca explained, “Well, I’m not really sure I believe all those ghost stories. Some people say it’s haunted but people say lots of things I don’t necessarily believe. Dad and Uncle Jim are a couple of storytellers, too. I definitely take every story they tell with a grain of salt.”
“I noticed how much they enjoyed it,” Olivia noted. “If they’re having that much fun with the telling of it, it makes you wonder how much they embellish it.”
“Probably quite a bit, knowing those two,” Rebecca admitted. “I wanted you to see Peacock Cemetery for a different reason, though.”
Now she really had Olivia’s interest. “I’m not sure what could be more interesting in a cemetery than a ghost but I’m all ears,” she said.
“You don’t look all ears,” Rebecca joked then noticed as she said it that, no, Olivia definitely did NOT look all ears. She actually looked all curves and Rebecca appreciated the smooth rounding of her hips and breasts, so different from her own thin, lanky frame.
Rebecca hadn’t noticed she had stopped walking while she appraised Olivia from head to toe until Olivia broke the spell and said, “I’m glad you noticed.” Then she smiled that funny little smile and resumed walking toward the cemetery, leaving Rebecca to try to stem the hot blush which had rushed to her cheeks.
What is going on with me? When did I start cruising girls?
As she caught up to Olivia again, Rebecca found it difficult to look at her, instead looking everywhere else. She heard Olivia chuckle slightly and felt the blush start again. Finally, she was able to restore enough control to finish her original thoughts on the cemetery.
“The research I’ve been doing at the Genealogical Society and library is because of something I saw at Peacock Cemetery.”
They had arrived at the old fence surrounding the cemetery and Rebecca opened the rickety gate and bowed slightly to usher Olivia through. Rebecca led her cautiously through the weeds until they stood before Mary Farthing’s headstone. She told her about the newly overturned dirt she had found in front of the headstone two weeks previous. The dirt had packed again due to recent rains but no grass grew there yet, so she could easily see where the digging had occurred.
“I know this isn’t as interesting or as important as your mystery,” she said. “But nothing out of the ordinary ever happens around here so something like this seemed like a big deal to me.”
“I think it’s very interesting,” Olivia countered. “Have you thought about digging down to see what’s there?”
“No!” Rebecca almost shouted. “I don’t know what part of that bothers me more, digging over someone’s grave, or whatever it is we might find. Besides, Dad always said to be careful around old graves, there’s a chance they could fall in if you walk over them.”
“Okay, okay,” Olivia laughed, putting her hand on Rebecca’s arm to calm her down. “We don’t have to dig. I’m sure there’s more than one way to figure it out. What have you found out so far?”
Rebecca told her how Mary had moved to St. Louis several years before she died and of the secrecy surrounding her death. She hadn’t been able to find any relatives in the area despite all her research. They looked closely at the other markers in the cemetery but garnered no new clues.
“Why does your dad think you would fall in a grave if you walk over it?” Olivia asked, stepping carefully around where she thought each coffin would be buried.
“They used to not put those concrete vaults in the ground to put the coffins into so over the years the wooden coffins would rot and the ground would settle and become soft at the top. I guess people would sink down into the dirt some if they walked over one in that condition. I’ve never seen it happen but I’ve always been told about it,” Rebecca explained.
“Do you spend a lot of time in cemeteries then?” Olivia teased.
“Well, actually, more t
han you might think. In the summer, about once a month, Dad and I mow the family cemetery on the other side of town. Every Memorial Day, we have a family picnic at the old log church at the family cemetery grounds and about a month before that we have a work day and different members of the extended family show up to do upkeep on the old church and keep things repaired. I’ve also been to probably twenty or more funerals in my life.”
“You’ve got to be kidding—twenty funerals?”
“Yeah, at least. I don’t know, maybe more. I didn’t really keep count, you know.” Rebecca was surprised by Olivia’s reaction. “Does that seem strange to you?”
“Yes,” Olivia answered definitively. “I have been to a total of three funerals and I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone our age who has been to nearly as many as you. Is this a secret hobby of yours or something? Is there some strange morbid side to you I need to know about?”
Rebecca laughed. “It’s really not that unusual around here. Everyone in a small town knows everyone else. So every time anyone dies, almost the whole community either goes to the visitation, the funeral, the cemetery, or some combination of the three. Everyone stands around and visits with everyone else and if the deceased is from a large family like my dad’s, it can be like a family reunion, especially when we all get together for the dinner afterward.” Rebecca realized it was probably hard for someone from a big city with a scattered family to comprehend the local culture surrounding funerals.
“That sounds nice, in a way. I mean, if you could call a funeral nice, that is. It sounds like everyone kind of sticks together to get through the grief. That sure beats trying to handle it alone. I remember when my Gran died. I was about ten and I felt so isolated. Everyone sat quietly like they were afraid to talk. After the memorial service ended, everyone just went home like nothing had happened. Nobody talked about anything and I remember how confusing it was to me.”
“That sounds like it must have been hard on you, just being a kid and all.”
“I think I’d like your way a lot better.”
Rebecca remembered Grandma’s explanation about the circumstances around Mary Farthing’s funeral. “Grandma said there was a lot of secrecy surrounding Mary’s death. She died in the city and they brought her back to bury her close to their home. I got the feeling it wasn’t a typical funeral for this area, either. I wonder why?”
“Maybe it’s been Mary’s ghost everyone has seen all of these years and the ghost did the digging,” Olivia suggested in a teasing manner, changing the tone of their conversation.
“I think that’s highly unlikely,” Rebecca responded in a manner indicating her doubt in the presence of ghosts.
As they were leaving, Olivia asked, “Where does this little road go?”
“Oh, there’s an old farmhouse up there.” Rebecca had a sudden thought. “Do you still have that picture with you, Olivia?”
“Sure, here in my coat pocket,” she said, pulling it out quickly.
Rebecca was already several steps ahead of her, hurrying up the small road. As she rounded a small bend to the abandoned, ramshackle farmhouse she eagerly turned and took the picture from Olivia. “I thought I recognized that house. This is it, I’m sure of it. This house used to look like that house in the picture.”
At first, Olivia looked at the decaying building doubtfully. The roof had partially collapsed into the second story and the porch roof curved down like a grotesque clown smile between the first and second stories. Some of the rusted tin from the roof lay scattered across the yard, and the faded plywood that had once boarded all the windows had been removed in places, probably by vandals. She had a hard time imagining the house as it must have once appeared. After studying the picture again, however, she became as convinced as Rebecca. The windows were in all the right places, the general outline was the same.
Olivia grabbed Rebecca in a quick hug and jumped up and down with her. “You did it, Bec! You found the house!”
Suddenly both stopped moving, straining to hear a distant sound. From back around the bend came a sound of women laughing. “Did you hear that?” Olivia asked.
“Yeah, come on.” Rebecca grabbed her hand and they dashed back along the route they had just taken. When they rounded the bend, they saw no evidence that anyone was there or had been there.
After looking around for a few more minutes, Rebecca walked back into the cemetery to look at Mary’s headstone. She said, “I think I did more than find the house, Olivia. You know, the Farthings lived in that house when the picture was taken. I’ve seen copies of the deeds. I may have found MJ for you.”
“Wow. I get it. You think MJ was Mary J. Farthing.” Olivia had walked up behind her to consider the stone again and looked and sounded shocked that they had linked so many things together. “So, who was Ralph?”
“I’m not sure.” Rebecca laughed. “You expect me to figure everything out for you? Do I look like Sherlock Holmes or something?”
Olivia donned a serious face and studied Rebecca from head to toe, causing Rebecca to blush hotly. “I would choose something to answer that question, and I don’t believe you are all ears, either.” She smiled that funny smile, turned before Rebecca could gather herself to respond, and headed back through the pasture toward Uncle Jim’s house.
Rebecca followed, not hurrying to catch up immediately but letting her thoughts catch up with all the light flirting that had taken place so far. She decided she was okay with the direction things were heading so she picked up her pace to finish walking quietly beside Olivia.
On the drive back to Rebecca’s house, they decided to look through their research again to see if they could find a link between MJ, Jane, or Ralph. They chose to combine their mysteries as one and the mood stayed light as they speculated wildly about how they could be linked. Olivia joked about getting a shovel and coming back to the graveyard at midnight. Rebecca told her she was crazy and if she fell into an old grave or was pushed into one by a ghost, it would serve her right. They entered Rebecca’s house still laughing and teasing each other.
“I didn’t realize your father and Uncle Jim were that amusing,” her mother chimed in, which added to the girls’ laughter. “And thank you for wearing your caps.”
This only made them laugh more. As soon as they were able to control their giggles, they filled her in on the events of the afternoon. They both brought their notebooks to the table and looked through them as Rebecca’s mother prepared supper. They had offered to help but she had shooed them away, telling them to work on their mystery instead. Although they were disappointed to not discover more clues in their papers, they still considered the afternoon a wonderful success.
Chapter Seven
Supper went quickly and Rebecca’s parents asked Olivia questions about her experiences growing up on and around army bases. She also explained more about her family in St. Louis.
“My great-grandma was Jane Smith. We always called her Gran. She was the oldest child from a large family, they’re all dead now. She died several years ago, at the age of ninety-nine. Smith was her maiden name, I guess she must have changed it back to Smith when my great-grandfather died. No one would ever talk about him, so I don’t even know what his name was. The Smiths were an influential family in the city at that time. One of Gran’s brothers was a banker, one was a doctor, her father was a judge. Gran lived with her parents while she raised my grandmother. Grandmama was her only child.”
“Did you ever live with your Gran or Grandmama?” Beth asked.
“When we were little and my dad would deploy, Mom would move us, my two older brothers and me, to stay with one of Gran’s younger brothers or sisters. They were all pretty old then, so we would have to play quietly and be on our best behavior. We were always glad when he was stationed stateside. Gran lived with Grandmama then. I don’t know why but we never stayed with them.”
“Sounds like you had to grow up pretty quick,” Beth observed.
“I guess,” Olivia said. “But it w
as okay. I mean, Mom and Dad had to sacrifice too, when he went away. It was kind of like that was our part. We were a team.”
Rebecca and Olivia offered to clean up the kitchen after the meal, allowing Rebecca’s parents to shower and change clothes to attend the visitation in Rockford.
“Girls, have a good evening,” Rebecca’s mother said as they left. “Olivia, make yourself at home. We should be back around nine or so.”
“Bye,” they said in unison as they put the last of the dishes back into the cabinets.
Rebecca suddenly realized she was alone with Olivia and the nervousness she had been fighting all day returned in a flash. “So, would you like to watch some TV or a movie?” she offered in a somewhat croaky voice.
Olivia shot her a strange look but followed her silently to the living room where Rebecca indicated the stacks of movies under the TV. Olivia knelt on the floor and flipped through the DVDs quickly. “Do you have any favorites?” she asked.
“I like some of the older ones, like Beaches, Sleepless in Seattle or Fried Green Tomatoes,” Rebecca said. “But really, I’m not too picky.”
“Let’s watch Fried Green Tomatoes,” Olivia said, picking out the DVD from the stack. “Do you have popcorn?”
“I can do better than that. I have popcorn and cherry Coke,” Rebecca offered.
She hurried to the kitchen to put the popcorn in the microwave and returned with two tall glasses of cherry Coke, setting them on the coffee table. She showed Olivia how to get the movie started then returned to the kitchen for the popcorn. Just as the opening credits were rolling, she brought in a large bowl of popcorn and sat down next to Olivia on the sofa.
Rebecca was aware of her bad habit of stuffing herself with popcorn. She would catch herself shoving handful after handful into her mouth as if she were starving to death. Tonight, she was determined to control herself. After all, it was impolite and unattractive. Uh-oh! There went Rebecca’s thoughts, out of control again. So, now you’re worried about whether you are attractive or not. What is that supposed to mean?