Buried Passions

by Andrew Grey

  I GOT up in the morning to find Chet crashed out on my sofa and a half bottle of vodka on the coffee table. Obviously Chet had imbibed after I’d gone to bed.

  I put the bottle away, leaving Chet alone. Then I hunted for my phone and grabbed the paperwork to retrieve the phone number.

  “Charles Laughtner,” a man answered.

  “This is Jonah Hughes. I received a letter about an inheritance from my uncle, Samuel James. I wasn’t very sure what time I should call and—”

  “It’s no problem at all. I’m glad you received the information,” he said, sounding genuine. “As I said in the letter, you are his primary beneficiary.”

  “Why me, Mr. Laughtner?” I asked. “I haven’t seen my uncle in ten years or so, and I don’t know why he would leave everything to me. There have to be people he loved and who were a part of his life.” It was totally confusing for me, and to tell the truth, I hoped Uncle Samuel had had people in his life he was close to. I hated the thought of him spending his life alone.

  “Call me Charles, please, and I have a letter that your uncle wrote you, as well as a list of items included in the estate, which include his home and car and money. Over the past few years, I worked with your uncle to simplify his estate as much as possible. I’d like for you to come to Carlisle so we can speak in person. Is that possible?”

  “I suppose I could rent a car.” I was still overwhelmed and thinking out loud, I guess.

  “You’re in New York, right? Just take the train to Harrisburg, and I can arrange to pick you up. Once you’re here, you’ll be able to drive your uncle’s car.” He paused, and papers shuffled in the background. “What sort of work do you do?”

  “I’m an actor on Broadway, but I can come tomorrow. The show I was in is closing tonight anyway.” I was at loose ends, so what did it matter if I made a trip to Pennsylvania to check out my inheritance? I could see what it was, make some decisions, sell what I needed to, and come back to New York. Charles said there was some money, so at least I wouldn’t be out anything.

  “Very good, then. Call me when you know which train you’ll be on, and I’ll come to meet you at the station. You can plan to stay in your uncle’s house. It’s quite nice.”

  “How did he die? Did he have a lot of friends? Was he alone?” I had a ton of questions, and some of them tumbled out.

  “Samuel died of a heart attack. His body was immediately cremated, and all arrangements have been made for his memorial service, which is on Monday. As for friends, he was a popular man in town and will be deeply missed by a lot of people,” Charles explained, sounding defensive. “Are you surprised?”

  “I’m pleased.” It was a relief to know Uncle Samuel was cared for. “I’ll call you as soon as I make the train arrangements.” I only had the one show to do and then I was free to leave town. “It will probably be later this morning.”

  We ended the call, and Chet groaned as he sat up on the sofa.

  “God, I am never doing that again.” He rubbed his eyes, and I grabbed him a bottle of cold water. Chet drank it down and stumbled into the bathroom, then returned and gathered his things. “What’s going on?”

  “I talked to the lawyer, and I have to go to Pennsylvania. So I figured I’d do the show tonight and then leave town tomorrow to see what’s up with this inheritance.” I yawned and sat down myself. “Go get cleaned up and pull yourself together. You look like hammered shit.” I was more than a little grateful that I’d stopped drinking last night. I knew the misery Chet was going through.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Chet asked.

  “It isn’t necessary. There’s probably a whole bunch of legal stuff, and I don’t know what I’m going to be walking into. I figure I’ll stay a couple days, make a plan, and go from there.” If a part opened up or there was a great opportunity, I was only a train ride away from the city.

  Chet looked most definitely relieved. “Then I’ll see you at the theater tonight.” He picked up his phone and checked the messages. “There’s a party after the show to say goodbye. You know how it will be. Everyone saying how good it was to work together and that they hope they get to do it again. After that, it will degenerate into a sloppy drunkfest.” He rubbed his hands together. “I can’t wait.”

  “You’re a sick man.” I unlocked the door, and Chet headed home. After closing the door again, I opened my laptop and went online to buy a train ticket and messaged Charles with the time I expected to get in. I showered and checked in with Payton. I explained where I was going to be, but that I’d be available by phone and would come back for interviews or auditions.

  “Good. There aren’t a lot of shows moving into production at the moment.” Payton was usually an optimist, so this kind of reaction was more than a little disconcerting. “I’ll find you some work. There are always the traveling shows, and I can look at booking you into the Fulton in Lancaster. They need talent and their runs are short, so you wouldn’t have to pass on any other offers that come in.”

  That wasn’t what I wanted, but I needed to work. “Thanks. Do what you can.” There was no use putting pressure on Payton; he always did his best for me. There had been times when he’d been a miracle worker, and I was counting on that now. Payton was one of the hardest-working, scrappiest, most incredible agents in New York today, and I was lucky to have him working with me.

  “I’ll be in touch. Don’t worry. Shows close all the time, and the beauty of it is that new shows open. It’s one of the best parts of Broadway. Go to Pennsylvania and see to things there. I’ll be watching out for you here.” Payton was not only a great agent, he was a good guy who didn’t play a bunch of games or treat me and the other actors he represented like interchangeable chattel. “And I’m sorry about your uncle. I really am.”

  “Thank you. I’ll talk to you soon.” I ended the call and made a list of the other things I needed to do.

  I SPENT the day making plans and getting ready. Then I went to the theater, did the show, and let Chet drag me to the closing party. It was just as he said, and underlying sadness permeated everything. I sat to the side, in a folding chair hauled out for the incredibly festive occasion, nursed a beer, and listened to one of my fellow performers wallow in self-pity until I wanted to scream myself.

  “It will be fine, Julie, you’ll see.” I patted her shoulder and hugged her, looking over her shoulder for Chet, because as soon as I could disengage, I was going to go home. I understood being upset about the show closing, but….

  I stiffened and swallowed as Julie demonstrated that she didn’t really seem to care that I was definitely gay.

  “Have you ever tried it with a girl?” She lifted her gaze. “I could rock your world.”

  “No, Julie. I’m flattered, but no thank you.” I lifted her hand off my dick and untangled her arms from around me. She’d had too much to drink, and I was going to keep my cool. I stepped away and finally saw Chet, his arm draped around the shoulder of Marcus, one of the chorus dancers with a butt you could bounce quarters off. Yeah, I had definitely noticed him, but you don’t shit where you eat, and you don’t date where you work. Apparently they had decided to console each other now that the show was done.

  Too bad Chet had seen him first.

  “Come on, Jonah, give me a spin,” Julie said as she got handsy once again.

  “No.”

  I’m a perfect Kinsey 6. I love women—adore them, in fact. They are amazing people, and I gravitate toward and seek out their company all the time. I’m more comfortable with women than I am with other men, as a general rule. But I am not interested in sex with women… in any way.

  I have traveled with women and even roomed with one during a road gig years ago. Jeanine and I are still friends, but when she and I shared a hotel room, we had one rule: no naughty parts. I didn’t want to see hers and she didn’t want to see mine. So, please, no parading in things that go under clothes. I didn’t run around in my boxers or even go shirtless.

  I hurried to Chet, c
ock-blocking the guy, but at this point, my need to get away from the octopus lady outweighed his desires. “I need to go.” I turned to where Julie was making her way over.

  Marcus stepped closer to Chet. “That woman is a menace.”

  “You too?”

  “She thinks it’s her mission to turn every gay man straight.” He turned to Chet. “Let’s get out of here. I could use some real food, and we’re going to need our energy for later.” He probably growled, I don’t know.

  Julie was approaching, so I headed for the door. Chet and Marcus, thankfully, were right behind me, and we grabbed our things and walked out of the theater for the final time.

  There was a late-night diner a few blocks over, where we headed. We slid into a booth, and the server handed us menus.

  “What time do you leave?”

  I yawned, already trying to stay awake. “My train is at ten from Penn Station.” I was surprisingly hungry and ordered a roast beef sandwich.

  When the food arrived, I ate quietly. Marcus and Chet seemed more interested in each other, which was fine. I paid my bill, told the two guys good night, and hailed a cab to take me home, where I pretty much dropped into bed.

  I MANAGED to get up and to the train station on time, settled into my Amtrak seat, and dozed off for most of the trip. The last few days had been completely draining, and I needed to rest. When I exited the station in Harrisburg, I looked both ways.

  “Mr. Hughes?” a man asked. “Charles Laughtner.” He shook my hand and motioned to his large black sedan. “It’s good to meet you.”

  “Same here.” I stowed my luggage in the trunk, climbed into the car, and sank into the luxurious seats.

  “I thought I’d take you back to my office to start with. We can review the estate, and I’ll show you the various properties along the way. How you been to Carlisle before?”

  “Not that I remember. We might have visited when I was a kid, but mostly my mother and uncle weren’t on speaking terms.” I watched as a sea of green passed outside the window. I was so used to concrete, glass, cement, and hordes of people that it took me a few minutes to adjust to the open space.

  Charles got off the freeway and drove through a business neighborhood and then into a quiet residential neighborhood. We passed a Giant grocery store and pulled off to the side of the road.

  “What’s going on?”

  Charles got out, and I followed.

  “Is this Uncle Samuel’s house…?” I looked around. There was a small park across the street and a path into the trees.

  “I’m afraid not. How much do you know about your uncle?” He turned to face me. “I suspect not very much. See, your uncle Samuel was respected and cared for. He knew every family in town and dealt with each and every person with a quiet, soothing dignity. It was how he was and what made him the best at what he did.”

  I scratched my head as Charles walked toward the path. The trees quickly gave way to an open space with freshly cut grass broken up by tombstones, grave markers, and mausoleums that had to date back a hundred years or more. “Are you taking me to where Uncle Samuel will be interred?”

  “No… well, yes, in a way, but no. Your uncle was a funeral director. He worked for the oldest funeral home in town, and some decades ago, purchased the business.” Charles paused, turning around. “Samuel handled the funerals for both my parents, and there was no one who could have helped us through the process more. He was understanding and caring without being false. Samuel knew how people grieved and understood what they needed. Your uncle was an amazing man. He retired a few years ago and sold the business… well, most of it.”

  A chill went up my spine. “Most….” I was seconds from racing back to the car and to the train station.

  “Yes. See, this is Ashford Cemetery, and your uncle owned it. He tried to sell it with the funeral home, but there were no buyers, so he sold the business to simplify the estate and had to keep the cemetery.”

  I found it hard to breathe, like all the oxygen had been pulled out of the air. “You’re telling me that my uncle left me a cemetery? This cemetery?” What the fuck was I supposed to do with a goddamn cemetery?

  “Yes. Parts of it date back to when the town was founded, in 1750, and it was apparently increased in the mid-1800s to the twelve or so acres it is today. Back then, this was beyond the edge of town by a good half mile, so it was a perfect place for a cemetery. When your uncle had the mortuary business, he sold plots here. There are still some that can be sold, as well as a trust fund for the care of the cemetery. Perpetual care and all that. But yes, this is part of the estate.”

  He sounded so damned reasonable, like I’d just inherited an office building or apartment complex. Not a cemetery.

  “Let me get this straight.” I was afraid to take a step in case the damn ground opened up and swallowed me whole. “You’re telling me that this is part of my inheritance…?” I didn’t know what else to say. I was shocked and scared all at once. What the hell would I do with a cemetery? “Oh my God.” I placed my hands on the sides of my head. “I own dead people.”

  Chapter 2

  “HE LEFT you what?” Chet asked once I had gotten to Uncle Samuel’s house late that afternoon and had the guts to call him. “Did I hear you right?” He was laughing so hard, I wanted to reach through the phone and throttle him.

  “My uncle left me his house, and it’s really nice. Bigger than I expected, and filled with antiques and art. That was something he obviously loved.” I walked from room to room, scared to touch most things, let alone sit down. “The car is a Lincoln—black, of course—but super nice, and apparently there is quite the nest egg. But in addition to all that, he left me a cemetery… with dead people.” I still couldn’t get over that. “I figured I’d come here, meet with some people to sell what I needed to, and then go back to New York. But what do I do with a cemetery? How do I sell it?”

  Chet hummed softly. “You need to find a ghoul estate agent.”

  I smiled, walking to the front door and stepping outside. I sat on one of the porch chairs, figuring it was safe and I wasn’t going to break anything. “Very funny. You’re a great big help, asshole. I’m serious. Uncle Samuel apparently tried to sell it and no one was interested. My lawyer said he offered it to the borough, but they turned it down, even with the trust for maintenance.” I scratched my head and wondered if I was developing hives or something. It would be just my luck.

  “Don’t you have to pay taxes on the property?” Chet asked. “I bet you do. Just don’t pay them. The property would be sold in a tax sale, and that will be the end of it. Either that or the borough would be forced to accept it. Problem solved.”

  “Except my credit would be fucked all to hell for seven damned years.” I leaned back in the comfortable wicker chair, sighing and closing my eyes. “It’s pretty here, and you should see this house. The yard is immaculate, and Uncle Samuel loved flowers.” Not that I knew a single thing about them. I was a city boy, and flowers belonged in pots. “Oh, there’s one more thing. A house on a lake in the Adirondacks. He used to go there every summer for a few weeks.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got it made.” Chet was still chuckling, and my fingers itched to do something mean to him. “Look, cemetery or not, he left you something pretty good. Find out what’s involved with running the stone garden. After all, if it isn’t a lot, just do it or hire someone to take care of it and move on.”

  He made it sound so simple. But somehow I didn’t think it was, or otherwise Uncle Samuel would have taken care of it already.

  “I wish it was that easy.”

  Chet groaned. “My God. Do you want some cheese with your whine?” He had this way of sounding completely put-upon. “Your uncle thought enough of you, for whatever reason, to leave you everything he’d gathered and built through his life, and you’re complaining about it.” Chet also sometimes had a way of cutting through my crap. “Make the best of it.”

  I fingered the letter Charles had given me from
my uncle, then set it on the wicker coffee table in front of me. I hadn’t had the courage to open it yet. Yeah, yeah, it sounded stupid, but I wasn’t ready just yet. “You know, you’re right.”

  “Of course I am. Now, I have to go. Marcus is coming over soon, and I’m making him dinner.”

  I nearly choked. “I thought you liked him.”

  “Okay.” Chet scoffed. “I bought some food and I’m heating it up. It’s the thought and effort that count. That and the fact that I don’t want to kill him.”

  I laughed. Chet was notorious for burning water. I wasn’t exaggerating. Once he tried to make pasta and boiled it dry. He wasn’t allowed to use the stove at all—his own words. “That’s a good idea.” I stood as the wind came up and the sun dimmed as clouds rolled past. “Go on and have fun on your date. I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up, grabbed the letter before it blew away, and went inside, closing and locking the door after me.

  My entire apartment would fit inside the living and dining room of this house. The kitchen was huge, and everything was grand and beautiful. I grabbed my bag as thunder rumbled in the distance. I climbed the stairs and found four bedrooms, with one set up as a television/media room. It was easy enough to figure out which one had been Uncle Samuel’s, and I left that one alone, choosing the guest room instead.

  It was beautiful, with a large wardrobe and dresser in dark wood. The bed was tall, dark, and as rich as anything I had ever seen. I put my clothes away as the storm grew. Lightning flashed, illuminating the windows, and thunder rumbled around the house, rattling the windows as it got closer.

  I went back downstairs, figuring I might as well see what was in the house to eat. I opened the largely empty refrigerator just as the lights went out. Rain beat at the windows, and I raised the blinds to see water running down the glass in sheets. There was nothing I could do but hunker down and wait for the storm to pass.