Saturday morning, April 23
It was the sort of late spring day that promised a hot summer: brilliant sunshine, fluffy white clouds, just a slight breeze, and temperatures in the high 60′s already at 8:15 AM. It was peaceful in the sunroom and Kate gazed out into the parking lot with almost a fixed stare.
It’s too much trouble to dress and go out, but it sure does look nice outdoors, she was thinking, when the phone rang.
“Kate, are you busy? I’m sorry to be calling so early…”
Mattie was up early, mulling over what Jamie had related after his trip to the courthouse.
“No problem, Mattie, I’m just being lazy this morning.”
Kate turned away from the window and rested her coffee cup on the end table at her elbow.
“Kate, I went through the old legal papers I had all boxed up and I found the original deed. You know, Whit’s deed to the land after his father died. It has some directions, if you can call them that, to that little parcel where the grave site is. It’s actually dimensions from the property boundary lines, but they seem pretty straightforward to me.
“Elsie’s ‘all het up,’ I guess you could say, to help us find that grave. I was wondering if maybe we could all try our hand at finding it. I feel sure Jamie would be glad to lend a hand, after what he said the other day.”
“Until we know what’s going on, Mattie, I hesitate to do any exploring out there. Why don’t you and Elsie come over and we’ll do some brainstorming. If Jamie’s not tied up with something, maybe he’ll join us too. I’ll give him a call.”
* * *
But Jamie wasn’t home. He’d left his dorm room dressed in jeans, a plaid long sleeve shirt and old hiking boots. He’d brought along a 50-foot tape rule, work gloves and his Boy Scout compass. With his notes from the courthouse on the car seat, he was on his way to find the gravesite himself, if it could be found.
Jamie had not mentioned this idea to his mother. He understood very well that the land didn’t belong to the Elliotts any more. But if he arrived early, parked down the road from the hardware store and went into the woods that way, he could do it without being seen. The fewer questions he had to answer about what he was doing there, the better. He thought he knew where the property line was, and the corner iron stob was the first thing to locate. The dimensions from it to the restricted parcel could be easily measured from that.
The plan was working well, Jamie thought, as he locked his car door. Not a soul in sight. He’d found a place to drive into the trees without risking his car suspension or the paint job, such as it was. Walking back up to the road, Jamie got his bearings from the houses in the distance one way, the hardware store the other, and starting searching for the corner.
It didn’t take long to find. Taking out his metal rule, checking the compass and reviewing his notes one more time, he walked slowly into the trees.
Thirty minutes later Jamie figured he had to be close. The underbrush was thick and fallen limbs, briars and unsuspected ditches had interfered with keeping to a straight line. He had created a makeshift X every 50 feet out of dead branches. The measurements didn’t have to be exact, considering the dimensions of the little cemetery plot.
Why didn’t I bring a thermos of water, he asked himself, leaning against a pine tree and wiping the back of his neck. These woods haven’t been disturbed in quite a while. The ground was covered in a thick mixture of mildew, pine needles and rotted leaves.
Every now and then he saw a squirrel dart up a tree trunk, heard bird calls and other sounds. The cricket sounds had stopped earlier but there were indistinct rustling noises, and Jamie nervously thought about snakes. Or skunks.
“You can’t be serious…”
The high pitched, shrill words startled Jamie out of his reverie.
He turned his head, trying to determine which direction the sound emanated from. The words were repeated but the volume was fading, as if the speaker was moving away. He was relieved.
What on earth did that mean. Was it a woman’s voice? He couldn’t tell for sure. Trying to listen above the sound of his own pulse, Jamie could no longer hear the voice. I think I’ll get out of here.
He retraced his steps, stopping every couple of minutes to listen again. Back at the car, he stood there for another minute, listening, before he cranked up the engine.
