The Grave Tender Page 3

  Cooper fished his inhaler out of his pocket and sucked in two quick puffs, then quickly put it away.

  “What are you guys doing?” he asked, once his breathing had calmed.

  “You ran all the way over here to ask us that?” Jude said.

  “Yep.”

  Hadley looked at Sam again, but he just shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

  “We’re going down by the river. Hadley’s going to paint. It’ll be boring,” Jude replied, dismissing the boys and turning toward the path into the trees.

  “You’re not afraid old meat face is going to get you?” Cooper asked.

  “Don’t call him that,” Hadley said, the reply automatic.

  Cooper shrugged. “Sorry,” he said. He didn’t sound sorry.

  “But aren’t you?”

  She was. That’s why she’d forced Jude to come along.

  “Nah,” Hadley said. “He stays over on the other side of his cabin.”

  Eli wandered wherever he liked.

  “We’ll come too.”

  “We will?” Sam asked.

  “Suit yourself,” Hadley said, pretending indifference.

  Four was safer than two.

  …

  “… then the fisherman’s wife demanded he go back to the river, catch the golden fish again, and wish that she would be the Queen of everything she could see, including the river, so she could rule over the golden fish.”

  Hadley listened with half an ear. She’d heard the story before. It was one of Dr. Monroe’s.

  “But the golden fish was tired of granting wishes for the greedy old woman, so instead he turned her palace back into a shack and her fancy clothes back into rags. “Enough is enough,” he said, and with a swish of his golden tail, he was gone.”

  “Why didn’t the fisherman wish for something for himself?” Cooper asked. Jude and the two boys were chucking rocks into the river, its waters lazy in the heat. It was a pretty spot, where the trees stood back and let the sun shine in. There were no carvings here.

  “Don’t know,” Jude said.

  “Cause he loved his wife, I guess,” Hadley added, finishing up her sketch. She’d add the paint at home.

  “I’d have wished for a different wife,” said Sam.

  “No way—“ Cooper said, but Sam cut him off.

  “Shh. You guys hear that?”

  They stilled. At first, Hadley didn’t hear anything save the water rolling by and the leaves doing their dance in the wind. Then, there it was. The faint, but unmistakable crunch, slide of a shovel.

  It was coming from somewhere inside the shadowy thicket of trees farther up the river. Somewhere in the direction of Eli Dixon’s shack.

  “Come on, let’s go see,” Cooper whispered.

  Jude shook her head. “I’m not going in there.”

  “What’s the matter? You scared?” Cooper’s eyes had taken on the familiar shine of a trouble maker.

  “Yeah, I am,” Jude said. “If you were smart, you’d be scared too.”

  “Stay here then, or go back,” Cooper said, without malice. “But I want to see.” And with a grin, he was off, moving toward the dense shade of the trees. Within seconds, he was gone.

  “He’s crazy,” Hadley said, with grudging admiration.

  “He’s an idiot,” Sam replied. “Come on, I’ll walk you guys up to the house, then come back and find him.”

  “No,” Hadley said, dumping her sketchbook and pencils in Jude’s arms. “I’ll go. Jude, you go back with Sam.”

  They were both shaking their heads no, but she stood her ground.

  “I know where I’m going. You don’t,” she said to Sam, then turned to follow Cooper.

  “You’re crazy too!” she heard Jude hiss softly behind her.

  She motioned for them to get going, then let the shadows fall around her as she stepped into the trees. The sound of a shovel bit into the earth somewhere up ahead.

  …

  When she found Cooper he was belly down, peering through a brushy clump of undergrowth, his bright strawberry blonde head a beacon, even in the shadows. She tried to stay quiet as she made her way toward him, but leaves rustled under her feet. He turned and held an urgent finger to his lips when a twig snapped.

  Hadley wondered that he couldn’t hear the drum beat in her chest as she scrambled down next to him. He pointed up ahead and mouthed, “Look.”

  She peered through the brush. Eli’s shack could barely be made out in the distance. You could hardly call it a home. It balanced precariously on cinderblocks, tilting slightly to one side, like an old drunk who’s given up the fight.

  Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, but she still had to follow her ears to see what Cooper was gesturing at. The crunch, slide of the shovel was louder here, within the walls of the trees surrounding them. Hadley shivered at the sound.

  Cooper leaned in to whisper, “Thanks for not tossing me in it with Gilmore.”

  She stared at him, open mouthed.

  “Another mark, he’ll suspend me. That was cool. You’re pretty cool… for a girl,” he added.

  Up ahead, Eli slid his shovel into the ground next to him and stopped to wipe his brow. Seeing him brought the stifling heat to the forefront of Hadley’s mind, and she had to fight the urge to wipe the sweat from her own face. Her nerve endings were singing, and she felt each drop as they trickled down her neck.

  As the pair watched, Hadley’s uncle leaned down and picked up a bundle, then knelt and placed the bundle into the hole he’d been digging. He took up the shovel again and threw a mound of dark earth back into the hole. They could hear the dirt spatter across whatever it was he’d placed down there.

  Two pairs of wide eyes met. Cooper whispered, “It’s a grave!”

  “I know you’re there,” came Eli’s voice, cutting across the distance between them.

  He didn’t pause as he continued to shovel dirt into the waiting hole, covering the bundle below.

  But Hadley and Cooper didn’t see that. They were running, as fast and as far as the blood pumping in their veins would take them.

  …

  Hadley found her grandmother in the barn, with a carousel horse set into the pedestal by her work table. This one had an empty look to it while it pranced in place. The ones like that didn’t bother Hadley so much.

  It was the others, with their manes and tails flying behind them, even without the wind. The ones with the bit caught in their teeth and determination on their faces that got to her.

  Like they knew they were destined to run on the same track forever, up, down, and around. Stuck in a loop while laughing children walked away with cotton candy and a future.

  “Gran, what happened to the dog?” Hadley asked.

  Alva’s hands stalled, then she put down the brush she’d been using to clean the decades of grime from the creases in the horse’s saddle.

  She looked over the top of her glasses at Hadley.

  “Your father didn’t tell you?” she asked.

  Hadley shook her head.

  “She didn’t make it, hon.”

  Alva watched, waiting. But Hadley only nodded.

  “Okay,” was all she said. Hadley turned away, leaving her grandmother to the care of the pretend horse that didn’t know enough to know it wasn’t real.

  7

  Thursday

  “I’m concerned, Walker. Her grip on reality has always been shaky, at best, but this…” Dr. Monroe’s voice was low as he and Walker crossed the porch, but he changed tack entirely when he caught sight of Hadley with her paints and easel set up at the far corner of the wraparound.

  “Hey there, Hadley bean. You doing okay today?”

  “Yes sir, Dr. Monroe.”

  “You sure? There’s a mean virus going around. Serious, too. The way I hear it, it can turn skinny little white girls into heavy weight champs, just like that,” he said with a snap of his fingers. “You’re positive you’re not coming down with any symptoms?”

 
Hadley shook her head, sheepishly casting a glance at her father, but he looked troubled and distant.

  “Okay, if you’re sure.” Dr. Monroe continued down the porch steps, and Walker walked him to his car. Hadley watched the two men shake hands, but she could make out little of what they said.

  “…needs to be soon… few days at most… sorry, Walker.”

  Then Dr. Monroe was gone.

  “What’s the matter, Daddy?” Hadley asked when he got back to the house, walking slowly with his hands deep in his pockets.

  “Nothing, baby,” he said. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  He tried to give her a smile, but gave up and headed inside, closing the screen door gently, so for once it didn’t slam.

  All Hadley could do was watch him go.

  …

  “Heard on the radio today there’s a storm coming up the Gulf.”

  “Hmm.” Walker stared at the ice in his glass.

  Alva cast a glance at her youngest son. “Hadley, hon, can you take this tray up to your mama, then wash up. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

  “Sure, Gran.”

  Hadley knew when she was being gotten rid of. She took the tray up, making plenty of noise on the stairs so Gran would feel free to speak her mind.

  After what little she’d heard Dr. Monroe say earlier, and her daddy’s reaction to it, she was surprised to find Winnie looking fit and hearty. She set the tray on the bedside table, noticing the pink in the older woman’s cheeks.

  “You feeling all right, Mama?” Hadley asked.

  “Oh yes, baby. I’m fine as a fat kettle of fish. Just a little tired. The doctor thinks I’m overdoing it. The man doesn’t understand show business at all.”

  Hadley smiled back at her mother. Try as she might, she couldn’t see any new cause for concern. Winnie had even put on a little more weight.

  “I’ll let you rest then, but be sure and eat something or Gran will be on both our cases.”

  On her way down the stairs, Hadley tread lightly, stepping over the creaky third step completely, as she made her way back to the kitchen.

  “Oh, Walker. Not again.”

  “Win doesn’t get it. She pretended like Joe had told her the weather was just fine today.”

  “But— Why don’t I take stock of our supplies. You can pick up anything we might need in town tomorrow. They’re saying that storm might still turn down the coast, but no point in taking chances.”

  She must have given herself away. Or Gran had a sixth sense about eavesdroppers. Hadley went on into the kitchen. She wouldn’t learn anything else tonight.

  Hadley stood there and looked from her grandmother to her father, daring them to meet her eyes, but Gran had turned to the dishes in the sink.

  “Sure, Mama,” Walker said quietly. “Whatever you need.” He rose and left the kitchen through the back door.

  He never glanced in his daughter’s direction.

  8

  Friday

  “You kids sure you’re going to be okay out there all alone?”

  Charlotte Abbott was packing sandwiches and snacks in a small basket. Her hair, the same strawberry shade as her son’s, was pulled up in a messy top knot, shining like the silver bracelets she wore around her wrists.

  Hadley and Jude had never been inside the Abbott home. Hadley found herself enchanted, if a bit overwhelmed, by the sheer amount of color that surrounded them. There were vibrant paintings on the walls. Walls that were also painted in various shades. Throw pillows of deep oranges and midnight blues nestled in the corners of the sofa.

  The kitchen was bright yellow, with touches of red peeking out. A ceramic cookie jar in the shape of an apple. The little line of trim on the bottom of white curtains dotted with small red cherries.

  There was no apparent rhyme or reason to it, and yet, it all came together in a warm, welcoming mess.

  Hadley thought of Gran’s kitchen, with its wallpaper roses that had faded nearly away, and the butcher block counters that were bleached and smooth from generations of wear. It was old, worn, but just as inviting, in a different way.

  “Mom, stop worrying. We’ll be right across the road,” Cooper said.

  “Telling your mother not to worry about you is an exercise in futility, son. You’d have better luck convincing the sun not to rise.”

  While Charlotte bustled about with an energy that was only slightly more contained than Cooper’s, Dan Abbott sat reading his newspaper, a quiet presence in the midst of his family.

  “If you get scared, you can always come back here. I could make some popcorn and you guys could watch movies and stay up as late as you like,” Charlotte said. The idea was appealing to Hadley, who liked this place, liked these people.

  “Mom, I’m almost eleven. I’m not afraid of the dark.”

  “You’re not afraid of anything. Why do you think I worry so much?”

  “We’ll keep him out of trouble, Mrs. Abbott,” Jude said.

  A snort came from behind the newspaper.

  “We’ll try, anyway,” Hadley added.

  “And if the weather gets bad—“

  “Mom, the storm’s not coming in until Sunday. The radio said so.”

  “Okay, but—“

  “Mom, we gotta go. Sam’s meeting us to set up the tent.”

  With a sigh, Charlotte gave in and handed over the basket of food.

  “Fine, then. I give up.” She landed a kiss on Cooper’s cheek.

  “Finally,” he said, but he was smiling.

  “Have a good time!” she called, as the three kids made their getaway.

  “Sorry, my mom’s weird.”

  “I think she’s great,” Hadley said, oddly defensive of the woman she’d just met.

  “It’s because you’re an only child,” Jude told Cooper. “My mom has five. She’s too busy to fuss.”

  Hadley was an only child. She thought of her own mother, then pushed that away.

  “Race you,” she said.

  …

  “Does that thing work?” Cooper asked, dropping an armful of sticks and pointing to the vintage carousel that sat next to the Dixon barn.

  Dusk was settling in. The setting sun glinted off the faded grandeur of the old amusement park ride.

  “Not really,” Hadley said. “The lights and music come on, but it doesn’t move. Dad’s waiting on some parts to come in.”

  “Let’s go see,” Cooper said.

  Hadley started to call him back, but stopped. He couldn’t hurt the thing.

  “Is it okay?” Sam asked, dropping more sticks onto the pile.

  “Yeah, I guess, but it’s not that interesting,” she said with a shrug.

  “Are you kidding me?” Sam said. “Come on, Jude, let’s go check it out.”

  Hadley trailed her friends across the field to the broken down carousel. She watched their faces light up as they climbed on the platform to get a closer look at the animals, half horses, and half an odd menagerie. There was a lion that would forever be chasing the zebra positioned in front of it.

  Hadley didn’t share their enthusiasm, but she couldn’t help but smile at their laughter as Sam put his face next to the roaring lion and imitated its fierce expression. Even Jude looked excited. But then, she’d always been fascinated by Alva’s animals, as Hadley thought of them.

  It started before Hadley was born, when her dad was a kid. Coming back from Cordelia one day, on one of the lonely country roads that crisscrossed the county, there it was.

  It was in sections, according to the story Hadley’d heard, the horses strewn upon the ground like they’d died in battle. No one knew how it came to be there. Hadley sometimes wondered if it had dropped from the sky.

  But Alva looked at those piles of rusted parts, full of gears and neglect, and she saw beauty peeking through.

  They drug it home, section by section, Alva and her boys. And then they set to restoring it. To what end, no one could really say. Simply because Alva wanted to, Hadley s
upposed.

  Her grandmother worked on that carousel for eight years before it was done, though she never did figure out where it had come from.

  By the time Hadley came along, that first carousel was set up at the park in Whitewood. Alva had donated it to the town.

  “Wasn’t mine in the first place,” she said. “Be a shame to keep it hidden out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  Since then, every generation of kids around there had ridden on the backs of those wooden horses Alva had so painstakingly brought back to life.

  Word got around. The animals came in piecemeal sometimes. Shipped from across the country. Some for restoration or repair, some Alva bought and paid for, just because.

  The carousel Hadley’s friends were climbing around on was the third full unit her grandmother had taken in.

  “You kids want to see it light up?” Alva called from the front porch. A chorus of yes ma’am’s greeted that, and her grandmother laughed.

  It took a few minutes, but once Alva got the lights and the band organ music going, Hadley could almost see the appeal.

  Jude, Sam, and Cooper climbed on the animals, choosing favorites, changing their minds, and clowning around. Alva smiled at them with a similar sort of joy.

  Cooper, especially, seemed charmed by the vintage ride. Climbing up on the back of the lion, he stood shouting orders to the others. A pirate captain under siege. A safari king of the bush.

  He’s too big for this place, Hadley thought, standing to the side. Whitewood can’t hold him forever.

  The carnival music brought Walker to the door of the barn. He watched, but didn’t come any closer. Hadley waved to him, but he must not have seen her.

  The sun was dropping below the horizon, the dark coming on. Everywhere but the carousel and the kids playing on it. They were spotlighted on a darkening stage, stars of their own show.