The Grave Tender Read online

  The spectacle brought another observer. One Hadley may not have noticed if her eyes hadn’t passed that way.

  Eli.

  He watched from the distance. No one saw him but Hadley.

  Even with the laughter all around her, a sliver of fear snaked its way up her spine.

  …

  “Hadley, I… I heard my mama and daddy talking last night,” Jude said, sitting cross legged next to her friend. They were seated near the ashes of the makeshift campfire they’d roasted marshmallows on earlier. It was late. The boys were asleep in their sleeping bags inside the old tent from the Dixon’s barn. When Hadley had crept out to sit under the stars, she’d thought Jude was sleeping too.

  They’d pitched the tent in the field next to Hadley’s house. The woods and the river were in the distance, and the carousel, but it was dark now, and quiet. A soft, yellow glow came from the porch light Gran had left burning.

  The kids had played at roughing it in the wilderness, a forgotten band of child gypsies left to make their way in the world, at least for a few hours. They’d been determined to wring every last drop of freedom from the night, but each of them was aware that parents lay in all directions.

  They were still young enough to be secretly comforted by that.

  “Yeah,” Hadley said, waiting for Jude to continue.

  “They didn’t know I was there. I’d gone to bed, but I got up to get a glass of milk, and their door was open.”

  It occurred to Hadley how much easier life would be if parents would tell kids things instead of making them sneak around.

  “They were talking about your mama.”

  Hadley sat up straighter.

  “What did they say?”

  Jude opened her mouth, but there was a noise behind them. Both girls turned to find Sam standing there.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to listen in, I swear. I couldn’t sleep. Cooper’s thrashing around in there, talking in his sleep. Something about wishes and fish.”

  “It’s okay,” Jude said. “We can talk about it another time.”

  “No,” Hadley said quickly. The wondering would drive her crazy.

  “I’ll just go back in the tent,” Sam said, embarrassed and turning to go.

  “That’s dumb.” Hadley was too impatient to be nice. “Just sit down. It’s no secret my mama’s crazy.”

  Sam hesitated a moment, then sat next to Jude in the damp grass.

  “Tell me,” Hadley said.

  “I didn’t really understand it all, but it sure sounded like… Hadley, is your mama gonna have a baby?”

  Whatever Hadley thought Jude might say, that wasn’t it.

  “A… a baby?” she stammered. “No… I mean, how could…?”

  “I know you know where babies come from,” Jude said. It would have been hard to not know, growing up in the country, in a farming town.

  “No, I mean, yeah… but… wouldn’t I know?”

  Jude shrugged. “My mom’d never be able to hide that huge belly she gets, but I guess it depends on how close her time is.”

  Hadley thought of the fullness she’d noticed on Winnie’s face, the blush in her cheeks. And the way she almost always wore a cotton nightgown that floated around her frame.

  With a start, Hadley realized she rarely saw her mama when she wasn’t seated at her vanity or tucked into bed. She sometimes saw her wandering down to the river, but always from the distance of her bedroom, with the darkness of the night between them.

  Jude and Sam were watching the emotions cross her face. There were plenty.

  “There’s something else, though,” Jude added with a frown. “I’m not sure, but it sounded like maybe this isn’t the first time.”

  Hadley shook her head, more confused than ever.

  “But… But then, where are the others?”

  Jude looked troubled.

  “The thing is… Well, I think maybe… Hadley, I think they died.”

  “What?” Hadley’s voice rose an octave. But Jude didn’t take it back.

  “I think they died, and maybe that’s what’s wrong with your mama’s head.”

  It was too much. She couldn’t take it in. And Jude and Sam were looking at her, waiting. Waiting for what, she wondered?

  Hadley shook her head. “I can’t… That’s just…” She trailed off.

  At a loss for words, she felt like a bug running from a magnifying glass.

  “You never asked what the fight was about,” Sam said suddenly, breaking the silence.

  Jude swung her head around, thrown off by the change of direction, but Hadley seized the lifeline with gratitude.

  “I asked Cooper, but he wouldn’t tell me,” she said. Her voice almost sounded normal.

  “He took my notebook.”

  There was a pause.

  “That’s it?” Jude said. “We figured he called your mama fat or something.”

  “Don’t call my mom fat.”

  “I didn’t call her fat. I never even met her. I just said Cooper could have called her fat.”

  “My mom’s not fat.”

  “Okay. You don’t have to get all twisted up about it. So your mom’s not fat.”

  “What’s so special about your notebook?” Hadley asked.

  “I… It’s private.”

  “Yeah, we figured that out,” Jude said. “You have to tell us now. You brought it up.”

  Sam looked around, like he wanted to make sure no one was going to overhear.

  “Spit it out,” Jude said. “It can’t be that bad.”

  With a sigh, Sam mumbled, “I write poetry.”

  “Poetry?” Jude asked loudly.

  “Shhh,” Sam said.

  “Why? Who’s going to hear us out here?” she said.

  Hadley felt a pang of sympathy at the look of pure embarrassment on Sam’s face.

  “I just… It’s private, and Coop’s my best friend, but he doesn’t really… get that.”

  Hadley could sympathize.

  “So tell us one of your poems,” Jude said.

  “No.”

  “Come on,” she badgered.

  “Uh huh. No way.”

  “I’ll tell you a poem, if you tell me one of yours.”

  “You don’t know any poetry.”

  “Sure I do.”

  Hadley stood up. “I’m going to sleep,” she said.

  The pair took no notice.

  “Twinkle, twinkle little star…” Jude intoned in a serious voice.

  “That doesn’t count…”

  Hadley smiled as she slipped into the tent, then into her sleeping bag with the two of them still sparring.

  But her smile faded as she lay there, the murmur of voices and occasional laughter floating in from the outside.

  Jude’s earlier words lay heavy. Had her friend handed her a clue to her mother’s troubled mind?

  Like a piece of sea glass washed up on a beach, Hadley examined it. She turned it over, looking at it from all angles. Light played through it, casting images. But as bright and beautiful as some of those images were, filled with the laughter and promise of a baby brother or sister… it had a sharp edge.

  Hadley ran her thumb, oh so gently, down that edge. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering what it was about a baby that Mama needed so badly. What would another child give her that she couldn’t find in her living, breathing daughter?

  Hadley knew she’d best put that thought away. If she lingered over it, it was bound to cut her.

  9

  Saturday morning

  They slept later than usual the next morning. The sun was well into the sky when their idyll came to an abrupt end. Eli Dixon opened the flap of the tent and stood over them, outlined by the morning sun.

  “Time to go now.”

  His voice was enormous in the enclosed space, shattering Hadley’s troubled dreams.

  “Go now,” he repeated, louder this time, his eyes red, his scarred face unshaven and menacing. The kids had bolt
ed upright in their sleeping bags and they huddled together, shaking in fear and shock.

  “Don’t come back,” he told them slowly, in case they had trouble understanding.

  “Never come back here.”

  Then he was gone.

  A stunned silence filled the space he’d left behind.

  “I told you it was a body!” Cooper said. Unbelievably, he was grinning.

  The others gaped at him.

  “Well, didn’t I? You can’t tell me that guy’s not some sick, wacko killer. Did you see those scars?”

  Hadley shook her head, irritated at Cooper’s excitement.

  “It was the dog,” she said, climbing out of the sleeping bag. “I told you, my Gran said the dog died. Eli was burying it.”

  She started gathering up the stuff scattered around the tent.

  “But that’s the perfect cover, don’t you see? He could say it was the dog, then chop up a kid and bury it in the grave.”

  Cooper’s hair stood on end, and he had a manic look in his eyes. Not so different from Eli.

  “I don’t care if it was the dog. He scares me, and I’m going home,” Jude said, as she started throwing her things into her sleeping bag faster even than Hadley was.

  “No, don’t you see—“

  “Cooper, cool it,” Sam said, his voice sharp.

  Surprisingly, he did.

  10

  Sunday Midmorning

  Tropical storm Jolene has been officially upgraded to a hurricane. Currently classified as a category two, and still growing, she’s expected to be a category four, by the time she makes landfall sometime late Sunday afternoon.

  With possible sustained winds of 130-140 miles per hour, and gusts which could reach even higher, residents of Cordelia and the surrounding areas are advised to take all necessary precautions.

  The mayor of Cordelia, Clemont Desmond had this to say:

  Right now, we’ve issued a voluntary evacuation. She’s a big one, folks. If you’ve got somewhere to go, I highly suggest you get there. For the knuckleheads that insist on riding it out, all I can say is, batten down the hatches. Tape and board up your windows. Secure everything that’s not nailed down. Stock up your shelves. Plenty of water and non-perishables.

  Expect and plan for power outages and downed trees. We’ll have ya’ll up and humming again as soon as we can, but in the meantime emergency services will be stretched to their limits, and then some.

  The Cordelia Convention center and the high school gym are setting up cots as we speak, so if you don’t feel safe where you are, come on and make yourself at home. The local churches and Red Cross are coordinating, but they’ve asked me to put the word out that additional volunteers are welcome at both shelters.

  We’ve seen storms before, and we’ll see storms again, but this one promises to be one we’ll remember, so please, folks, stay safe, and by God, be prepared. It’s going to be a rough one.

  That was Clemont Desmond, mayor of Cordelia in a statement made this morning…

  The voices from Gran’s old kitchen radio spoke in the background as Hadley helped Alva in the kitchen. They’d already stocked the pantry with cans and gallon jugs of water from the Twin Pines Grocery. Two of Gran’s big stock pots were simmering, one with gumbo, another with chicken and dumplings. Hadley was busy chopping green peppers and onion that stung her eyes for a third pot earmarked for chili.

  “Why are we making so much food, Gran?” The storm’s only supposed to last three of four days. This would feed us for a month.”

  “Because the power’s bound to be out for a while. What else are we going to do with all that meat in the freezer?” she said. “Besides, I’m going to take some of it down to the parish hall later. They’re gonna have plenty of mouths to feed.”

  “Why are people staying at the church, Gran? Why don’t they just stay in their houses like we are?”

  “Believe me, girl, if we lived in one of those trailers in the river bottoms, we’d be knocking on the church door right about now.”

  “But we’re right by the river too. What if it floods here?”

  “We’re on a high part of the county, Hadley. And you’ve seen how deep those banks are. If the Neches comes out of her banks here, it is truly the end of the world, and the rest of the town will be floating by shortly. I’ve never seen, nor even heard, of that happening, and this house has weathered many a storm. The bottoms, though, they’re on the other side of town, and they’re bound to flood. They always do.”

  “But if it always floods, why do people live there?” Hadley asked.

  “Because that’s all they can afford, Hadley. Not everybody had a great, great grandfather that built a big old sturdy farmhouse they can feel safe in.”

  Gran reached over and dotted flour on the end of her granddaughter’s nose.

  “Each of us receive different blessings to be grateful for, hon.”

  Hadley smiled and wiped the smudge off on her arm.

  “Waaaal-ker.” Winnie’s voice echoed through the house.

  Alva glanced upward with a frown.

  “And different burdens to bear,” she added quietly.

  “Daddy’s still taping up the windows,” Hadley said, glancing outside. The wind was already picking up a little. He’d be shutting and boarding over the shutters after that. He’d been acting oddly ever since Dr. Monroe’s visit.

  “I’ll go up and see what she needs,” Hadley said.

  “You’re a good girl, Hadley Dixon.”

  Hadley hopped off the wooden step stool, but turned back to Alva before she left.

  “Gran, can we send the gumbo to the church, and keep the chicken and dumplings?” She’d never cared for the burned, seafood-y flavor of gumbo.

  Alva sent her a smile.

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “Thanks, Gran!” she said and ran up the stairs to her mama.

  She found Winnie agitated, pacing her room with her hair disheveled down her back.

  Hadley snuck a glance at her belly. As was typical, Winnie was wearing another one of her voluminous cotton nightgowns. But now that she knew to look, she could see the way the gown didn’t fall straight down anymore, but came outward over her mother’s expanding middle.

  Why didn’t they tell me, she wondered, fighting back a surge of frustration. There’d be time for that later though.

  “What’s wrong, Mama?” Hadley asked in the calm, soothing tone she’d learned worked best when Winnie was upset.

  “Walker. I need Walker,” Winnie said, barely glancing at her daughter.

  Hadley was reminded of the tiger she’d seen at the circus last year. The big cat had had the same desperate, searching eyes, like if she looked hard enough, fast enough, she’d find the exit she knew was there somewhere.

  “Daddy’s outside, Mama. Getting ready for the storm. There’s a hurricane coming.”

  “He put tape on my window. Said he’s going to board it up.”

  “The storm’s going to be a bad one, Mama. He’s just keeping us safe.”

  “Don’t want to be locked in here. I need to be able to get out. What if there’s a fire? What if there’s a fire and I can’t get out?”

  Hadley could feel the tension in her mother rising.

  “No, Mama. There’s no fire. There’ll be rain pouring from the sky for days and days, and the wind’s gonna howl something fierce, but no fire. I promise.”

  “Rain?” Winnie asked, hopefully. Her pacing paused, and for the first time she seemed to see her daughter standing there.

  Relieved to be getting through, Hadley painted the picture with bold strokes.

  “Rain,” she said. “Lots and lots of rain. More rain than you’ve ever seen.”

  “Rain,” Winnie repeated, and Hadley could see the tightness in her face start to loosen.

  Seeing her opportunity, she took her mother gently by the arm and led her to the bed.

  “The whole world’s going to be wet, Mama. Covered in rain. No f
ire could stand up to that.”

  Winnie nodded. Accepting her daughter at her word, she climbed into the bed.

  When Hadley closed the bedroom door behind her a few moments later, she wondered briefly when Mama had been out in the woods. She hadn’t seen or heard her come or go, so it must have been last night or in the early hours of the morning.

  There was no doubt she’d been though. The dirt marring the hem of her white gown and the bottoms of her feet was undeniable.

  11

  Sunday Afternoon

  When Alva and Hadley returned from Whitewood Methodist, the day had begun to gray. The first spatters of rain fell across the windshield as they pulled up the long gravel drive.

  Hadley was surprised to see the Abbotts standing on the porch. She looked around for Cooper, but didn’t see him anywhere. Walker was standing at the door, a towel hanging around his neck. He must have washed up after finishing the job on the windows. Hadley and her grandmother joined them on the porch.

  “Said he was going fishing this morning,” she heard Mr. Abbott say. “He usually fishes down by the reservoir, but no one’s seen him.”

  “We thought maybe he’d come this way,” said his wife.

  When Dan Abbott spotted Hadley, his eyes drank her in, searching her face for an answer to a question she hadn’t been asked. There was a barely controlled urgency in him that made her back up a step.

  Walker looked at his daughter. His face was troubled.

  “Hadley, have you seen your friend Cooper today?”

  Hadley shook her head. A sliver of unease snaked its way into her consciousness.

  “No Daddy.”

  Dan Abbott’s face fell. “He should have been home hours ago. Sam hasn’t seen him. He wasn’t at the Monroes. We hoped he was here.”

  He looked down into the upturned face of his wife. She said nothing.

  “I think it’s time to call the Sheriff, Charlotte.”

  Mrs. Abbott nodded, fighting tears. Her husband tried to reassure her.

  “He probably just got lost. The Sheriff’s department will help us find him.”