Katy, spent time with Caspian…
Walking slowly, I followed the pathways as they bled into one another. There were a lot of people in the cemetery today. More than I’d ever seen before, and it made me uncomfortable. Were they watching me? Were any of them going to start whispering about the weird pale girl wandering among the tombstones? What if one of them tried to talk to me?
The cemetery was different. It didn’t feel like my safe haven anymore.
I passed the empty wrought-iron chair where I’d sat the day of Kristen’s funeral. It was still resting beside its plot, the grass now fully grown in and freshly mowed. Casting a glance over my shoulder, I paused and whispered hello to it. But I didn’t say anything more than that, and I didn’t stay.
The next place I stopped was Washington Irving’s burial spot. There were fewer people on this side of the cemetery, and no one was in sight when I finally reached it. I knelt down, digging my fingers into the neatly trimmed grass along the bottom edges of his headstone.
“I’m back,” I said. “Just like I promised.” The marker looked like it had been freshly scrubbed: All previous bits of moss anddirt were gone, and a small American flag had been planted next to it.
“My… trip… went well,” I said. I’d once felt comfortable speaking to him here like this, but things were different now. “It was nice to get away from everything, and just take some time to deal with it all.”
I tugged a blade of grass out of the ground and rolled it between my fingertips. “Aunt Marjorie’s house was great. She lives on a farm, and it’s really nice there. She took me up in her plane, too, and let me fly it.”
Voices echoed in the distance, and I scrambled to my feet. People were coming, and the last thing I needed was to be caught talking out loud to a tombstone. “I’ll try to stop by again soon,” I said. I touched the stone briefly and then turned to walk down the steps, away from his family plot. A small group of people came around the corner and waited for me to pass.
I went in the direction of Kristen’s grave, but ran into two more groups on the way there. One of them stopped at the stone right next to Kristen’s, and I tried to hang back to give them enough time so they’d move on and I could be alone. But they didn’t seem to be moving on.
After what felt like at least twenty minutes, I finally stepped up to her stone.
The first thing I noticed was that the area immediately surrounding her headstone looked well manicured. Although the grass in the cemetery was usually kept short, a lot of the graves had scraggly weeds that grew up close to them. Kristen’s plot was obviously being taken care of.
The second thing I noticed was a freshly plucked four-leaf clover sitting at the bottom of the stone. It was the first time I’d ever
seen
a four-leaf clover in real life, and I touched it, counting all four petals to make sure it wasn’t just a trick of the light or something.
I glanced down at the grass surrounding the tombstone and then scanned the area around it. There weren’t any patches of clover nearby. In fact there weren’t any patches of clover
anywhere
. It must have been found somewhere else and placed here.
Goose bumps stood up along my arms, and I whispered a good-bye to Kristen. Leaving the cemetery behind, I wondered what that four-leaf clover meant.
And who had put it there.…
Chapter Three
D EDICATION
To pass this bridge was the severest trial.
—“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”
I couldn’t sleep at all the next night. I was too hot, then too cold. The mattress too lumpy, then too firm. I scrunched up my covers one minute and cast them aside the next. At 6:54 I finally gave up and crawled out of bed to go downstairs. Today felt like a coffee kind of day.
Luckily, there were already some coffee grounds inside the coffeemaker, so all I had to do was fill it with water. It trickled down into the glass pot, its steady
Walking slowly, I followed the pathways as they bled into one another. There were a lot of people in the cemetery today. More than I’d ever seen before, and it made me uncomfortable. Were they watching me? Were any of them going to start whispering about the weird pale girl wandering among the tombstones? What if one of them tried to talk to me?
The cemetery was different. It didn’t feel like my safe haven anymore.
I passed the empty wrought-iron chair where I’d sat the day of Kristen’s funeral. It was still resting beside its plot, the grass now fully grown in and freshly mowed. Casting a glance over my shoulder, I paused and whispered hello to it. But I didn’t say anything more than that, and I didn’t stay.
The next place I stopped was Washington Irving’s burial spot. There were fewer people on this side of the cemetery, and no one was in sight when I finally reached it. I knelt down, digging my fingers into the neatly trimmed grass along the bottom edges of his headstone.
“I’m back,” I said. “Just like I promised.” The marker looked like it had been freshly scrubbed: All previous bits of moss anddirt were gone, and a small American flag had been planted next to it.
“My… trip… went well,” I said. I’d once felt comfortable speaking to him here like this, but things were different now. “It was nice to get away from everything, and just take some time to deal with it all.”
I tugged a blade of grass out of the ground and rolled it between my fingertips. “Aunt Marjorie’s house was great. She lives on a farm, and it’s really nice there. She took me up in her plane, too, and let me fly it.”
Voices echoed in the distance, and I scrambled to my feet. People were coming, and the last thing I needed was to be caught talking out loud to a tombstone. “I’ll try to stop by again soon,” I said. I touched the stone briefly and then turned to walk down the steps, away from his family plot. A small group of people came around the corner and waited for me to pass.
I went in the direction of Kristen’s grave, but ran into two more groups on the way there. One of them stopped at the stone right next to Kristen’s, and I tried to hang back to give them enough time so they’d move on and I could be alone. But they didn’t seem to be moving on.
After what felt like at least twenty minutes, I finally stepped up to her stone.
The first thing I noticed was that the area immediately surrounding her headstone looked well manicured. Although the grass in the cemetery was usually kept short, a lot of the graves had scraggly weeds that grew up close to them. Kristen’s plot was obviously being taken care of.
The second thing I noticed was a freshly plucked four-leaf clover sitting at the bottom of the stone. It was the first time I’d ever
seen
a four-leaf clover in real life, and I touched it, counting all four petals to make sure it wasn’t just a trick of the light or something.
I glanced down at the grass surrounding the tombstone and then scanned the area around it. There weren’t any patches of clover nearby. In fact there weren’t any patches of clover
anywhere
. It must have been found somewhere else and placed here.
Goose bumps stood up along my arms, and I whispered a good-bye to Kristen. Leaving the cemetery behind, I wondered what that four-leaf clover meant.
And who had put it there.…
Chapter Three
D EDICATION
To pass this bridge was the severest trial.
—“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”
I couldn’t sleep at all the next night. I was too hot, then too cold. The mattress too lumpy, then too firm. I scrunched up my covers one minute and cast them aside the next. At 6:54 I finally gave up and crawled out of bed to go downstairs. Today felt like a coffee kind of day.
Luckily, there were already some coffee grounds inside the coffeemaker, so all I had to do was fill it with water. It trickled down into the glass pot, its steady
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