Dinah McCall - The Return

“You’d be Annie’s girl,” he said, without question or hesitation.

“Call me Catherine,” she said. “And you’re Abram Hollis?”

“At your service, Miss Fane. These are my boys, Jefferson, Dancy and Cleveland.” Then he turned to the boys. “Boys, this here is your cousin Annie’s granddaughter.”

The “boys” were all thirty-something in age and well over six feet.

Catherine smiled to herself at the term. Their gentle manners and soft words went a long way in washing away the hurt from the earlier incidents in Camarune.

“Grannie used to read me your letters, so I feel like I already know you. I just wish we could be meeting under different circumstances.”

“No one ever said life was fair,” Abram said. “Annie lived a long life. It’s time she came home to be with Billy.”

Belatedly, Catherine remembered the sheriff.

“I’m sorry. I forgot my manners. Abram, this is Sheriff Luke DePriest. He volunteered to help me get my…” Transient pain moved across her features as she corrected herself. “Helped me get the casket here. And, I might add, he was the only person who was willing to help.”

Her fingers brushed the fabric of Luke’s shirt as she directed his attention to the older man. “Sheriff, this is Abram Hollis. He and my grandmother were cousins, and they’ve worked together for as long as I can remember.”

Luke’s eye widened. Working? At what? As a fence for stolen goods? But undue curiosity was a breech of mountain etiquette. Instead of questions, he touched the edge of his hat in recognition of the introduction. The men nodded back, but they, too, remained silent.

Catherine sighed. Grannie had warned her that mountain people would be reserved, but she hadn’t expected mute. Then she saw the shovels leaning against the porch—a painful reminder of why she’d come. She looked at Abram.

“The grave…?”

“Right next to Billy, where Annie wanted it to be.”

Refusing to cry, Catherine set her jaw and looked away, letting herself take in the simple beauty of the place and imagining a young Annie Fane traversing these mountains, wrapped in the solitude she’d so badly needed after losing her young husband in the Second World War.

Oh, Grannie, you gave up so very much for me. Then she glanced toward the truck. It was time to lay Annie to rest.

“May we begin?” she asked.

Abram motioned to his sons. Immediately, they moved toward the casket. Luke felt like the odd man out as they lowered the tailgate of the truck. Impulsively, he touched Catherine’s shoulder.

“Miss Fane?”

She looked up, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“I’d be honored to help,” he said, pointing toward the casket the men were about to lift out.

She hesitated, but only briefly. “I think Grannie would like that.”

Luke stepped into place between Abram and Dancy as they pulled the casket from the truck. He’d served as a pallbearer more than once in his life, but never in such humble surroundings.

A few moments later, they began to walk, moving toward some unseen destination behind the cabin, with Catherine leading the way. When they passed a tall oak, a small brown bird dropped from a limb above their heads, landing on a nearby bush, as if vying for a seat to watch the passing procession.

Although it had been muggy down in Camarune, the air was cooler up here. The ground was rocky and almost grassless in the front, but as they passed the side of the cabin, the ground cover changed from sparse to ankle-high grass mixed with wildflowers and plants he didn’t recognize. The fact that it had a cultivated look surprised him. If Annie Fane had been gone all these many years, who’d been taking care of her home? Within seconds of his thought, Catherine made a remark that gave him an answer.

“You’ve done a fine job taking care of Grannie’s home.”

“She was kin,” Abram said. “She would have done the same for me.”

Luke frowned but kept silent. Another bit of information to add to the pot, but one thing kept bothering him. If this place was so special to Annie Fane, why had she left it?

And then they stopped, bending in unison as the casket was lowered to the ground. The pile of fresh earth and the pit beside it were harsh reminders of why they’d come. He looked up in time to see Catherine reach for a nearby tree to steady herself. The urge to hold her was strong, but without asking, he knew she would not welcome it.

He took a deep breath, feeling a sense of reverence for what was about to occur. The men gathered a series of ropes with which to lower the casket into the grave, and then time seemed to stand still. Later he would remember it in a series of brief images.

The scent of freshly dug earth as a shovelful of dirt hit the top of Annie’s casket.

The soft sound of Catherine’s sobs.

The trill of a robin’s call from somewhere high.

The perfect unison with which the Hollis men worked as they fulfilled their kinswoman’s last request.

The sonorous tone of Abram Hollis’s voice piercing the silence as he recited the Twenty-third Psalm.

The wilting blooms from the bouquet of wildflowers that Catherine laid upon the grave.

And then it was over. The fresh pile of dirt lay like a wound upon the landscape. With time, it would settle, and the ivy that lay over Billy Fane’s grave would blanket his Annie’s, as well.

Catherine stood staring down at the grave. It was done. She looked up, her eyes brimming with tears.

“There aren’t enough words to thank you men for what you’ve done for me today.”

The Hollis men took off their hats in unison, slight flushes coloring their faces as Abram nodded.

“Like I said before, she would have done the same for me.” Then he reset his hat, shifting it slightly from side to side until it fell into some invisible slot. “If you’re of a mind to stay on for a while, you’re welcome to stay with us over in Crocker. It’s in the next county, but I’d be happy to draw you a map.”

“Thank you, but no,” Catherine said. “I’ll only be here for a few days until I can go through Grannie’s things.”

Luke had remained silent through most of the proceedings, but the thought of her staying up here alone bothered him.

“I don’t think that’s wise,” he said abruptly.

Catherine turned. Her voice took on a sharp, angry edge. “Why? Because the people of Camarune might not like it?”

He flushed. “No, ma’am. That’s not what I meant at all. There has been a rash of thefts in the area, and this place is too isolated to be safe for a woman alone.”

“No one is going to bother the witch’s cabin or anyone in it, remember?”

The sarcastic tone of her voice was impossible to miss, but before Luke could respond, Abram Hollis intervened.

“She’ll be safe,” he said shortly. “Me and mine will see to it.”

“I don’t need baby-sitters,” Catherine said, including the Hollis men in her answer. “And just so you understand, city living is far more dangerous than this place is, and I’ve been taking care of myself there just fine. I appreciate your concerns, but I’m staying, and that’s that.”

Abram accepted her decision far better than Luke. Once again, he touched Catherine’s arm as he had when they met.

“As you know, we’ve been staying in the house a couple of times a year during hunting season, so it’s not too run-down. But me and the boys touched the place up a bit while we were waiting for you, and my Polly sent you some supper. And I had the power turned on in the cabin, so the necessary is working.”

Catherine’s smile was bittersweet. The necessary, meaning the bathroom, was a word Grannie had used all her life. Now she knew where it came from.