The Possession (21 page)

The cruelty!

But it worked. Slowly, I came back into myself. I rose to my feet and threw myself into Zach’s arms. Violent tremors overtook me.

“Help me, Zach. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Zach held me as close as one person can hold another until the tremors eased. His breaths steady and deep, his mood changed. He released me. Determination replaced the anger on his face.

“Then you won’t. It ends today.” He took my hands and stared into my eyes. “Can you walk?” With my cautious nod, he finished, “Let’s go, then.”

We reached the cemetery, but the final few feet were difficult. Zach made me as comfortable as he could inside the walls of the graveyard.

“I hate to do this—leave you here alone—but I can move faster on my own.”

I agreed. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right. Just hurry back, okay?”

Zach kissed me, hard and desperate-like. “Don’t leave me, Daph. Fight them with everything you’ve got. It’s your life, not theirs. It’s our time.”

I squeezed him as tight as I could manage and let him go. “I’ll be right here. I swear it.”

The gate bell tolled and Zach disappeared among the trees. I offered a prayer up for his safe return to me.

Heat settled in, quieting the birds and other small creatures. My eyes fluttered and I tried to stay focused. Fog seeped into the cemetery, rolling through the wrought iron of the gate and over the walls.

I brushed the sweat from my forehead, hand cold and clammy in the heavy hot air. The stones at my back disappeared but for a single row. I struggled to my knees and crept over to the rose bush, the wall there at least still intact.

The bell
ting’d
. An old woman, dressed in black from head to foot, sailed to the back of the cemetery and stopped where I had sat. She lifted the veil from her face and gazed down at the marker.

“I lost my daughter long before she died. I hold you, Vincent, personally responsible. You may have controlled her in life, but you will not have her in death.”

The veil dropped back over her bitter expression and she signaled with a flip of her wrist. Two men emerged from the gloom at her back. Hand outstretched, she drew a line in the air with an aged and withered finger.

“Rebuild it. Here.”

They built the wall, layer by layer, stone upon stone, and slowly closed Vincent out.

He rose with a heart-rending wail.

Ro and Sarah flickered into being above their plot, teary eyes in hollow faces.

The old woman brushed through them, unaware, and flung the gate with such venom, it unhinged, silencing the bell.

Melancholia overwhelmed me. Slouched against the mossy base of the wall, all I could do was bury my head in the crook of my arm and sob.

“Daphne.”

My shoulder shook, Zach’s voice calling me back. I lifted my head, face drenched with tears.

“How could she?” I demanded. “How? They’re her family. Her daughter’s family.”

Zach’s face hardened. “That’s it.”

He dragged me to my feet but then lifted me gently into his arms. He carried me through the cemetery and deposited me at the gate. “Wait here.”

“What are you going to do?”

He reached past me to take two objects from the top of the wall. As soon as I saw them, I knew.

“Zach!”

He had already strode away, across the plots to the far wall. Safety glasses in place, he angled to it and lifted the sledgehammer over his shoulder like a baseball bat.

I followed the downward arc of the tool, heart galloping in my chest.

Thwack!

Thwack!

The first blow sent a few rock chips flying, the second made a noticeable indent where the head of the hammer hit about halfway down the almost three-foot wall. Zach pulled his arms back and continued to let the hammer fly.

Thwack!

Thwack!

Several stones burst through the other side of the wall. Zach let the sledgehammer drop behind his back then hauled it overhead and brought it down on the mortar that sealed the top row of stones together. The slab gave way and a small section of the wall collapsed. He angled off again and swung away. In a rhythm now, he ground his teeth together as the sledgehammer delivered his fury.

The intensity of his emotion seemed to tether the ethereal family in place. It certainly held me spellbound, hypnotized as I watched muscles bulge and shift and the rock wall hemorrhage along the edge of Vincent’s gravesite.

I snapped myself out of it and moved toward him with care.

“Zach. Zach, wait.”

His arms froze on the swing back, then he suddenly dropped them to his sides and the sledgehammer to the ground. The thud reverberated beneath our feet. His chest heaved from his effort and sweat slicked him.

“You are so screwed.”

We both turned toward the voice.

Chantal stood at the cemetery gate, awe dropping her chin as she gazed on the destruction. “Don’t you know this is an historical cemetery?”

“It belongs to my aunt.”

“It’s under the protection of the Historical Society. You can’t do anything to it without permission.”

“We have permission,” Zach countered, his words clipped by his heavy breathing.

Chantal’s eyebrows rose, disbelieving, as she moved farther into the cemetery. “Whose?”

“Hers.”

Chantal angled toward us, following the direction Zach indicated. At first she frowned with lips drawn down in scorn. Her gaze darted back to Dorothea’s stone and her eyes widened with fear. She hurried to us and latched onto my arm with a vise-like grip, crowding me into Zach.

“Wh-what’s that?” she squeaked. “No! Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know,” and she turned her face to my shoulder.

Dorothea flickered and faded away.

I squeezed her arm. “Chantal, you have to help us. We need to rebuild the wall farther back. If there are three of us, it’ll go so much quicker.”

“I can’t.” She peered up at the sky. Thunderheads gathered, rolling in across the sun, darkening the woods. “I can’t stay. I have to go.”

She started to back away. Zach blocked her. “Please, Chantal. At least wait with Daphne until I get back. I need to grab a bucket and some work gloves.”

Chantal shook her head. “No way. I’ll go get that stuff. I have my bike. I can get back faster than you.”

“If Eddie or Jay see her at that shed, there’s going to be trouble,” I said.

She shook her head, looking more like herself when the corner of her mouth lifted in a grin, an accompaniment to her eyebrow. “They aren’t at the lighthouse. I saw them heading toward town in the truck on my way here.”

Zach and I exchanged a look. “Okay, then,” he decided, “you can go, Chantal. Inside the shed, on the wall by the workbench, you’ll see a canvas bag. There are already two pairs of work gloves inside it. Throw in the trowel and the small collapsible shovel and bring it back here with the metal bucket by the door.”

That girl fled the cemetery like ghosts were chasing her.

“You know she isn’t coming back,” I said.

“She’ll be back. Her nosiness will be bigger than her fear.”

An hour later he was willing to concede the win. We had pushed and pulled most of the remainder of the wall section down and there was still no sign of Chantal. We collapsed to the ground in the shade, backs together for support. Sweat-drenched shirts plastered us to each other.

I leaned my head back against his and sighed. An alien sound jarred the peace of the woods.

Bikes.

We peeled our backs apart and sprang to our feet.

Jake. Emma.

Gary.

My spine stiffened. Involuntarily, my gaze jerked to Zach.

Zach gauged the distance to the sledgehammer. He moved forward a half-step and to the right, which placed him in front of me without blocking my view.

Chantal brought up the rear. Mickey and Roselea arrived from the opposite direction.

“Hey, guys. I brought reinforcements,” Chantal called over the
ching
of bikes being dropped and placed against the wall.

She handed the canvas bag to Jake and turned her back to us while she spoke to Gary. Her head bobbed as she spoke, one hand slicing the air with vigor, the other remaining firmly over his.

Gary nodded to her when she finished and she turned back to us. “Zach, can we talk to you for a minute? Over here.”

Zach shook his head. Mickey started towards us, but Zach stopped him with a glare.

“Can we come to you, then? It’s really important.” Chantal did not try to con or coerce, unusual for her. I placed my hand at the small of Zach’s back.

He leaned forward to retrieve the sledgehammer, handed it to me, then nodded Chantal and Gary forward. When they reached the old wall, the gouge in the earth and few remaining stones as marker, he stopped them with a raised palm.

“What.”

Silence. Chantal, just in front of Gary, elbowed him. Gary cleared his throat and looked to the ground, but was man enough to raise his gaze back to Zach before he spoke.

“I’m really sorry. About the library. No joke.” He shuffled his feet then turned his gaze to me. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Daphne. I just wanted to scare you; that’s all.” He dipped his eyes, blinking, then returned them to me. “Stupid. I know that now. I wasn’t thinking.”

With that he put his hands on Chantal’s shoulders and addressed Zach. “Thanks, man, for not killing me. I understand now. I’d be bullshit if that happened to her.”

Chantal blinked and her head cocked to the side, so she could see Gary over her shoulder. He ignored her and offered his hand to Zach.

It grew so quiet, I believe even the animals and birds held their breath, the remainder of the ‘reinforcements’ statue-like in the deepening gloom of a charcoal sky.

I looked over the scattered assembly of kids. What a great support we could be for each other—they could be for Zach when I’m gone—if they would only work out their differences.

But this was Zach’s call.

He looked to me. “You okay with that apology, Daphne?”

I studied Gary. His demeanor appeared sincere, and the tender look he stole towards Chantal seemed to confirm he’d learned his lesson. I nodded.

Zach’s eyes narrowed on both Chantal and Gary. “If Daph is willing to forgive, so am I. But I don’t forget. If anything even close to that happens again, you will pay. Understood?”

Gary and Chantal both nodded.

He clasped Gary’s hand. Tensions eased. The remainder of the group gathered around.

“What do we do first?”

“Here are the tools.”

“My dad uses this stuff all the time for repairs. It’s construction adhesive. It should work on stone.”

They had come prepared, thank God. We hadn’t a moment to lose.

Gary unfolded the shovel and broke ground at the new wall line. He struck something in the dirt. “Hey, guys, look at this.”

We all gathered around. A small metal chest protruded from the soil. The lock all but fell off in his hand. Gary lifted the lid. The black bag nestled inside looked like old-fashioned heavy raincoat material.

“Wait,” Zach said, and indicated me. “Let Daphne open it.”

Gary passed it across to me, but the damned thing was sealed so tightly, I couldn’t get it opened. Gary produced his pocket knife. Both Zach and I flinched, though mine was noticed by all.

“Jeez, Daphne,” Gary shook his head, “Did I scare you that bad?”

“Of course you did, fool.” Chantal shoved his shoulder. “Now open the damn thing.”

He made a neat slit down the side of the bag and handed it to me. My chest squeezed my lungs and I tried for a deep breath as my fingers closed on something hard yet soft to the touch. I slid it from its hiding place and out into the light of day.

A green velvet journal.

Tears filled my eyes.

Though only ten years of age, she speaks with such passion and conviction. So like her mother that it warms me even as it breaks my heart.

She is not happy here. How can she be? A grandmother of such cold disposition. A yearning to know the ‘people of the woods’ as she calls them, but forbidden to go there. The child does not even know she has kin among them. Does not know I am not her true mother.

And now the dreams. I wonder if she truly believes them to be so, or merely conceals her knowledge of the truth.

I know the truth.

“Every night,” Lydia tells me, “a lady comes to my room. She looks so sad, though the smell of her makes me happy. Like sunshine and the sea. Sometimes it frightens me that she can come into my room, but I keep that to myself because I know she would never hurt me. She stares at me a while, then kisses my forehead. That makes her happy and she glides away.”

“Glides away?” I question, to see if she will put the obvious together, but she only nods.

“Yes, Maman. Then the man comes. One of the people from the woods.” She looks about as though to be sure her grandmother is not near then whispers, “Indian.” Like the forbidden word that it is. “He smiles, but he is sad, too. He runs his hand over my hair then follows the lady out.”

She pauses to think then says, “They are both tired.”

“Perhaps they just need you to tell them to rest,” I offer, but she has moved on, fingering her braids. “His hair is black and straight like mine.”

She will learn in the morning that we are leaving. I cannot bear to tell her the truth of her circumstance, yet fear someone else will see fit to do so. One day I will tell her the truth. Of parents who loved beyond boundaries, of sisters who left us too soon, of the folly of the old who would push love and family away to have their will be absolute.

I will tell her about her mother’s journal and where it can be found. And I will pray that she forgive me my selfish need to love her and protect her and keep her with me as I could not do her mother.

I refolded the paper and tucked it back into the journal. Quiet sobs joined mine and even the guys were unusually subdued. Zach took me into his arms and two by two everyone paired off to comfort each other.