Knock Out

18

HE ROSE. “I’m going to lock us in for the night, Joanna, then we can go on.”

She followed him out to the foyer, watched him lock and dead-bolt the front door, and turn on the alarm.

They checked Autumn. She was curled up asleep on his bed, Mackie in her arms. Ethan covered her with an afghan.

He got them two mugs of tea and motioned her back to the living room.

“You started to tell me about his mother when you first arrived in Bricker’s Bowl.”

She nodded. “His mother was alone when we drove up. At first I thought she was his grandmother, but she wasn’t. Like I told you, Martin was born long after Grace.

“She was very nice, showed me the Backman cemetery, but I knew she was upset that I’d cremated Martin and brought him in an urn, not in a casket as she obviously expected. There were a lot of graves in the cemetery, maybe upwards of forty, maybe more. Must be an old family, I thought, looking out over it. I remember all the graves were set in overlapping triangles, so there were no rows or paths. I asked her about all these triangles, and she said her husband’s grand-parents designed it that way when they’d moved to this spot from the other end of the bowl, and had all the caskets moved here. Then she said the weirdest thing: ‘They knew to keep the old ones with them, because the old ones know how to draw the power from the earth.’ I was so surprised—so creeped out, really—that I didn’t pursue what that meant.

“There were all these oak trees, nearly growing together, some branches pushing down on others, vying for space, and they seemed to huddle over the graves as if trying to protect them, or hide them.

“But then, the next morning, I thought I’d overreacted because it was peaceful and warm, a sun bright overhead—serene, even. It felt right that Martin would end up being buried with his family. His grave was already dug. It hadn’t been there when we’d arrived the day before, so I guessed Blessed and Grace dug it out after Autumn and I went to bed. She told me the space was meant for her, but she could always move, now, couldn’t she? I remember watching her wrap the urn in a lace tablecloth she said her mother had made herself. I watched Blessed climb down a small ladder and lay the urn on a wooden platform at the bottom of the grave. It looked so small in that deep hole. Then she handed Blessed a wood-framed mesh sort of thing that looked like a chicken coop and he set it over the wrapped urn. Grace climbed down and smoothed another white tablecloth over that. Both Blessed and Grace were wearing shiny black suits, and they took turns filling in the grave. It was just the five of us, no one else, not even a minister. Blessed read from an ancient Bible—ashes to ashes, dust to dust—read on and on for quite a while, in a low drone. When I realized no one was going to say a prayer, I did. Then we all stood staring down at Martin’s grave, the raw dirt piled high, all loamy and black. Autumn was clutching my hand, but she wasn’t crying. Her hand was terribly cold. She was so still, never made a sound.

“I wanted to leave immediately after we’d buried his urn, but his mother begged me to stay, just one day, she said, only one single day so she could spend some time with her granddaughter. She reached out to touch Autumn. Autumn didn’t move, didn’t seem to even breathe when her grandmother stroked her hair.”

“And did you stay for one more day?”

She shook her head. “We couldn’t stay not after what Autumn saw—”

She looked terrified. He waited a beat, then asked, “What did Autumn see, Joanna?”

“She said she saw them burying dead people in her daddy’s grave.”

She’d said it, insane words, unbelievable and terrifying.

Ethan’s expression didn’t change, but she saw clearly he wasn’t going to accept that.

She saw them burying bodies? In her daddy’s grave?

Ethan knew there were all kinds of monsters out there, but this was a story from a little girl. He said, “Who did she see burying dead people? Blessed? Grace? Shepherd? All of them? Come on, spit it out.”

“It was that night—”

Autumn appeared in the living room door. “What’s wrong, Mama?”

Joanna looked pale and exhausted, but she looked up and smiled. it was well done, Ethan thought, but Autumn wasn’t buying it. She came running to her mother, grabbed her arm. “Mama, you were telling Ethan about Daddy’s funeral, weren’t you? You look all white and stiff, like you did that day.”

There’d been too many lies, to her daughter, to herself, to others. And so she told her daughter the truth. She nodded. “I was telling Ethan about your daddy’s family, sweetheart, about how they behaved, what they were like.” Autumn tightened all over. Joanna said, “Did you get some rest, sweetie?”

Autumn nodded. “I woke up from my nap, Mama. Big Louie was licking my toes and Mackie hissed at him.”

Ethan asked, “Big Louie only licks big toes. Did you keep them from lighting?”

“I guess because my feet are a little smaller than yours, Ethan, he got them all. Mackie only swatted his nose once.”

“And what did you do?”

“I hugged him, kissed his nose, and then he nearly licked my face off.” She pressed closer to her mother and whispered in a small voice, “You told Ethan what I saw them doing?”

Joanna nodded.

Autumn looked at Ethan. He saw such fear on that little face, it was like a punch in the gut. Joanna held her hand tight and said, “Why don’t you tell him about it yourself, Autumn?”

She licked her lips. “It’s too scary, Mama.”

Ethan said, “You tell me and then it won’t be so scary anymore. I promise.”

She thought about it, then slowly nodded. “I was supposed to be asleep beside Mama, but I couldn’t stop thinking about them, how scary they were, how I knew they didn’t like Mama, even though they pretended they did. And they looked at me funny, you know, trying to pretend they weren’t looking, but they were.

“Mama started moaning in her sleep, so I got up. I put on my clothes without waking her and climbed out the window.” She swallowed. “I walked to the cemetery, and that’s when I saw them, and they were digging up my daddy’s grave and there were these bodies on the ground beside them.” She was shaking, both her voice and her small body, and she pressed even harder against her mother’s side, as if she wanted to become part of her.

Joanna gathered her close, kissed the top of her head, whispered, “It’s okay, sweetie, I swear it’s okay. Ethan is—” Joanna cleared her throat. “Ethan is going to help us.”

He swallowed hard at that vote of confidence. He looked at the mother and daughter and marveled at what life had dished onto his plate in a single day. He said, “Autumn, I told your mama I’m the prince of bad and that means I can help you with just about anything. Now, kiddo, tell me who you saw out there.”

“Blessed and Grace were digging, and Shepherd was standing beside the dead people.” Her voice caught, and she looked terrified.

“Okay, Autumn, that’s enough for now. I want you to take some deep breaths and shake your arms around; it’ll loosen you up. That’s it—good. Now, let your mama talk for a while. Joanna, let’s back up. After the funeral, what did you and Autumn do?”

Joanna said, “I made some excuse, and I drove us to Bricker’s Bowl, only about a half-mile away. Like Autumn, I wanted to get away from all of them. I was tempted to keep driving west, let me tell you. I wish I hadn’t gone back there now, wish I hadn’t taken Martin’s urn to be buried in a chicken coop.”

He wondered what would have happened if she’d kept driving west. Would they still have found her just like they found her here? “Okay, after you drove into Bricker’s Bowl, what did you do?”

“Just walked around. Everyone knew who we were—how, I have no clue, but I knew they were talking about us, wondering about us, I guess, wondering, maybe, if we were weird. I’ll tell you, I don’t blame them a bit.

“We stopped at the small grocery store because it was hot and Autumn wanted an ice cream. There was a woman in there who looked at us like we were members of the devil’s fold. I’ll never forget how she stared at Autumn and said, ‘She looks just like him,’ and she crossed herself. I was appalled and grabbed Autumn’s hand to get her out of there but the woman said then, ‘I was very glad Martin es-caped. I’m very sorry he’s dead. Everyone liked Martin, but no one knew when he was going to be buried. Preacher Michael even called Mrs. Backman, but she didn’t tell him a thing.’ And then she shut up and shook her head.”

“The lady asked me what kind of ice cream I liked best,” Autumn said. “I told her I really liked butter pecan, and she said that was good because she’d just made some.”

Lula strolled into the living room, tail high. She meowed when she saw Ethan, padded quickly to him, and jumped up on his lap. She began kneading his leg.

Autumn leaned over to pat her and Lula stretched under her hand and kept kneading.

Of course Mackie wasn’t to be left out. He was soon seated on Ethan’s other leg, his claws sharper than Lula’s, who’d had a manicure only two days before when Maggie had come to clean up the cottage and managed to catch her. Mackie had escaped clean.

Autumn yawned and leaned back against her mother’s chest, all boneless, like the cats when they were with him in bed at night “Mama,” she whispered, “I think we can trust Ethan. We started to tell him about those poor dead people. I think we should tell Ethan more of it, Mama.”