Buried Passions Read online

  The house was quiet, with only the howling of the wind through the trees outside to fill the emptiness. This was my house now, but it didn’t feel like it. In truth, it was the home of a stranger, someone I had a hard time remembering, and that was sad.

  I went upstairs to sit on the edge of the bed and pulled open the envelope, angling myself to utilize what little light there was. I unfolded the single piece of paper from inside.

  Jonah

  I know you have to be wondering about my bequest and why I chose you as my heir. Your mother and I didn’t get along after the death of our mother, and I’m not going to rehash what happened. That’s in the past. But I bet you didn’t know your father stayed in touch for a while. He sent cards at holidays and always included notes about what was happening in your life. I know you work in the theater and that you live in New York. But I also know you are brave and strong. At least you have more courage and strength than I ever did.

  You see, Jonah, you and I have something in common. You choose to live a life where you’re proud of who you are, and I spent mine living in the shadows, doing what was expected and bothering no one. Right now, I sit at my kitchen table, alone, writing this note in the house I hope you are sitting in now. I always dreamed of having someone to share my life, but I didn’t realize until it was too late that dreams take courage and fortitude to make them come true.

  I used to think that someone who loved me would come my way and make my life complete again. But I never looked for him. He might have been around the corner and I never would have known and wouldn’t have recognized him. Your father told me that you’re open about your life and live it to the fullest. So I decided to leave you what I built in my life in the hope that you would be able to use it to lead a happier and fuller life. In a way, I truly hope you can do it for both of us.

  Don’t get me wrong, I had a good life, and in many ways, it was fulfilling. It was a life filled with friendship and warmth, but not the deep, abiding love that many people get. But know that it was my fault because I played the games other people expected of me rather than being true to myself, even when attitudes changed and it would have been possible for me to do so.

  Please do whatever you want with the house and its contents. Don’t think you need to preserve them as some sort of memorial to me, though I hope you like and keep some of the things I collected throughout my life. Most importantly, make the most of what you have and what you’re being given. Be happy and lead a full life, no matter the cost.

  Being true to yourself and what you really want is the greatest gift any of us can give ourselves and the people we truly care about.

  Your uncle,

  Samuel

  I SAT still, reading the letter a second time. “Dammit, Uncle Samuel.” So much that could have been, gone and never to be. I folded the page, slipped it back into the envelope, and put it into one of the pockets of my suitcase. The thunder had grown more distant, and though the rain continued, the wind had died down. The lights hadn’t come back on and I was starving, so I went downstairs and hunted up a flashlight, which I found in a cabinet by the back door, and an umbrella from the coat closet. I placed the flashlight near the front door for when I got back, and left the house, heading toward the car.

  The lawn was littered with leaves and small branches. It was a mess, but I suspected I should be grateful large branches or even whole trees hadn’t come down in that storm. As it was, everything was soaked. I made it to the car and drove into town, trying to find something that was open.

  Most of Carlisle was dark. It wasn’t until I reached the edge of town that I encountered lights. I ended up getting fast food and returned to the dark house, going right up to bed. There was nothing else to do, and as another set of storms rolled through, I settled in for the night.

  SLEEPING IN someone else’s house was always strange, but this was extra bizarre to say the least. I slept in fits and starts all night long. There were strange sounds from the storms, and I wasn’t very comfortable. Just as I really began to fall sleep, the lights came on, jarring me awake. I went through the house, turning off a few lights I’d been using before the storm had first hit. At least the air-conditioning kicked in, cooling off the rooms.

  When I did finally nod off, the dang doorbell woke me. What could be going on now? I made sure I was decent, padded down the stairs, and opened the door, blinking in the sunshine. “May I help you?”

  A thin blonde woman stared at me. “Are you Samuel’s nephew?”

  “Yes.” I tried to wake myself up even though all I wanted was to go back to bed.

  “Very good. I’m Jenny with Harper Hall. We took care of the yard here.” She looked around at the sticks and leaves littering the ground. “Do you wish us to continue? I thought it best if I asked before we got to work.”

  “Yes. By all means, please. The yard is beautiful, and I’d appreciate you continuing to keep it that way.” If… when I decided to sell the house, it needed to look its best, and that included the grounds.

  “Excellent. We’ll get the mess cleaned up right away.” She turned, and I closed the door.

  Before I made it upstairs, motors started up outside and I realized I wasn’t going to get back to sleep. I dressed and wandered through the house from attic to basement, learning the place as best I could. Basically, I was at loose ends with nothing to do. Charles was getting everything set for the estate, so I had little to occupy my time. Instead of sitting there all day, I decided to see the town. I went out, got in the car, and drove the various streets to see what I could see. Eventually I found myself at the albatross around my neck—the cemetery.

  The storm hadn’t been kind. Branches littered the ground, and I wondered who I needed to call to have the place cleaned up. I parked the car where Charles had the day before and stepped through the still-dripping trees. Sun shone on the grass and headstones, and I took a moment to look around.

  A chain saw starting near me caused me to jump.

  A man stood at the corner of the cemetery, maybe fifty feet away, dressed in a white T-shirt that barely contained his chest and arms. A mop of thick, curly black hair topped his head. His tanned skin, acres of it, glowed in the sun, and as I came closer, his deep brown eyes met my own. He paused as he finished cutting up the branch he was working on and got another. He piled the small branches near the street and the logs in a neat stack just inside the trees.

  “Hello, I’m Jonah,” I said.

  He stared at me a second. “Luka,” he answered and went right back to work.

  “Are you the groundskeeper? You do nice work.” Except for the damage from the storm, everything looked neat and well tended as far as I could see.

  Luka didn’t look away, then nodded, and returned to his work. Once he’d finished cutting up the branches, placed in the pile near him, he shut off the chain saw and carried it through the cemetery, set it aside, and gathered more branches into piles.

  I followed, not quite sure if I was being snubbed or simply ignored. “Excuse me, but…,” I began, but he cut me off, speaking rapidly in a maybe Slavic language I didn’t understand. “You don’t speak a lot of English?”

  He nodded. “Little English,” he said, holding up his fingers.

  I nodded. “Do you need help?” There were still lots of branches, so I began gathering them and pulling them along the ground to where Luka was working. I needed something to do, and since I owned the cemetery, it made sense for me to help.

  Luka started the chain saw again, and I hauled. We fell into a rhythm, even though we didn’t say another word to each other. Not that it mattered. Luka simply worked, and I helped…. Okay, I watched him as well as gathered branches. The man could set a forest on fire, and I wasn’t dead. It didn’t matter if he was gay or not. All I figured I needed to do was not look like I was ogling and I would be okay.

  That was, until I was hauling over a bunch of sticks, watching Luka as he manhandled the thick branches as though they were nothing. Damn, his
muscles stretched the sleeves of that T-shirt until the seams threatened to rip. I got closer, mesmerized as he worked, and then Luka turned to me. I pretended to see something interesting and tripped over a short stone, ending up flat on my face in the dirt. I took a quick inventory—nothing damaged or hurt except my pride—and tried to get up.

  “Help,” Luka said gently and took my arm, getting me back on my feet.

  My cheeks warmed in complete embarrassment, not just at falling on my face, but at being caught looking. “Thanks. I’m okay.”

  Luka nodded, took the branches from my hands, and hauled them back to his pile.

  I went to get some more, cursing the entire time. Think with your big head, not the little one. I grabbed some branches, determined to keep my attention where it should have been to begin with. As I got closer, Luka watched me approach, probably making sure I didn’t end up on my ass or knock some teeth out if I fell again.

  With two of us working, it didn’t take long to get all the downed branches cleaned up. Luka got out the mower and used it to clear the grass of small debris while I walked around.

  There were three mausoleums, all locked up tightly, which was good. I circled them, looking over the decoration. As I rounded the back of the one marked Turnbull, I was surprised at the window set in the stone wall about six feet off the ground, colored with a shield on the outside. I wondered what it looked like from the inside with the sun shining through it.

  A large family monument caught my eye. It rose forty feet high, with multiple graves and makers around it. Carved stones of nearly every description—some in the shape of trees, while others included lambs for children, obelisks, pillars, and even one in the shape of the setting sun.

  This is pretty amazing.

  I continued to the far side of the grounds, peering into the brush and undergrowth. More markers covered the ground, obscured by excess vegetation. I stepped through the line of growth and began pulling vines and leaves away from the stones, wondering why this section had been left to go wild. There was a stone, very old and barely legible, saying the person had died in 1782. I picked my way around carefully and found more markers, some broken and others covered up almost completely.

  “Do you know what this is?” I asked Luka as he stopped at the edge of grass, the mower engine cutting off.

  He shrugged. “Old parts? Samuel say no mow.”

  That seemed strange to me. “Okay.” I stepped back out onto the mowed grass and walked that entire side of the grounds, peering into the underbrush. I made a note to ask Charles what was going on with that section. Meanwhile, I pulled out my phone and snapped some pictures. Now that I was over the initial ewww about the cemetery, I could see the beauty of the place.

  I jumped when Luka touched my shoulder.

  “I go now,” he said, lingering a few seconds, and sweat that wasn’t from work broke out on my back.

  I nodded. “Thank you so much.”

  He opened his mouth and then closed it again, leaning forward a little. “Samuel good to me. He… give me job.”

  “You do good work,” I told him and made a note to find out what Luka was being paid. The grounds, which were as pristine as the most manicured lawn, gave no indication at all of the storms that had come through.

  “Hvala,” he said with a smile, but didn’t turn away, shifting from foot to foot. I wondered what he wanted to say to me. He didn’t seem to know the words and eventually turned to walk away. I watched him go because, dang it, his back was turned, but after a few seconds, I scolded myself for perving on the guy.

  I took a few more pictures of my surroundings and then went back to the car, wondering where I could go for some answers. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Charles. “I hate to bother you, but I don’t know who else to ask. I’m at Ashford and—”

  “That must be a mess….”

  “Luka was here, and we cleaned up the branches and things, but how do I find out what Samuel paid him and what his duties are? He doesn’t speak much English.”

  “I’ll have Samuel’s accountant call you, but that’s about the only business your uncle had left. All the others were sold. I’m gathering the final details on all the properties and working to estimate their values now and will be able to sit down with you in a few days so we can finalize the court filings for probate and a determination of estate taxes.”

  “There’s also a section of the cemetery that’s really overgrown, and Luka said that Samuel told him to leave it alone. How do I find out about that?”

  Charles humphed softly. “Try the Historical Society. It’s on Pitt near High Street. They will have records on everything and can probably help you.”

  “Perfect. Thank you so much.” I smiled, disconnected, and put the intersection into my phone for directions. It was remarkably easy.

  I parked, went inside, and told the woman behind the desk what I was looking for.

  “Right around the corner, honey, and ask for Brenda. She’s at the collections desk and she can help you.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled and followed her directions to a woman who was probably as old as the town itself. I was exaggerating, but man. Brenda was frail-looking, but as soon as she turned her gaze on me, I knew this woman knew everything there was to know.

  “My name is Jonah Hughes, and I’m Samuel James’s nephew.”

  Her eyes widened. “You inherited the cemetery.”

  “Yes, ma’am. There is a section that’s very overgrown, and I’m wondering why and what’s in there.” I shifted my weight under her intense gaze. “Is there any place I can get any information?”

  Brenda’s lips turned upward. “You’ve come to the right place. Unfortunately there are very few records on that section. But I can tell you what I know.” She turned to pull a book off the shelf behind her and flipped it open. “We collected photographs of everything and published them some time ago.” She laid the book open. “This is Ashford Cemetery in the forties. Is this the section you’re referring to?” she asked, pointing to the photo on the page.

  I nodded. That was it exactly.

  “This was part of an older cemetery, private. It went out of use and was added to Ashford in the 1850s. Technically it’s part of the property and you own it, but no one has done anything with it for a long time. Your uncle had wanted to and always said that after he retired, it would be his project. From what I understand, he started working on one end, clearing out the brush and cutting down the scrub trees, but then he got ill and the work stopped.”

  “I see.” It intrigued me, and I leaned forward, my heart rate picking up. “Does anyone know all that’s in there? I found a grave from just after the Revolutionary War.”

  “Not really. The records are spotty. Your uncle asked the borough for help clearing it out some time ago, but they turned him down. At the time, no one thought there was anything important in there. It’s just an old graveyard.” Brenda’s eyes lit up suddenly, and she picked up the phone and spoke quietly, requesting that someone come out. “Our director will be out in a minute.”

  “All right.” I pulled up a chair and sat down to wait. It wasn’t long.

  A middle-aged woman half bounded into the room. She had on a dark blue pantsuit, and her hair was held with some sort of comb, but the auburn locks with a touch of gray seemed to fight their confinement. Her smile looked genuine. “Mr. Hughes, I’m Emma Wright, the director of the Society, and I understand that you inherited Ashford Cemetery from your uncle. What are your plans for it?”

  I shrugged. “I never expected to own a graveyard, and I haven’t decided anything as of yet. I’m sort of trying to make the most of a weird situation.” It was the best explanation I had. “I was hoping to sell it, but that doesn’t seem likely, so I have to figure out how it can be managed.” I failed to see how it could ever possibly pay for itself in the long term. It seemed clear that it was going to be a white elephant until I could do something—anything—with it.

  “We were working wi
th your uncle to try to figure a way to help him clean out that derelict section. We’re interested in seeing what’s in there.”

  I explained what I found. “But I don’t know how to go about clearing it without damaging what might be hidden.”

  “We don’t have much money in the budget to help, but if you’re interested, we could put out a call to our members. Maybe have a cleanup day and see if we can get started. That’s what we do. I’d be interested in seeing what’s there myself, if that’s possible.”

  “I don’t see why not.” I had visions of undertaking the huge project only to find a patch of land with six intact gravestones and a mess of debris that was going to amount to nothing. But I supposed it wasn’t going to hurt to let her take a look. “I could probably meet you there sometime in the next few days.”

  “How long are you here?”

  “I’m a performer between shows, so I haven’t made plans. I guess it depends on when I get another audition or job.”

  “Let me check my schedule. Would you give me your number, and we can talk to see when a preliminary visit might be possible?” She grinned, clearly excited.

  “All right. I don’t know what’s in there.” For all I knew, the entire area was covered with poison ivy. I shuddered at the thought. “So, please, wear long pants, and you might want to bring boots and gloves.”

  “I’m aware of that.” She smiled brightly. “Do you have any idea how exciting it is to be able to rediscover a part of this town that has been lost? We live for that and don’t get that chance often. Sometimes we get called in when buildings are remodeled, but to excavate and unbury a true piece of our history is amazing.”

  Glad someone is excited.

  I gave her my number. “Call me and we’ll arrange something, the sooner the better.” I turned to Brenda. “Thank you so much for your help and the information.” I said goodbye to both ladies and left the Society, wandering downtown to try to find something to eat.