Buried Passions Read online

  I pulled on pants before hunting in the kitchen for something to eat. Then, once I’d finished dressing, I checked myself in the mirror, making sure I was presentable. I was reasonably stylish but not over-the-top. The suit was a modern cut, slim, in a dark color, with a white shirt and a plainer tie than I would normally have chosen, but this was a somber occasion.

  I met the car when it arrived and, when I opened the door, was surprised to find Luka already in the back seat. I was about to ask him why he was here but instead settled into the seat without a word. It didn’t matter. He was here, and suddenly the air-conditioning that was blasting cold air at me wasn’t cool enough.

  “Samuel was good to me,” he said softly, as though that explained everything.

  I nodded and waited as the driver climbed in, then glided us through the town streets to a huge stone church. “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” was etched on the front of the imposing edifice. I hadn’t given any thought to Uncle Samuel’s religion. The arrangements had been made, and I was going along with his wishes. After all, he’d been a funeral director and had clearly known what he wanted.

  I climbed the steps, consciously aware of Luka standing near me. He hurried ahead and opened the doors, holding them for me as I stepped inside and through the nave into the massive sanctuary crowned by a dome. This was the most elaborate Lutheran church I had ever seen in my life. It looked more like a basilica and was as stunning as any European cathedral.

  “Good morning,” whispered a man dressed in a dark suit.

  “I’m Samuel’s nephew, Jonah, and this is Luka.” I didn’t explain anything more, and we were ushered down the aisle to sit in the second row. What caught my eye was the cacophony of flowers that decorated the front of the church, guiding the eye in an arrangement of color leading to the bronze urn containing the remains of the uncle I had only vague memories of.

  I gripped the back of the pew in front of me, staring at the urn, anger rising. I had no idea what had gone on between my mother and uncle, but suddenly and with great force, I felt fucking cheated. My hands ached as I held the wood in front of me as tightly as I dared. So many years wasted. I opened my mouth, breathing deeply as a well of loss drew up from what might have been. I closed my eyes and my head spun. I needed to get myself under control as best I could, so, taking another deep breath, I released the pew and focused my attention, the activity around me as a kind of distraction.

  The entire church was filling, a steady stream of people—old, young, and even children—entering from the back, taking up each seat in the massive space. I found it hard to believe.

  “You’re his nephew Jonah, right?” a woman asked after tapping my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m Shirley Carpenter. You probably don’t remember me, but you used to play at my house when you visited your uncle. Brenda and Kathy used to have so much fun when you came to visit.”

  “I remember them.” They both had long blonde hair and were as mischievous as hell. I’d liked them a great deal. “They were fun.” I wanted to ask her where they were now, but the organ began playing and my gaze shifted up to the massive, gleaming pipes of the instrument. “Can we talk after the service?”

  “Of course.” She patted my shoulder, and I turned back to the front.

  My anger welled once more. All these people had come out to pay their last respects to my uncle, and I probably knew him the least of anyone here. I felt fucking cheated by my mother and the fight. Whatever it had been, I had missed out on the fun times and the chance to get to know someone who seemed to have been cared about by so many.

  “Good morning,” the minister began as the music softened and died away. “We are here to say our last goodbyes to Samuel James.” He led the congregation in prayer and then read a lesson centering around everlasting life. I was never a religious man, but the message calmed me and I found it comforting. I hoped I would get to see Uncle Samuel again in some sort of afterlife, and maybe then I would get a chance to know him.

  Those assembled sang “Amazing Grace,” filling the large building with richness that touched my heart, even as I struggled to sing the words.

  “Samuel was a special man,” the minister said. “He was loved by many people, as witnessed by those gathered here today. It was my pleasure to have known Samuel. He comforted many in their time of grief, but he was also there to spread joy to the living and help those in need. Samuel James was a true blessing to this community….”

  I glanced at the people across from me and then carefully toward the back as heads bobbed up and down, silently echoing what the minister was saying. Once again, a stab of loss I didn’t expect jabbed at my stomach like a punch to the gut and I drew a sharp breath. Warmth surrounded my fingers, gently covering them, and I turned to see Luka’s hand covered mine. I knew I should pull it back, but the loneliness that engulfed me made me pause and hold it as the minister continued.

  He told how my uncle had donated flower baskets to the town for years, planting them himself and hanging them on the brackets that lined the main streets. “Samuel felt that doing the work himself meant more than just buying them.” Uncle Samuel had visited the elementary schools each holiday season to play Santa and made appearances at the Salvation Army and the hospital to make sure all the children had presents. “I know he will be missed by many of you. So I’d like to invite any of you who have a story you’d like to share to come forward.”

  I listened as person after person went on to say how Uncle Samuel had touched their lives. It seemed there was no limit to his generosity of spirit or time. With each and every story, I wished more and more that I’d known him. These people, this entire room full of them, had been his family. I was the stranger here.

  “It will be okay,” Luka said gently, squeezing my fingers. But the thing was, I wasn’t sure that was true. I had missed out on knowing someone pretty amazing.

  “I’d like to ask Samuel’s nephew, Jonah, to come up and say a few words.”

  Charles had warned me that this might happen with this kind of memorial service, but I found myself completely unprepared. I stood and walked to the front, trying to think of what to say. I turned to the minister, wishing I could scream at him for doing this to me, take the chance to vent my rising anger at the whole situation.

  His expression turned gentle and my anger slipped away, grief taking over once again. “Just say what’s in your heart,” he said softly.

  I nodded and swallowed, looking out at a sea of strangers, scanning the crowd for anything familiar I could latch on to. Then I turned slightly and found Luka looking back at me intently. I caught his gaze like a lifeline.

  “I didn’t know Uncle Samuel very well. There was some disagreement in the family that kept us apart. I can tell through your stories and just how full this church is that my uncle was well loved and cared for.” I turned to look at the urn and then back to Luka as my legs wobbled. “I’m the outsider here, a relative… and yet I’m the stranger.” I paused, not quite sure how to go on. “My fondest memory of Uncle Samuel was when I was about seven years old. He had invited me to visit him here, but he and my mother had been fighting again. She didn’t want me to come, but Uncle Samuel had promised and he always delivered on his word.”

  The nods throughout the congregation confirmed that my impression was shared by them. Uncle Samuel could be relied upon.

  “He came to get me and brought me to Carlisle. Uncle Samuel took me out to eat and pointed out the divots in the courthouse columns from the shelling of the town. He took me to the church in the square so I could be inside a building where George Washington had been. He was proud of this town and its history. Uncle Samuel loved this place, and I can see he loved the people in it as well. This was his home, and it meant the world to him.”

  I paused and closed my eyes for only a second. “But do you know what I remember most?” I turned to Luka, who nodded. He couldn’t have known my thoughts, but he seemed to know I needed that little reassurance. “He took me to
Massey’s for frozen custard and then bought dishes for every kid who stood in line.” I’d seen my uncle’s big heart firsthand and hadn’t even thought about it. “Uncle Samuel will be missed… in more ways than I think many of us understand. Some will miss the man who provided the flowers and made the town a more pleasant place to live, or the man who played Santa. Some will miss the man they counted on during their hour of greatest grief, or the one who bought them ice cream. Personally, I will miss the fact that I didn’t get the chance to get to know my uncle when I was an adult… to fully understand the heart of him. I think I’m the one who missed out most of all.”

  I walked back to my place and sat down, blinking and not looking at anyone, my hold on my emotions tenuous at best.

  The minister called for a hymn, and the others sang around me as I sat, alone in my grief. Luka settled his hand on my arm, saying nothing and everything at the same time. Words weren’t needed, just a comforting presence. Once the song ended, the minister said a prayer of committal, blessed everyone, and then the last order of business was to explain about the lunch in the church hall.

  I spent the next two hours at a table with a revolving set of people telling me about my uncle. They shared endless stories about his kindness and generosity.

  “Your uncle lived a full life, but he was always alone. That often worried me. He had the things he loved and he cared for the people here, but there was never anyone who was there just for him.” An older lady who I guessed was about Uncle Samuel’s age smiled, her wrinkled face brightening. She seemed to think I should know who she was, although I had no clue and played along. “Since I’m a nosy old biddy, I asked him why he never found someone. Samuel turned to me with that way he had, eyes kind and gentle, and said he never met the right person.”

  I leaned forward. “Do you think that’s true?”

  She shrugged and then grew serious. “I think your uncle had a great deal of love to give, and he showered it on those around him.” She picked up her cup of coffee, sipped, and then set it back down with a clink. “Personally, I think he learned to love like that from someone.” She finished her coffee, stood, and patted me on the arm before walking away.

  “Jonah,” Luka said from next to me, his voice richly deep and yet soft.

  I turned, and he motioned to where people were leaving. He was right; it was time for us to go. I gathered up the few things I’d brought as the funeral director carried over the urn and handed it to me.

  “It’s sealed.”

  “Did Uncle Samuel leave instructions for where he was to be buried?” I had figured he’d have a plot in the cemetery.

  “He left that up to you.” He blinked as though expecting me to have some sort of magic answer. I had no idea, so I took the urn with me. I said goodbye to the few people I passed as I went out to the car that was to bring me back to my uncle’s.

  At the house, I got out and walked blankly up to the front door. I went inside, closed the door, and set the urn on the coffee table in the living room. I was about to go to the kitchen to get a drink—I needed one badly—but paused at the knock on the front door. The last thing I wanted was visitors, but I went to open the door anyway.

  Luka stood on the steps, still in his suit. I’d thought the car was taking him home, but plans must have changed.

  “Do you want whiskey?” I asked, turning back to the kitchen.

  I heard the door close, and Luka followed me. He opened a cupboard and retrieved a bottle of very expensive scotch. He got two glasses, obviously knowing his way around the kitchen. He set the glasses on the table, poured a measure of the amber liquid in each, and handed one to me.

  “To Samuel,” I toasted and paused. “And to realizing shit too fucking late.” I clinked my glass with Luka’s and downed the liquid in a gulp. Heat radiated from my belly in every direction. I poured another measure, watching as Luka drank, wishing I could lick that spot on his throat that moved as he swallowed.

  I poured a third shot for both of us, then capped the bottle and carried mine into the living room. I was too tired and out of sorts to really care about what was happening around me. I took a seat, pulling up an ottoman and extending my legs. Luka came in and sat nearby. I could feel him watching me and wondered what he wanted and why he was here. I hadn’t invited or expected him.

  In a way, I was glad not to be alone. Yet I knew I was going to fall apart, and having Luka here only delayed the inevitable. I wasn’t going to go to pieces in front of anyone else. That I couldn’t bear, so my plan was to wait until I was alone and then let the regret take over my consciousness for a while. It was inevitable, knowing myself and the way my mind worked.

  “Samuel was good person,” Luka said after sitting still for way too damn long. “He gave me job and help.” He sipped his scotch. “He… help me get off street after landlord kick me out.”

  “You were homeless?” I asked.

  Luka nodded. “Yes. I living in cemetery. In shed….” He downed the rest of his drink and set the glass on a table. “I live here. Maybe a few weeks. Samuel help me get apartment and jobs.”

  “At the restaurant as well?”

  “Samuel talk to boss,” Luka said. “He very good man who care about me.” He closed his eyes. “I miss him. He always nice and talk to me when no one else see.”

  “How long have you been here? In this country?”

  “A year. Samuel help me come here, through church. I go every week… bring Samuel. We have lunch and talk.” Luka’s gaze shifted down to his feet, and I was starting to get the full extent of my uncle’s caring. Samuel had helped Luka come over here and had given him a job, and Luka helped Uncle Samuel at the house and did things with him. It made a lot of sense. “Samuel liked me, I think.” Now Luka blushed. “He watched me.”

  I tried not to laugh but failed miserably. Was Luka really telling me that my uncle had perved on him? Granted, if Uncle Samuel was gay, I couldn’t blame him. Luka was sexy as all hell, and Uncle Samuel wasn’t dead… well, he hadn’t been then. “I’m sorry.”

  “It was okay. He helped me, and I took care of him. Samuel was lonely sometimes, and I sit on porch with him and we drink and laugh. At first we not understand each other, but it get better. I cook for him sometimes too. Make burek for him, and sausages. He love to eat and hate to cook.” Luka laughed, then sighed softly, and I remarked to myself just how much English Luka spoke and understood. It made sense that he would be quiet around strangers if the way he was treated at the restaurant was any indication.

  “You sell cemetery?” Luka asked.

  I shrugged. I had no idea what I was going to do with it, but the funeral was over and it was time for me to get the business here wrapped up so I could return to my real life. This was all some sort of role I was playing, the grieving nephew, and now that it was over, I could go back to the main role of my life, the successful Broadway actor.

  “No sell. I take care of it for you.”

  I wished it was that simple. I doubted that the trust fund for the cemetery was enough to pay Luka, and that meant Ashford had to be run as an ongoing business. There seemed to be a section with plots that could still be sold, and, of course, there would be future burials on family plots and empty sold ones. I had no idea what was where, and someone needed to make all the arrangements. Uncle Samuel had done it because that was his job and what he did. That wasn’t me.

  I thought about how I could explain that to Luka and kept falling flat. “I’ll look into it.”

  Yeah, I copped out.

  Luka lifted himself out of the chair, and I figured I’d pissed him off enough that he was going to leave. In the end I was going to be taking away his job. It was likely that I’d find some cemetery company to take over Ashford. I simply needed to look a little harder for a buyer. They’d have their own people to manage the place, and that would be that.

  I watched Luka walk away, because it was impossible not to. Big guys like him often lumbered when they moved, their walk heavy. Luka
was graceful and light on his feet, his muscles flowing under his clothes. I swallowed as I openly stared at him. It had to be the alcohol, because even after last night, I doubted I would look so openly if I hadn’t been drinking. But then…. I shrugged away the idea as Luka disappeared from the room. I wished the bottle was still nearby. I could use another shot of scotch. Maybe a whole series of shots. Get myself really plastered and I could wipe this day from my memories.

  Luka returned, and I jumped. For some reason, I’d thought he was gone and I was alone. He carried a small stack of envelopes, which he set on the table next to Uncle Samuel.

  “What are those and where did you get them?” I snapped.

  Luka stood in front of me, his hands on his hips. “Drinking make you rude, and it ugly.” He glared at me.

  “Sorry.” I only needed all the things that stretched in front of me to be gone for a little while. Let my mind be quiet for a few hours and maybe I could think things through. It was a stupid notion, but it was the one that stuck in my head.

  “Samuel look at those sometimes.” Luka picked up the envelopes and handed them to me.

  I shuffled through them all, a few letters and a sympathy card. I opened the card, which was addressed to Samuel at the funeral home, and pulled it out of the envelope. The card was faded, a forest scene with shafts of light piercing the leaves. I opened it and read the handwritten note inside, the ink dulled with time.

  William spoke of you, and I found this address in his things. It was clear to me, not the others, that he was very fond of you and cared for you a great deal. Enough to talk to me about it. That said a lot. I know you and I have never met, but I wanted you to know that someone else understood him and supported his feelings. You made him happy, and that was all that mattered to me. He was like my brother. That’s how things are in units like ours. I kept William’s secret, and I always will. But I thought it important to tell you that he carried you in his heart… always.

  It was signed simply Kent. I turned the card, checking it over, but there was nothing else. “Who is William?” I asked Luka, not expecting an answer.