“Oh, no, Cap, I don’t think that at all,” Jessamyn answered. “Sister Mariah told me to ask you for help since you’re my friend, and you know what happened to me.”
“Oh,” the boy said. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Friend. He sure liked the sound of that. “Of course, I’ll try to help,” he said. “Where should we start?”
“Some of the Sisters think the sexton must have taken it. They all swear the ring was on my finger when they closed my casket.” Jessamyn shivered and continued down the street. Cap followed, clenching his fists as a new suspicion tickled the back of his mind.
If the sexton didn’t take it, what if old Lum did? He preaches to Father and me about not stealing from the dead, but I sure wouldn’t put it past the old man to snatch a ring like that. He could’ve done it on the sly.
Taking a deep breath, Cap spoke. “We might talk to the sexton,” he said, stepping around a small child pulling a wooden duck on a string. “But I bet you a whole dollar he’ll say he didn’t take it.”
“I thought of that,” Jessamyn said. “That’s why I talked to Sister Mariah about it. She said you’re so clever, you’ll surely help me think of a way to discover what happened. Do you think you might?” she asked.
Cap gazed into the girl’s troubled eyes. “I’ll sure try to think of something,” he said.
“Thank you,” Jessamyn said. She squeezed his hand for a moment. “Why don’t we both think of ideas and talk tomorrow at school? Maybe we could even speak to Sister Mariah together.”
Cap couldn’t keep from smiling broadly as he nodded.
He walked her back to the school, where she turned away with a wave and another quick flash of a grin.
Cap sprinted home for his dinner. Mrs. Hardy’s scolding fell on deaf ears. As he ate, he kept reliving the feel of the girl’s hand in his. Gulping his milk and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he swore on all the Holy Family he’d find a way to help her.
Then, with his mouth full of cold roast beef sandwich, Cap nearly choked. Sister Mariah told Jessamyn to ask Cap for help because he knew what had happened to her.
His shoulders tensed and his breath caught in his throat. Cap recalled the strange way the woman had closed the door, locking her eyes on his as she waited for his reaction to her words.
And what had she said? “You were a sight to behold last night—you and Jessamyn both, with leaves in your hair and mud streaked all over your faces.”
Sister Mariah most certainly suspected him of something. But what did she suspect? Cap swallowed, and the bread and meat scraped down his throat.
Sister Mariah said she wondered how in the world Jessamyn got out of her coffin, he thought. She knows. Somehow, she knows I dug Jessamyn from her grave.
THIRTEEN
AFTER SCHOOL, CAP hurried to the cemetery, harboring a half-formed idea to spy on the sexton for a while. Bent low against the freezing wind, he was warmed by a tiny spark of hope—if he found that missing ring all on his own, he wouldn’t have any reason to visit Sister Mariah again.
Besides that, maybe Jessamyn would squeeze his hand again. Or hug him.
He passed the tall gates of the entrance and hurried to the ramshackle building at the far end of the field where the sexton lived. Despite the cold, lots of folks were out, bundled up and chatting together. In their dark winter coats, they looked like a flock of oversized crows fluttering among the headstones.
Probably on the lookout for more empty graves, Cap thought with a sinking feeling in his gut.
When he got to the sexton’s house, no one answered his knock, so he stood on tiptoe and peered into the single window. Nothing was visible through the hazy glass.
“Hullo there, son.”
Cap whirled at the sound of Lum’s voice.
“Strange goings on, eh?” the man said. He sauntered over and leaned against the rough boards. “Plenty of talk in town about that geezer who come back to life. I reckon that’s why all them folks is out there,” he added, nodding his head toward the people in the distance.
Cap nodded, keeping his gaze lowered to his boots. The strange goings on were his doing, and he could imagine what Lum would say if he knew.
“Never saw nothin’ like it before, but I talked to a fellow I know. Says it happens sometimes. Folks buried alive. Maybe the old man was just sort of sleeping, like. Hardly breathing, you know?” Lum chuckled and scratched at the sparse blond hair standing at attention on the top of his head. “So, his wife thought he’d already flown off to meet St. Peter, and she done called someone to take him away. I tell you, I needed a pint or two at Mooney’s after that ruckus.”
Doubt jabbed like a needle into Cap’s chest as the idea seared into his brain. Was that what had happened? Air leaked from his lungs, and his entire body wanted to slump.
“But I swear the old man was dead,” Cap said. “He didn’t move or breathe, and he sure didn’t smell too good.”
Lum guffawed. “Don’t I know it,” he said. “But I guess we was all wrong. Anyhow, your pa was daft to take the codger back to his house.” Lum turned his head to spit. “Noah shoulda had the sense to leave that old fool be and get his own self away.”
Cap clenched his hands into fists.
“At least Father and I didn’t run off like scared rabbits,” he said.
The next thing Cap knew, his feet dangled a foot above the ground and the back of his head exploded in pain. Lum had grabbed him by his coat and lifted him high, then slammed him into the wall of the small shack.
“I didn’t run off scared, boy!” the man hissed, his face inches from Cap’s. “I ain’t afeared of nothing! You mind your words, or I’ll pack you in whiskey and send you off to a place no one’ll ever find you. And if they did, they wouldn’t know you anyway. You’d be nothing but a jumble of bones!” Before Cap could blink, Lum released him, and he collapsed to the ground.
While the boy gasped for breath, Lum reached into his greasy overcoat. He pulled out a small bundle crusted with dirt and tossed it at the boy’s feet. Then he turned his back.
“You’d best learn to not leave your things behind. You never know if someone might recognize them pretty red gloves your sweet mamma made for you.”
Lum whistled as he stalked off and Cap glared after him, rubbing the back of his head. Then, he heaved a sigh and hauled himself to his feet.
The wind whistled lonely notes that swirled around the small building, making Cap shiver. His visit to the cemetery hadn’t given him any clues about what happened to Jessamyn’s ring. All it got him was a run-in with Lum, which left him with an aching head and a mind full of new doubts. Grimacing, he gave the leaning shack a kick before he left.
Saints alive, he thought, groaning as he discovered a new ache in one shoulder. Do I have power to raise the dead, or don’t I?
When Cap reached his street, a quick glance through the parlor window made him duck down low so the fence would hide him from view. The room was full of ladies sipping from teacups. Mamma was beaming from her chair, holding an open book in her hand.
Cap groaned out loud. Another of Mamma’s literary meetings. Last time she’d held a meeting, she’d made him come in and read from a book of Mr. Longfellow’s poetry in front of all those ladies. No amount of Mrs. Hardy’s fresh ginger snaps could ever make up for that.
Hunched over like an old man with a bent back, Cap snuck past his house. Then, he ran. The blocks leading to Main Street flew by. The boy’s pounding feet kept time with his pounding heart. He grew warm and loosened his scarf, but still he ran. Finally, he was too winded to continue. He stopped, gasping for breath, and put hands on his knees.
“Where’s the fire?” a girl asked him.
Still wheezing, Cap looked up into a familiar face.
“Oh, hi, Delphia,” he said.
“We meet again,” the girl said with a laugh. “If you were going to the library, it’s closed. Miss Bark isn’t feeling well.”
Panting for breath, Cap glanced behind the girl to the tall brick building that housed the town’s library. The book-filled room was a great source of satisfaction to Mamma, who visited it often when she was well.
“Oh, I didn’t come for…” he said, but then stopped while an idea flashed into his head. Was it possible there were books about folks who came back to life after they’d up and died? Besides the Bible, of course. Just his luck the place was closed, right now.
“Well, I was going to look for a book,” he told Delphia. Even if the librarian wasn’t there, he’d bet Delphia had already read every dusty old volume inside that library and then some.
“About what?” Delphia said. The two fell in step together.
“About doctors,” he said, thinking fast. “And how they fix people.”
Delphia beamed at him as they crossed the street. “Why, Cap, does that mean you want to be a doctor, too?”
“No, it’s just,” Cap said, thinking fast, “I was thinking about that old man they found alive. How’s it possible that a fellow dies but then comes back to life?”
The young woman stopped short and her brow furrowed. “Why, I surely don’t know.” She glanced down at the thick books in her arms and her lips twisted into a sad smile. “What happened to Mr. Greeves was a wonder. My, I do wish I’d seen the faces of those awful men who dug him up.”
Cap forced himself to chuckle, while heat crept into his cheeks.
Delphia looked at him for a moment. “Here,” she finally said, pulling a piece of paper from inside one of the books and handing it to Cap. “You hear about that other empty grave they found the other night?”
Jessamyn’s grave, Cap thought with a start. Sure, I heard all about it. Certain his head was about to burst into flames, he nodded and took the paper. Unfolding it, he read a hand-written letter to the mayor, asking for a guard to be placed at night in the colored section of the cemetery. Names were scrawled at the bottom.
But Jessamyn wasn’t one of Delphia’s neighbors, he thought, chewing his bottom lip. Would that make Delphia feel better to know the resurrectionists weren’t just digging up her folks?
Then Cap’s whole body burned with guilt.
That doesn’t change the fact that we’re digging her friends up in the first place, he told himself miserably.
“You’ll sign, won’t you?” Delphia asked him, pulling a bit of pencil from her pocket.
“Yes,” Cap said quickly, taking the pencil. He was half convinced that lightning would strike him down as he wrote, so the girl would be left standing in front of a smoking hole in the ground, wondering where Cap had gone to. But apparently, at that moment, God was too busy to punish him for being a wicked liar as well as a resurrectionist.
Gulping down his guilt, Cap rapidly scrawled his name, and Delphia took the paper back with a warm smile and thanked him.
“I’m only twelve years old,” he told her. “My name won’t count.”
“I don’t think anyone will know,” Delphia said, her smile growing. “I want as many names as I can get. There’s got to be something folks can do to protect their families.”
Silently, the two began to walk again. “You know,” Delphia said after a moment, “thinking about your question, Cap, only yesterday I started to read The History of Medicine. There just might be something in there about how the dead could be revived.”
Their steps had led them to the tree-lined drive in front of St. Joseph’s. Delphia smiled at Cap and quickened her pace. “I need to get home, but I’ll sure tell you if I find out anything,” she said as she walked away.
“Thanks,” he called to her.
Turning toward home, Cap glanced over at the bat-like building where Jessamyn lived. At that moment, a man ambled around the side of the stucco building.
With a thudding heart, the boy ducked behind the thick trunk of an oak and peered out at the one person he least wanted to see. Fingering the rising lump on the back of his head, Cap glared.
What in tarnation is old Lum doing here? he wondered.
FOURTEEN
LEAPING OVER THE low fence, Cap went straight to his shop so Mamma wouldn’t know he was home. He made it inside without being discovered and sat at his worktable, itching to get busy. Whenever he needed to think, he tried to make something. He would fiddle with bits of wood, some scrap metal, or the tiny cogs or gears Mr. Garrett gave him.
The air was cold in the tiny room, but the boy hardly noticed. He fiddled with the wire he’d wrapped around a curved piece of metal. As far as he could tell, the object wouldn’t be good for anything, but he kept trying to come up with an idea. This was how he’d invented the copper watering tank for plants, and his warming box for chicks. He started with a vague idea, and then played with various objects. And once in a while he came up with something that worked.
While Cap wound and unwound the wire, Delphia’s words kept playing in his head. There’s got to be something folks can do to protect their families.
“Like what?” Cap whispered to himself. There didn’t seem to be anything in the whole world that would stop ugly old Lum.
He worked with the object for a while, not caring how much time passed. While he continued to fiddle with the wire, something came to him—a story Mr. Garrett had told him, about burying torpedoes during the Civil War.
Why, he thought, that wire, wrapped the way it was around the metal, could function as a—
A sharp rap at the door startled him. Cap rose and stretched stiff muscles. “Yes?”
Jardine poked her head inside the tiny room. “Your mamma has called you twice for your supper, Cap.”
“Oh,” Cap said, blinking. “Where’s Mrs. Hardy? And Father?”
Jardine smiled. “Mrs. Hardy is tending to a neighbor, and I don’t rightly know where your father is. I stopped in for the literary meeting. Lands, but I do enjoy hearing Mina read. Folks from England sure make the words sound fancy.”
Cap stifled a laugh. Mamma’s words might sound fancy, but Father, well, Mamma was forever scolding her husband for his rough language.
Jardine’s eyes twinkled. “Mina wanted you to recite, too, but you went and made yourself scarce.”
Ducking his head, Cap made a show of tidying his tools while he cleared his throat.
“Guess it’s too bad I wasn’t here,” he mumbled.
Jardine chuckled. “Well, there’s a plate warming for you on the stove,” she told him. “Mina asked me to fetch you since you didn’t hear her calling. She’s plumb wore out from her meeting, so she’s in her room.” She paused, holding the door open for Cap.
Cap found himself gently but firmly guided to fetch his dinner. Then, he was herded directly to Mamma’s room.
“Cap,” Mamma said when she saw him. Her quick smile faded. “Why, what’s wrong? You seem so tired.”
The boy kissed his mother and then sat at the foot of her bed.
“I’m all right, Mamma,” he answered, taking a bite of his bread. But the woman sat up and looked him in the eye. Cap ducked his head.
Finally, his mother sighed. “If you say so, Cap,” she said, settling back onto her pillows.
Jardine handed Mamma a steaming cup. “Try this,” she said. “It’s the raspberry tea I told you about. It should help the baby.”
Mamma sipped her tea and smiled. “Mm, that’s good. Oh, thank you, Jardine.” She took another sip as Jardine sat in a chair beside the bed and Cap started on his meal.
“Are you taking raspberry tea as well?” Mamma asked Jardine.
“Oh, yes,” the woman answered. She smiled and rubbed her belly, which Cap noticed for the first time was as round as Mamma’s.
Mamma and Jardine chatted softly, but soon, Mamma’s attention turned back to her son, as she described Cap’s new warming box with a gleam of pride in her blue eyes.
“My goodness, you are a smart boy,” Jardine said with a smile.
“He is,” Mamma said
, fairly glowing, “but he does tend to woolgather at school. By the way, Cap, are you keeping up with your schoolwork these days?”
“Yes, Mamma,” he said with a tiny sigh.
“And have you made any friends?”
“Yes,” he said, glancing away when Mamma tilted her head and pursed her lips. Jessamyn’s face came to mind, and his cheeks grew warm. He had made a friend, but he wasn’t going to tell Mamma about her.
He pushed a bit of meat around on his plate. “When is Father coming home?” he asked, to get Mamma talking about something else.
“He said he’d be late again today,” Mamma answered. “Oh, and he told me that Columbus Jones had some work for the two of you to do.”
From the corner of his eye, Cap saw a quick movement. Jardine had started to rise from her chair, but then stopped. Her dark eyes glittered in the flickering candlelight, and they held Cap’s gaze. The boy could have sworn she was trying to tell him something.
Finally, Jardine looked away. “Well, I’d best be going,” she said as she rose carefully from her chair. “I surely enjoyed the literary meeting today. Why don’t you get some sleep, Mina? Dr. Ivins will be by in the morning.”
At that moment, Father poked his head inside. He nodded to the women and looked pointedly at his son.
“Good night, Mamma,” Cap said, rising to his feet. “Good night,” he said to Jardine, and followed his father out the door.
“We have another job,” Father whispered to Cap once they were in the warm kitchen. “Finish eating and get your coat. I’ll meet you outside.”
“Wait—” But Father’s footsteps faded down the hall and the front door swung open and closed.
Cap set his plate in the sink. The cold remains of his dinner were no longer appetizing.
With a frown, he inspected his hands. Here was the real mystery: Did he have power to raise the dead, or not? Was what had happened to Jessamyn and Mr. Greeves only a coincidence? Or was it something more?
Guess I’m about to find out, he told himself grimly.
The Grave Digger Page 6
