by Terri Reid
“Well, your Da is working the evening shift tonight, so he won’t be home until after midnight,” her mother said. “But, knowing him, he’ll still want an early start. I’d guess we’ll be on the road by about eight and to your place by ten. Will that work?”
“That will be perfect,” Mary said. “I’ve got the turkey, but I still need to shop for a few more things. Want to come?”
“Oh, darling, I love shopping with you,” she said. “How’s the quilt coming?”
Mary sighed. “I haven’t had a chance to work on it today,” she said. “Would you be willing to help me tomorrow night, once Clarissa is in bed?”
“I’d love it,” her mother replied. “So, don’t worry about it tonight. Get some sleep. You sound tired.”
“It’s been a long and eventful day,” Mary agreed.
“Is there anything you want me to bring with me tomorrow?” Margaret asked.
“Could you bring the big, enamel roasting pan?” Mary asked. “I don’t think I have a pan big enough for the turkey.”
“Sure I can,” Margaret replied. “Should I bring some of my serving dishes, too?”
“That would be great,” Mary said. “I probably don’t have enough of those either.”
Margaret laughed. “And how about serving utensils?”
Mary groaned. “I don’t think I realized how much stuff is involved in a Thanksgiving dinner. Yes, bring those, too, and anything else you think I might need. And Ma,” she paused.
“Yes, darling,” her mother laughed.
“Thank you,” Mary said sincerely. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I’m sure you’d manage, but I’m happy that you don’t have to,” her mother replied.
“Well, I’m home,” Mary said as she pulled into her driveway. “I love you, Ma. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I love you, too, Mary,” her mother said. “Have a restful night. You’ll have a busy day tomorrow.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
Her alarm went off early the next morning. Mary turned over quickly, shutting it off before it woke Bradley. She slid from her bed and quietly padded to the bathroom to get ready for the day. The night before, she’d already laid out her clothes and left them in the bathroom so she wouldn’t disturb Bradley. Fully dressed, she quietly opened the bathroom door only to see Bradley sitting up in bed.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
She smiled back at him. “I’m going to watch the sunrise at one of most beautiful places in Freeport,” she teased. “Gund Cemetery.”
“Have you been hanging around with Chandler?” he teased. He rolled out of bed and walked across the room to her. “Are you sure you still want to do this? It’s about thirty-two degrees out there.”
She nodded. “Yes, I want to see if I can help those women cross over,” she replied. “Since I know I won’t be able to get back there for a while after today, I want to give them the chance to move on before Thanksgiving.”
“Do they celebrate Thanksgiving in heaven?” he asked with smile.
“Are you kidding?” Mary teased back. “They have to!”
She reached up and gave him a quick kiss. “Make sure you wake Clarissa up in time,” she said. “And remind her that Grandma and Grandpa will be here when she gets home from school.”
“Like I have to remind her,” he said. “She’s so excited. And wait until the party. She’s going to be overjoyed.”
“I hope so,” Mary said. “I want it to be perfect for her.”
He kissed her back. “It will be,” he said. “Now, go and have your cemetery fun. I’ll hold down the fort. And call me if you need me.”
She nodded. “I will.”
The sun was not quite up when she pulled down the road to Gund Cemetery. There was a slight morning fog that drifted over the ground and gave the area an ethereal feeling. She parked her car just past the sign on the gravel drive and slipped out.
She started to walk towards the back when a movement in the distance stopped her. Someone was running, just outside the far end of the cemetery fence. She hurried across the crisp grass to the closest farm fence that separated the cemetery from the cornfield and tried to get a better view of the person. By the shoulder size and stance, she could see it was a man with a fairly athletic gait. She watched, trying to get some kind of clue or a look at his face. Suddenly, she noted, on a rise just above the fog, several small ghost rats were trailing after the runner.
“Chandler,” Mary whispered aloud. “It had to be Chandler.”
Pulling her phone from her pocket, she quickly dialed Bradley.
“Miss me already?” he asked when he answered.
“I just saw Chandler,” she said.
“What?” he asked.
“I pulled up to the cemetery, and someone started running from the far end,” she said. “I hurried to the side and saw a man running away from the cemetery, across the field.”
“How do you know it was Chandler?” he asked.
She sighed. “There were rat ghosts following him.”
He was silent for a moment. “Well, that’s not going to be easy to explain in a courtroom,” he finally said.
She couldn’t help it. She giggled. “No. No, it’s not,” she finally agreed. “Do you want me to look over the fence at what he was doing, or do you want to send one of your guys?”
“Hey, Ms. Consultant for the D.A.,” he answered, “I have total trust in your ability to check out a potential crime scene. But, can you get over that fence?”
She shook her head. “You can be very rude at times, Bradley Alden,” she replied.
“No. What? I didn’t mean anything,” he insisted.
“But, yes, I can get over the fence,” she said. “I know a short cut.”
She went back to the car, pulled out her gloves, some plastic bags she always carried with her and her camera. Then she made the long walk to the far end of the cemetery in the cold, fall morning. As she walked, the sun came up over the tree line, and the branches and grass sparkled in the morning beams. Taking a deep breath, she paused a moment to enjoy the magic.
“It’s a beautiful day, is it not?” a shy voice asked from beside her.
Mary turned to find the cholera victim who had pointed Ruth out to her standing by her side. “Yes,” Mary said with a smile. “It is a beautiful day.”
“You see us,” the woman continued.
Mary nodded. “It’s a gift,” she said. “And a responsibility.”
“How so?” the woman asked.
“Do you know where you are?” Mary asked.
The woman smiled sadly. “Yes, I am in a cemetery and I’ve been here a very long time,” she replied. “I believe I’ve been forgotten.”
“No,” Mary assured her. “Not forgotten, just turned around a little.”
“What do you mean?” the woman asked.
“Look around you,” Mary said. “All around you and see if you can see a bright light.”
The woman looked and then nodded. “I see the light,” she said. “But it has always reminded me of the brightness of the lights when I had the fever. The lights hurt, so I’ve stayed away from it.”
“Well, that makes perfect sense,” Mary said. “And now I understand why you’ve been here so long.” She paused for a moment while she gathered her thoughts. “I realize you don’t know me and have no reason to trust me…”
“I have seen you here,” the woman interrupted. “Helping others.”
“Good,” Mary said with a smile. “That helps then because I want you to trust me when I say that this light is not like the fevered lights. This light is like the sun through a window on a cold winter’s day. It’s like the sun on your back as you bend to smell the flowers in the springtime.”
“I remember that light,” the woman said with a smile.
“Then walk towards it,” Mary encouraged her. “Walk towards it and see how you feel.”
The woman looked ov
er her shoulder and then back at Mary. “Thank you,” she said. “I will try.”
Mary watched the woman glide across the cemetery and then slowly float into the sky until she was gone. Then she turned to see the group of women she’d seen when she’d visited on Monday. They spoke quietly to each other. Then, hand in hand, they too glided across the cemetery and up into the sky.
Mary felt the warmth of their passing over, and it brought tears to her eyes. “It is a very good day,” she whispered. “Welcome home.”
Then she continued toward the break in the fence she’d used the other day. Turning to her left, she followed the fence line along the outside of the cemetery until she came to a small copse of trees. She could see the dirt had been freshly dug and there were footprints in the muddy soil. She took her camera out and took photos of the footprints and the ground. But as she scoured the area, she couldn’t find anything that had been left behind.
She pulled out her phone again and redialed.
“Hi, is everything okay?” Bradley asked.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied. “Actually, I’m great.”
“Did you find something?” he asked.
“No. Sorry,” she said. “I’m great about something else. But let’s talk about Chandler right now. There are footprints, and there is a freshly dug area. I didn’t think to bring a shovel and I don’t think I want to be the one to discover what’s down there.”
“Good, I don’t want you to do it either,” he said. “I’ll send someone down. Do you want to wait and show them the spot, or do you want to come home and I’ll head over?”
“I can wait,” she said, looking over at the place where the women used to stand. “It’s warmed up quite a bit since I’ve been here.”
“Okay, I’ll still have them hurry,” he said.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” she said. “I’ll see you soon.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
Mary pulled up in front of her house, surprised and delighted to see her parents’ car was already there. She hurried inside to greet them and was swept up into her father’s arms before she could close the door.
“My little Mary-Mary,” her father said, hugging her. “And how are you feeling?”
“Just great, Da,” she said, placing a kiss on his cheek.
He held her away from him, his eyes glistening with emotion. “And you look like a beauty,” he said. “You’re glowing, you are.”
“Thanks, Da,” she said.
“And when is your Ma going to get her share of hugs?” Margaret asked.
Smiling, Mary turned and threw her arms around her petite mother. “Thank you for coming,” Mary said. “I can’t believe you’re here so early.”
“Ah, well, your Da was like a grumpy old bear this morning,” she teased. “‘Let’s go early so we can beat the rush hour traffic.’ So, we’re out of the house by six, and who got to drive in the early morning traffic? Not your Da I can tell you. He was asleep before we passed the first toll booth.”
Timothy grinned. “I always sleep when your mother’s driving,” he teased. “It’s a defense really. She’s much too aggressive for my taste.”
Margaret rolled her eyes. “Well, now, he won’t be needing an afternoon nap,” she said. “So he can help us with the shopping.”
Timothy’s eyes widened in mock horror. “Not grocery shopping on the day before Thanksgiving,” he pleaded. “It’s nearly as bad as Christmas shopping on the day after.” He looked at Bradley for help. “I’m sure there’s some project young Bradley here can use some help with, isn’t there, son?”
Bradley smiled. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “I have a dollhouse I’ve been working on for Clarissa. It could use another coat of paint and some final touches.”
Timothy smiled widely. “And, well, there you have it,” he said, shaking his head regretfully. “I’d have loved to go shopping with you fine ladies, but duty calls.”
“Duty calls my…” Margaret let the word stay unspoken and then she turned to her daughter. “So, why don’t you use the bathroom, and then we can be on our way. Perhaps we can beat some of the crowds.”
“How did you know I had to go to the bathroom?” she asked her mother.
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Margaret answered with a smile.
Mary freshened up and was ready to go in a matter of minutes. “Is there anything you’d like us to get while we’re out?” she asked.
“Ah, well, if you happen to see a package of those Freeport Potato Chips, I wouldn’t be minding some of those,” her father said. “And, if you happen to see some of that Wisconsin Aged White Cheddar, I wouldn’t say no to a bite of that. Oh, and if you happen—”
“Enough,” Margaret laughed. “You’d think I never fed the man. We’ll find treats for you, I promise.”
Timothy laughed and gave Margaret a smacking kiss on the lips. “Well, you’re the only treat I’ll ever need,” he teased.
Mary loved that her mother still blushed.
“Oh, enough with you,” Margaret said, her cheeks blazing. “We’ll be back soon. See that you get that dollhouse done.”
“So what’s on the menu for tomorrow?” Margaret asked as they walked to Mary’s car.
“Did you know that Bradley has never had corn pudding?” Mary asked, opening the door for her mother.
“What in the world?” Margaret asked as she climbed in.
Mary climbed in the other side. “It’s so funny because he thinks it’s going to be sweet, like chocolate pudding, and I think to him the idea of corn and pudding is disgusting.”
“He’s going to be so surprised,” Margaret said.
“I hope so,” Mary replied. “It would be awful if he really did end up hating it.”
“So, other than corn pudding,” Margaret said with a smile, “what else is on the list?”
Mary listed off a traditional Thanksgiving menu with all the trimmings and then added even more.
“Are you sure you want to cook all of this?” Margaret asked.
“Well, Katie and Rosie are bringing some of it,” Mary said. “The big things I have to worry about are the rolls, the turkey and stuffing and, of course…”
“The corn pudding,” Margaret laughed. “And just what are all of the men and children going to be doing while we cook?”
“Oh, that’s the greatest thing,” Mary said. “Bradley has talked to all the men, and they are taking the kids to Read Park for a Turkey Day flag football game. So, they’re leaving right after the parade and won’t be back until just before dinner.”
“You married a good man,” Margaret said.
“I married a man who would rather play football than peel potatoes,” Mary countered with a smile.
“You married a smart man,” Margaret laughed.
“Exactly,” Mary said.
They pulled up to the grocery store, and the parking lot was already half-filled. “Well, this might take a little longer than I thought,” Mary said.
“That’s okay, dear,” Margaret said. “We have all day.”
Mary shrugged. “You’re right. We do.”
Chapter Forty
Several hours later, with the back of the car filled with groceries and supplies, Mary pulled into the driveway. “Well, we did it,” she said to her mother.
“I just have one question,” Margaret replied.
“And that is?” Mary asked with a smile.
“Are you going to have enough room in your refrigerator for everything you just bought?”
A look of panic on Mary’s face instantly revealed her answer. “I didn’t even think of that,” Mary said. She laid her head against her steering wheel. “I’m going to have to send Bradley out for another refrigerator.”
Chuckling, Margaret placed her hand on her daughter’s arm. “Don’t worry,” she said. “The weather’s cold enough that with some coolers and ice we’ll be able to store some of it on your back porch.”
Mary released a sigh of relief. “T
hank you, Ma,” she said. “You’re a genius.”
Her mother shook her head. “No, darling, just someone who’s done the same thing many a time,” she confessed. “Now, let’s get your car unpacked and into the house.”
In about twenty minutes, the car was empty and the cupboards were full. Mary and Margaret were sprawled out on chairs in the living room, their feet up on the coffee table, glasses of iced herb tea in their hands and Lucky purring contentedly on Margaret’s lap.
“That was exhausting,” Mary said.
“Aye, I always forget how much work shopping for Thanksgiving can be,” Margaret replied.
Mary took a sip of the tea. “And what do we have to do tonight?” she asked.
Margaret sighed. “Ah, well, there’s the dough for the Parker Rolls to rise once and then refrigerate overnight. There’s the pies to bake because the turkey will be hogging the oven most of the day. There’s the Waldorf Salad to make and refrigerate, and if we’re feeling energetic, we could get the deviled eggs done too.”
“Ma,” Mary said.
“Yes, darling,” her mother replied.
“We won’t be feeling energetic,” Mary stated.
Her mother chuckled. “Aye, I agree with you on that,” she laughed. “Oh, and then we’ve a quilt to complete.”
Mary sat up in her chair. “That’s right,” she said. “The quilt. But we can’t begin to work on that until after Clarissa’s in bed.”
“Well, then, it’s a good thing we didn’t overdo today,” her mother replied wryly. “Because we’ll be having a late night.”
Mary groaned. “Yeah, good thing.”
The front door opened and Bradley, Clarissa and Timothy walked in.
“And look who we found at the school,” Timothy said. “This big, grown-up girl. I almost didn’t recognize her.”
“Grandma!” Clarissa yelled, propelling herself across the room into her grandmother’s arms, Lucky making a narrow escape.
Margaret hugged Clarissa. “And how’s my favorite granddaughter?” she asked.
“I’m great,” Clarissa replied. “More than great.”
