Sleepy Hollow: Bridge of Bones

by Richard Gleaves

  “Why does her grave look so bad?” Jason said, standing.

  “The whole cemetery looks bad.”

  “No. Her grave. It’s worse than all the rest. Her grave should be the best one here. Things should grow on it. That’s what Valerie said. It should be green. It should be alive.” His heart came into his throat.

  “Yeah,” said Joey. “She should be.”

  “Let’s go.” Jason composed himself. “I miss you, Eliza. I’ll give your best to mom and dad.”

  They climbed into Ladybug and drove from the cemetery. The sign on the front of the Old Dutch Church read:

  HE IS RISEN

  The car crossed over the Pocantico Hills. Fifteen minutes later they arrived in the town of Valhalla, a lap of land surrounded by green hills. They parked next to the Valhalla Cemetery office, a squat building with a yard of blank headstones. Nowhere near as nice as the Sleepy Hollow offices. Jason hoped his parents weren’t buried in a dump. Joey went in while Jason stayed in the car. The mission of the day had left him feeling very still and quiet and contemplative. He was glad Joey was there to move him from one thing to the next.

  A tidy but modest chapel rose at the end of the drive. A funeral was letting out. A sextet of Asian men carried a white casket through mahogany doors, headed for the hearse. A woman followed with a coffin-spray of daisies and roses. An elderly couple emerged next, holding the hands of a child between them. The boy’s cheeks were wet, his almond eyes emptied by grief. He wore a black suit and narrow matching tie, but he had red sneakers on his feet. Who had died? His mom? His dad? Would the elderly couple be raising him now? Jason watched the boy. The boy watched the coffin. The hearse doors closed. Jason hadn’t attended his parents’ funeral. Had it been held in this same chapel? He didn’t know. He’d never been to their graves, had never even said goodbye. Would he have held up as well as that brave little boy…?

  Joey returned with a map. “It’s the Evergreen Section,” he said, starting the engine.

  Jason nodded. The little boy receded in Ladybug’s rearview mirror. He was clinging to his grandmother now.

  They drove past the Garden of Innocents, past rows of children’s headstones, through the gardens of Faith and Hope. The graves were individualized, each unique. Some faced fountains, some faced the distant hills, some graves were lost in contemplation, greeting eternity under the willows. The grounds were more expansive than Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. Less gathered in. More room to stretch your legs. Jason decided he liked the place, this cemetery nestled in a bowl of hills. A protected place. A safe place. A green place. With lush, vibrant summer grass and Easter wreaths to watch over it all.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” said Joey, parking the car.

  Jason shook his head. He climbed out.

  Joey helped him take the wreath from the back seat. He stood at the curb and pointed. “They should be over there. About three rows down.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jason walked down the slope, carrying the wreath. He had seen his parents’ double stone in photographs, so he recognized it as he approached, but he turned his head, not to look until his shadow had fallen across their sacred patch of grass.

  “Hi, Mom and Dad,” he whispered. “Guess who I am.”

  He tried unsuccessfully to mount the wreath. He felt incapable of managing it. He laid it on the grass and sat with it. He stared at the headstone, replaying birthdays and Christmases, breakfasts and dinners, papier-mâché robot costumes and school plays. He spoke to his parents, about his life and accomplishments, such as they were. He told them about Eliza’s death, his new situation, his love for them and how much he missed them. He thought no profound thoughts, as he sat there. No cosmic insights, no solemn vows, no prayers but one.

  “I wish we’d had more time. It wasn’t… enough.”

  “Jason?”

  He turned, shielding his eyes from the sun, looking for the source of the voice. Kate stood a dozen yards away, hands in the pockets of her camel hair coat.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  He didn’t trust his voice. He pointed at the graves. She knelt alongside him.

  “Your parents?”

  “I came to…” He raised the wreath.

  Kate nodded. “Let me help.”

  He stood, brushing grass, and together they planted the stand deep. He mounted the wreath.

  “I’m doing the same thing,” she said softly. “My mom’s here. Want to meet her?”

  “Sure.”

  She led him away, gently, only when he was ready. Halfway down the hill stood the white marker of Sophia Usher. Kate’s wreath was of intertwined ribbon and roses and baby’s breath.

  Kate spoke gently to the earth. “This is Jason, mom. He’s a friend.”

  “Am I?”

  “Of course you are.” She paused, listening. “Mom says you’re cute.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Kate put a hand to her ear. “But you could use a sandwich.”

  Jason managed a smile. It felt good. They sat on a bench, in silence, at a spot halfway between her loss and his own, within sight of both.

  “I talk to her a lot. She died when I was seven,” said Kate.

  “I was seven too.”

  “Ten years,” they said, as one. He looked at her. Kate’s eyes were dark. Tired, as if she hadn’t slept in weeks.

  Jason bumped her shoulder with his own. “Where have you been, Kate?”

  She shrugged, shook her head. “I haven’t been feeling well.”

  “You okay?”

  “Not really. I thought I was over Zef, but…”

  “You’re not.”

  “I am, but… I haven’t felt like myself. I’m sleepwalking. My dad’s worried it might be catalepsy. That runs in my family. I just keep dropping off. He made me go to the doctor but I’m fine. And he worries about my Gift. It still hasn’t come back and he has no clue what to do about it. He’s never home, though. It hasn’t been a very good year has it?”

  “Hey. I’m sorry I lied about Zef. I’ve wanted to say that for months.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You were being Zef’s friend, and mine. You thought you had to lie. It’s okay.” She bumped his shoulder with her own. “So… are we still getting married?”

  “Who says the invitation’s still open?”

  “Oh, no. You can’t back out now. Daddy’s got a shotgun.”

  They laughed softly. “I was stupid,” said Jason. “Not that you aren’t amazing. But… I don’t really know you, do I?”

  She shook her head. “We just met.”

  “We just met. You know why I did it?”

  “To save me from Zef?”

  “Sure, but mostly because of that vision I told you about. The vision of you…”

  “Walking up the aisle. You thought we were inevitable.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Because you’d seen the future.” She pulled her coat tight against the wind. “I know what that’s like.”

  “It was crazy. I talked myself into loving you.” Jason hesitated. Inside, he was shouting at himself. What you doing? You’re blowing it! You love her! You love her! But he extended a hand and said, “I hope we’re still friends.”

  She shook it. “Of course we are. I did the same thing with Zef. I had my own stupid vision, so I ignored the warning signs. I thought it would work out.”

  “That it had to.”

  “That it was inevitable. So I talked myself into loving him too.” She smiled. “We really should date. We’ve got so much in common.” She gave his knee a little thump. “Do you want to know what I saw that night?”

  “New Year’s?”

  “No. The Spirit Dance. When whatever happened between us happened.”

  “Sure.”

  “I saw the past. I must’ve been using your Gift, like you were using mine. I saw you. You were little. You were… on a playground, crying.”

  “You saw that?”

  “Yeah. Y
ou were on a playground with your grandmother. She had you wrapped in her coat. It felt very… personal. That’s why I never…”

  “Talked about it.”

  She nodded.

  Jason sighed. “That was the day I learned to deal with death.”

  “Teach me the secret sometime?”

  They sat looking in opposite directions, at their own Easter wreaths, both lost in thought. Kate didn’t wrap Jason in her coat but she did put her hand around his back and pressed her cheekbone to his, just for a second. Joey appeared, rounding a half-circle of bushes that shielded a monument: a triple-barred Russian Orthodox cross. He stood looking at the grave with reverence.

  “Who’s that?” Jason called.

  Joey turned and pointed, excitedly. “It’s Rachmaninoff. The composer.”

  “That’s why my mom chose this spot,” said Kate. “She loved Rachmaninoff.”

  Jason looked at her. He could hear that music, suddenly. That rhapsodic music Dianne Crane had played at the top of Cadillac Mountain. Come join your parents at the end of the world…

  “So did mine,” he said. He brushed a wisp of hair from Kate’s cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

  She escorted Jason back to his parent’s gravesite. He said his private goodbyes and all three walked to Ladybug. If Joey was surprised to see Kate he didn’t say anything.

  Jason turned to her and stuck his hands in his pockets. “This next part is going to be tough. I could use my friends around. Would you mind coming along?”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  Jason looked away, into the hills. “I have to see where they died.”

  They drove into the hills and found the Kensico Dam. Jason hadn’t expected the Easter crowds. A banner hung over the parking lot.

  Do You LOVE Westchester Parks?

  A lot of people did, apparently. Mostly parents with children: squealing little girls in Easter dresses, boys in khaki and button-downs making fart jokes and getting popped on the butt for it. The families were headed down to the plaza, though. To the large field of grass on the dry side of the dam, where an Easter egg hunt was in progress. A local symphony was playing a concert. Young couples spread beach towels and picnic baskets. A quintet of folk dancers cavorted on the grass, throwing scarves into the air like middle-aged nymphs. Jason couldn’t help but imagine the tragedy if the dam were to crack and carry those happy people away, leaving those children to hunt for parents swept away by the deluge.

  Jason walked upwards on a path through the trees, his red backpack over his shoulder, towards the abandoned road along the top of the dam. Joey and Kate faded behind, giving him privacy but staying available. At first, the trees were too thick for Jason to see the water. His first sight was of the road itself, flanked by two grey-columned pergolas. Stepping over the chain and onto that road was like stepping into a black and white photo. The walls on either side were of grey stone, two feet thick. The road itself was dark grey but for the faded yellow line that divided the two lanes. The sky was grey, overcast and solemn. To his left, the mirror of the reservoir gathered the greyness of it all.

  He’d imagined this place many times, from the police report. He’d come across the report in a folder two days ago, among Eliza’s things, while looking for Crane documents. Reading it, he’d felt… oh, it was time he knew. Time he came to this spot. He wanted to know and was afraid to know, both at once.

  Jason peered over the wall, saw the reflection of his own small head floating in the water where his parents died. Fear swarmed him, that old childhood fear of dying as they had, off the Million-Dollar Highway, off the cliff roads of Maine, dying in a car, tumbling over and over to a watery end. That had been his Nightmare when he was a boy. Not death at the bridge… Sie sterben an der Brücke… but death… here… at this dam. At this dam of bone-grey stone. Clinging to his parents… falling with them… Many nights Eliza had come running to answer his howl in the dark, all pink quilting and hair curlers, to hold him until his terror subsided. Just a Nightmare. Shh. Just a Nightmare. You won’t go like that, Honey, don’t worry. I’m here. Settle down. Shh. Settle down.

  The two Nightmares were similar, weren’t they? The dam. The bridge. Both were watery deaths… and both terrified him.

  Jason stood alone. Couples passed and a street musician played but they didn’t exist to him. He set the backpack on the wall, opened it, and took out Valerie’s map. He traced the perimeter of the circle she had drawn there—a circle five miles in diameter, centered on Sleepy Hollow. The range of the Horseman, based on the distance a horse could travel and still return to the graveyard by daybreak. His finger stopped on a smudge of blue. The Kensico Reservoir, just inside the line. The dam was inside the Horseman’s range. Just barely.

  He took a deep breath, tucked the map away, and drew out his father’s other boot…

  Joey and Kate lingered at the other end of the dam, at the pergola of columns where mayors and city commissioners were memorialized in stone. Joey wasn’t usually tongue-tied but he didn’t know how to approach her. They’d never been friends, or enemies. They’d never run in the same circles. In fact, their only connections were Jason… and Zef.

  “So, I guess you hate me, huh?” Joey said.

  “No,” said Kate, keeping her eyes on the road.

  “Nothing happened, you know. Between me and Zef. Not behind your back or anything. Well, he kissed me once.”

  Now she turned. She didn’t look angry, just surprised. “He did? When?”

  Joey frowned. “A year ago today, actually. Last Easter.”

  Kate looked thoughtful. “I was in Albany. The Statehouse Easter Egg Roll. My dad had to attend. So… you guys had a roll of your own?”

  “No, we did not. I told you. One kiss. I was singing with Hollow Praise over in White Plains and Zef just showed up. One kiss in the car—in the parking lot behind the Moon Rock Diner. That was the extent of our ‘roll.’ That’s all there’s ever been. One kiss and a lot of… angsty gay teenager crap.”

  “I believe you.”

  “I thought you should know.”

  “I don’t hate you. Much.” Kate grinned.

  Joey raised an eyebrow. “Much?”

  “Well, you did try to steal my man, you big torch singer.”

  Joey put a hand on his hip and pointed at her. “Girlfriend, if I could steal him then he weren’t your man.” He snapped.

  Kate raised a finger. “Don’t make me out-drag-queen you.”

  “As if.” Joey smiled and dropped the pose. He could feel the tension ebbing between them. Family members clear the air with serious conversations. Business partners write letters. Potential friends clear the air with banter—they use silliness to smudge away the bad spirits. “And I am not a drag queen. I’m a theater queen. Learn the difference, Ethel.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “I never lip-synch.”

  “I know you don’t.” Kate shook her head. “Stealing my man away with your golden voice.”

  Joey sang the first few bars of “Some Enchanted Evening.” He decided he liked the acoustics of the pergola and kept going. Kate joined in, as best she could. She had lousy pitch but—to her credit—she knew all the words. When they finished, a passing elderly couple applauded them. Kate and Joey took a bow and applauded each other.

  Kate turned away again, checking on Jason. “Do you love Zef?” she asked.

  Joey nodded but she didn’t see.

  “No,” he said, softly. “I’m through with him. One kiss doesn’t exactly balance the scales.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “Kisses never do.”

  Jason stared at his father’s left boot: dark grey snakeskin, scuffed. He’d read its mate, long ago, on that Thanksgiving when his Gift first appeared. The night of Owen and the brown paper bag. He’d seen his father’s death. That first boot was dark to him now. But this boot wasn’t. He had brought it to read. Here, where it happened. What did he expect to see? His father’s death? Why put h
imself through that? But he had to try. He took his gloves off and pocketed them.

  “I want to see the accident itself. I need to know how it happened. I need to know what happened. I want to know why.” He realized he was speaking aloud, into his cupped palms, speaking to his Gift, to the spirit world or the boot itself. He turned the toe of the boot towards his chest, towards his heart, and closed his eyes.

  “Show me,” he said.

  He laid his palms on the snakeskin, fell, and broke the surface of time…

  “Are they following?” Jason’s dad spun in the drivers seat, looking over his shoulder. Jason sat in the back, invisible, watching.

  “You’re imagining things,” said the woman in the passenger seat. Dianne, Jason’s mom. She wore her hair up. “Will you slow down?” Her voice sounded uncharacteristically sharp.

  “Will you please just look?” said Andrew.

  Dianne turned, staring through Jason. She checked the rearview mirror, shook her head. “All I see are headlights. I can’t—”

  Andrew spun the wheel. The car leapt the curb, rattled over a strip of grass, bounced down a hill and onto a dark side street.

  “What are you doing?” Dianne shouted.

  Andrew slowed and turned off the headlights, relying on the infrequent puddles of light from passing houses. “Shh.” Jason saw his father’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He could also see the place where the car had abandoned the highway. A red van paused there for a moment but sped on. Who were his parents running from?

  “You’re being paranoid,” said Dianne.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” He turned the headlights up. The road rose, climbing into the hills.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” asked Dianne.

  He handed her a cell phone. “Call your mother. Tell her we’re on our way.”

  “It’s after midnight.”

  “Tell her to have Jason dressed. We’ll stay with Bill Tedesco for a few days.”