Conspiracy of Bones (And the Beat Goes On)

by Tracy Krauss

  "Mark, you remember Amy?" Harmony said, slipping her arm through the crook of Mark’s elbow.

  "How could I forget?" Mark smiled at Amy.

  "Excuse me," Russ interrupted the exchange. "A few people are going up to the house. I wonder if you and Harmony could catch a ride over with Brent and meet people as they arrive? He said he wouldn’t mind squeezing you in. I think Deanie would like to spend a few more minutes here alone."

  Mark looked around. More and more people were leaving the cemetery. He nodded. "No problem."

  Mark, Harmony and Amy walked across the grass to the tree-lined driveway where Brent’s car was parked. Brent, Holly and Bryan sat in the front, with Holly in the middle, while the other three squeezed into the back seat. Harmony sat in the middle between Mark and Amy.

  "So I hear you’ve been in Africa this last while," Brent said conversationally.

  "That’s right."

  "It must be fascinating," Holly said, glancing over her shoulder. "What exactly is it that you’re working on?"

  Mark went into a simplified explanation of the temple site and the layers of burial sites that had been hidden underneath.

  "Mark’s always liked rocks and old pottery better than people," Harmony teased when she got a chance.

  They arrived at the Graham house just minutes before the first visitors. Deanie had arranged for a caterer to provide refreshments, so all Mark and Harmony had to do was act as host and hostess.

  Mark’s Uncle Ken and Aunt Kathy arrived first. They had escorted Ken and Russ’s mother, Dorothy Graham, to the funeral, but due to the elderly woman’s mobility, they had not gone to the cemetery. Mark allowed Harmony to open the house, while he helped his uncle get his grandmother out of the car. They proceeded along the sidewalk and up the wide front steps at a snail’s pace.

  "You were always such a good and helpful boy," Grandma Graham said. She was panting once inside the house, quite out of breath.

  "A long way to come for a dead man," Ken commented to Mark with a grunt.

  "Ken! That was rather unfeeling, don’t you think?" Kathy scolded.

  "What was that?" Dorothy asked. "I can’t hear out of my right ear."

  "It was nothing, Gran," Mark assured her. Mark could see that his Aunt and Uncle hadn’t changed much since last time he’d been home. Still bickering and complaining. There had been a time when the whole family thought they would change. It was true, they had both gotten help with their alcohol problems, but AA hadn’t been able to fix the negativity and bitterness that still seemed to define their lives together. It was a wonder they bothered to stick it out, especially now that their two children were well away on their own. Perhaps for some people the familiar, no matter how unpleasant, was preferable to the unknown.

  "So what are Sam and Greg up to these days?" Mark asked conversationally once they’d gotten Grandma settled in a comfortable chair.

  "What’s that?" Dorothy asked loudly.

  "I was just asking Uncle Ken and Aunt Kathy what Sam and Greg are up to," Mark repeated, loud enough for her to hear.

  "Oh, I’m still praying for your cousins," Dorothy responded.

  Ken rolled his eyes. Kathy piped up, "Samantha lives in Brandon now. She moved there last year and is doing quite well in real estate. I’m sure she would have come to the funeral if she wasn’t so busy all the time.”

  "Finally left that stiff of a husband," Ken added. "About time, too. The guy was no good."

  Mark found it ironic that the same thing had often been said about his uncle Ken.

  "No need to bring that up," Kathy chided her husband. "Sam is doing very well these days. She’s got the children in a very nice daycare. They’re benefiting so much from the extra socialization."

  "Learning how to swear, cheat and steal," Ken muttered. "I couldn’t wait for them to go home last time they came for a visit. At least now we don’t end up babysitting them all the time like before, though."

  "There you go again!"

  "What’s Greg doing?" Mark interrupted before his Aunt and Uncle could fan the argument into a full-fledged fight.

  "Who?" Dorothy asked, straining to be part of the conversation.

  "Greg," Mark said loudly.

  "Greg’s doing very well in the oil patch," Kathy said proudly.

  "So you think," Ken muttered, taking a sip of his coffee.

  "He moved out to Alberta a couple of years ago," Kathy explained. "Of course, we don’t hear from him very often. You know how young men are about calling home."

  "I don’t know about that," Ken mused, looking at Mark. "Mark, here, flies half way around the world to attend a funeral. Bet he calls his folks a little more often, too."

  "I haven’t been home much these last few years, either," Mark said, trying to deflect some of the attention from himself. The last thing he needed was to have his relatives start an argument over comparisons between their own children and himself. He’d been down that road enough times as a child. As he recalled, his cousins had always caused their parents their fair share of grief. They had been irresponsible and ungrateful, even then, and apparently things hadn’t changed.

  Harmony was greeting more people at the door and Mark used it as a way to excuse himself. "I’ll talk to you a bit later, Gran," he said into his grandmother’s ear before departing.

  Several people that Mark recognized from his parents church had arrived. As well, Toby Rantt, the drummer from Jack’s jazz ensemble, had arrived with his wife, children and grandchildren. They had all been close with Jack Burton over the years. Mark shook hands with various people and made some small talk as he made the rounds with the ever-increasing number of guests.

  Finally, his father and Deanie arrived. Deanie didn’t appear to be in any shape to play hostess, and Harmony was engaged in conversation with one of the younger members of the Rantt clan. With a sigh, Mark went to see if his Grandmother needed anything. His time for grieving would come later. For now, he needed to be strong for the rest of them.

  He sat quietly beside his grandmother for a few minutes watching the rest of the people chat. She reached over and grasped his hand with a surprisingly strong grip. Her skin was very soft and fragile; paper thin and loose on the knotted chords beneath.

  "Did she tell you about how your Grandpa came to accept the Lord Jesus?" Dorothy asked. Mark didn’t respond right away, and she went on. "I’d been witnessing to Jack for years. Ever since his heart attack, oh, twenty years ago, at least."

  Mark remembered the time well. He had just gotten close to Jack, and felt like he had finally found someone who really understood him. Then Jack had suffered a heart attack and Mark thought that he would never see him again. He’d cried many nights into his pillow when nobody else was around. Jack had eventually recovered, although a much weaker man, and he and Mark had renewed their relationship. It had made Mark appreciate him even more, knowing that he’d almost lost him.

  "Stubborn man, though, he was," Dorothy mused, "he’d always just laughed and started in on one of his own stories, as if he hadn’t really heard what I had to say."

  Mark smiled. He could see Jack doing just that.

  "Then, about six months ago, he startled me with a question. ‘Dorothy,’ he said, ‘Where do you think a man goes when he dies?’ It was an open invitation for me to share the gospel once again. But this time he really listened. He never said anything, which was unusual for your Grandpa Jack, as you well know. He just listened like so.” She demonstrated by cocking her head to one side. "He must have known something; that his time was coming soon. He never said any more to me about it. Probably didn’t want to hear me say I told you so. But he told Deanie just a week before he died that he had accepted Jesus as his Saviour. My, what a blessing for her to hear those words, once he passed on. Just died in his sleep, real peaceful like. It’s a good way to die, I think. In your sleep."

  Mark was more affected by the short discourse than he was willing to admit. Once again he sensed a growing uneasiness. It wa
s fine to talk about God and Jesus in relation to any one else. For most of his family it was the way they defined themselves. But Jack… he had been such an independent thinker… such a free spirit. To know that he had put his faith in something so illogical was unsettling somehow.

  Mark excused himself and went out onto the back deck for a breath of fresh air. There were a few other people out enjoying the late afternoon sun, conversing in small groups of two or three.

  Mark leaned against the railing and surveyed the rooftops of the neighbourhood. This was the home of his boyhood. He used to know every family by name for blocks around when he’d had his paper route. Now he doubted there were any familiar faces left.

  "Hi," a female said, joining him. He looked down to see Amy Walters, at least a head shorter than himself. She looked soft and feminine. Laura was tall and athletic; hard and tanned from working in the African sun. He felt embarrassed that his mind had made the comparison, unbidden.

  "Hi, yourself," Mark replied with a friendly smile. He turned back to stare at the rooftops.

  "I know you were probably much closer to Jack than I ever was," Amy began. "I mean, he was your grandpa, not mine. But sometimes I felt like he was my grandpa, too. He and my real Grandpa were so close."

  "You probably saw more of him in these last years than I did," Mark said. "And he wasn’t really my Grandfather. Not by blood, anyway. But he was one special guy. I’ll miss him."

  "Me too," Amy agreed.

  They were silent for a few moments before Mark picked up the conversation again. "So tell me, Amy. What do you do now that you’re all grown up?"

  "Nothing as exciting as the infamous Dr. Mark Graham.” She laughed.

  "Hardly."

  "Oh, I don’t know about that. Harmony’s got a whole scrap book of articles about you and your discoveries."

  "Really?” Mark was genuinely surprised. “From where?"

  "Science journals, or ‘Archaeologist Today’, or something," Amy shrugged. "Pretty impressive for someone so relatively young."

  Mark laughed. “I take it the operative word is ‘relatively’. Compared to you, I’m pretty ancient."

  Amy just shrugged again.

  "So you still didn’t tell me what you’re doing these days," Mark prodded.

  "I just finished my second year of nursing," Amy said.

  "Following in your mother’s footsteps.” Mark nodded. "Makes sense."

  "I guess it’s what people expected.”

  "You don’t sound all together pleased.”

  "It’s okay,” Amy said. "I mean, I’m not musical like my dad. Harmony and I used to pretend that someday we’d start our own band when we got old enough. Kind of like our parents and our grandparents. Carry on the family tradition and all that. Only an all girl band, since we didn’t want Bryan involved - my stipulation! But when we finally got big enough, I had to face the truth that I couldn’t carry a tune and had a terrible sense of rhythm."

  "A terrible fate for someone with your lineage," Mark stated with a grin.

  "Exactly! So my next best alternative was nursing."

  "A fine and noble profession if it’s what you want."

  "What I really want to do - what I dream about - is going into missions," Amy said. "To go to some remote part of the world where they’ve never heard about Jesus, and teach them to read the Bible and pray…”

  "Do places like that still exist?" Mark asked doubtfully.

  Amy shrugged. “You tell me. You’re the world traveler."

  "In my line of work, our only contact with locals is with some of our preliminary work crews or in dealings with the governing authorities. We’re more interested with the cultural aspects of past civilizations, not the present one," Mark explained. "In any case, if that’s what you really want to do, you should go for it. It’s what Jack would have said."

  Amy smiled. "I suppose he would have, wouldn’t he?"

  "Sure he would have."

  "I just keep telling myself that nursing could be a useful skill if I ever did go into missionary work."

  "True. It would probably be very practical," Mark agreed.

  "Although I really don’t like the sight of blood," Amy mused.

  "Hmm. That could be problematic," Mark said dryly.

  "Ya think?" Amy laughed. "My mom keeps telling me I’ll get over it."

  "Remind me to keep an eye out for you, just in case I end up in hospital before you’ve conquered that one.” Mark smiled.

  "Amy! There you are!" Amy’s mother, Holly Walters, came through the sliding glass patio doors. "I think we’re going to get ready to leave soon. Deanie’s looking awfully tired. I think she needs some solitude. Nice to see you again, Mark," she added before retreating back indoors.

  "Nice talking to you," Amy said as she turned to follow her mother back into the house. "Hope it all goes well for you back in Africa."

  "Thanks. And likewise. It was nice talking to you, too. You’ve grown up a lot since last time we met," Mark said. "Hope you figure out what it is you want to do.” He watched as she stepped through the opening and closed the glass behind her.

  Amy Walters had indeed grown up.

  Chapter Nine

  All of the guests had gone home. Deanie was in the family room listening to some of her father’s old LP’s, Harmony was talking on the phone, and Russ was loading some glasses into the dishwasher. Mark decided it would be a good time to check his emails. He wondered if any new developments had occurred at the site.

  He scanned through several messages before opening one from Laura.

  “Bad news. You need to hurry back. The government wants to shut us down due to risk factors. Sorry to rush you.”

  Russ frowned. It was just like Laura to make it short and to the point. No details what so ever. He knew his family would have a hard time understanding, but he would have to take the next flight back to Harare. He couldn’t risk not getting the casket out of that tunnel.

  Harmony found him in the study a few moments later, still in deep contemplation.

  "Looks like some serious thinking going on," she commented, perching on the arm of Mark’s chair. She put her arms around his neck and gave him a quick squeeze before standing up and sauntering to a row of framed family pictures on a shelf. "What’s up?"

  "Just work.” Mark shut off his laptop and snapped the lid down. “All that same old stuff you find so boring."

  "Did I say that?" Harmony asked, picking up a picture of herself and Mark. He was wearing a cap and gown; she was at least half his height. "Remember that?" she asked, showing him the photo.

  "Of course. It was my graduation day.” Mark smiled.

  "Obviously.” Harmony laughed. "I mean what you told me that day. Remember?"

  "Refresh my memory."

  "I was worried because you were going off to university in the fall and I thought that when you moved out I’d never see you again. You said that no matter where you went in the world, you’d always come home again. You said that family was family forever, no matter what."

  "Hmm. Pretty sage advice, if I do say so myself," Mark said. "I guess I haven’t quite kept up my end as well as I should have."

  "You’ve done okay. Your work is pretty important to you. I’m fairly proud of my big brother."

  "So I’ve been told. Amy Walters tells me you’ve kept some kind of scrapbook. I might like to see it sometime. Just to see what the experts are saying about me."

  "I can go get it now, if you like," Harmony offered. She left the room and came back a few minutes later with a large, hard covered album.

  Mark flipped through the pages. He was surprised by the in depth discussion of his life and work that he saw. He vaguely remembered talking to some reporters at the various sites portrayed, but hadn’t really paid much attention to what was being done with the information. He was also dismayed by the misrepresentation that he caught on occasion.

  "I don’t recall making that comment," he said under his breath, flipping to the next
page. "I was hardly implying that my discoveries rivalled those of Machu Picchu. If they would have checked my own final dissertation on the topic, they would have seen that." He closed the book.

  "So what had you looking so puzzled a few moments ago?" Harmony asked, taking the album from her brother’s hands. "They can’t hold down the fort without you?"

  "I’ve got an excellent crew," Mark replied. "It’s just that were running into some issues with the government authorities. I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave as soon as possible."

  "But you just got here!" Harmony protested.

  "I know. Sorry, kid.”

  "So tell me more about this great archaeological dig of yours that you have to go back to it so soon."

  "We’ve come across some pretty spectacular discoveries, if I do say so myself," Mark said.

  "Like what?"

  Mark stopped for a minute, considering just how much he should tell her. Finally he leaned forward in a conspiratorial fashion. "Actually, little sister, we’ve found some dinosaur remains. Pterodactyl to be exact."

  "So what’s the big deal in that? There’ve been lots of dinosaur bones found."

  "Not among a human burial site.” Mark smiled, waiting for her reaction.

  "Really?" she asked, her eyes getting wide. "Now, that is cool!"

  "I thought you’d think so.”

  "Well, that just proves it, then," she said triumphantly.

  "What?"

  "Since God created all living creatures, it follows that dinosaurs and people lived at the same time. Believe me, I’ve had this discussion with my Biology teacher more than once. Now, thanks to you, we have scientific proof!"

  "Hold on, there," Mark cautioned. "You’re forgetting that’s it’s also been scientifically proven that dinosaurs died off millions of years before human life existed. Though I am very excited about this discovery, we’re still waiting to piece together all the information. There’s got to be a plausible explanation. Maybe one type of flying reptiles survived in isolation; we don’t know. But don’t go jumping to conclusions."