“Xavier,” Bernie snapped, “I
But Xavier wasn’t listening.
“I’ll be back on Sunday night,” he said, zipping up the sports bag and slinging it across his shoulder.
“That’s it; I’m getting your father.” Bernie whirled around and stormed down the hall. “Peter!” we heard her calling. “Peter, come and talk to your son — he’s out of control!”
Xavier looked at me apologetically. “Sorry about this,” he said.
“They’re just worried,” I replied. “It’s natural.”
A few moments later Xavier’s father appeared in the doorway, his forehead creased with concern and his hands buried in his trouser pockets.
“You’ve got your mother in a bit of a state,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Dad.” Xavier put a hand on his father’s shoulder. “I can’t explain it all right now, but I have to go. Just trust me on this one.”
Peter looked over at me. “Are you both all right?” he asked.
“We will be,” I said. “After this weekend everything will be fine.”
Peter seemed to sense the urgency in our voices, and he put his hand over Xavier’s.
“I’ll take care of your mother,” he said. “You two worry about taking care of yourselves.” He gestured to the bedroom window. “Go that way.” We stared at him, wondering if it was some sort of joke. “Hurry up!”
Xavier smiled grimly, pushed open the window, and tossed his bag out before helping me through.
“Thanks, Dad,” he said and hoisted himself up after me.
From outside, pressed against the cool bricks, we heard Bernie come back into the room.
“Where did they go?” she demanded.
“I’m not sure,” replied Peter innocently. “They must have slipped past me.”
“Are you okay?” I asked Xavier once we were safely in the car. I knew how terrible I’d felt lying to Ivy and Gabriel, and I knew that Xavier had a lot of respect for his parents.
“Yeah, Mom will recover,” he said, and smiled at me. “You’re my top priority and don’t you forget it.” We drove home in pensive silence.
30
Raising Hell
Hard as I tried, I couldn’t accept Gabriel’s proposal of waiting for divine guidance. It seemed unlike him to respond in such a way, uncharacteristically cautious, which told me everything I needed to know; Jake Thorn was a serious threat, and that meant I couldn’t sit at home while Molly was in his clutches.
Molly had been my first friend at Venus Cove. She had taken me under her wing, confided in me, and made every effort to ensure I felt included. If Gabriel, of all people, didn’t feel confident enough to act alone, then something was seriously wrong. So I didn’t think twice. I knew exactly what I had to do.
“I’m going out to pick up some groceries,” I told Gabriel, careful to keep my face impassive so he wouldn’t detect the lie.
My brother frowned. “We’re not running low. Ivy stocked up yesterday.”
“Well, I need something to get my mind off this whole business with Jake,” I said, trying a different tact. Gabriel looked at me closely, his silver eyes narrowed, his chiseled features severe. I swallowed. Lying to him was never easy. “I just need to get out of the house.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said. “I don’t want you going out alone, given the current situation. ..”
“I won’t be alone,” I insisted. “I’ll be with Xavier. And besides, I’ll only be gone ten minutes.” I felt awful lying to his face, but I had no other choice.
“Don’t be such a worrywart.” Ivy patted my brother’s arm. She was always so quick to trust in me. “Some fresh air will do them good.”
Gabriel pursed his lips and folded his hands behind his back.
“All right. But come straight back.”
I took Xavier’s hand and tugged him out of the house. He started the Chevy in silence. I told him to make a left at the end of the street.
“You have a terrible sense of direction,” he joked, but the smile didn’t touch his eyes.
“We were never going to the grocery store.”
“I know,” Xavier said. “And I think you’re crazy.”
“I have to do something,” I said quietly. “Lives have already been lost because of Jake. How will we live with ourselves if Molly’s his next victim?”
Xavier was unconvinced. “Beth, do you really think I’m going to take you right into the path of a murderer? The guy’s unstable. You heard what your brother said.”
“This isn’t about me anymore,” I said. “I’m not worried.”
“Well I am! Do you realize the danger you’re putting yourself in?”
“It’s my job! Why do you think I was sent here? Not just to sell badges and work in soup kitchens — this is it, this is our challenge! I can’t turn my back on it because I’m too scared.”
“Maybe Gabriel’s right — sometimes it’s smart to be scared.”
“And sometimes you just have to bite the bullet,” I insisted.
Xavier was exasperated. “Look, I’ll go down to the graveyard and bring Molly back. You stay here.”
“Great idea,” I said sarcastically. “If there’s one person Jake hates more than me, it’s you. Look, Xav, you can either come with me or you can stay home. But either way I’m going to help Molly. I understand if you don’t want to be a part of this. ..”
Xavier made a sharp turn at the next corner and drove in silence. Ahead of us was an uninterrupted stretch of road. I noticed the houses growing sparser.
“Wherever you go, I go,” he said.
The cemetery was located at the end of a long, wide road just out of town. Alongside it ran an abandoned railroad line, with neglected train cars weathered by the elements. The only buildings nearby were a row of derelict town houses, their balconies choked with vegetation and their windows boarded up.
The cemetery dated back to the town’s first settlement but had expanded since then to reflect the waves of migration. The newest section contained shiny marble monuments and shrines, all meticulously maintained. In many of the shrines were photographs of the deceased surrounded by glowing votive lights in frosted glass. There were small altars, crucifixes, and statues of Christ and the Virgin Mary, her hands folded in prayer.
Xavier parked his car across the street, a little way from the main gates so we wouldn’t draw attention. At this time of day the gates were open so we crossed the road and walked straight in. At first glance the place seemed peaceful. We saw a lone mourner, an elderly woman in black, tending one of the newer graves. She was cleaning its glass front and replacing the flowers that had shriveled with a new bunch of chrysanthemums, cutting them to size with a pair of scissors. She was so absorbed in her task that she barely noticed us. The rest of the place seemed deserted apart from the occasional raven circling overhead and the soft droning of bees that hovered around the lilac bushes. While there was no earthly disturbance, I sensed the presence of several lost souls who haunted their place of burial. I would have liked to stop and help them on their journey, but I had more pressing matters on my mind.
“I know where we might find them,” said Xavier, and he steered me to the original section of the cemetery.
There, a very different scene greeted us. The graves were old and abandoned, their cast-iron railings rusted. Over time, a tangle of ivy had smothered all other vegetation and now ruled unchallenged, threading its tenacious tendrils through the iron railings like rope. These graves were more humble and at ground level; some had nothing more than a plaque to identify the occupant. I saw a patch of turf littered with small windmills and soft toys that had long lost their sheen and realized this was a section for infants. I stopped to read one of the tiny tablets: LUCY ROSE, 1949–1949, AGE 5 DAYS. Thinking about this little soul who had graced the earth for a mere five days filled me with an unspeakable sadness.
