“When you say it, I believe it. When I’m home alone, doubt creeps in.” She sighed.
Fair resisted the obvious riposte that she shouldn’t be home alone, he should be with her.
It was true. Harry was rattled. Her mind was clouded by quitting, by questions about her future. She was also rattled, although happy, because she realized she did love Fair. This was a quiet, growing realization, and she’d address it when all this settled down. She knew she ran away from emotion, but she swore to herself she wouldn’t do that about Fair and she’d sit down to talk to him. She gave herself an August 1 deadline. She was again in love with him.
Had Harry been on course, she would have realized she had been given a clue Tuesday, a disturbing and dangerous clue.
51
A soft rain pattered down Saturday, July 3. Tiny drumbeats resounded throughout central Virginia as leaves bowed then bounced back with each raindrop.
The service for Mary Pat Reines was held at eleven-thirty A.M. at St. Luke’s. The simple interior of the old eighteenth-century church invited all who stepped inside to consider the spiritual side of life. For those aesthetically attuned, the clean lines, crisp whiteness of the walls, dark forest-green long cushions on the original maple pews, and deep pure colors of the stained-glass windows made sitting in St. Luke’s a visual delight.
A balcony along the back wall also contained the organ. The long pipes, looking golden, were in the walls behind the front of the church. St. Luke’s couldn’t afford to purchase an organ until the boom years under James Monroe’s presidency. The one they bought had to have been the best, because it was still in use today.
The church was full but the balcony held only the organist, Merilee Kursinski, and her assistant, the ever-jolly Meredith McLaughlin. Elocution and Cazenovia, Herb’s cats, sat on a front balcony pew, as did Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker. The Reverend Jones loved animals, taking St. Francis as a personal saint, so if the balcony was not in use, he thought a small four-footed congregation was in order. For Herb, all souls, including his beloved cats, were equal before God. Although at times he wasn’t so certain about Elocution, given her tendency to desecrate communion wafers. She had been the one who led Cazenovia, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker into this misdeed during the winter, causing no end of trouble when communion Sunday came due. Poor Herb opened the closet door only to discover the tattered remains of the communion boxes. Telltale kitty-fang marks pointed to the culprits.
Down below, the front pew contained Alicia Palmer, Tavener Heyward by her side, the elder Sanburnes, and Aunt Tally. Immediately behind them sat Harry and Fair, Miranda—alone since Tracy Raz was still out of town—Susan and Ned Tucker, Little Mim Sanburne, and Blair Bainbridge.
BoomBoom, Tazio Chappars, Paul de Silva, Amy Wade, and Bill Langston sat in the third pew.
Many of Mary Pat’s friends—the older generation—had passed on. Those in the church knew her, but most were from younger generations, such as Harry, Fair, and Susan, who were still in grade school when Mary Pat disappeared.
When Herb entered from behind the lectern, he wore his full robes of office, an impressive sight. The green of the Trinity surplice contrasted with the black of his robes. With his deep Orson Welles voice, blue-gray eyes, and silver-gray hair, Herb exuded authority and something quite speciaclass="underline" compassion.
“I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die.
“I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: and though this body be destroyed, yet shall I see God: whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not as a stranger.
“We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”
Outside, Cooper heard the organ, then the voices of the congregation as they sang. Although little of Mary Pat had been recovered, that little was to be interred at the family cemetery back at St. James. Cooper was the escort and would drive in the front of the hearse.
Although she didn’t like funerals, she did like driving the big Harley-Davidson motorcycle, which she’d parked under a tree. She put plastic over the seat due to the rain. Although not part of the motorcycle patrol, Rick allowed her to pull funeral duty so she could ride the Hog. One of the advantages of being part of a small force was she wasn’t hemmed in by so many restrictions.
She leaned against the hearse to chat with the driver and assistant, who held a huge golf umbrella. A large casket was not in order. Alicia requested the bones be cremated, so a beautiful small casket, two feet square, contained Mary Pat’s ashes.
This small, elegant mahogany casket reposed on a plinth in the center front of the church, below and between the lectern and the pulpit.
The service, somber yet beautiful, concluded. Tavener and Fair acted as pallbearers. Each gentleman took one of the curving brass handles. Going before everyone, they carried Mary Pat out of the church.
They placed the mahogany casket in the back of the hearse, then each waited for the lady he was escorting.
Fair stood out in the light rain as people filed by. Harry, two kitties and one doggy in tow, slipped out the back door of the church. Her high heels sank in the thick, sodden grass.
“Damn. These things are worthless.” She pulled her feet up high with each step.
“I heard that,” BoomBoom half-whispered.
Harry turned around. “Why’d you come out the back?”
“Stopped at the bathroom.” BoomBoom reached over and took Pewter, whom Harry was carrying like a loaf of bread.
“She’s heavy.” Harry smiled.
“She is.” BoomBoom bent over in jest. “Hard to carry two cats at once.”
Harry and BoomBoom put the animals in Fair’s truck. Harry hurried to Fair as fast as she could in her heels. “Sorry it took me so long.”
“That’s okay. Had a chance to see everyone.”
They climbed into the truck and drove out to St. James for the graveside ceremony.
The graveyard was high behind the main house. One could see the back of the house, some of the barns, and the training track from the location. The graveyard, surrounded by trees, did not attract attention when one was at the house or the barns.
A small, square canvas tent had been erected over the grave, which the grave-diggers had mistakenly made full size. People gathered under the tent. Others stood outside, their colorful umbrellas adding festive color to the dolorous occasion.
Herb stood at the head of the grave. Alicia stood, although there were chairs, to his right. Tavener was next to Alicia. Harry was next to Tavener. Fair was next to her.
Across from the grave stood all the Sanburnes. Aunt Tally, cane in hand, rested on a chair.
Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker sat under the huge black gum tree at the back of the graveyard. Although only thirty yards away, no one noticed them. Harry had given them a lecture on being very, very quiet.
“Why does it always rain at funerals?” Pewter whispered.
“To irritate you,” Mrs. Murphy replied.
“Did you know there’s a gravestone where Stonewall Jackson’s arm is buried near Chancellorsville?” Tucker informed them. “There’s not much left of Mary Pat. A couple old bones. They should give them to me. I’d bury them.”
“You’re terrible.” Pewter giggled softly.
“Well, I ask you, what good does burying bodies and bones in a casket do? Nothing. All that protein goes to waste.” Tucker kept her voice low. “And what carrion eaters don’t use will enrich the soil.”