Beyond by Catina Haverlock

Author:Catina Haverlock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cedar Fort Publishing
Published: 2017-10-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

WRITTEN IN STONE

(LANDON)

I avoided this place at all costs. Nothing was ever gained from coming here. But tonight—there was no getting away from the arched iron gate of the Truckee Cemetery. On the day of my funeral, I’d stood with James near the mausoleum, under the shelter of an enormous pine. From a distance, I’d watched as my family’s gray Suburban had slowly followed the black hearse through the grounds and toward our family plot. I remember I was grateful for the rain that day, as the blooms of umbrellas hid the mourning faces of my loved ones who struggled through the graveside service.

I tried, but could not forget, that when the service ended and everyone had gone, Violet stayed. She let her umbrella fall to her side and allowed the pounding rain to stream over her face, camouflaging her tears. After an hour of that, it was clear she had no intention of leaving my grave. The gravediggers lingered, unsure of what to do. They didn’t dare lower my casket into the ground while she watched. At long last, my father and Reese appeared at her side, gently lifting her arms over their necks and supporting her failed legs back to the car.

No, the cemetery was not my favorite place. I steered clear of the pea-gravel road my body had last traveled inside the hearse, and instead wove through the gravestones of the other dead. I’d used to love to explore this historic place as a kid—marveled at the ancient resting places of pioneers, children, and soldiers. I used to make a game of trying to find the oldest headstone, never imagining that my name too, would soon be etched in stone. As I crested a slope, I found Presley standing at the Blackwood family plot, safeguarded as it seemed, by the large slate angel with a broken wing.

The moon shined full and a pale glow emanated from the sculpture, causing her serene face to appear even more peaceful. In shocking contrast, Presley’s face was harrowed. She stood at my grave and scrutinized the polished granite. I hated to read the inscription, because now I read it through her eyes, knowing what those words meant. How they proved what I really was.

LANDON KREW BLACKWOOD

BELOVED SON, BROTHER, UNCLE, AND FRIEND

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN.

Presley did not detect my silent approach. I painfully watched her for a moment as she sunk to her knees, and hesitantly reached out to finger the crumbling flowers left there.

“Presley,” I said, softly.

She lost her balance and struggled to get to her feet. Her breath came in gasps.

“Get away from me.” She stumbled backward until she was pressed against the angel, looking terribly small and afraid.

I did not expect this reaction from her. I hated to admit that James was right about how she would feel, but hoped he wasn’t right about everything.

I braved a step forward and reached for her. She looked about to scream; her mouth gaped and her eyes flashed pure, unadulterated terror. Her face shocked me and for the first time, I comprehended in full, my death.

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