Come along now old man, let’s pay our respects. It’s been a while since we’ve visited. Well thank you, I always wear my best dress for these occasions. Now give me your arm. Yes, we’re going to take it slow. Between my hip and your broken old soul we have to take it slow.

Goodness. The ground keepers haven’t kept up at all this year have they? Just look at Ida and Earl’s headstone. Boxwoods have done grown up all around’em. I don’t mind the boxwoods so much. Makes me think of livin’ things and sweetness, but the weeds, I’ve just never liked the weeds, always smotherin’ things. Someone needs to get down on their hands and knees and pull’em by the root.

All those boys do is come around with their weed machines, thrashin’ all the stones. And the noise, God awful. It’s disrespectful is what it is. Disrespectful. They ought to be using hand clippers. We used to use hand clippers. Just look down below Ida’s name. You can see marks and grass stains from all that thrashin’. Yes, you’re right. I suppose weed stains would be more appropriate. And how Ida loved her garden. If she could see the tangle she’s buried in I don’t know what she would say, but I’m sure she’d have a conniption right here on the spot. Well, come along now. Yes, we did seem to come on the hottest day of the year didn’t we?

#

I brought the daisies for your granddaddy. My goodness, look how his stone has weathered. That old marble just fades away. Can’t tell March from May. You have the dates written down, don’t you? Good. Too many have been forgotten, I suppose, but not your granddaddy. He was such a hoot, bless his soul. Do you remember him giving us that old Model-T when we ran off? He’d heard the rumors. He knew what we were up to. I think he had visions of great-grand babies in his eyes. Yes, and maybe a shot of whisky as well.

He came to the library prowlin’ the stacks that morning looking for me. Told me he dropped off the Model-T for us behind pa’s barn. Said he’d hidden it. He gave me a wink and off he went, chuckling to himself all the way down the street, pickin’ at that old wiry beard of his. He always looked like he hadn’t shaved since Lee surrendered.

Oh, I know. You don’t need to remind me. What a sight, that beat-up old car with a bale of straw on the hood. Some hiding job that was. And you! You had such fire in your eyes that night. You were always so excitable; up and down you were, but you were in grand form that evening. Well, thank you, I guess you did know what you were doing. I thought for sure pa was gonna hear you crankin’ that old rust bucket. I’ve never seen such a grin on a man’s face as when you fired up that Model T. You were so excited you must have thrown that bale of straw clear onto the Gaylord’s farm. And you gave such a yell hopping into that car. I told you to stop yellin’ and suddenly realized I was yellin’ too. We must have laughed all the way to Culpeper. I sometimes still think pa is gonna come chasing after us with his old Winchester.

I remember shaking in my shoes in front of the Justice of the Peace, wearing that silly corsage you made. Nothing but a wad of baby’s-breath. And when Justice Verner eyed us and asked if we didn’t want the blessin’ of our parents there, why, you go and have to say “No, but we got granddaddy’s Model-T a’runnin’ and that was blessin’ enough.” Heavens to Betsy, you were something.

Why yes, you did keep the car runnin’ through the ceremony, didn’t you? I’d forgotten that. No, I guess we didn’t want to stay at Justice Verner’s house on our weddin’ night. I wouldn’t want to think about that. Oh, my. Well, let’s give your granddaddy back his peace.

#

It’s funny seeing your baby brother so near your granddaddy, but with the round stone. I remember your pappa sayin’ the old confederate pointed stones were for stickin’ the devil in his privates when he sits on your grave. But Jesse’s stone is so smooth and fine. Seems fittin’, don’t it? He was smooth and fine himself with the ladies. Wasn’t a girl in town who wouldn’t fall for a fly-boy.

He had your granddaddy’s sense of humor too. I’ll never forget that last night, him drunk as a skunk and balancing on that postbox, right on Main Street, telling Charleen he couldn’t marry her because his body was the official property of the United States Army Air Corp. My, my. He saluted so gallantly and fell right onto his hind quarters. Charleen stood him back up, wobbling at attention, and said to him, “You’re a disgrace, Captain.” They were giggling the whole while, and she started trying to rip off his bars. Your Momma was fine with her sewin’ because Charleen tugged on those bars til they were both rolling on the sidewalk again, laughin’ silly.

I wonder if Jesse knew; if maybe he felt something that night? He was always runnin’ from girl to girl when everyone knew Charleen was the one. I suppose some people are runnin’ from things their whole life. I remember your momma being so relieved the next morning when they came in together and told her their plans. Yes. I guess it wasn’t meant to be. Them Japanese took care of that.

Poor Charleen never was quite the same afterward. Even after she married and had her brood, she was never quite in the same way. She just never learned how to let go. Here, let me place them. You know, I do like the way they put the rank and military things on the stones. Kind of tells you more about the person. Kind of tells a nice story. Yes, you’re right. It’s not always nice, I suppose.

#

Your momma and pappa sure seem lonely down here. Never understood why they were buried on this side, away from the rest of your family. They weren’t Catholic. They’re awfully close to the Catholic section.

Well, they always did keep to themselves. Yes, I know some folk don’t much care where they’re buried. I just think it’s more for the livin’. It would be nice if we were all together. Would certainly save me some wear on my hip.

You know, I never felt I was able to repay them properly for how they took us in when we were starting out. I think they must have felt for me, knowing my pa. They never complained a peep for those years. Not even after you were gone. No, I don’t suppose they’d have anything to complain about now either. Yes, the irises are for them. I never seen anything more beautiful than your momma’s iris beds.

#

No, let’s not go that way. You know why. Yes I do mind! Now you get...fine, you old mule. Just fine. I know she was my cousin. You don’t have to remind me that she was my cousin. You ever think that’s why it was so painful for me? You runnin’ around was bad enough, but with her! I know, you told me she was the only one and it was only once, but I don’t know what to believe. I really don’t and never have.

Well, there she is. It’s funny, I don’t mind the weeds here so much. What? Because I could forgive you. I had to. What else could I do in those times?

It wouldn’t have been so bad if she were just some harlot, but Jenny. Jenny wasn’t just my cousin. She was my friend, the closest thing I ever did have to a sister. She was someone I could talk to, confide in.

I spent nearly every afternoon at Aunt Cassandra’s, half hiding from pa, I suppose. Aunt Cassandra seemed to have things planned every day for me and Jenny. Taught us how to ride, how to cook, how to sew.

I remember once we sewed these dolls of ourselves. We gave them big bosoms and long fancy dresses. Then we sewed husband dolls and made up stories of how our men would be. Brave soldiers or powerful industrialists with lots of money. Jenny wanted the ones with lots of money. I promised mine a house full of children. We had great families. We dreamed together. She took a part of that away from me. And you too. I’ve had a lot taken from me in my life. Too much.

Yes, I know you are. That’s why I opened the door and let you back in. You were just runnin’. After what happened to Jesse and then the miscarriages I suppose we were all runnin’ from something. It’s just harder with Jenny.

#

Here’s my ma and pa. Pa can’t do no more harm now. No, don’t put them in the middle. Put them on her side. He won’t care. He didn’t take much of a likin’ to you anyway, but I guess he never took much of a likin’ to anyone.

Him and his bottle and his tantrums. Always hittin’ people in bad places. I remember lingering for a week in a sick-bed because of him. I couldn’t stop bleedin’. After that was when ma started sending me to Aunt Cassandra’s every afternoon. “You go on,” she said, “I’ll deal with pa.”

How ma got by, I don’t know. She was always so quiet. I thought she was afraid, but after pa crossed over I realized how strong she had always been. She would only smile in front of me and my brothers, but never in front of pa. She knew him too well and she knew her place. She was just keeping the peace.

After he passed, awhile after the funeral, why, do you remember how she began to smile? Seeing her smile kind of made all the old pain bearable. She must have smiled every day for her last dozen years. It was like she’d finished pullin’ all the weeds from her life. I guess she figured she survived without too many scars; got us all raised and right. I remember she even danced at the County Fair one year. No one had any idea she knew how to dance. I believe she was at peace long before we lay her to rest here.

I sometimes feel she’s too close to him, like he might hurt her again. We might have at least given her a separate stone. Maybe we shoulda buried her down by your folks? They could have used the company. Come along now.

#

Here. Her stone is so small. How can someone who brought such joy have a stone so small? I have so many flashes of her in my arms, and then sometimes I can’t even remember her face. Do you remember? I know she had my ma’s curls and your pappa’s deep blue eyes. I remember having to hold her all night near the end. Her face was swollen up so. Doc Walker just told us to make her comfortable. Don’t rightly know how she could have been made comfortable.

You understand don’t you, how I couldn’t replace her? We tried so hard for her and I couldn’t hold another one. I just couldn’t do it. But I didn’t know you were taking it so hard. You were always up and down. I just thought you were down. But you kept it all inside. More than I knew. I didn’t know you’d do a thing like that. Honestly, I didn’t. I didn’t know you’d--wait. I remember now. I can see her face, a picture of heaven. Before all the pain. I see her rosy cheeks and her skin, the folds around her smile. Those long lashes and a flower of a nose. She had ma’s curls and your pappa’s deep blue eyes. When I’d cradle her it was like she was cradling me, holding on, never wanting to let go. She just wouldn’t let go.

I can’t seem to remember any more just now.

#

Well, that’s about everyone, dear. They’re all sleepin’ fine, I suppose. My feet are getting sore, and the hip is beginning to act up. Time to find a cool place with a breeze.

I’m glad this old oak gives you some shade. And these are for you. I remember they were your favorite. Long stems came out fine this year. The spring rains fed them well, I suppose. And the baby’s breath. No, I didn’t forget the baby’s breath. It won’t be so long next time, dear. I promise. Come along now.