Coffin Mary was the only undertaker within twenty miles in any direction. Since the war, she had more than enough work and was impartial as death itself. It made no difference what color you were, or if you were rich, or poor. Dead is dead she’d always say an’ I get paid no matter what. Some people thought it strange her taking on a business normally done by men. Others took pity because she never married or bore any children. Everyone figured that the lack of companionship would eventually drive her crazy after being pent up with nothing more than corpses to keep her company. Despite all of the gossip, Coffin Mary managed to make a comfortable living and didn’t lack for conversation at all. Little did people know that she was quite content in her solitude because of her ability to speak to the dead.
While superstition and fear had gotten the better of his two friends, Eubie understood. Everyone on the Culpepper plantation believed in such things and took great lengths to protect themselves. Several times he saw his father throw salt over his left shoulder with his right hand to keep the devil off his back. After the hanged man came to him in the dream, Eubie had little fear at seeing omens of death. Nonetheless, he knocked three times on one of the wooden coffins just in case there were evil spirits lurking about.
“Ain’t you ‘fraid, boy?” Coffin Mary asked when she confronted him in the barn. She was an imposing figure with big bones and rust colored hair peppered with drab gray streaks. With freckles competing for space on her ruddy complexion, it was hard to tell exactly how old she was.
“No, Ma’am”
“Thought all you people was scared – prayin’ ‘n carryin’ on so whenever a hearse pass by”
“Not me.” “Why not”?
“Dead man come to me in a dream. Say I’m special.”
Holding night vigil for the deceased was one of the most important functions of the burial ritual. It not only assured the undertaker’s professionalism, but gave reassurance that the person was really dead. Eubie was surprised to learn that such a rule was in place, yet he figured that it was there for a reason. “Remember,” Coffin Mary warned. “If he moves, come get me quick.” Eubie nodded, yes. “But if you get scared and run off, the spirit will haunt you forever,” she said with such solemnity that he had no reason to doubt her. He wanted no part of any haunting and stayed alert waiting for the slightest spasm.
For the entire night, Eubie almost forgot to breathe while focusing on his charge. A few minutes before midnight he believed that if nothing had come to life by then, it wasn’t going to happen. With little more than the anticipation of seeing a finger move, or toe twitch to keep him awake, he dozed off briefly. Whether it was his head’s sensitivity to the witching hour, or a sense of something was amiss, Eubie jolted awake. At the stroke of midnight, the body he had been watching sat straight up from its resting place. Although he had heard that the bodies sometimes did that as way of releasing its spirit, nothing prepared him for what came next.
