The Ashes of Marriage

Chapter 16

Hunter Malone. That's my father's name. I feel overwhelmed by the realization of finally having pieces of my past come together. This moment feels surreal, and I can't believe it. I feel tears build up in my eyes, and I blink the tears back rapidly. I slide my phone out of my back pocket and take a picture of the headstone. Bram puts his arm around me. I lean into him. Behind us, I hear crunching gravel. I wrap my arms around myself, feeling exposed.

"How you folks doin?" A kind voice said behind us. I slowly turned around to meet the chocolate brown eyes of an older woman with pecan-colored skin and coffee-colored hair. She appeared to be in her 70s judging by her slightly sagging jowls, deep crow's feet, and smile lines. She has a slight Southern accent and drawl.

"We are alright. How about yourself?" Bram asks as he smiles. Bram has such a magnificent smile. The tension in the woman's smile slightly lessens.

"Y'all not from 'round here? I don't hear no ax'ent." She says inquisitively.

"I'm not." Bram says slowly, "But my wife is from Macon." He says as he squeezes my shoulders tightly.

"Ah, so ya hava' relative buried here. Maybe I can help ya find'em. I'm Sage Jones. I been first lady of dis here church for over 20 years." Mrs. Jones says proudly.

Bram and I share a quick look of panic. How can I explain to her what we are doing here without her kicking us off of church property? We are going to sound looney. I should probably lie because there is no way I can say, hey Mrs. Jones, I had a dream of my dead mother crying at this grave last night and felt compelled to come to check it out. Yea, that will go over well.

"Um..." Bram starts.

"I'm a writer." I blurt out. Mrs. Jones furrows her eyebrows and I quickly continue. "Last night, I had a dream about this cemetery. I needed to come back and see it in person. I used to come to this church as a child and I couldn't figure out why the church was in my dream. As we were walking the grounds, I felt drawn to this pecan tree and read the surrounding graves."

Mrs. Jones clasps her hands together and smile.

"You wanta write 'bout the church?" She asks happily.

"Well maybe. I'm looking for inspiration and I'm following my gut. My gut led me here. To this grave. Can you tell me anything about the person buried here?"

"Yessum!" she said eagerly as she stepped closer. "The Pastor and first lady 'fore me had fo' boys and Hunter was one of 'em. The two headstones' ova here are his grandparents. They were the Pastor and first lady that found the church. Hunter's parents are still livin' and will be buried here close to 'em when the time comes."

Mrs. Jones grew quiet. Her voice softens.

"Hunter was the second born, but his daddy's favorite. Dan thought that boy was gonna follow in his footsteps and be the pastor of this church. Hunter tried to make his daddy proud. But boys will be boys ya kno."

Mrs. Jones' smile lessens, and her eyes grew sad. "He founda girl to love and tried to spread his wings. One night, he snuck out to see tha girl. When he was climbin' back in the winda' he slipped and fell from the second floor on top of the propane tank. He wasan't gonna walk no mo' after that..."

"How old was he?" I blurt out.

"'Bout 15 or 16 Ida guess. Tha girl wassa good girl in this here church. Hunter's folks blamed her and neva let her forget it. After he passed, they wouldn't let her in the church no mo'."

"How did he die?" Bram asks softly.

"He messed up his spine in that fall. Sometimes he didn't feel all that pain. He hada infection in the spine, and he couldn't fight it."

I ponder all the information Mrs. Jones has provided us.

"You seem to know so much about this family," Bram says to Mrs. Jones.

"I know mo' about them than any other family here. They are my family. The former first lady is my twin sista. When Hunter died, I felt like I lost a son. He was so special..."

I look up to see Mrs. Jones's eyes tearing up.

"Well! I got to get going, but I would love to talk to you again on Sunday."

"Sunday?" Bram and I say in unison.

Mrs. Jones raises an eyebrow. "On Sunday. That's when service is. We start at 10 am sharp. I'll save y'all seats!" She quickly turns and heads towards the parking lot.

We stare after her as she walks toward the parking lot with ease.

I turn back towards the grave.

"Bram, it paralyzed him from the waist down as a teenager. He couldn't be my father."

We stand in silence for a few moments.

"Let's not jump to conclusions, Ali," Bram says. "But I think it's safe to say the girl Hunter snuck out for was your mom."

Suddenly, I thought of the older gentleman who was yelling at my mother in my dream. He was angry my mother was there.

"I've seen Hunter's father. He was here the day my mom showed up at the grave and just like Mrs. Jones said, Hunter's parents never forgave Mama. "

I feel a mixture of emotions swelling inside my chest. Anger that these strangers blamed Mama. Sad that Hunter was gravely hurt. Curious to fit the pieces of this puzzle together. My stomach loudly growls, and I grin.

"Excuse me sir, but we," I say while placing my hand across my lower abdomen, "Require provisions."

Bram beams with pride.

"Well, let's go get something for my babies to eat." He says as he takes my hand. We walk back to the car hand in hand, and I slide into the driver's seat as Bram holds my door open. He shuts the door and climbs into the passenger side. Bram places his phone on the dash and leans over and gently kisses my lips and I smile. My heart beats faster as his hand maneuvers its way underneath my shirt to cup my breast. As soon as my breast fills his hand, Bram groans, but my stomach growls. We pull apart before the kiss becomes more involved. I feel thirsty and reach behind the seat for my water bottle when my hand brushes against my drawing pad.

"Bram, I need a favor," I say as pick up the charcoal stick and drawing pad.

"Yes babe, I will go get you a rubbing of the grave," Bram says as he takes the materials from my hand and saunters out of the car. I watch him walk across the lawn toward the cemetery. Bram's phone vibrates on the dash, but I ignore it and look up restaurants close by on my phone. His phone vibrates again. And again. And again. I pick up the phone off of the dash and look at the notifications coming across the screen.

Nadia: Bram I know you are not over me

Nadia: I am not over you either.

Nadia: Please meet me. At our spot. At 7

Nadia: That's all I ask.

Anger invades my brain and I feel heat flush my face. Every step I take to move past the infidelity, I find something in the way. The passenger door opens and Bram hops back into the seat. His smile fades as he notices my frown. I chuck his phone into his lap, and Bram quickly unlocks the screen and reads the messages.

"So, Nadia?"

Bram sighs and nods his head. "Nadia."

"REALLY? FUCKING NADIA?" I roar.

He nods his head.

We sit silently. I feel angry and calm in a way I have never felt before.

"So, where is your spot?"

"Why?"

"We are going to meet Nadia."