The Grave Winner

The Grave Winner - Chapter 1

1

Dad, Darby, and I stood rooted in place at Mom's burial. The weight in my chest threatened to suffocate me if I looked at the lid of her gleaming casket any longer. Instead, I focused on the black birds cutting across the sky in a sharp V formation. They pressed on until the tops of the trees took them from me.

The preacher had stopped talking a long time ago. People still crowded around us, heads bent, smothering their sniffles with tissues. Someone patted my back, and I wished they would stop. No attempt to comfort would help.

The white-haired old man hovering back by the fence hacked loudly then puffed on a cigarette with a dirt-spattered hand. When we arrived at Heartland Cemetery, I'd seen him preparing another grave for a casket. He bounced on the balls of his feet, probably anxious to get the body in the ground.

Mom's body.

Once the ground swallowed her, her death would be final, and that guy wanted to speed things up. He probably wanted to get to his coffee break or something. Heat flashed through my gut. I took a step toward him.

Dad grabbed the collar of my dress and yanked me back. I opened my mouth to say something, but the words died in my throat when I saw the tears slipping down his cheeks.

Darby had her head buried in his side. She looped her small fingers around my plaid belt, the one Mom got me for my fifteenth birthday. I grasped Darby's warm hand and closed my eyes against the pricks of hurt inside them.

The people closing us in shifted and began to wander away. The old man inched closer to Mom's casket, but Dad tightened his hold on my collar. I gripped Darby's fingers and glared at the man.

The few people remaining gave us consoling looks and said empty words before they drifted off. One was the woman who'd seen my funeral attire earlier and clucked her tongue in disapproval. Mom had loved my black eyeliner and these combat boots, though. She'd said I reminded her of herself when she was young.

"It's time," Dad said.

A choked cry forced its way out of my mouth. No, it wasn't. If we left, the old man would lower Mom into the ground. It would be final, and I couldn't stand it.

"Why?" I asked, my voice cracking.

Dad just shook his head, hugged us both to him, and turned to leave Mom with the old man.

I wriggled free and ran.

"Leigh?" Dad called.

I didn't know where I was going or what I was doing. But I needed to be away-away from that stupid man who wanted to put the final punctuation mark on Mom's life. Away from the unfairness of her death.

My breath came in quick, sharp gasps as I weaved around crumbling headstones. The sun threw bright rays on the maze of white, rocky paths and made my eyes tear up. I pumped my legs harder until I became nothing but movement. The untied laces of my left boot whipped my bare legs. Grass and mud muffled my steps until my boot flew off my foot and landed with a thwack in the middle of a cluster of trees.

I leaned over to catch my breath, unsure if I wanted to laugh or cry. Several yards behind me, Dad and Darby stood and waited. I waved them on to the gates and went to retrieve my boot. There seemed to be no one around except the trees and me. The leaves murmured to each other while the wind swayed the branches. Heartland Cemetery had more trees than the rest of Krapper, Kansas, and they all whispered and danced for the amusement of the dead.