Chapter Three

The Heart Remembers

Chapter Three ©2009

We arrived in the graveyard and whether she was oblivious to our fear or just showing off, Nat behaved as if we were taking a leisure stroll through town. I must admit though, after a few minutes of Nat showing us her favorite headstones, it didn’t seem quite so scary. Even Harvey looked at ease, gazing around at the well-worn granite markers, many of them so old that the names had simply vanished, losing their eternal battle with the elements. The cemetery, encircled by a rusty wrought iron fence, had seen better days. The gate, which had been torn off and discarded next to a tree, now served as a trellis for climbing vines. There were maybe 50 gravesites and towards the back of the cemetery an old stone outbuilding with a flat roof and a missing door. Nat made her way there while trying to avoid the ubiquitous briars in the overgrown graveyard. “Who’s buried here?” I asked. “Some kind of religious group. They lived here in the 1800’s, then burned all their homes and went somewhere out west,” replied Nat. “Why would they burn their homes? Why not just sell them?” asked Harvey. Harvey was always trying to figure out a way to make money. He’d sweep the floor at Thompson’s General Store for a penny or two, Dig potatoes at Abner’s in the summer, sell vegetables pilfered from his mother’s garden t the crossroads, anything he could find to make a few pennies. He’d save them for a day or two, happily making plans to someday purchase a bicycle, one of his life’s ambitions. But all it took was one trip to Thompson’s each time and the pennies were gone, blown on licorice strips, gum balls, or rock candy. Harvey had a sweet tooth that knew no bounds. “I’m not sure why they burned all the houses down,” answered Nat. “Maybe they got infected by some disease or something, like the ague that killed all those folks before we were born.” “How do you know all this?” I asked. “The librarian told me. There are old papers in the library that tell all about it. Their town was in the fields near Alma’s. It was called Heaven.”

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“You came back here all by yourself and looked around?” I asked incredulously. “Well, not really. Alma collects plants from here and I help her sometimes. She says all the bodies made the ground good and the best plants grow in here now.” She reached down and plucked a few leaves off a small plant. “This one’s called ginseng,” she announced proudly, holding it up. Alma really likes this one. She uses it a lot in her medicines.” “You mean poisons, don’t you?” asked Harvey. “No. I told you Alma is nice once you get to know her. She can make poison, but she uses it on mice and wasps and stuff. She can make medicines that keep you awake when you’re sleepy, and stop the bleeding if you cut yourself, and you saw what she did to my poison oak.” “You think she’ll like us?” asked Harvey. “Depends on her mood. But if you help me pick some of these leaves to take to her, she’ll be real happy.” We all proceeded to pick as many of the tiny leaves as we could find. Our fears of this once terrifying place had vanished and we roamed around the cemetery listening to Nat describe different plants for over an hour. “So where’s the coffins?” I asked, starting to get bored with our foraging efforts. “In there,” said Nat, jerking her head towards the stone building as she stripped the leaves off one last plant. “Can we go see them now?” “Alright. C’mon,” she said, and we followed her closely, our earlier confidence shed to the wayside. We entered the building where there were two large stone vaults, each slightly bigger than an averaged size man. They were empty and the stone lids that had once rested on top were broken into pieces and scattered around the floor the room was small and there was no sign of any wooden coffins. ‘Those aren’t coffins,” I said, feeling disappointed. “Sure they are. They’re like the Egyptian ones. It’s how rich people bury their dead.” Nat could see that both Harvey and I weren’t too impressed with the crypt especially after the whole grave robber buildup. “I was just trying to show you something I thought you might not have seen before. I never showed this to anybody else. I don’t really have any friends,” she said softly. 19

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“I think they’re neat, Nat” said Harvey, poking me in the ribs. “Yeah Nat,” I piped in. “Heck, I would never have even came here if it wasn’t for you. I’m glad you’re our friend.” I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on Nat’s face at that moment. Her battered glasses perched crookedly on the end of her nose, cockle burrs stuck in her hair and a smile like sunshine after a rainy day. “I dare you to get in one Harvey,” I said, pushing him towards a vault. “I’m not going near those things,” said Harvey, tripping over one of the broken lids as he slid over next to Nat. “Hush up…I hear something,” whispered Nat, and we all pressed together into a tight group. Nat looked worried. Harvey and I were terrified. “Hopefully it’s Alma. Stay right here and be quiet. I’ll go look.” Nat crept to the door of the crypt with Harvey and I so close behind her that we kept stepping on her heels. “Stay back!” she hissed. We ignored her. On each side of the Crypt doorway, were two slits in the wall. They were barely two inches wide and about 5 feet in length, designed to let in light, but little else. Nat perched herself at one of these windows. “There’s a man…no wait…two men” “Who are they?” I whispered nervously. “I can’t tell.” The one closest to me looks like a hobo. He must have got off the train.” Easton was directly on a major rail line, so we were used to seeing transients, especially with the economic crisis of the last few years. They were usually harmless and the sheriff left them alone as long as they didn’t stay more than a day or two, or pester folks by begging. But we were in the middle of the woods, far from home, and we had heard occasional stories of transients being arrested for thieving or assault. “What do we do?” whispered Harvey, growing more nervous by the second. “We stay quiet and we don’t move,” replied Nat in a low even voice. I was amazed at her poise. I wanted nothing more than to get the heck out of these woods and safely home, or at least back in town where everything was familiar. But In a way, I was having the time of my life. Nothing this exciting had ever happened since the train derailment a couple of years back or when Tyler Cole beat up the sheriff. I knew one thing for sure. If days spent with Nat were like this, it was going to be a fun summer. 20

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I glanced over at Harvey who had one hand on Nat’s shirt while he gazed intently at her, waiting for instructions. I had always been the leader and Harvey the follower. But there was a new sheriff in town, and her name was Nat. I had no problem with Nat being the leader if that’s what she wanted. I figured it was better to be following and having fun, then leading and being bored. We had become irreversibly linked to this volatile and enigmatic girl, in the way that only children can bond, becoming best friends in hours, even minutes. The voices outside grew louder and we slid to the floor in horror as we realized the men were standing barely twenty feet away. We could hear them perfectly. “So how much you asking for a bottle of this liquor and why you keeping it out here in the middle of the woods?” A rough voice answered. “Because this is a dry county and the sheriff won’t come back here.” “I know that voice,” I whispered, struggling to put a face to the gravelly drawl. I raised up slowly to take a peek, Nat furiously motioning me to sit back down, but I was feeling brave and I knew that nobody in town would allow any stranger to harm us, well except for Tyler Cole maybe, but… I shrank to the floor in terror. I recognized the voice now…even without seeing him. It was Tyler Cole. Tyler was big trouble. He had a reputation of brutality and lawlessness. He had served time in prison for several offenses including a beating of the town sheriff in a drunken rage one night. He didn’t actually live in our town, but he frequented the businesses there and we were all quite familiar with the stories about him. We had all been warned by our parents to cross to the other side of the street, or better yet go home, if Tyler Cole was spotted in town. Our worst fears were realized. The voices continued. “You got the money?” “A dollar a bottle, right?” “Yup. And you want two bottles, right?” “If it’s good, Ill take two. But I ain’t buying without a taste.” “It’s good. Don’t you worry. Here.” The men were so close that we could hear the hobo smacking his lips. “Not bad.” “The money” “Where’s the whisky?” 21

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“In the building, I got a couple of bottles hid in there. I keep em scattered so I don’t get grifted.” We cringed by the door realizing we were trapped with nowhere to hide, moments from discovery. I looked to Nat for direction, reassurance, anything, but she was pale as a ghost. “I ain’t no thief, but I don’t know you from Adam. Show me the bottles and I’ll give you the money.” Suddenly we heard a new voice, a woman, speaking in broken English. “What you do here with da dead?” “Get out of here old woman. This is none of your business.” “I make dis my business. You leave now.” “It’s Alma!” whispered Nat. “You get the hell out of here old woman before you get hurt.” “You toucha me, I put curse on you. Your kabanosy fall off next week.” The other voice spoke up. “I don’t want no trouble Mister. I aint gonna be no party to hurtin’ women.” “You just shut up and get that money ready. Old woman, I’m not gonna tell you again…go home.” We could hear a torrent of words in a foreign language, then suddenly, “Children, children, you come out now.” We all looked at each other incredulously. How did she know? The voice called out again, insistent this time. “Children! You come now! We go eat!” “What the hell are you talking about you crazy old bat?” Nat got up and motioned us to follow. We obeyed, knowing we were about to be discovered anyways. Tyler Cole watched us emerge from the crypt and began a tirade of cursing unlike any I had ever heard before. The hobo looked at us as if we were ghosts. We hurried over to Alma who wrapped her arms around us. “We go now,” she announced. She pushed us through the cemetery gates but not before pointing directly at Tyler Cole and chanting something in another language. Tyler, ignoring Alma’s incantations, yelled out, “I seen all of you and I know your faces. You stay clear of here. You hear me? I hear any word of this in town and I’ll bury your whole damn families back here. You hear me?” 22

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Alma led us through the woods and within minutes we came upon a small stone cottage in a clearing. Smoke was rising from the chimney which was covered in ivy. A small goat was tethered to a wooden post and began bleating as soon as we approached. Alma ushered us into the tiny cottage. There was only one room with a bed, a wood burning stove, several small tables and a larger one surrounded by mismatched chairs. Two small windows were covered with colorful fabric. The only light was provided by several burning candles, which gave off a pleasant aroma. Every possible shelf, table, and corner was cluttered with a myriad of jars, tin cans, and other various containers. “You bring friends to see me?” “Yes Alma, this is Daniel and this is Harvey. They live near me.” Alma eyed us suspiciously. Her scar was exactly as I remembered but somehow I didn’t really feel frightened. Maybe it had something to do with how comfortable Nat seemed be in here. She had found a chair and was opening various jars and examining the contents as if she lived here. Alma picked up a cane and walked over towards me, her face stern. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Harvey trembling. Alma ignored him and came straight to me. With a speed that amazed me, she poked the cane against my hand, which was in my pocket, trapping it there. “What you hide dere?” she slowly let the cane drop, keeping eye contact with me the entire time with her one good eye. I pulled out a handful of the ginseng leaves we had picked earlier. “For you Alma,” I said setting them on the table, as I was still leery about touching her. “Nat said you liked this kind.” “Who is Nat?” she asked suspiciously. I pointed towards Nat. “Ahhh…Natalie.” Nat glared at us. “Only Alma can call me that,” she said vehemently. “I ever hear you call me that and I’m gonna hurt you.” Alma walked over and caressed Nat’s face, crooning words we couldn’t understand. Seconds later, she whirled around quickly, her face dark and serious. “Why you take my Natalie by dat bad man?” Natalie spoke up. “It wasn’t them Alma. I took them there. They wanted to meet you and I wanted to show them the coffins.” Alma looked over at Nat, and tried to appear gruff, but I could see a softness in that ruined face every time she looked at Nat. 23

The Heart Remembers

“You leave dose dead alone Natalie. Dey get sad and make mischiv when you walk on dem.” “Yes, Alma,” replied Nat, who looked delighted at something she had discovered in one of Alma’s many jars. Alma poked through the ginseng leaves on the table with the tip of her cane. She looked pleased. “Excuse me, Alma?” said Harvey in a voice so soft I could barely hear him. I looked over and he also had a handful of leaves. “I brought you some leaves too, Alma.” She waved her cane towards the table directing Harvey to add them to my pile. Her face was still stern, but I realized she was trying to keep from smiling. She was enjoying this. “Alma, quit trying to scare them. They’re my new friends.” Muttering under her breath, Alma pointed to the table with the mismatched chairs. “Sit,” she commanded. “I bring food.” We sat in the crowded little cottage for well over several hours as Nat showed us different jars and specimens of plants that she had helped collect. There were fossils and even a mummified bat that fascinated us. Alma fed us a delicious potato soup that we devoured, then sat in a rocking chair smoking a pipe and watched us poring through her things as if we had known her all our lives. Occasionally, she would shout out in a booming voice that startled us, “You no touch dat one!”, and we would quickly put down whatever jar or can she was referring to. When asked what these taboo jars contained, Alma would simply shake her head and reply, “Not for children.” I had grown quite used to her looks by now. The long white streak in her hair fascinated me, and I wanted to touch it, but was too shy to ask. Nat had showed Harvey how to grind the leaves with a mortar and pestle and he was happy as can be. He was completely smitten with Nat by now, as was I. At one point, Harvey, normally timid around new people, posed a question I had been wondering myself. “Alma, how did you know we were in the graveyard?” “Alma knows things before they happen sometimes,” declared Nat. Alma chuckled. My Natalie geev credit I no deserve. I find cat in bag by grave and dis.” Alma holds up the thick book.

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“My book!” cries Nat. “Oh, Alma, I forgot to tell you about your cat.” “I know, my child. Is okay. I know cat was dead.” Nat fetched her book and came back to the table smiling broadly. “The miserable ones,” I said to show her that I hadn’t forgotten. She gave me a big grin and punched me in the arm. It hurt. I didn’t mind. “Alma can tell the future just by looking at your palm. Watch this,” said Nat walking over to the old woman and holding out her hand. “She won’t tell me my whole life story cause she doesn’t like to see death, so she just tells me the important stuff. I know mine by heart. Show them Alma.” Alma smiled and took Nat’s hand. Softly stroking it with a distant look in her eye. “You be famous one day. You travel many place. People know you, but you be sad for long long time.” “Why will she be sad,” asked Harvey. “Is question wif no answer. Only Natalie know someday.” “I didn’t know what it meant before, but I think I do now after today. I think it’s going to be because of my mom being sick and I’ll have to leave here now that I have friends. Alma thinks it has to do with love, but I won’t have time for that because I’m going to be the first woman to ever play for the New York Yankees. Do Harvey’s fortune now Alma.” Alma beckoned Harvey to come closer and give her his hand. She rubbed his palm for a few seconds, concentrating again. “You good boy, good man. You lose sumting, but get back. You sad too, but not so long.” “I don’t want to be sad” said Harvey mournfully. “You be okay. You good man,” declared Alma. She motioned me over and I sensed a change in the room. Alma looked somber. The candles flickered in the room even though there was no breeze. I felt a chill crawl up my spine. I held out my hand and Alma rubbed it gently, kneading the flesh of my palm in slow circular motions. Minutes passed.

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Alma was taking much longer than she had with Nat or Harvey. She shook her head and muttered something we couldn’t understand. “You love. You hurt someone. You travel many road to find sumting, but it not there. You no face truth until too late. You old… you happy… but sad.” Alma let my hand drop into her lap. “It late. Dark come soon. Natalie, take friends home now. Bad man gone from dead place. Alma tired.” We were nervous about going near the cemetery again depite Alma’s insistence that the “bad man” was gone, so she accompanied us until we were well past the cemetery. She looked very tired and Nat explained that Alma always got tired after she told fortunes. We made our way back to town discussing the things that had happened, analyzing the words Alma had spoken about our futures. Nat was a part of us now. It was as if we had always been friends. We had hoped for adventure…grave robbers, coffins and witches. Instead we had found the reality of empty stone vaults, and an eccentric old woman who made medicines from plants, guessed at your future by looking at your hand, but maybe, just maybe knew a little magic. We weren’t disappointed. It was to be one of our best days in a long summer. But there a whole summer ahead of us. Anything could happen. By the time we reached the edge of town it was late afternoon. A crowd of people stood near the front of Thompson’s General Store and we hurried over to see what the excitement was about. “What’s going on?” I asked Ray Young, a man that worked with my father and sometimes visited our home. “ The sheriff found a dead hobo down by the tracks. Looks like someone stabbed him to death.”

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