Darker Days

Chapter Twenty-two

We took the bus across town to Saint Vincent’s. I was a little miffed that the driver wouldn’t let me bring my cup onto the bus. I refused to toss it, so I downed the entire thing in one gulp and dumped it in the trash at his feet before making my way down the aisle, Lukas following behind.

Halfway there, I thought the driver was going to pull over and kick us off because Lukas wouldn’t sit still. He kept hopping from side to side to stare at the scenery as we passed. This was the farthest into town he’d been in over a hundred years, so I guessed I could understand his excitement.

“Everything is so different,” he said as we made our way up the old cobblestone path outside Saint Vincent’s. He’d been virtually bouncing since we’d gotten off the bus. “There are so many large buildings!”

I turned the knob and pushed through the church doors. “You should see the new Stop-n-Shop. A real work of art.”

His enthusiasm was infectious, and it made me smile.

“Since I don’t see you in church on Sundays, Miss Darker, I’m going to assume this isn’t a sudden crisis of faith,” a voice said as the door closed behind us.

“Father Sanders.” I smiled. Father Sanders had been the priest in our church for as far back as I could remember. He loved going to the park on sunny summer afternoons and telling stories to the kids on the playgrounds. For a priest, he had one hell of an imagination. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m head of the historical department. You’d know that if you and your mother took more of an active interest in this community.” He inclined his head toward Lukas. “And who is this?”

“This is my cousin Lukas. His parents are thinking of moving to town so they sent him ahead to check things out.”

Father Sanders smiled and extended his hand. “Penance is a wonderful place to live. Welcome.”

Lukas took the priest’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Thank you, Father.”

“So about that active community thing,” I said with a smile. “That’s actually why I’m here.”

“Oh?”

“Mom sent me over to have a look around. You were robbed earlier in the week, right?”

He bristled. “I don’t believe you could consider it a robbery. This is merely a historical landmark. There is nothing on the premise of value to steal.”

“So you’re saying nothing was taken?”

“I’m saying there’s nothing here to take.”

“Are you sure?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Ah, how I’ve missed your stubbornness. I’ve never met anyone with such a disability in regards to the word ‘no’.”

“Well, you know me. I aim to please. Mind if we just have a look around? If I go back too fast, Mom will accuse me of slacking. You know parents. And I totally heart this place. History is kinda my new thing.”

He didn’t look convinced—which made a lot of sense. His sister Ana Sanders was my history teacher last year. I’m sure he’d heard about my many forays into napland during class. “History?”

“Seriously!” I glanced sideways at Lukas and felt the heat rise to my cheeks. “History is looking pretty hot these days.”

OhMyGod…

“Really?”

I nodded, making sure to avoid Lukas’ gaze. I couldn’t believe I’d actually said that out loud! Clearing my throat, I said, “We have a report due, and it’s totally drawn me into the eighteen-hundreds.”

Father Sanders brightened. “We have quite a bit of memorabilia from the mid to late eighteen-hundreds. If you’re truly interested, I can leave word with Kelly at the historical society. I can’t allow you to leave the premises with any of the items, but you’re welcome to browse.”

“That’d be awesome.”

“Consider it done.” He glanced over his shoulder at the door. “I need to speak with Phil about the tulips. Just let me know when you’re ready to leave so I can lock up.”

I nodded and gave him a salute. “Will do.”

With a wave, he turned on his heel and disappeared through the door.

I waited until I saw him pass by the window and head across the grounds toward the tool shed. “Okay. If you were an ancient box, where would you be?”

Lukas scanned the room, frowning. “Not here.”

I contemplated flipping him off but decided the gesture would be wasted. He probably had no idea what it meant. Instead, I went to work. The main room was pretty straightforward. The old wooden pews had been restored and lined either side of the room. The podium at the front showed its age and obviously hadn’t been fixed like the pews, but it was still standing. I thought I remembered hearing something about an upcoming fundraiser for further restorations. Something about an ice cream social. Maybe Father Sanders was right. We needed to be more involved. And hey, if there was ice cream, I could totally be persuaded.

Lukas took one end, and I took the other. By the time I’d worked my way around the room, into the back, I was starting to get discouraged. We’d been searching for over an hour and had zilch. We couldn’t hang out much longer. We’d been there too long already, and pretty soon, Father Sanders was going to get suspicious.

“I can’t even figure out where the heck the box was, much less where it is now.” I leaned back and slid down the wall to the ground. “I mean, it wasn’t just sitting out in the open on a shelf. It had to be stashed away somewhere.”

“You mean in some kind of hidden compartment?”

“Don’t ya think? It couldn’t have been just stuffed in a drawer or box somewhere.”

“Maybe it was. Maybe whoever put it here had no idea what it was.”

“No way.” I shook my head. “I don’t believe that for a second. Why wouldn’t someone have opened it before now? Or thrown it away? No, whoever put it here had to know what it was. They had to have stashed it somewhere—but where?”

Lukas glanced around the room and shrugged. He hadn’t been expecting to find anything, yet he still seemed just as discouraged as I did. “There aren’t many places here to hide something.”

He was right. I’d searched along all the walls and under the pews, examining each and every crack. There were no visible seams hinting of secret hiding places, nor were there any of the other usual signs. Buttons, latches, oddly placed pictures, and rugs. We’d searched the building from top to bottom. Lukas was right. There was nothing here but a couple hundred years worth of dust and a lot of spiders.

I climbed to my feet and went to the window, looking out over the old cemetery.

“There’s one place we haven’t checked.”

Lukas balked. “We’ve turned this place inside out.”

“Inside.” I tapped the window. “But not out.”

“Surely you’re not suggesting we dig—”

“Eww! Of course not. But it can’t hurt to have a look around. If anything’s been disturbed recently, we’ll be able to see it.”

He didn’t look convinced but followed me out to the yard anyway.

There were only about fifty or so headstones, all ranging from 1712 to 1910. Most of the markers were crumbling, large pieces lying on the ground beside them, and in several cases, missing altogether. I tripped over a pale granite one that had cracked and fallen into the path. Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground, guiding me around the hindrance. It had been there a while, the brush and weeds growing up around it, nearly concealing the stone from view. Lukas let go, cheeks slightly flushed, and we started forward again.

We wove between the poorly manicured rows searching, but nothing appeared out of place or disturbed. At the back of the lot, there was a single stone mausoleum. I started forward, thinking I might have some luck inside, but stopped after realizing Lukas had fallen behind. When I turned, I saw him kneeling in front of a headstone several rows over.

“Sarah Scott,” I read out loud as I came up behind him. “Your mother?”

Lukas pulled away some of the overgrowth in silence, then ran his hand over the stone’s smooth surface.

Across the top, a thick vine with tiny white flowers spilled down the side and twined around the stone beside it. I bent down to pull them apart, but Lukas grabbed my hand and squeezed.

“No,” he said, nodding to the second stone. “Leave it. They’re finally together.”

I brushed a pile of leaves from the front of the second stone and bit back a gasp. “Simon Darker.” Under his name was his birth date and date of death—1845 to 1910—as well as a single sentence. One I was familiar with. It was the same thing Mom had printed on Grandpa’s headstone. “A bright light along the path that grows darker.”

Lukas climbed to his feet with a slight smile on his lips and pulled me up. “It gives me peace to see them together.”

“You’re saying Simon had a thing for your mom?”

Lukas nodded. “He loved her—and she him. It was just never meant to be.”

Never meant to be. More evidence that my family was destined for heartbreak. I didn’t understand how their rotting in the ground next to each other could be construed as peaceful. To me, it seemed depressing. But it made Lukas happy for some reason, so I refrained from my usual commentary.

I took a step back and turned back to the church. “Come on. There’s nothing here.”

“You’ve given up on the box?”

“Hell no. But this gave me another idea.”

“Oh?”

“Well, the box isn’t here—that much I’m sure of. And since neither of us knows what it looks like, much less where it could be—I suggest asking someone that might.”

“Who would possibly know where the box might be?”

“Simon Darker, of course.”