"Characters bound to captivate readers till the very end." ~~ Enas Reviews
My name is Beebe Walker, and my life was changed by a secret buried in the cemetery.
The burying of said secret came at a time when I was a minister at odds with the church. God and I could not come to terms, so the board of deacons and I did. That mutual decision excused me from my duties as minister. Soon, I took on the duties of a grief counselor. The new job suited. I do thrive at a slower pace. There’s nothing slower than recovering from grief.
Later, I wondered if God didn’t know what he was doing. My estranged father would soon be grieving. The secret I learned concerned the mother who abandoned my father and me when I was sixteen.
My name is Yates Strand, and my life was changed by a secret buried in the cemetery.
When I was thirteen, a woman saved my father’s life and became a constant in mine. I admired her because I knew she lived life on the lam. No, it was more. I loved her outright. She saw through me at the hospital, clear through to my soul and my sadness at even the thought of losing my father.
Ten years later, she was the one close to death and insisting I drive her to Larkspur, Michigan. But why? All her troubles stemmed from there. She offered no explanations. She could be one stubborn woman.
In Larkspur, she made me to leave her at the door of a hospice and promise to drive away. Honoring her request was the hardest thing I ever did.
Why go back to Larkspur after all this time? What was the lure? Well, now, it lured me too.
My name is Vincent Bostick, and my life was changed by a secret buried in the cemetery.
One night, I stepped outside the hospice I operate and a woman collapsed in my arms. Let me tell you, the dying can possess amazing strength. She pressed her fingertips into my skin and the secret of her anonymity into my soul.
The weight of my promise hardened into regret once her alias was chiseled into a gravestone a few days later. Still, it took some time to build enough courage to break a promise to a dying woman.
I sought out help from Beebe Walker, but was met with the apathy of a minister who had just given the church back to God. I stayed the course. Weeks later, Beebe came home. That first night, we sat in her father’s living room. The story we told set so much in motion.
My name is Cliff Walker, and my life was changed by a secret buried in the cemetery.
My daughter Beebe and my friend Vincent shifted the burden of that secret onto me. They told me my wife Abigail died in Vincent’s hospice. Abigail and the demons she fought ran away thirty years ago. Now, she lay under a gravestone chiseled for Terri Miller.
I’m caretaker for the cemetery. I live on the grounds. For months, I tended to her grave like all the rest. I didn’t know.
Once I learned, I charged straight to her. “Why didn’t you ask for me? Why come back, Abigail, just to do this?”
Only silence rang in my ears.
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