I opened the drawer of the desk in my bedroom. I’d had that desk when I’d been in school. After I retrieved the stack of letters from Lincoln, a thought hit me. Lincoln knew me; in the barn were boxes of my childhood things. I had wondered if Lincoln might have been a teacher at my primary school. Maybe, among those things I might find something that gave the names of my teachers. I doubted they would give first names but there might be something. It surprised me to learn that I wanted to know who he was. I’d been perfectly happy to keep the anonymity of the man in the words, but I was still troubled by his last letter.
I tried to remember the surname on the grave I’d seen the old man visit. Anna something. It wasn’t a conscious effort to grab Miller’s jacket, it was simply the first one my hand landed on. I filled one pocket with a pad and pen, in case I needed to make a note. I pulled on my boots and made my way down the stairs. Dad was still in the barn as I made my way along the coastal path, towards the church.
The rusting gate creaked as I pushed my way through. I hesitated as I came to the path that would take me to the newest section, where Trey and Hannah lay.
I’ll be back in a minute, I said, in my head.
At first I struggled to remember the exact location of the headstone. When I found it, I noticed fresh flowers and a small pile of weeds that had been plucked from under the headstone and placed to one side.
Anna had died just two years ago; that seemed, in my mind, to tie in with Lincoln’s letters. Not that he’d given those details but he had said he was a way on from the source of his grief. I sat down on the cold earth beside her. I opened my mouth, it was unconscious, but I heard the squeak that left my lips. It sounded so strange, strangulated, and strained. I tried again, nothing.
I placed my hands over my throat; I wanted to see if the muscles worked. I had no real idea what part of my body moved when producing sound. I knew I should feel vibration but when I tried, I felt nothing. So I talked to her in my head.
When I was done, I rose, rubbing my hands over my backside to gain some warmth through the cold jeans. I walked over to where Trey and Hannah were. Their grave and headstone seemed so clean compared to Anna’s. It was white marble, not what I would have chosen, had I been in the right state of mind to make that decision. I ran my fingers, as I always did, over their names.
I took a slow walk back to the house. All the while I thought of Trey and Hannah, I wondered about Anna and Lincoln. I was sure the man I’d seen that one time was him. My curiosity got the better of me and I turned around and headed back to the church. I pushed open the door; not knowing if the information I was seeking would be inside. The church was empty and in that moment, I was thankful. Had I encountered anyone, I wasn’t sure if my embarrassment would get the better of me. Other than Miller and the architect, I hadn’t seen anyone since I’d been at Dad’s.
There was something serene about being inside the church, not that I was religious. It was the calmness of an ancient building, the history that whispered around me that seemed to have soothed my mind. I took a seat in the front pew.
“May I join you?” I heard. The voice startled me and I spun in my seat. A vicar stood beside me.
I opened my mouth, but of course, no words emerged. He held up his hand and smiled. He had a kind smile.
“Dani, isn’t it?” he asked. I nodded my head and then shuffled up when he indicated with his hand towards the pew.
“We don’t get too many visitors nowadays; it’s such a shame,” he said as he sat.
I patted my jacket for my pad and pencil.
I’m sorry, I can’t talk, I wrote.
“I know. But you can, inside I bet,” he replied.
I wasn’t sure how to reply so simply nodded.
“I saw you at your husband and child’s grave. I imagine that must be extremely painful for you.”
All I could do was nod again.
“You know something? We don’t need to verbalise to communicate, it helps, but it’s not necessary. It’s our actions that count.”
I held my breath waiting for the ‘God Talk.’ He chuckled. “Sounds so bloody easy, doesn’t it?” His expletive, although mild, surprised me. I smiled at him.
He turned slightly in his seat to face me and held out a hand. “Daniel, at your service. Should you ever need my services, of course.”
I took his hand in mine and shook it.
I thought I might find some answers, but I don’t know where to look, I wrote.
“Answers to what? Life and the universe? I’m pretty sure that might bore you to screaming point.” He laughed out loud and I warmed to him.
Do you know someone named Lincoln? I think he might be the husband of Anna; she’s buried outside. I turned the pad so he could read.
He gently shook his head. “The name doesn’t ring a bell. Would you like to show me where Anna is?”
I smiled and started to rise. He stood and stepped from the pew, holding out his arm so I could lead the way. Daniel followed me to Anna’s grave.
“Sadly, Anna was laid to rest before I came here, but there would be records. I could check for you, they are available for public scrutiny.”
I tried to write while balancing the pad on my thigh.
I would appreciate that, I wrote.
“How about you give me a couple of days and let me see what I come up with?”
I nodded and smiled my thanks.
“I’ll let you get on. I’m sorry I disturbed your peace, but please, feel free to just come and sit anytime you’d like.”
I watched him walk back to the church. He hadn’t been the vicar that presided over Trey and Hannah’s funeral; I guessed that meant he was relatively new. He was young, and I wondered how he’d fare with the older, more traditionalists, that lived in the village. Not that any of that mattered, if he was able to find some information on Anna, I might get a little closer to understanding who Lincoln was.
I pulled Miller’s jacket tight across my chest as I walked back. The wind had picked up and it was biting. Dark storm clouds rolled in so quickly it took me by surprise. My hair swirled around my face, and the wind caused my eyes to water, blurring my vision. I could see someone standing on the edge of the cliff, at the bottom of what would ultimately be my garden. I lowered my head and walked a little faster. A clap of thunder startled me, and I began to run. Being caught in the wind and rain at the edge of a cliff top wasn’t where I wanted to be.
“Quick,” I heard. I looked up to see Miller holding the barn door open.
As he spoke, so the heavens opened. The rain fell in sheets so dense, for a moment, it was difficult to see where to go. I faltered, already soaked through. I felt a hand grab my arm and I was pulled along to the open door of the barn.
“Are you okay?” he asked, standing in front of me.
I pushed my sodden hair from my forehead and shivered with the cold. I nodded.
“It’s a bit treacherous to walk that path in this weather.”
I pulled the damp pad from the pocket.
It was nice when I went out, I wrote.
“Bad weather rolls in so quick here. You should be careful.”
I stared at him. I know. I was born here, lived here for many years. I scribbled, annoyed at being chastised.
He chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. Did you know your handwriting changes when you’re annoyed? So does your face, of course.”
I sighed and shook my head, then smiled at him. He was just being kind, I thought.
“Ready to run for the house? Doesn’t look like this is letting up any time soon, and I’m sure you’d like to dry off.”
I placed the pad back in the pocket and headed for the door. I guessed that was all the answer Miller needed. He followed me as I ran, after he locked up the barn door. I stood by the back door and watched as he started to walk towards his truck. I waved, gaining his attention and beckoned him over. He jogged to the door and I gave him a T sign with my hands.
“Thought you’d never ask,” he said with a laugh.
“Dani, look at you,” Dad said, as we piled into the kitchen.
I shrugged my shoulders and removed Miller’s jacket. I held it out to him.
“Keep it, it suits you more than it does me,” he replied.
The leather jacket was dripping so I hung it on a peg next to the back door, the rain could drip onto the tiled floor while it dried out.
“I bet you two could do with a nice hot cup of tea,” Dad asked.