Gravestone (32 page)

73. Harold Martin

The more I work on the history of the Crag’s Inn, the more random notes get added to the assorted piles.

The earliest I can find anything mentioned is a little after the Civil War. In the 1870s there was talk of the railroad being built and passing through the town of Solitary. This was meant to be an alternative to another steep railroad pass called Pace’s Gap, which ended up being completed first around the end of the 1870s. For a while trains ran through Solitary, in the 1880s and 1890s, but they increasingly weren’t used because of the trains used on Pace’s Gap not too far away.

While Solitary itself isn’t mentioned a lot in the notes I’m reading, the railroad is mentioned frequently. It seems that was how the first owner/builder of the inn found the town and the area. He got off the train and ended up buying the plot of land where the inn stands. His name was Harold Martin. At first it seemed he just wanted a place to build a business. But there’s quite a bit more to Harold’s story.

Something happened to his family—some tragedy. It’s referred to repeatedly but never really named. His wife and maybe children? All I learn is that Harold Martin came to Solitary alone and decided to buy property and build an inn there.

One letter repeatedly says that the inn will not be in Solitary, but nearby.

It cannot be in the town, that will not work.

It seems that this Harold Martin was a religious man. He mentions following God’s path and God’s will over and over. He refers to whatever happened to his family as “the darkness” and the inn being a light.

I need to do something to squelch the darkness and combat the fatigue of my weary soul.

Initially he got resistance from people about buying the property, then about building. But every good thing he says is an answer to prayer—“fervent prayer” as he calls it, “prayer with petition.” Despite the resistance, he was able to build the inn sometime before the turn of the century.

It’s hard to know which details I need and which ones are worthless. There are lots of notes on the building process and the costs of labor. The details of running the inn seem endless and boring. But there are little details and notes that I discover while wading through notes and letters that seem to stand out.

One of these is a note going to Maude, who may or may not be his mother, which includes the details on their first guests—

We had our first guests last night. To say I was surprised and anxious is quite the overstatement. They stayed only one night and did not talk very much. The dinner I set out was ignored. They left early in the morning without much sound. But it was the start. My hope is that it is the start of something bigger and better.

For some time it seems that running this inn and getting visitors was difficult. Some of Harold’s concerns were with various townspeople who didn’t want him there (why, I can’t see). Other concerns were with attracting guests.

I leave these things in God’s hands because I know this is where He wants me to be.

Then I come across a letter that startles me.

I have started a church with three others. We meet by the falls in the woods. It’s a beautiful place, tranquil and peaceful, perfect for seeing God’s hand and God’s will in these dark times.

I think back to the people meeting in the woods, the ones Jocelyn showed me.

I need to find out who they are and where they’re meeting now.

Just like the previous Saturdays, I have pages of notes but nothing started. Iris doesn’t press me, just pays me and asks if everything is going well. She’s busy today—there is a group coming in this evening, and she needs to get things ready. My mom arrives, and Iris says good night.

I wonder how long this project will last.

Holding the cash in my hand, I hope it lasts a long time.

74. Normal and Messy

On my way over to Kelsey’s house for Sunday lunch, I realize what a skeptic I’ve become. Cynic, skeptic, critic, something with
ic
on the end of it that looks and feels like a big “ick.”

I’m driving Mom’s car. She came home late last night and was still sleeping when I asked her around, oh, eleven, if I could take it.

Eleven. That’s one hour away from noon. One hour away from the middle of the day.

When you’re at the bottom, the middle’s a little harder to get to.

I get in the car, and I’m angry. I’m angry at Mom for being all wasted and wrecked. I’m angry that I don’t have a license and a car of my own. That I have to ask someone who shouldn’t be asked anything for permission to drive. Of course she said yes to get rid of the guilt on her back. Sleep isn’t going to make it go away.

But as I drive and start thinking of things, I realize that I’m not the same kid who moved here what feels like a few decades ago.

It’s true that I can’t stand my father. Hate? Yeah, probably. But I’m slowly or quickly growing the same feelings toward Mom.

And toward this town.

And toward my life.

And now as I crank up the radio and can’t find a decent song whatsoever, I begin to think about Kelsey and her family.

Are they trying to save my soul?

Are they going to suck me into some deep, dark secret?

Are they weird like half the town, or evil like the other half?

Why can’t you think normal thoughts?

But I can’t think normal thoughts because there’s nothing normal about this. When you’re in a prison you can’t go on believing you’re in the real world.

She’s just a cute and harmless girl who likes you, and that’s it.

But then what am I doing?

I think of Jocelyn and wonder if this is cheating.

You’re whacked in the head.

I know.

That’s the problem.

I’m wondering if I’m cheating on a girl I was never with, a girl taken away from me, with a girl I don’t really know, a girl I don’t really like anyway.

Idiotic.

Moronic.

Pathetic.

I used to drive and listen to songs and not think about any of these things. I thought about NBA players and the brands of shoes they wore. I thought about the girls on the Maxim website and I thought about Celeste the senior at our school. I thought of going away to college and going crazy and getting away from responsibilities.

You’ve already reached crazy without responsibilities.

I flip the station, but there’s nothing to combat these thoughts.

They keep coming.

And coming.

And coming.

Thank God for something normal.

Nice people who don’t smell like sickly sweet alcohol from the night before, who are awake and dressed in nice clothes for church.

A mother and a father who are unbelievably still together and still able to touch each other. Not in a weird, freaky way, but in a nice way. Kinda sweet and at the same time, normal.

A house that looks like any other suburban house. Two-story and inviting with no signs of underground tunnels or mannequins or dead animals.

An older brother named Keith who goes to University of South Carolina and who actually seems …

normal

Unbelievable.

Keith is the one who answers the door. He gives me a casual hello. Next I see Jack, Kelsey’s dad, who shakes my hand and says how good it is to see me again.

Then I see something not exactly normal.

Kelsey walks in, wearing a blue dress that seems to poke at this cloudy bubble I have going on in my head and my heart.

“Did you find our house okay?”

I didn’t realize that I was driving to a field full of beautiful blue lilies.

“Yeah.”

She smiles and seems a lot more confident here than in the art class or in the halls of Harrington High.

I smell something like real home cooking.

You’re dreaming this it’s another dream come on not fair.

I actually feel nervous here.

Meeting the parents over a Sunday meal. What are you thinking, Chris?

I’m led into the kitchen and see Kelsey’s pretty mother doing something at the sink. She smiles and then comes over and gives me a hug.

Do they know something I don’t?

“Oh, you’re such a cutie,” she says. “I’m Ruth. It’s very nice to finally meet you.”

Kelsey’s mother is an older snapshot of her, blond and tall and smiling. We stand around the kitchen talking about stuff like school and where I’m from and all that.

Normal stuff.

It’s nice and refreshing and I realize that they’re not going to kidnap or molest me.

At least not before lunch.

“We’re having a pot roast,” Ruth says. “Do you like pot roast?”

I used to when I had someone who actually remembered how to make it.

“Yeah, that’s great. Thanks.”

“We’re just so glad you came over. Maybe next time you can bring your mother.”

“Lay off, Mom,” Keith says in a natural and fun way. “Don’t pressure the kid.”

“It’s not pressure. It’s just nice meeting new folks.”

I glance over at Kelsey, who is still quiet despite the air of security she has about her. When I see her looking my way, I feel something that is pretty much all wonderful.

It’s like …

A breath of fresh air.

I suddenly know what that expression means.

It’s the cute blond in the blue dress, smiling at me as if I’ve made her day.

I haven’t made anybody’s day in a very long time.

“So you haven’t seen your uncle since you arrived?”

Ruth’s question is innocent and natural, but it still seems a bit too much. I take a while to figure out an answer.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she adds.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just—we haven’t—we don’t know where he is.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I guess—I think Mom thought that he would be around or come home eventually. But I don’t know. She didn’t really share what she thought about coming here except that she grew up in Solitary. And that she wanted to get away from my dad.”

Kelsey obviously had told them about my parents because nobody brought up the
parents
discussion or even the word.

“I have a feeling that he’s long gone,” I add.

“And what about your father?”

“Ruth.”

“I’m just asking.”

“It’s okay,” I say, looking first at Kelsey, who’s sitting next to me. “We don’t hear anything from him. I doubt we will.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

I nod.

“Too heavy,” Keith says. “Sorry, Chris. I told them to go light, but Mom can’t help herself.”

“That wasn’t being too anything,” Ruth says.

“We were talking about college football, and it goes to this. Give the kid a break. I mean, he lives in that creepy town. He’s got enough to deal with.”

That’s the funny thing about people who live outside of Solitary, even if it’s just right outside. It’s like the dome of gloom hasn’t completely penetrated them yet.

Poe and Rachel talked like this.

Now Kelsey’s family.

“I hear you’re pretty good at track,” Keith says.

“I’m decent.”

“They need as many decent guys as possible.”

We talk about sports and other random things in a very fun, natural,
normal
way.

Every few moments, I look at Kelsey.

Every few moments, I realize just how much this family already knows me.

How much Kelsey’s told them about me.

And I gotta admit, I really like it.

We’re walking down the dirt road that leads to Kelsey’s house.

To think that a year ago, I never really walked around neighborhoods. I mean, I rode my bike and I’d walk to kids’ houses, but I never really just strolled around. Back home it’s tiny little plots of land. Your fence and my grass and his backyard and her tree.

Here, it’s just all open and free.

At least in places that haven’t been spoiled by Solitary.

“You have a nice family,” I tell her after we’ve been walking for a while, talking about art class and school.

“Thanks.”

“Your brother’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

I’m ready to keep talking about him, but Kelsey changes the subject.

“Do you like Poe?”

“Poe?”

“You’re around her a lot.”

“I am?”

“I’ve seen you two together.”

I wonder if she’s referring to in school or out.

Please don’t bring up real life. I was having such fun ignoring it.

“It’s okay, you know.”

“No, I just …” I laugh for a moment. “I’m not sure what to say because I’m trying to figure out how you might think that. I mean—I’m not sure if Poe and I are really even friends.”

“But do you like her?”

“No,” I say right away. “She’s a friend. But it goes back …”
Don’t bring her up, not here not now.
“It’s just, I’ve gotten to know her.”

I can see Kelsey looking at me from just a few feet away, walking next to me. She’s waiting and wondering. Waiting. And wondering.

“We’re just friends,” I say. “That’s all.”

And that’s all I’m going to say.

“Thanks for coming today,” Kelsey says.

She says it in a way that sounds like I’m doing her some big favor.

“Thanks for asking. But you probably just do that with all the new guys, huh?”

Her slight laugh says otherwise.

“Do you think your mother would ever want to come over?”

I glance at her, and my look must say it all.

“Not for—it’s just, my parents really believe in being hospitable.”

“Ah, I get it,” I say, my smile probably filling half my face. “So this is just hospitality. Or charity. Is that it?”

“What?”

“Your inviting me over for lunch.”

“No, I told you—my parents asked.”

“Yes. The decent thing to do.”

“No.”

“Oh, wait, there’s another reason?”

I glance over and see her blushing. Suddenly I feel very mean and very stupid. “I’m just kidding.”

She shakes her head in a way that doesn’t really mean anything. Yes or no? Sideways? Then I see her look to the ground. I can see a faint trace of a tear.

“Hey, whoa—what? What’d I say?” I stop her before she can walk any further.

“Nothing.”

“I was just kidding.”

“It’s fine, it’s nothing. Really.”

“Kelsey, look—I was seriously just kidding.”