Chapter Seven

“You didn’t tell me Bertha Deerbourne is buried here.” Emily didn’t hide her surprise.

Except for the newest, the simple headstones were gray with age, the chiseled words worn from exposure to rain and snow. Several tilted sideways as if too tired to stand.

The white granite stone displayed “Bertha Deerbourne. Beloved friend,” along with the dates of her birth and death.

He cleared his throat. “Vicki said I should put more on it, but I wasn’t sure what she’d have wanted. I was surprised since she hadn’t returned here since leaving. I wish she’d written one down.” Nate paused next to the lonely grave. “After we moved here, I searched for her fiancé’s grave, but it looks like he was never found. In fact, many of the locals think he was a myth.”

“Do you think that’s why she wouldn’t return?” She wiped at her eyes. “Oh, now you’ve made me teary-eyed. At least she came home at the end. I can imagine losing the love of her life was incredibly difficult.”

She took off her hat and straightened her head. “Maybe the longer she stayed away the tougher it became to return.”

“Maybe. She never really talked about it. When she talked about the inn it was always as if it was her parents’ thing, not hers. Like she had no connection to it.”

His mouth twisted and he looked out across the graveyard. “Liz thinks she’s here in more ways than one.”

“What’s that mean?”

He shrugged as they walked between the other much older graves. “She claims she’s heard a woman’s laughter when there’s no one there. She thinks Bertha has finally come back home.”

“You don’t believe in ghosts?”

He scoffed. “No. I’ve never heard anything, and I’ve been everywhere in the inn from the attic to the deep bowels of the basement. Let’s see how far we are from the quarry.” He turned along the path. Taking the map from Emily, he flipped it open. He traced the path with one finger, shaking his head.

Emily glanced over her shoulder at the stones. She put her hat back on her head. “Next time I come, I’m bringing extra water. When I wet the older stones, the carving shows clearly and I can copy or photograph it. The old method was rubbing tissue with charcoal to bring out the carving, but it wore away the surface.”

Nate stopped and checked his watch. He used the tail of his shirt to wipe sweat from his face. Humidity was increasing. “I should have brought drinking water.”

“City boy. I did.” She took a bottle from her bag and handed it to him before opening one for herself.

He rubbed the condensation over his forehead and sighed with pleasure. “I need to get back. That bread will be ready to bake.”

Emily cast a longing look toward the woods. “It can’t be too far,” she mumbled.

“Hey, it might not, but you shouldn’t go alone. These tracks don’t look dangerous, but can be. The heat brings out snakes, some poisonous. We can always borrow a couple horses or a jeep to get there.”

She gave a frustrated grunt.