Karen looked down at the closest tombstone. She’d been walking for almost an hour and still hadn’t found what she’d been looking for.
For that matter, she wasn’t sure she even knew for herself exactly what she was seeking. The one she was looking at now had a woman’s name followed by:
Born July 4, 1960, Died December 10, 1999
Beloved Mother and Artist
She Brought Life to Those Close to Her
A gust of wind blew some loose strands of Karen’s long blonde hair so they covered her view. She pushed them back behind her ears.
“Is that the one?”
The voice behind her was gentle but insistent.
“Are you getting tired of looking?”
Karen smiled as she turned to face Bobby. He stood a respectful two feet behind her, as if he were trying to give her all the privacy she might need while still being there to offer any emotional support.
Not bloody likely, she thought.
Bobby was nineteen years old, just like she was. Somehow, though, he looked older. If she didn’t know better, she’d peg him at about twenty-five. He was tall, rugged, and handsome, exactly the kind of guy who would turn girls’ heads wherever he went. His deep voice made her wonder if he could have had a future in radio.
Karen, on the other hand, knew she barely looked seventeen, let alone nineteen. She was slim and short and never seemed to fill out like other girls her age.
“Sorry, I didn’t intend to sound impatient,” he said. “Take all the time you want. Time is the one thing both of us have lots of.”
Karen nodded. “I just need to find the right one.”
Bobby smiled. “I know. Really, it’s okay.”
“I’m not sure anything will be okay ever again.”
Bobby didn’t answer. What could he say to that?
Karen looked at him with the hint of emotion in her eyes, but she was determined not to let a single tear drop. She tried to detach herself and just concentrate on Bobby’s face—the dark brown eyes; the pitch-black, curly hair; the dimples she knew would appear when he smiled.
She exhaled a long breath and turned back to the headstone. “I wonder what kind of art she practiced.”
“Do you want to check? You can Google it on your iPhone. Shouldn’t be hard to find if she really accomplished anything.”
Karen shook her head. “In a way I’d rather imagine my own truth. I think she loved to put together collages from nature, picking up stray oak and maple leaves wherever she went and then spending hours rearranging them to tell a story.”
She knelt and touched the granite stone, feeling the etchings of some of the letters.
“This isn’t the one,” she said finally.
Bobby joined her as she walked past a few more tombstones. None of them interested her. Only a few had called to her so far.
The sun was starting to set behind them, casting a long shadow through the graveyard. Karen knew Bobby just wanted her to find the right damned stone so they could leave, but it wasn’t that easy. It had to be the right one.
If she couldn’t find it, she’d come back tomorrow, and the day after that.
“Did you know there’re two thousand people buried here?” asked Bobby.
She ignored him. A cool breeze blew, and she felt goose bumps rise on her arms. All of a sudden she moved to her right and fell to her knees in front of an old weathered stone.
“This is the one,” she said. “I found her.”
She exhaled a long breath and turned back to the headstone. “I wonder what kind of art she practiced.”
“Do you want to check? You can Google it on your iPhone. Shouldn’t be hard to find if she really accomplished anything.”
Karen shook her head. “In a way I’d rather imagine my own truth. I think she loved to put together collages from nature, picking up stray oak and maple leaves wherever she went and then spending hours rearranging them to tell a story.”
She knelt and touched the granite stone, feeling the etchings of some of the letters.
“This isn’t the one,” she said finally.
Bobby joined her as she walked past a few more tombstones. None of them interested her. Only a few had called to her so far.
The sun was starting to set behind them, casting a long shadow through the graveyard. Karen knew Bobby just wanted her to find the right damned stone so they could leave, but it wasn’t that easy. It had to be the right one.
If she couldn’t find it, she’d come back tomorrow, and the day after that.
“Did you know there’re two thousand people buried here?” asked Bobby.
She ignored him. A cool breeze blew, and she felt goose bumps rise on her arms. All of a sudden she moved to her right and fell to her knees in front of an old weathered stone.
“This is the one,” she said. “I found her.”