And so it begins...

Autumn Moon and the Book of Secrets
by Bob Freeman



Chapter One

“Not Dead, but Sleepeth”

The words of the Minister still haunt me. “In John, chapter eleven, verses twenty-five and six, Jesus tells us, “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live. / And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.” And again in Luke, chapter eight, verse fifty-two, he commands, “Weep not; she is not dead, but sleepeth.””

“Not dead, but sleepeth,” he had said. If only that were true.

I was twelve the year my mother passed away. The doctors told us it was a heart attack, but she had been so young. I remember doing the math from the dates on her headstone. Thirty-three years. As a twelve year old that seemed like a lifetime, but now, I see it for what it truly is: the brief flicker of a candle snuffed out too soon.

I remember so vividly standing there in the lightly falling rain. My Aunt Astrid tried to keep me under her umbrella, but I didn’t want to be dry. It helped to mask the tears. It was like the heavens had opened up and decided to cry for my mother too.

Father had been no comfort. He paced about like a caged animal. His hair was disheveled and his clothes rumpled. He tugged at his tie and took long drags from his cigarette. How he kept it lit in the rain had always been a mystery to me. All I knew was that every time his eyes met mine he was quick to look away, like he was afraid that I might see something lurking behind his furtive glances.

He hadn’t been the only one to cast glances toward me as I stood before the gaping maw in the earth that would soon be home to my mother. Everyone seemed to be waiting for me to collapse, or to at least go into hysterics. But I was of tough stuff, even as a young girl teetering on the edge of womanhood. I didn’t really know anyone here: Aunts, Uncles, mother’s old friends from school…and the Cairnwoods.

The Cairnwoods huddled in a group a short distance away from the funeral service, within range to hear the preacher’s flowery prose, but apart from the gathered mourners. I had been introduced to them when we first arrived at Cairnwood Manor. There was Vincent and his pregnant wife Lenore. He was tall and proud, constantly touching his wife’s belly and smiling. She on the other hand looked so unhappy. I wondered if she might have known my mother and was so moved by her grief over her passing, but no, something darker was settled over this mother-to-be. Within a month she would have murdered her handsome husband and fled with her unborn child, but that is another tale for another time.

Leland Cairnwood was the head of the household and he scared me like no other. He was old, with deep lines seemingly carved into his face, and his wrinkled hands resting upon a wolf-headed cane. He stood with his housekeeper, Mrs. Harkness, and the two whispered between themselves throughout the service. Leland’s eyes would settle on me, then he would turn and say something to the housekeeper and she in turn would look toward me and Aunt Astrid before responding. This continued throughout the service and I could tell that as nervous as it made me feel, it made Aunt Astrid twice as uncomfortable. For as long as I live I will never forget those eyes. If the eyes truly are the window to the soul, then I never wanted to enter the dark place that Leland Cairnwood occupied.

In addition to the adults was a young boy my age named Sebastian. He was almost too pretty to be a boy, with long, dark curls and piercing blue eyes. Any doubts as to his gender were squelched by his grass-stained dress pants, scraped knuckles, and the tell-tale remnants of leaves and twigs stuck in his beautiful locks. Despite the horrors of the day and the deep sadness I felt, Sebastian was a bright spot in a dreary day. While others glanced toward me with mournful looks of compassion and interest, I caught Sebastian’s eyes staring with something else all together. And I must admit that it felt good. If nothing else, that boy was a real charmer and he had my heart at first sight. It would be years before I regretted that first meeting, but again, that is a tale for another time.

The cemetery that sprawled across the lawn beneath the gaze of Cairnwood Manor seemed to be older than time itself. Tombstones worn illegible by the passing of time filled the section of the cemetery that my mother would occupy. The Severe Family Plot consisted of thirteen headstones. I overheard Aunt Astrid say that my mother’s ancestors had been buried here for more than a hundred and fifty years. The Severe’s were an old, respected family from the Northeast who had come to the wild lands of the Indiana Territory in the early eighteen hundreds. The Severe men had fought alongside the native tribes during the War of 1812 and settled along the Mississenewa River in its aftermath. The Cairnwoods and the Severes had a bond that was forged all those long years ago, and it still held true to this day.

My mother would be laid to rest along side her ancestors, just as she had wished. It was a sore subject with my father. He seemed ill at ease with the Cairnwoods. And they in turn did not seem overly fond of him. Aunt Astrid feared that there might be a scene, but in the end, with the Minister’s proclamation of “Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust,” my mother was lowered into the ground.

I stepped to the edge and dropped a flower into the hole that would serve as my mother’s final resting place. The lily fell in slow motion, toppling end over end until it came to rest atop the mahogany coffin. My tears merged with the falling rain to join the lily. I remember being pulled away from the edge by my Aunt and led to an awaiting car. Inside, out of the rain, I pressed my face and hands against the passenger side window staring toward my mother’s new home as the car pulled away.

“I love you, mom,” I whispered. I really had no idea what lie ahead for me. My father was a wreck and emotionally detached from me. And I really had no other family than Aunt Astrid, whom I barely knew. When it was decided that I would stay in Somerset and live with her instead of returning to New Castle with my father I had no idea how fateful the grown-ups' decision would prove to be.

to be continued next week