Summer was headed to the cemetery. Mixed emotions tore at his conscience. She hadn’t been there since Walter died. Had he pushed her into something she wasn’t ready for?
“Thanks, Grandma. I’ve got her.” He disconnected, dropped his phone, and took the most direct route.
Chapter Nine
Summer parked next to the gate for the Echo Falls Family Cemetery. The wrought-iron fence ran for a couple blocks on either side of the entrance. A long wooden fence on the west side separated the cemetery from houses in the neighborhood. Grassy spots of freshly mowed grass mixed with numerous tall, swaying trees, many dropping leaves and filling space around the headstones. A long gravel road ran through the middle.
According to Lori Devlin, the cemetery had its beginnings with the town, and many of the long-time families had loved ones buried here, her grandparents included. Her parents were buried in Lubbock for unknown reasons, and she hadn’t cared to find out.
But she never came here. Actually, she hadn’t been here since her grandfather’s funeral years before, and a lot of those moments were lost to the shock of loss and tons of guilt. She couldn’t even remember where their plots were. Wandering the cemetery wasn’t the most efficient way to find out. Yet, there was history here that might help her with her mural.
Exasperated, Summer blew out a breath and popped open her door. Did everything always come back to her art? It had framed her break up with Tom before their marriage, and it sat like a boulder in the midst of every road she tried to traverse. Did she use it as her only coping mechanism? The habit might explain all her periods of artist block.
She stood still and listened. The wind stirred the trees, traffic rumbled from two streets over, and the quiet stirred complicated emotions.
“Summer LeFey Applegate.”
She’d missed the footsteps and turned. A tall, blond man dressed in jeans approached her. He wore a black long sleeved t-shirt, red high tops, and a grin. He pushed a green wheelbarrow with a tree trimmer and shovel in the base.
Summer relaxed at the familiar face. “Gage Caldwell.”
He held out a hand. “Haven’t seen you lately.”
“Ditto.” She took his hand in a quick shake. Summer might be married to the most handsome man ever, but she wasn’t dead. The grin, the muscles, the charm oozed off of him. The NYTimes best-selling author title didn’t hurt.
She tilted her head and studied him. “NY Times? Again?”
Gage blushed, then pointed a finger at her. “Art galleries all over God’s green earth?”
Summer shrugged. “Truth. Loved your last novel.”
“Saw the little girl drawing at Clem’s. Top-notch. What are you doing here?’
“Honestly, I buried my grandfather a few years ago and haven’t been back. Can I confess I can’t remember where the plot is?”
“Halfway down on the right side by the Carnahan section. I’ll walk you.”
“And how do you know?”
“I live right there.” He tipped his head toward the houses. “I’m the head of the cemetery committee. We do a running check on all the graves, keep track of the who and when, and make repairs.”
He started along the road, and Summer kept pace even though her stomach jumped with acid-sour reluctance. Why? No one would leap out of the grave and haunt her.
“When I moved back home, Rand found me a house to rent. He attempted to be funny by putting me at the graveyard. Brothers, right?”
“I don’t have any, but I hear that’s true.”
“Well, I’ll loan you mine next time I’m irritated.”
Summer laughed, understanding why this man was famous. He could tell a story to strangers, a skill she’d never considered having. “So how weird is it to live by all this?”
“At first, very strange, honestly. When I first moved in, there were meth dealers using the graveyard as a hiding place, and the noises coming from their activities were spooky. We, of course, didn’t know what was going on. Honestly, I wasn’t discounting ghosts. It was Halloween, and that didn’t help.”
“We?”
“Ruth, my wife. She owns the house next door to mine and works at the hospital. We’ve since combined households and rented out mine, but still the graveyard is a constant.”
Putting Gage together with the Ruth she knew didn’t take long. “I take it you discovered the activity?”
