Hand-over-hand, a foot at a time, the boys slowly lowered the shroud-enclosed body into the ground until Maxine Harp disappeared.
“Dust to dust.”
Nobody moved. Except one of the Harp boys, who walked solemnly over to the pile of dirt and unearthed a digging shovel. He stuck it into the small hill and pulled up a shovelful. Then he carried it back to the grave, and let the soil tumble back into the place where it came from.
He wasn’t crying, but it looked like he might start any minute. His brother came up behind him and took the shovel from his hands. He, too, walked to the pile, scooped and unloaded his dirt. A sister came next, and one by one, all Maxine’s children and grandchildren took turns fillingin the grave. When the last shovelful of dirt hit home, my dad turned away from the ceremony and began to walk away.
“Where are you going?” I asked. “Don’t you want to talk to these guys?”
He picked up his pace.
“We’re not supposed to be here,” he said.
“What do you mean?” I said. “These people screwed you over.”
He shook his head.
“I was hired to do a job,” he said. “And then I was fired. This is a service industry. We’re not here for the right reasons.”
We were almost back over the hill when a voice came from behind us.
“Duncan,” it said. “Is that you?”
It was one of the Harp boys, jogging toward us, his large hand reaching out like he was flagging a cab.
“I thought it was you,” he said.
“Yeah,” said my dad, “I just...”
“It was big of you to come,” said the large guy. Up close, he looked like a giant, though he was probably only an inch or two taller than my dad.
“That was a lovely ceremony,” my dad said.
And I was surprised to hear his voice give out at the end. The Harp boy clapped a hand down on my dad’s shoulder.
“I wanted to invite you,” he said, “but my brother said we shouldn’t since we... went in another direction.”
He looked down and his grin fell away.
“Look, Duncan, I’m not going to tell you that the news about your deal in Nantucket didn’t have an effect on our decision. But, Mom loved the outdoors. And then she met this woman with a green burial company, who told her about this place. No coffins. No embalming. No chemicals. Just nature and stuff. Mom changed everything at the last minute. This was what she wanted.”
“I see,” said Dad.
“That’s her by the way,” said the giant, squinting into the sun. “The gal in the beige.”
I looked up toward the grave and felt something in me drop.
“That’s... who?” I asked.
He looked down at me, startled. I’m not sure he had even seen me until now.
“The lady with the company. Greener Pastures. That’s her.”
“Greener Pastures,” I said.
She was waving to us now, the woman in beige. Her lightblond hair was pulled up into a clip, loose strands spilling down her neck. Her nose and forehead, even at this distance, were darkened with freckles and flushed from the sun.
“Her name’s Grace,” he said. “Would you like to meet her?”
