You're Not Alone

  ***

  I didn’t go back to my apartment. Mr. Princeton offered me his couch, but I couldn’t fathom sleeping in the stuffy, full of ancient artifacts living room. I opted to spend another night in Andjela’s guest room. In the morning, she brought me back to my apartment where I cleaned up and changed my clothes.

  I made a call to Chaz to tell him the séance was temporarily postponed. He was actually disappointed and wanted to know why. I told him I would call later and explain everything but that I still might need him. Mr. Princeton said we couldn’t wait for Matthew’s sake, so if Chester gave us permission, we would dig tonight. I was hoping to get Chaz’s help.

  As we drove to St. Luke’s Cemetery, Mr. Princeton and I talked about Chester. I knew him to be a bit on the strange side, and after Mr. Princeton told me about his associations with him, it all made sense. He asked me to let him do the talking at first, hoping that would put Chester at ease before we lambasted him with our request. Part of me was ready for the phone call to the police.

  St. Luke’s Cemetery was in a small town west of Rochester. It was an unusually large graveyard for the size of the town because it also encompassed the Jewish burial ground. Chester always boasted that people from towns all around him were just “dying to get into his cemetery.” As old as that joke was, he still laughed after he told it.

  His office was in the front of a stone building resembling a gothic church. Come to find out, it once was a church. Chester turned the back half into a mausoleum and the front half into his office space. I worked with the dead almost every day but I wasn’t sure I would want them buried in the same building that I worked in. It was enough they spent a short amount of time in my freezer followed by extremely emotional viewings in one of our mourning rooms.

  I expected the day to be gloomy to better fit the purpose of our task, but I was glad it wasn’t. I looked over at Andjela. She had a faint glow that surrounded her entire body. The sunlight sparkled on her long, black hair and there was gentle wind that played with the individual strands. It reminded me of the dream I had about Matthew in which the breeze played with his hair. Maybe it was an omen.

  We opened the mammoth wood and wrought iron door to find Chester sitting at his desk with the oversized mug he took with him where ever he went.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

  I leaned over to Andjela and whispered, “And you said idioms were dead.” She smirked but kept her composure.

  Mr. Princeton stepped immediately to the other side of Chester’s desk and took his hand, shaking it vigorously. I never saw Mr. Princeton as animated as he had been these last few days.

  “Chester, my lad, it’s so good to see you.”

  “Mr. Princeton, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Chester asked surveying the three of us. “Quinn, how nice to see you again.” He stepped around his desk toward Andjela. “I don’t believe we have met."

  “Andjela. You can call me Andie.” I took a double take. She never told me I could call her Andie. Andjela looked at me out of the corner of her eyes as if she could read my thoughts, but she kept her gaze on Chester. “This is a lovely building you have here.”

  “Thank you. It was built in 1758 by Luke Grandell. He told everyone his great, great, great grandfather was a saint and told him to build this church, so he did. Luke’s grandchildren bought all the land around it because they were told to make it a cemetery.” He leaned slightly forward. “I don’t tell just anyone that story. Most people don’t believe it.” He straightened up. “It’s been in the family ever since.” Chester smiled lovingly as he swept his arm across the room.

  “So you’re related to St. Luke. I never knew that,” I interjected. “Has he ever spoken to you?” That question shut everybody up and made me want to laugh. At this point I felt “go bold or go home.”

  Mr. Princeton, par for the course, saved me from the uncomfortable and embarrassed stare that was coming my way from Chester. “It’s okay, Chester. She’s a believer like we are.”

  Chester nodded to Andjela. “What about her?”

  I answered that question. “I think she’s the biggest believer of us all.”

  “More than you Mr. Princeton? That’s saying a lot.”

  “Chester, please call me Eddie.”

  Now I was getting pissed off. He never told me I could call him Eddie. What is going on! Both Andjela and Mr. Princeton looked amused.

  “Back to your question, Quinn. No, he hasn’t spoken to me,” he glanced at Mr. Princeton and smiled. “Yet.” He looked skeptically at me and Andjela. “So, to what do I owe the honor of this visit from you and two scrumptious women?” She smiled. I thought I was going to be sick.

  “Chester, is there somewhere we can sit and talk in private?” Mr. Princeton asked.

  “Must be important. I have a table set up in the back for these kinds of meetings. I hope you don’t mind that it’s in the mausoleum.”

  “How apropos,” I muttered under my breath. Andjela nudged me.

  We followed Chester through another heavy wooden door that opened up to a gleaming marble and stone burial chamber. Along each wall were rows and rows of tombs with names engraved on smooth, stone plates to identify the remains. Tall, brass, single candelabras were embedded into the floor every six feet along the length of the room. In the middle of the room sat an antique, medieval-looking table made of dark wood. The bulky table had four matching chairs. We each took one and sat down.

  Mr. Princeton explained the whole sordid tale to Chester, who listened with fascination. He asked a few clarifying questions but remained silent most of the time as he took it all in. Andjela interposed her thoughts and opinions, but I said nothing. I, too, listened intently because I hoped that after hearing it from beginning to end, the past week’s events might take on reality in my brain. I knew I had lived it, but sometimes I felt like someone else was the main character of this really bad movie and I was just a critic watching it. I would have given it one star out of five.

  “So, Chester, we don’t want to involve you. We just need you to look the other way.”

  “I don’t think I can do that,” he said.

  Finally, I spoke up. “Chester, I know this all sounds crazy, and if I hadn’t seen it all firsthand I wouldn’t believe it either. But it happened just like they said it did. I need your help. Please let us do this.”

  Chester leaned back in his chair. “Oh, you don’t understand. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this ever since I met Eddie. What I meant is that you can’t do it without me. This is exciting. It can affirm everything we’ve ever believed in.” He smiled at Mr. Princeton. “And hopefully after this, my ancestor just might speak to me.”

  “He just might.” I agreed.