Buried Roots Read online

  Buried Roots

  by

  Cynthia Raleigh

  Copyright © 2016 by Cynthia Raleigh. All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to [email protected].

  This is a work of fiction. Other than a few references to historic persons, the names and people included in this book are wholly imaginary and do not represent real persons, living or dead.

  Cover art by Colin Lawson 2017

  Cover photograph © Cynthia Raleigh

  Buried Roots / Cynthia Raleigh: First Edition

  Smashwords Edition

  To my daughter, Ivy, for going along with me to forests and fields in search of long forgotten cemeteries

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  About the Author

  Notes and Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  The sudden knocking on the door startled Felix. His arms involuntarily flung out and away from the keyboard; his left hand knocked over his energy drink. The can fell on its side, fortunately facing away from the keyboard. The brown liquid gurgled out onto the floor. Irritated, Felix swatted the can off the table top. It clattered along the kitchen's green and white linoleum floor and came to rest near the baseboard where the trash overflowed with fast food wrappers, crumpled cigarette packets, and beer bottles.

  Felix shoved his chair back and stubbed his cigarette out in the crowded ashtray. As he passed through the living room, he pulled the folding screen back into place across the stacks of boxes in the corner beyond the tatty fold-out couch, which remained pulled out and unmade. With his hand on the doorknob, he cast an appraising eye around the entire living room before he opened the door.

  A woman impatiently waited in the gloomy hallway of the apartment building. The common areas of the building were not air-conditioned or even vented in any way. The air was humid and stagnant, the odor pungent. She felt clammy in her brown delivery uniform; a light sheen of perspiration shone on her skin. Even though it was only early May, the weather had been in the high 70s and low 80s and it was already stuffy inside. Juanita wrinkled her nose, subconsciously recoiling from the stale smell of the old, dirty carpet. There were three boxes on a dolly next to her. As she tapped on the screen of her handheld device, the door opened. She looked up at the man in the doorway; unshaven, hair messy, yesterday’s clothes. Same guy she’d seen a couple of other times she made deliveries here. Juanita asked, "You Felix Tyndall?"

  "Yeah. These for me?"

  She looked up at him for a few seconds without raising her head, "Yes." She held the device out toward Felix. "I need you to sign your name there at the bottom to accept the boxes." She pointed to a bold line at the bottom of the small screen. Felix looked at the signature line then back to the delivery woman, who responded, "Just use your finger."

  Felix wrote his name with his index finger. He looked at the signature and decided he may as well have used his elbow. He handed the machine back. The delivery woman pulled the dolly out from beneath the boxes. "Have a nice day." She retreated down the hallway and disappeared around the corner. The empty dolly bounced and clanged as she headed back to the elevator.

  Felix carried the first two boxes through the doorway one at a time. They weren't really heavy, but sweat was beginning to run down his temples; one drop coursed from his graying hairline down along his jawline, then hung on his chin. He pushed the last box to the doorway with his foot. It was the heavier one and it hung on the warped metal threshold. He had to bend down to lift a corner up enough to scoot the box through the opening and shut the door.

  As soon as the door was closed, he locked it with both the knob and the deadbolt. Clutching the sleeve of his t-shirt, he used it to blot his face. It seemed even hotter in the apartment than it had fifteen minutes ago. He turned on an oscillating pedestal fan placed near one of the two living room windows, which were already open. He looked out at the street a couple stories below, at the traffic stopping and starting, and across Interstate 95 where the James River flowed.

  He hadn’t always lived here. He’d had a pretty nice house on the north end of Richmond. It wasn’t big, but it was a quality home that was well cared for, and on some prime real estate. He smirked just a little and thought to himself how he wasn’t going to live in this rundown apartment much longer. He’d be back on the north side, or maybe in one of those up and coming neighborhoods being restored and brought back to life. That’s what he wanted. Or maybe a historic home that had already been restored.

  After daydreaming in front of the fan for a couple of minutes, Felix returned to the kitchen and picked up the laptop. He sat down on the edge of the bed with the laptop next to him. He minimized his email and opened his spreadsheet program. “Damn!” He swiped at his brow again as the sweat continued to bead on his forehead. He had a pounding headache to boot. He tilted his head from side to side, extended and flexed his left arm. “I’ve been bent over this thing so long my arm and shoulder are killing me too.”

  The aging laptop was getting slow; he could hear the hard drive whirring away as it struggled to open the file. While it worked, Felix went to the bathroom at the end of a very short hallway off the living room that also led to the single bedroom. He yanked open the left-hand drawer by the sink. After searching around through the unopened dental floss, toenail clippers, half empty bottles of hotel lotion, and various other odds and ends, he found the bottle of ibuprofen and poured four into his hand. He looked at the expiration date, three years ago. He tossed the bottle back in the drawer and swallowed the pills with a handful of water from the faucet.

  Felix hadn’t done much housekeeping since his wife divorced him four years ago, just enough to get by. That certainly didn’t include checking expiration dates. He tried not to think about Susan, getting mad didn’t help matters. He had already wasted enough time on that. He spent months trying to convince her to come back, that he would get a job and keep it and straighten up his attitude. She hadn’t listened and was now remarried, so there was no point. He didn’t like living in squalor, but he had other things to do.

  He rubbed his shoulder again as he returned to the living room, knowing it could take thirty minutes to an hour before the pain reliever did much good. A glance at the laptop screen showed that the spreadsheet had opened. Felix sat down on the thin mattress next to the computer with the first of the three b
oxes on his lap. He used a pair of scissors he took from the end table by the bed to slit open the top. He pulled out a flat square of corrugated cardboard that just fit into the opening. Then he pulled out the air-filled packing material and left the peanuts in the bottom surrounding the contents. He reached in and lifted out several plastic baggies of varying sizes. He held them up for better scrutiny in the light coming through the window and frequently referred to the spreadsheet. After checking each item, he either tossed it to the middle of the bed or carefully replaced it in the packaging, then repeated the procedure with the second box.

  The third box was bigger and heavier. Felix set it between his feet and crouched over it to open the top. Before he cut the filament tape, he sat upright again, suffering a wave of nausea. “Great, now the pills are making me sick.” He considered that he should have eaten something, but he didn’t have much in the house and would have to go out or order something. “Just get through this box and then I’ll go get something,” he said aloud.

  He took a couple of slow breaths and bent over the box again, scissors in his right hand. The scissors dropped. The heavy shears made a clunking sound as they hit the threadbare carpeting. To someone watching Felix, it would look like he was slowly leaning further forward to retrieve the scissors. But he wasn’t. His head lowered nearly to his sternum, arms hanging loosely toward the floor, his body continue to lean forward, one leg on each side of the box. His rear came off the bed as he passed over the box and his head neared the floor. His hands did not reach out to break his fall. There was no reaction at all. Felix didn’t realize he was falling, and just before his body finished the tumble and settled to the carpet near the dropped scissors, he was already gone.

  Chapter 2

  Perri Seamore shouldered her carry-on bag as she descended the steel mesh stairs from the puddle jumper. It had been a long flight home from Seattle with two transfers on the way, one in Atlanta and one in Louisville. As a traveling nurse, Perri had enjoyed her three-month assignment in a large Seattle hospital but was very much happy to be home.

  It was the last week in April and the trees were budding and blooming at an increasing rate with the warmer weather. On the approach to the runway, as the plane flew low across the countryside, Perri could see the tractors and planters that were sowing corn and melons inching their way across the fields. As she watched their slow progress, the slanting rays of the sun had produced brilliant momentary flashes of light off the metal as the machinery turned. The sunshine was warm and comfortable rather than blistering as would be the case during the hot summer months. She tipped her face upward to soak in the warmth as she walked across the tarmac toward the door of the terminal.

  Perri hadn’t relished the thought of paying for thirteen weeks of long term parking at the airport. To help her out, her longtime friend, Nina Watkins, was meeting her to drive her home. Perri squinted at the windows which ran along the runway side of the small airport terminal and saw a hand waving. She couldn’t see enough of the person through the glare to identify who it was. Not wanting to look like a goof if the person was, in fact, waving at someone behind her, she simply grinned and kept walking.

  The group of eleven people from the flight climbed the stairs single file and passed through the gate into the lobby beyond the secure area. Nina trotted up and gave Perri a hug. “Glad you are back, girlfriend. How was it?”

  Perri hugged Nina back, “It was good, but tiring. I worked a lot of shifts, a lot of overtime. But, that means I can enjoy a stretch of time off before taking another assignment. And I need it.” As they left the gate area, Perri pointed to the right at the next corner and said, “I need to get my checked bag.”

  As they stood by the unmoving empty carousel, Nina looked at Perri and said, “You look pretty weary. Long, hard haul, huh?”

  “It was. I was happy with the hospital and the people, but they are just too short-staffed. Every day was a hair-on-fire day.”

  “That’s rough. It's becoming the norm though, it seems. Things have already changed so much from when we both started in nursing, haven’t they?”

  Perri agreed, then asked, “How are things with your job?”

  “Oh, you know how it is, busy all the time. No shortage of people having surgery. Every day is chock full o’ patients and by the end of the day I’m pretty much out of patience.” Nina and Perri lapsed into silence as a horn blared and the articulated metal plates of the carousel began moving, sliding together, then apart. Baggage appeared on the conveyor, popping up through the top opening like bread out of a toaster.

  Bag after bag traveled by, “My bag usually shows up almost last, for some reason.” Perri sighed.

  “You arrive everywhere pretty early. It is probably first on, last off.” Nina laughed.

  “Could be.” Perri shifted from one foot to the other to get a better view. “There it is.” She stepped around Nina and, dodging other passengers, reached for her suitcase as it made its way around the loop. The rainbow striped strap around the middle of the black suitcase served not only to keep it closed during rough handling but also to help pick it out from the multitude of other black suitcases. Perri extended the handle and said, “Ok, let’s get out of here.”

  In the car, Perri closed her eyes and leaned her head against the head rest. Once Nina had reversed out of the parking spot, Perri handed her a few bills, “For the parking and gas. Thanks for picking me up. I can’t imagine what the cost would be if I left my car in the lot.”

  Nina paid the cashier as they exited. “Hey, Perri. I know you want to take some time and rest…”

  “Yes?” Perri opened one eye to peer at Nina.

  “I’m just wondering. I’ve got all of next week and part of the next off for vacation, long overdue if I may say so.”

  “Good for you! It’s been ages since you took a decent chunk of vacation time.”

  “The thing is, Tom has one of those Civil War re-enactment events to go to; that’s where we’re spending our week. Would you want to come with us?”

  “I don’t want to horn in on your vacation, Nina. You and Tom deserve some time together.”

  “You wouldn’t be horning in on anything. For heaven’s sake, Tom will be busy with his re-enactor buddies and demonstrations that I will be a bit lonesome. I’d love to have you along.”

  Perri asked about Tom and Nina's son. “What about Aaron? Aren’t you taking him?”

  “Mom is going to keep Aaron. She’s wanted to keep him for a while and this seemed like a good time. We like having him with us for trips, but this is a bit different. With Tom scheduled to be busy most of the week, we wouldn’t get to do the kinds of things a four-year-old wants to do on a family vacation. I’d most likely spend the whole week unsuccessfully trying to keep Aaron happy. I'd either be sitting in the hotel room trying to entertain him, or at the event. But if I stay at the event, Aaron would want to go out on the field with his Dad, get into all Tom’s gear, and generally be like trying to keep a hummingbird on a leash. That’s for when he is much older.” Nina paused, “It also makes me nervous to think of trying to keep him corralled around all that excitement.”

  “You sure, Nina? Would that be ok with Tom?”

  “I need a vacation too. Plus, I already talked to Tom about it and he thinks it is a great idea. I think he was a little relieved. He doesn’t want to have to worry about me getting restless and bored, or feel like he should skip part of the activities.”

  Perri considered it for a few moments. “Well, I guess I could. I didn’t even ask where it is though. Where is the event?”

  “Virginia.”

  “Oh wow, Virginia. Is this something being sponsored by a museum or an organization?”

  Nina explained, “No. It’s on private property west of Richmond.”

  “Are you flying?”

  “No, we are driving. Tom doesn’t want the hassle of trying to check baggage with a gun, knives, and other pointy objects.”

  Perri nodded in understandi
ng, “Yeah, I bet that would be exasperating. It’s hard enough trying to take toothpaste.”

  “Definitely. A friend of Tom’s forgot and packed an expensive reproduction knife of some sort in his carry-on. He ended up missing his flight and paying an outrageous amount of money to ship it to himself, but he didn’t want to lose the knife. Plus, all that gear is heavy. The baggage fees would break us.”

  Perri asked, “You ever wonder what they do with all the stuff that gets confiscated because someone forgot to put it in their checked bag or only has carry-on?”

  “I probably don’t want to know.”

  “True.”

  Nina glanced at Perri, “I know you used to be in a medieval history group, and even though this will be different as far as time period goes, I thought you’d probably enjoy it too.” She turned her Explorer into Perri’s subdivision.

  Perri picked her purse up off the floorboard, “If it’s ok with Tom, then yes, I would like to go. When are you leaving?”

  “Friday, promptly after work,” Nina mimicked. “Those are Tom’s words, not mine. Promptly. We’ll see about that. He’ll put off packing until that morning, trying to do it before he goes to work. Then we’ll be running around like wild things when he gets home. Tom will be saying ‘Find this, get that.’”

  Perri shook her head and smiled, “Isn’t that how it usually goes? That gives me most of two days to get everything ready and packed.”

  “Come on, you and I both know we will be packed by tomorrow night. We never forgot the Girl Scout Motto: Be Prepared. Right?”

  “Right. Where are you staying? I can go ahead and get a room there too, if there are any left.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Tom is staying in a tent in the military-only camp with the other guys in his local Mess. It will be 1863 there and not a minute later and he’ll be in hog heaven all weekend. I have a hotel room; you can stay with me.”