“A spill of boulders from a shifted brook lay close by, and while the men dug the hole, Vanessa busied herself lugging rocks and piling them at what she felt was the foot of her mother’s grave. Then she sat down on the ground a few feet away to watch, her arms across her knees, her chin resting on her arms. Jordan, in shirtsleeves, his leather jacket on the ground nearby, swung the pick and loosened the gravelly soil, and Hubert shoveled the dirt into a neat, conical pile. Vanessa was silent and... dreamy seeming. While they worked the men spoke to each other in low voices, as if to keep from waking her. “You ever do this before?” Jordan asked. “What? Bury somebody in the Reserve?” “No. But, yeah, that, too. I meant, you ever dig a grave before?” “Not in the Reserve. But yes, a couple times I’ve had to dig a grave.” “Who for?” “For the family,” Hubert said. “My family. In the old family plot off Hitchcock Road.” “Who’d you bury?” “My old man. Then my mother.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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