An Acquaintance with Darkness - Ann Rinaldi [89]
"I'm going to do my job, Robert," I said. "I'm going to get the specimen. You can stand there and nurse your own feelings, or you can accompany me, the way you're supposed to. Either way, I'm going."
"Come back here!" His whisper was loud and savage.
"There are some people over there across the street," I whispered back in a singsong voice. "Do you want to attract attention?"
In a moment I heard his odd, shuffling gait behind me. Then felt the grip on my arm again. This time the fingers tightened on me, hurting. "I'm going to tell him about this. You're finished when he finds out. You're off to Richmond for good."
"You do what you have to do, Robert." We were nearing the cemetery gate. I could see a man inside holding a shaded lantern. I could see a coffin on the ground beside him. I fumbled with the gate latch. It came loose. I swung it open. "Now, I'm counting on you to go and get the wagon," I said sweetly. And I walked inside.
The man was starting to dig a grave. I walked down a path, around some burial plots. There were no headstones, I noticed, just crosses crudely put together from sticks. Of course. People who died in the Almshouse couldn't afford headstones.
The man was digging slowly. He'd raise a shovel full of dirt, set it aside, and rest on the shovel, like he had all night. Like he was waiting for someone to come along and relieve him of his task. When he saw me approaching, he stopped.
I took the handkerchief out and put it to my nose. The fragrance was thick and sweet. I felt nauseated. Tears came to my eyes. Good, I needed the tears. "Are you the Ferryman?" I asked.
"Who wants to know?"
"My name is—" I hesitated. What is my name? No one had told me. I thought quickly. "My name is Maria Collins. I was told to come here tonight. That you were burying my brother."
"Brother? This poor soul's got no family. That's why he's been livin' here. This is the Almshouse, miss. You sure you got the right place?"
"Yes, oh yes!" I remembered Marietta's words: Never falter in your act. I knelt down beside the coffin. "Is his name Johnny Collins? From Hagerstown, Maryland?"
"Name's Collins. Don't know where he hails from. Don't think any of them in the Almshouse know where they hail from, either."
"Oh, Johnny!" I embraced the old wooden coffin. "I've found you at last! Oh, to think I'm too late. I've been looking for you so long." Still kneeling, I peered up at the Ferryman's face. It was an old face, deeply lined but kindly. And the eyes twinkled at my performance.
"He's been a wastrel, a scoundrel, and a ne'er-do-well," I explained, "estranged from the family. Daddy just never forgave him that he wouldn't fight for the Cause. So I suppose that's why he never came home. But Daddy is failing fast. And all he's longing for now is that Johnny come home. Am I too late? Can't you just let me have him, sir, so I can bring him home and have him buried in honor on our land?"
He took off his hat. He wiped his brow. "I'll just go inside a minute and make it right with the Board," he said. "Oughta be somebody inside from the Board. You wait." He set down the shovel and walked through the stick crosses to the door at the back of the Almshouse.
I looked around me and shivered. His shaded lantern was on the ground next to the coffin, casting a weak, flickering light. It was raining lightly. What was I doing here, all alone in this sad little cemetery with stick crosses, wearing musty, evil-smelling clothing from the grave? From a nearby tree I heard a hooty-owl calling to its mate. Where was Robert? I peered through the fog out onto the street. Was he angry enough to desert me?
Suppose someone from the Board came out to question me? Suppose my answers didn't satisfy? Would I be arrested this night? Hauled off to jail like Annie's mother, where I'd have to use a smelly old pot in full view of everybody?
For one terrible moment panic seized me. I wanted to run.
Then the back door of the Almshouse opened and the Ferryman came out. At the same time, from the street I heard the clip-clopping of a