They had waited patiently in the offices of the cemetery. It was a busy day for the administrators and archivists at Green-wood. People trying to locate long deceased loved ones and grief stricken mourners wandering in to arrange a graveside funeral. Ashley thumbed through a book listing all of the famous people buried there. Among them were plenty of artists: William Merritt Chase, Nathaniel Courier of Courier and Ives, Louis Comfort Tiffany, Asher Durand, James Hart and George Bellows to name a few. Suddenly a man stood on the other side of the help desk. He looked more like a long shoreman than an admin.
“Howya doin’ ladies. What can I help you with?” He said as if there was a time limit to the offer. Chelsea jumped up and immediately took charge.
“We’re looking for Richard Rhys.”
“You a relative.” He asked.
“Yes.” She answered without missing a beat.
“You got a birthday or date of demise.” He asked in his Brooklyn accent.
“October 25, 1861. Died September 11, 1918.” Chelsea answered.
“Relationship?” He said without looking up.
“Am I in one?” Chelsea queried. The man looked up and started laughing. He held up a beefy hand with a gold wedding band. Chelsea blushed.
“That’s not what I meant. You a kid? A grandkid, niece, or what-not?” He replied returning to his keyboard.
“Great-great granddaughter.” Chelsea said smiling. Ashley moved close in utter disbelief. She was good, she thought. Even she believed Chelsea had been related to the infamous Richard Rhys.
“Name?” The man said as he pushed a pad over to Chelsea. It was a sign in sheet. She hesitated momentarily and then winked at Ashley as she signed her name. Ashley watched as the cursive erupted into ‘Chelsea Rhys’. Ashley’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. The man typed something into a computer data base then looked up. The girls thought they had been discovered. Chelsea held her breath as Ashley pretended to rummage through her bag.
“You come a long way. Must be jet-lagged.” He said piercingly.
“No we came from just up the block.” Ashley said innocently. Then she felt Chelsea’s foot on hers.
“Ouch---I mean, I came from up the block. I live close by.” Ashley corrected. The man kept his eye on Chelsea. She smiled innocently.
“Perpetual Care is up for renewal.” He said leaning over the counter. “We don’t take pounds here. Just the good ole US Dollar.”
“Of course.” Chelsea said exasperated. “We just came by to visit him. I’ll be by tomorrow with the usual money order.”
“Banks are closed anyway.” Ashley said.
“You don’t sound like you’re from London.” The man said suspiciously.
“I’m a world traveler. I’ve lost my accent along the way.” Chelsea said brightly. “Now if you would please give us a map and show us the area where he is buried. It’s been a while¾”
“And it’s such a large confusing area.” Ashley added. The man slowly pulled out a map, reached for a red sharpie and circled the area where the tomb could be found.
“We close at 7:00 sharp. Start walkin’ at 6:45.” He said as he handed the map over.
“Thank you.” Chelsea said in an almost smart-alec way. “Cheers.” They moved quickly outside and unfolded the map.
“Jeez. That was close.” Ashley said.
“No, not really.” Chelsea replied. “If he thought we were trying to pull one over he wouldn’t have handed over the map so easily.”
“Chelsea Rhys.” Ashley giggled. “She must be real.”
Chelsea’s mind began to click. Her investigative instincts were at full throttle. She made a mental note to find this long lost relative, Chelsea Rhys when they get to London in a few days.
“So he is buried here.” Ashley said softly.
“Yeah. You ready for this?” Chelsea asked.
“I think so. Are you?” Ashley replied. Chelsea wasn’t sure how to answer. She wanted so much for Richard to be alive. She had seen him, talked with him. His presence changed the molecules in the air. And yet she was well aware that she had experienced something metaphysical and nothing truly in the material plane. But her yearning felt real. It felt as ripe and palpable as if he were flesh and blood, as if she could touch him, feel his gaze, hear his voice and wrap herself in his embrace. The map indicated that they retrace their steps back up Battle Hill past the Civil War monument and the bronze effigy of Minerva. They would follow the curving road right around passing an ancient beech tree and an arcade of weeping willows. From there they could gaze out over what looked like an open field that could be somewhere in Pennsylvania but looked utterly out of place and strange right smack in the middle of Brooklyn.
“It reminds me of home.” Ashley whispered. “The long Southern fields. So peaceful.”
Chelsea could not respond. For some reason she felt her voice waver even though she was not speaking. She could sense her facial muscles trying not to quiver and she swallowed hard to keep her emotions at bay. For a moment she berated herself for being so silly. There was nothing happening in the physical world that would cause such a visceral reaction. It seemed like it was all in her head. Crossing the field on that bright sunny day felt like moving from her old life into a brand new place, a shift in her soul that she could not articulate. There were no words, just feelings, raw and deep. As they began their trek across the grassy expanse Chelsea realized there was no going back. This would be a life-changing event, the pivotal point of no return. And she was sharing it with Ashley. She reached for her and slipped her arm thru Ashley’s. She felt safe in that place next to her. One step led to another and they began their adventure.
“Sometimes when I walk a field like this it reminds me of my kin. How they lived with no amenities or modern conveniences.” Ashley said. “And sometimes I can hear the gunshots of a musket and the smell of black powder in the air. Other times it’s horses and campfires. And I wonder how afraid they might have been to face the unknown. To face death on a battlefield looking at their neighbors or knowing they could never go home.”
Chelsea could not respond. Something about the sentiment brought everything close to the surface. She felt as though her skin was peeling away and that her head was on fire. Her scalp tingled and her insides churned.
“Are you okay?” Ashley asked concerned. Chelsea just nodded and continued with her pace. She could feel Ashley’s hand squeeze hers in silent compassion. They crossed the valley of the field and began their ascent up another hill where grand Victorian mausoleums perched. On their left they could see Bishop Ford high school just beyond the trees and gates that guarded the perimeter of the entire cemetery. The locals referred to it as ‘pill hill’. It had a reputation as far back as the 70’s as a high school with a drug problem. They passed the Mackay mausoleum with its grand angels and exquisite Victorian design. John Mackay operated a silver mine in 1873 in Virginia city Nevada that was referred to as the Comstock Load. In 1877 the mine yielded the ‘Big Bonanza’ and produced $190 million dollars in silver. It was that same silver that backed the German marc in the emerging republic. Mackay parlayed his fortune into competition with Jay Gould’s telegraph company laying his own transatlantic cables and forcing the cost down to twenty-five cents a word. The robber baron of the gilded age quit trying to run Mackay out of business because the man would never run out of money. It was these very transatlantic cables that kept Richard and Victoria in communication. When Victoria ventured across the Atlantic to take care of her familial and reform obligations Richard stayed behind never wanting to return to London for fear of persecution.
Ashley and Chelsea moved under the large pine that provided shade. They sat down for a while silent and respectful. The air moved and amazingly the only sounds were birds and the subtle rustle of leaves. Ashley unfolded the map and studied the markings. They were very, very close. Just down a garden path. She stood and offered her hand to Chelsea who hesitated and then let Ashley’s strength pull her up. They wandered down a narrow lane past several small mausoleums built into the hillside. Large oaks and maples provided shade. They moved to the end of the row and found a modest looking crypt designed in the understated English manner. Tree roots had burst through the stone work above it and the wrought iron gate that sealed the tomb was rough and slightly off one hinge. Cobwebs adorned the entrance that looked all but abandoned and entirely forgotten. The sight of it moved Ashley to tears as if a relative had been neglected for decades. She wiped her cheeks and noticed Chelsea was visibly upset. Carved in crumbling stone was the word ‘Rhys’. It was not ornate or big. One had to step up to the front of the monument to read the letters. It was at the end of a lonely road that stopped suddenly and formed a cul-de-sac. A dead end, Ashley thought. Chelsea’s throat hurt and her eyes watered.
“Must be allergies.” She said softly but Ashley knew better. As she put her arm about her friend, Chelsea moved to be comforted and she wept, at times uncontrollably. She was seized by acute sobbing, It startled her to feel so exposed and vulnerable. The grief leapt out from places she did not recognize. The hurt was unbearable and unrestrained. She had never felt this kind of bereavement before even when a favorite pet died or her cousin with Hodgkins disease whom she loved more than her own brother passed away at seventeen. People she knew and had a history with could not come close to the anguish she felt for Richard, a man she never knew.
“I think I just need to walk for a minute.” Chelsea said as she tried to catch her breath between heaves of tears. If she could move maybe the energy could alleviate some of her distress. She walked the little garden path that had a wrought iron sign that read Lilly Road.
Ashley waited near the memorial. She let her fingers touch the stone and somehow the heaviness that came over her dissipated like a fleeting dream. Her grandmother told her once that the Cherokee believe that the dream life is the real life and waking moments are an illusion. Ashley knew there was no one in the tomb. It was a monument of dust and Richard’s being could not be found there. He was in the trees and the grass and the air. He was in her dreams as was Victoria. And they were both very much alive. She kissed the stone and said a prayer. Then she placed a rock on the ledge to signify that someone had remembered. A kind of acknowledgement of the cycle of life.
Chelsea walked through Rose of Sharon in full bloom and a beautiful little area designed like a miniature English garden. As she moved from one tea rose to the next she could see a man in her peripheral vision. As she turned to see where he was headed he was gone. She chocked it up to a groundkeeper. She wandered under another weeping beech tree and she could feel a pair of strong hands reach about her waist. Startled, she turned to find Richard before her and his face took her breath away.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” He said softly. She could feel herself tumbling down the rabbit hole. Did she manifest him through sheer will? She thought. Was she dreaming or hallucinating? His soft brown eyes pierced her through. She felt naked. Self-conscious.
“You’re precious.” He whispered. Again his eyes could see everything she was trying to hide. She wasn’t sure why she was trying to hide because he looked at her in the most exquisite loving way. Any blemish she found with herself he saw as absolute perfection. Every thought was on display for him to peruse. He was in her head and in her body and though it was strange and uncomfortable it was somehow intimate and redeeming. Her face was flushed and she found herself aroused. Her heart raced and yet she clung to him. If she could feel him in her hands then maybe he was real. She noticed the rough wool of his coat and the smell of cherry tobacco. His hands were stained with oil paint and the smell of linseed oil.
“I’m not forgotten.” He whispered. “As long as you remember me I am always here.” The sorrow that plagued her at his tomb had lifted and she felt light and giddy. “You will remember me, won’t you?” He asked and his face was boyish and his hair fell across his forehead. She was overcome by her desire and she impulsively kissed him and his lips were soft and his face smooth. And he wrapped his strong arms about her and pulled her close. She could feel the muscles in his body and the promise of entanglement. She drew in a deep breath and kissed him again and for the first time in her life she thought about the idea of children. The desire had never been strong before. Her career was fulfilling and challenging and children never entered her life plan. But his pull was enduring and she wanted him to take her. She kissed him again and his scent seemed to encircle them. He threaded his fingers into hers and pressed their intertwined hands against her buttocks. His hands drifted up the curve of her female form and stopped just under her arms and across her back. He was intoxicating and she wanted him to make love to her right there. But even more than that she wanted him to pass himself through her. She wanted to have his child. She fantasized being pregnant and how that might feel and what their life would be like. She could see the baby born and she could see Richard holding their son or daughter and his eyes, those magnificent eyes, would bare witness to the unimaginable magnitude of their love and constancy. It made her heart jump and she kissed him ever more passionately. She let her hands move through his thick long hair and he tasted sweet. She drew in another breath and when she opened her eyes to see him it was Ashley standing there holding her up, their hands intertwined and the same scent encircling them. The eyes were the key. Her soft brown eyes were the exact shape and color. They held the same emotions and affected the same response. He was not gone. He was there. Present. Only in a more demure form. Chelsea noticed that they pronounced certain words the same way and tilted their heads in the same questioning manner. She found it ironic that the concept of immortality became concrete in a cemetery. And she let herself feel her own passion and Ashley was constant and giving and intense.
“I’ve missed you.” Ashley whispered. And it struck Chelsea. She gazed at Ashley for a moment. This woman mirrored the intense devotion that Chelsea felt. Ashley pulled a bent business card from her pocket. It read, “Chelsea Barrett – Freelance writer”. It was the card Chelsea had given to Richard in the pet store when he first appeared to her. She knew it to be true because she ordered a new layout design with a fleur de lis. She let her imagination run wild. She could see them living together in a grand house and quite possibly with a family. And though her desire was to carry a child conceived out of pure rapture there would be ways to find that feeling and capture the essence in the embrace of her amour. Ashley extended her arm the way Richard might have as a formal overture. She took charge and escorted Chelsea out of their secret garden in Green-wood and back through the hills and roads that led to modernity. Chelsea could feel the future blooming inside of her. It would be good. It would be more than enough and exceed her wildest expectations.
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