The Mourning Tree

"Yes?" she said finally when no further words followed his outburst.

Nathan cleared his throat, still thrown by Holly's beauty, which included a sweet little run of freckles across her upper cheeks and nose that rather than detracting from her face only served to make it more alluring. She smiled at his consternation, a sweet pulling back of juicy, pink lips from pearly white teeth.

"I was trying to tell you I'm not with any volunteer group. My name is Detective Nathan Yost, and I'm here to talk to you about Travis Coleman."

Holly cocked her head to one side with a frown.

"Travis? I haven't seen him in years. What's your interest in him?"

"He's wanted for questioning about a jewelry store robbery in Houston."

"Houston? That's a long way from here."

"So I've been told, several times. If you could tell me..."

"Is this questioning going to take long, because I need to get these trees in the ground? I tell you what, Detective Yost, you help me out with the trees, and I will answer any question you have about Travis. Sound good? Great!"

Holly was past him before Nathan could answer one way or another leaving him standing alone at the rear of the truck.

"What the fuck just happened?" he said to the empty air.

She returned a few minutes later, but not alone. Beside her, walked a boy. He had her red hair, though not quite as deep a shade, with skin a bit darker as well, but his face had the same run of freckles, and his grin was just as infectious.

"Detective Yost. This is my son, Sam."

"Hello," said Sam in a shy, quiet voice.

"Hello, Sam. It's nice to meet you," said Nathan carefully.

It was hard to look at the small fellow in front of him and not think of Jonah. The two of them couldn't have been far apart in age with Sam perhaps a year younger Nathan figured.

"Did you get the shovel?"

"Yeah...shovel..." said Nathan looking around lost.

"Pointing right at it," offered Holly with a smirk, her arm extended.

"Right..." mumbled Nathan wondering how he had completely lost control of this situation. Joe Peters would be laughing his ass off right now.

They piled into the truck together with Sam wedged between them. The old pickup fired up on the first try, and Holly shifted into reverse, pulling out of the garage like a rocket launch at Cape Kennedy. She slammed on the brakes throwing them all backward against the seat before putting the truck back into gear and shooting forward just as violently.

"Jesus! Lady! Who taught you to drive?"

"Self-taught," she answered calmly.

"Big fucking surprise," said Nathan gripping the dashboard.

"Detective, please! Language!" she replied, indicating Sam with a nod of her head.

"Oh...Sorry."

The pickup flew back down the road that Nathan had just traversed, but at an appreciably higher rate of speed.

"Where are we going exactly?" asked Nathan, still clinging to both the dash and the door.

"Cross Field Cemetery," said Holly.

"Cemetery...Yeah, that seems likely," said Nathan under his breath.

Holly guided the truck down the freeway, headed even further out of town. The young man sitting next to him eyed Nathan with curiosity.

"Mom says you're a policeman."

"Yes, that right, a police detective."

"You don't look like a policeman."

"Not every policeman wears a uniform. Do you want to see my I.D.?" joked Nathan.

Sam stuck out a hand, but Nathan didn't want to loosen his death grip on the dashboard to reach for his wallet.

"I think you're just going to have to trust me on this one, Kid."

Thankfully, the turnoff for the cemetery came up fairly quickly, and Holly slowed down slightly on the bumpy dirt road they found themselves on.

"The city was supposed to pave this stretch now that the new cemetery is out here, but they haven't go around to it yet. Budget cuts, I'm sure," explained Holly.

The road ran alongside fields of tall grass before a rot iron fence suddenly broke the monotonous flow of green vegetation, and a gated entrance appeared shortly after. Holly swung the truck into a small parking area in front of a modestly sized plot of land where maybe two dozen gravestones were lined up in rows.

"Kind of out in the middle of nowhere," pointed out Nathan.

"The cemetery in town was getting full up, so the Methodist church bought land out here last year for expansion. Of course, they've been slow about getting it set up right. Other than cutting the grass back, they haven't put in any of the landscaping they promised, the trees and such to make it look a little better. I offered to help them out by selling them some saplings from off my property, and they were supposed to send someone to help me plant them, but you can see how that worked out."

The threesome exited the truck, with Holly going to lower the truck bed in back so that she and Nathan could remove the trees. For the next half-hour, they worked together to get the saplings set out near where they would be planted. It was a warm day, and Nathan soon found himself stripped to the waist as he was forced to remove his shirt and leave his holstered gun in the truck. Sweat ran across his muscular chest as he dug holes in the ground to put the saplings in, and then helped Holly to fill them back in after the trees were placed. Holly's eyes lingered on him a few times, and it occurred to him that she might be checking him out, a thought that gave him very mixed emotions.

It had been a long time since a pretty girl had looked at him that way.

"Don't wander too far off," caution Holly when she noticed Sam moving to the far side of the fenced-in area. The young boy ran along the fence line, chasing butterflies, waving back at his mother.

"You said we could talk about Travis," reminded Nathan, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"What about him?"

"Have you heard from him recently?"

"Travis...No, not in years."

"Sheriff Sandusky gave me the impression you two had been involved at one time."

"Involved? How romantic. You know how to paint a poetic picture of love, Detective."

"All sarcasm aside, Mrs. Mansfield, I'm just trying to..."

"It's Miss Mansfield, and I know what you're trying to find out Detective, but I promise you I don't know where Travis is, nor have I heard anything from him."

"Would you tell me if you had?"

Holly straightened from where she had been bent over, lowering a sapling into the hole Nathan had just dug.

"Travis and I are ancient history as far as I'm concerned, and I don't feel like I owe him anything, so I wouldn't hide him from the law if that is what you're insinuating."

The look on her face spoke volumes, making it clear she felt offended at the implication.

"I'm not insinuating anything, and I'm sorry if it seems that way. I guess I'm still smarting over my interview with Imogene Talbot."

"Ha! Imogene. I don't envy you having to question her. She is a real spitfire that one."

"I'm only too aware of that..."

Nathan stuck the shovel he was holding in the ground to hold it in place so that he could use both hands to wipe his wet hair back out of his face.

"I think we're both melting out here. Let's take a break," offered Holly.

They wandered over to the truck, where Holly pulled out an ice chest and offered Nathan some bottled water. He took it, gratefully downing half its contents in one go. He noticed the top branches of a large tree just sticking up over a low slung hill, not a hundred yards from where they stood. It appeared something was hanging from one of them.

"People fly kites out here?"

"That's a funny question to ask."

Nathan pointed at the distant branches.

"It looks like someone hung up a kite in that tree over there."

Following his gesture, Holly smiled.

"Come on. I can't help you with Travis, but this is one mystery I can solve for you. Hey Sam! Let's take a walk!"

With Sam bobbing along beside them, they walked across the road and up a short hill. The tree that Nathan had observed turned out to be an enormously vast oak sitting in a low valley just on the other side. It had a plethora of branches, many of them very low to the ground, the kind of tree a kid could spend a whole afternoon climbing all over. As they drew closer, he realized that many of the branches sported pieces of cloth in various sizes tied around them, most of them bereft of color though he suspected that at one time they had been different shades of red, yellow, and black.

"Big tree. What's with all the ribbons?"

"People in town call this, 'The Mourning Tree,' and it's sort of a local legend. This was always a popular picnic spot back in the day, and the story goes that back during World War One, a lady whose husband had been killed in the fighting came out here and tied a black ribbon on the tree as a memorial of sorts to him. It seems the idea caught on and other families from town did the same thing. The tradition was revived during World War Two on an even larger scale, and then again during Korea and Vietnam. By the seventies, almost every branch had some piece of worn cloth flapping from it, the ones that hadn't disintegrated entirely from time and weather."

Stepping under the long branches gave them a slight respite from the heat of the day, and Nathan reached out a hand rubbing the trunk of the gnarled old oak.

"Are all these from people who died in various wars?"

"Quite a few of them are, but along the way, people started to tie ribbons for anyone that they lost regardless. As I said, it became something of a tradition."

Holly walked out to the end of a low slung branch boosting Sam up so he could sit on it.

"This one here," she said, pointing to a faded blue piece of cloth that hung near her son's leg, "I tied that there when I was ten years old. My dog, Polly, died, and my parents let me come out here and put up a ribbon for her."

She brushed one hand across the worn, frayed old piece of cloth, recalling the way Polly had used to nip her heels when she ran around her back yard and covered her face with messy licks when she got home from school.

Nathan swallowed glancing around at close to a hundred years worth of grief covering the limbs, wondering how his stacked up to all those that came before him.

"Are you o.k.?"

"Huh? What? Oh, sorry..." apologized Nathan, when it occurred to him that Holly had been talking, but he had been lost in thought.

"I asked if you had any pets growing up?"

"No dogs," admitted Nathan.

"Cats?" asked Sam.

"Nope. I'm allergic to cats. I had a goldfish once that I named 'Goldie.'"

"Very original."

"Give me a break. I was five."

"I want a dog, but Mom says I have to show I can shoulder the respun...repontsi..."

"Responsibility," prodded Holly.

"Yeah, that."

Nathan smiled, "It's a lot of work owning a pet, especially a dog. You might want to start smaller like with a goldfish and work your way up."

"I'm getting hungry," groused Sam.

"It is getting on toward dinner time," said Holly, "I think we've accomplished enough today."

Nathan was more than ready to knock off, given that he had done most of the digging.

"Sounds good to me."

As they headed back to the truck, Holly threw out the offer of a home-cooked meal.

"Ah...I don't know," waffled Nathan.

"Come on. I roped you into making holes for me, cooking for you is the least I can do to repay your kindness."

"Mom makes really good fried chicken!" said Sam.

"I guess I can't say no then," agreed Nathan.

After throwing the shovel in back, the three were off, Nathan clinging once again to his seatbelt as Holly roared down the freeway.

Sam had not understated the quality of Holly's cooking, and after cleaning up in her restroom, Nathan was treated to one of the best meals he had enjoyed in the past year. The chicken was tender and juicy, and she threw in homemade mashed potatoes and gravy, with apple pie for dessert. Everything tasted delicious, and he sat back with satisfaction at the end, rubbing his belly.

"Thank you for that, Holly. It sure beats eating hotel food."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. More pie?"

"Tempting, but I better not. The older I get, the harder it is to stay in shape for this job."

"You don't look so old to me."

"Some days, I feel a hundred, but my driver's license says thirty-four."

"Wow! You're old!" said Sam in awe.

"Thanks," said Nathan sarcastically.

"I think it's bath time for you, mister," said Holly, playfully rubbing Sam's dirty head.

While Holly took Sam to the bathroom down the hall, Nathan helpfully gathered the dirty plates and carried them over to the sink rolling up his sleeves to wash them. He carefully placed each in the dish drainer, noting that Holly didn't have a dishwasher in the old fashioned kitchen.

"Well...Look at you. He cleans as well as digs holes on command. How is it some lucky girl hasn't scooped you up yet?"

Nathan's hand shook slightly as he put the last dish in place before turning around.

"I was married once, but she passed away about a year ago."

"Oh...I'm so sorry, Nathan, that must have been very hard on you," said Holly embarrassed at her attempt at banter.

"It's alright. It was hard at first, spent some time in therapy, but every day gets a little easier."

"There's no real cure for a broken heart but time," added Holly.

Nathan looked at the ground, thinking that even time couldn't heal everything as the sound of Sam's singing voice coming from the bathroom reminded him painfully of Jonah.

"Where is Sam's dad if you don't mind me asking? I didn't notice any photos around the house, so I'm assuming it wasn't a tragic loss."

"Very astute, Detective. Sam's father couldn't handle the stress of his sudden unexpected elevation to parenthood. He split before I even gave birth to Sam."

"Ouch! Now it's my turn to be sorry."

"Don't be...If he didn't care any more than that, I didn't need him anyway."

Nathan was impressed with the way she said it so stoically. This was a woman who wasn't afraid to meet life head-on and didn't flinch when it dealt her a crappy hand of cards. She reminded him of Cindy in that regard. His dead wife had always been the eternal optimist, which worked to offset the more jaded perspective that was inherent in Nathan's line of work.

"I have to ask, and please don't take this as more of me interrogating you, but..."

"You're wondering if Travis is the father? Rest easy, Detective, our second go-around didn't last that long. Travis was very bitter after what happened to him at the university. We tried, but the spark just wasn't there anymore. The relationships that seem so important in high school don't always translate to the real world."

"I guess not."

The singing and sounds of splashing water had stopped. Nathan watched as Holly went back down the hall and vanished into the bathroom. A minute later, the sounds of a child's screams punctured the quiet.

"You're killing me!" cried Sam.

"Stop being such a drama queen!" admonished Holly.

Nathan couldn't help but peek around the corner of the doorway to find Holly trying to hold her squirming son in place while she washed his hair.

"Hates this part..." she said out of the corner of her mouth.

Jonah had as well, always crying bloody murder when Cindy was trying to wash his hair.

Nathan laughed.

"It's burning my eyes!"

"It's no tears baby shampoo."

"That bottle is a liar!" yelled Sam.

Holly rolled her eyes, and Nathan laughed even harder.

"You're a big help," shot back Holly.

She finally managed to finish, using the detachable shower head to spray the shampoo from Sam's head as he sat pouting like a condemned man throughout the ordeal. Nathan retreated so that Holly could dry and dress Sam in his pajamas before taking him off to bed.

While she was gone, he paced around her spacious living room, looking at the antic furnishings he imagined must have been in her family for many years. The photos on the walls showed off a small, but happy-looking family, and he could see that she favored her mother, both women being red-heads and beautiful. In the corner of the room, he stopped before a table where Holly had set up a sewing machine to work on something. The pieces were part of a costume, one that sported fake fur along the shoulders. There was a mask just poking out of the top of a shopping bag on a chair next to the table. It had similar fur sticking up from it.

Nathan's breathing picked up, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he reached toward the bag. In his mind, he was back in that intersection. A werewolf mask clutched in his hand. The twisted body of his son under a blanket less than twenty feet from where he stood.

"Chewbacca."

Nathan jumped, turning sharply on his heel, face white, hands trembling.

"What!"

Holly stood in the entryway. Arms folded across her chest.

"It's going to be Chewbacca as soon as I get the damn fur sewn on. Why did my kid have to be such a huge Star Wars fan? It would have been easier if he liked Han Solo or something, but no, it has to be the walking furball.

Nathan shook himself, pulling his attention to the present. He looked back at the bag, pushing the sides down to reveal the snarling face of the famous movie character looking back at him.

"Is everything o.k.?" she asked, noticing the look on his face for the first time.

"Yeah...I should be going...it's late," he replied, closing the bag back up.

They walked to the door together, Holly still looking with concern at the dark expression on Nathan's face.

"You seem like you're under a lot of stress if you don't mind me saying," she commented.

"It goes with the territory."

"Still, it's not healthy to carry all that around with you. It's always a good idea to blow off some steam every once in an awhile. You know...The town is having a Halloween carnival tomorrow evening at Sam's school. You should come out and enjoy some of it."

"I'm here to do a job, not attend carnivals," said Nathan.

"Come on. It would do you some good, I think, besides, if you're looking to question people the whole town will be there. Beats having to track everyone down, doesn't it?"

"I suppose. Let's see how things go tomorrow."

She walked him as far as the porch, and in the low light of the full moon, her fair skin glowed in sharp contrast to her dark eyes. It was hard to ignore just how beautiful she looked standing there, and Nathan had a hard time not staring.

"Drive safe," she said as he descended the steps.

"I think I have a better chance of surviving the ride to the hotel with my own hands on the wheel and not yours," said Nathan with a grin.

"Very funny! See if you get any more of my fried chicken," laughed Holly.

The musical sound of her laughter followed him all the way back to his car.

CARNIVAL -

The following day was one of frustration for Nathan. Sheriff Sandusky took him in hand again, and the pair spent the better part of the morning and well into the afternoon, canvasing Travis's old haunts without any success to show for it. As the sheriff had warned him, people were very tight-lipped where Travis Coleman was concerned.

"It's like I'm chasing fucking Robin Hood out here," groused Nathan to Joe Peters on the phone.

"Sounds like you aren't doing any better than we are down here," commented his boss.

"I take it there has been no sign of either of our fugitives?"

"Not yet, but we got plenty of people looking."

"Look, Joe. I feel like I'm just spinning my wheels. Are you sure you couldn't use me back in Houston?"

"Why don't you give it another day or two. If nothing shakes out, you can head on home."

"Fine."

Nathan put his phone away just as the sheriff returned from fetching them some coffee.

"Any news from the big city?"

"Nothing to report. Just like us."

"I did tell you," said Sandusky blowing on his coffee.