Jenny Pox (The Paranormals, Book 1) (30 page)

They reached a gallery at the back, where French doors opened onto a giant porch with two swings and a row of rocking chairs.  Nearby were the stairs leading up to the second-floor gallery where she’d spent so much time watching the people on the veranda, and now Jenny learned that upstairs gallery was called the “music room.”

Seth opened one of the doors and took her out to the porch.  The back yard sloped away below them, filled with rows of peach trees that faded into pine woods on either side of the orchard.  Another hill rose beyond the peach trees, and Jenny thought she could see little buildings there.

“What’s that?” she asked Seth, pointing to structure on the far hill.

“
Oh, that,” Seth said. “You want to go there?  It’s not a long walk.”

“
Just a second.” Jenny unlatched her black high heels.  After a moment’s reflection, she removed her gloves, too.  She stepped barefoot onto the cold grass.

“
Don’t you worry about snakes?” he asked. “Spiders?”

“
Never have.  They don’t live long enough to hurt me.  Only you can do that.” She took his hand and let him lead her into the orchard.  She loved the feeling of even a little of their skin rubbing together.

In January, the trees were just skeletons, looking dead to the world, their life slumbering in hidden places inside their roots.  The rows of bare trees made her feel a little wistful as she passed among them.

They crossed a footbridge over a small irrigation canal.

“
This whole area used to be orchards,” Seth told her.  He gestured at the pine trees rising up on either side. “My grandfather said any land that could be put to use, should be.  My dad doesn’t care as much.  He just keeps a few trees for tradition and all that.”

“
I bet it’s pretty in the spring,” Jenny said.

“
Good peaches, too,” Seth said. “Did you know South Carolina actually produces more peaches than Georgia?  They totally ganked our title as the Peach State.”

“
You are full of fascinating information, Seth Barrett,” Jenny said.

“
Come on.  I want to show you something.”

They reached a clearing with knee-high weeds, fenced off by wooden rails, some of which were broken or rotten.  At the back of the clearing was a long two-story structure, the bottom floor divided into little compartments with rusty gates.

“That used to be the stable,” he said. “We haven’t had horses since I was little.  You can also find barns, if you look around the woods.  And there’s a house with tree grown up through it, used to be my grandfather’s cottage.”

“
We should make a horror movie,” Jenny said.

“
My house would be enough for that,” Seth said. “You should see the third floor.”

“
Then we’ll make the sequel out here.”

“
This way.” Seth led her along a trail up the hill. It grew steep near the top, and several giant stairs had been placed in the ground here.  They looked hewn from the same slab of dark gray granite as the big chimney in the house.  They also looked intended for beings much larger than humans, and Jenny had to take a huge step up each one, then a few steps across to reach the next one.

At the top stair, a wrought-iron gate opened into a high brick wall.  Through the gate, Jenny could see rows of dark granite megaliths.  Seth took out his Audi key ring and found an iron key inscribed with elaborate scrollwork. 

“What is this place?” Jenny whispered.

“
The Barrett burial ground.” He slid the key into the big lock, and it squealed as he turned it.  He pushed the gate inward on heaving, grinding hinges.

“
You carry the key to your family’s graveyard around with you?”

“
Oh, yeah,” Seth said. “It’s tradition.  My father carries one, too.”

“
That’s kind of…”

“
Creepy?” Seth asked. “Check this out.  Turn around.”

Jenny turned.  Behind her, the gloomy house rose on its hill above the bare orchard. 

“You can see the cemetery from any bedroom in the house,” Seth said. “My great-grandfather designed it that way.  It’s supposed to remind you of your mortality, and death, and all that.  I guess it’s to encourage you to hurry up and make money quick.”

He stepped through the gate.

“That’s so weird,” Jenny said. “I’d have nightmares.”

“
It gets weirder,” he said.

Jenny stepped over the threshold into his graveyard.  A crushed-gravel path led the way ahead, through rows and rows of identical granite slabs, all of them blank.  At the very back, Jenny could see a little church, complete with a steeple and bells, just large enough for a couple of people to stand inside, crowded together, or for one person to kneel and pray.  The sun was setting behind it.

“There aren’t any names,” she whispered as they walked past the rows of stones.

“
There are some back here.” When they were only a few rows from the miniature church at the back, he stopped.  He brought her to a stone on the left side of the path. “Here’s my grandfather.  Look.”

The inscription on the left side of the stone read:

JONATHAN SETH BARRETT II

1923-1995

“Now, look at these.” Seth led her back across the path, to the same row, on the right side of the path.  He touched an inscription on the left flank of the first stone.  It read:

JONATHAN SETH BARRETT III

1962-

“
That’s my father,” Seth told her.  “And my mom’s here.”  He pointed to the inscription on the right flank of the same stone:

MATHILDA IRIS MAYFIELD BARRETT

1965-

“
Wow,” Jenny said. “That would be crazy to see your name like that, wouldn’t it?”

“
Over here.” Seth moved to the next stone in the row and reached for the name inscribed on the left flank of it.  His fingers curled back at the last second, not wanting to touch it.

JONATHAN SETH BARRETT IV

1992-

“
This is where I end up,” Seth told her.  He moved his fingers to the right flank of his gravestone, which was smooth and blank. “And over here…some lucky girl.”

“
Is this why you brought me here, Seth?” Jenny asked. “To invite me to your grave?”  She meant it as a joke, but he looked at her solemnly for a moment.  Then he laughed a little, but it was forced and cold.

“
No, I actually wanted to show you this.” Seth took her to the third stone in the row. “This really should be mine.  It’s for the second-born son of the third J.S. Barrett.  Crazy old great-grandpa got ahead of himself with the inscriptions, though, because my dad named his first son Carter.”

Seth wore a deep, serious frown as he touched this inscription.  It read:

CARTER MAYFIELD BARRETT

1986-2000

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Jenny said. 

“
He died in a car crash,” Seth said. “Riding with a friend’s family on the way to the beach.  He was trapped for a while before he died.  If I’d been there, I could have saved him.”

Jenny held Seth’s hand tighter.  Then she decided to go ahead and embrace him.  It was the third time her touch had ever helped anyone.

“It was hundreds of miles away,” Seth whispered. “I didn’t know he was in trouble.  That’s why I never told my parents about how I can heal people.  By the time I really figured it out myself, Carter was already gone, and all I could think about was how I could have saved him.”

“
Seth, that’s not your fault.”

“
We kept it quiet around town.  Otherwise everybody wants to get involved, go to the funeral, make a big production of it.  Because, you know, the Barrett family.”

“
They want to pay respect,” Jenny said.

“
Like hell.  Every time a Barrett dies in this town, everybody just thinks, ‘There’s one more bastard I don’t owe money to.  The rest drop dead and we’re free and clear.’  That’s why they like our funerals.”

Jenny was quiet, not sure what she thought of that.

“I’ve saved a lot of people,” he said. “Did you know that?  Anytime I see an accident on the road, I pull over, and I heal anybody who’s hurt.  Then I just get in my car and drive away while everybody’s still freaking out.  When I saw you by the road that day, I thought there’d been a wreck.”

“
There was,” Jenny said. “My dog was wrecked.”

“
I’m glad I stopped.”

“
You didn’t run away when you finished, either.”

“
I had to rebuild his whole leg,” Seth said. “That sucked out everything I had.  I never felt anything like that, until I healed your father.  That was a big one.”

“
A very big one.” Jenny kissed him.

Seth showed her the older rows of graves, including the original J. S. Barrett.  The very back row was a little different.  Indentations had been carved out of the megaliths, and older, much smaller gravestones had been cemented inside to provide identification.  These ran back to Elijah Samuel Barrett, 1803-1849.  The night was falling, and Jenny could barely read the eroded inscriptions.

“My great-grandfather had his ancestors disinterred and moved here,” Seth explained. “He wanted everyone to be part of the same plan.  Up there, all those empty rows we passed?  I’m supposed to fill those graves with generations of future Barretts.”

“
Is this where you take all your girlfriends?” Jenny asked.

“
No.” Seth gave another humorless laugh. “I don’t tell people about my great-grandfather’s personal death cult.  I kind of keep that to myself.”

“
Then why did you want to show me?”

Seth looked at her, gathering his thoughts.

“I wanted you to know this is really me,” Seth said. “I’m not doped up on Ashleigh anymore.  This is who I really am, part of my weird family.” He shrugged. “You probably think we’re crazy.”

“
No,” Jenny said. “But can we leave the creepy graveyard before it gets dark?”

“
Yeah, good idea,” Seth said. “We don’t want to run into Great-Grandpa’s ghost.”

“
Why did you have to say that?”

“
I vant to vrite you a mortgage…” Seth said in a ghostly voice, “…on a mortuary!”

“
Seth!” Jenny shrieked. Seth ran after her, arms raised.  Jenny raced up the path between the gravestones, her bare, callused feet slapping the gravel.

“
Interest rates are spookily low!” he said in the same voice.  Jenny ran faster, laughing and shrieking at the same time.  He chased her out of the cemetery, bounding after her down the steps.

He caught up with her in the orchard, picked her up, and slung her over his shoulder.  He continued running, holding her legs while she hung upside down behind him, clinging to his back, laughing uncontrollably.

Seth finally set her down on the back porch, and he kissed her.  She looked over his shoulder, past the orchard, to the brick wall on top of the hill.  In the moonlight, she saw the open gate gleaming.

“
We left the gate open,” she whispered. “Won’t the ghosts get out?”

“
They’re already out,” he whispered back. “They’re everywhere.”

***

The Italian food was delivered all the way from Vernon Hill, so Seth tipped the driver a twenty.  Seth carried the bags into the kitchen, and insisted that Jenny sit at the dining room table and pretend he was cooking everything.

“
One house secret,” he said. “Forget the head of the table.  It’s drafty.  You want to sit right in the middle, facing the fireplace.”

Jenny sat where he recommended, and he brought a bottle of wine and a pair of glasses.  He opened the bottle and handed her the cork.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked him.

“
Like at a restaurant.  You sniff it.”

Jenny sniffed. “It smells like wet cork.”

“No, you’re just supposed to nod your head, like it’s all beneath you.”

“
Okay.”  Jenny put her nose in the air and nodded once.

“
Perfect.” Seth smiled as he poured a tiny splash in her glass. “Now, you taste it.”

Jenny tasted the wine. It reminded her a little bit of cherries.  She gave the same snooty nod.

“You’ve got it.” He poured full glasses for both of them and left the bottle on the table.

He brought the courses out one at a time, after transferring them from the disposable aluminum pans in which they’d been delivered into a set of the Barretts’ good china.  He brought salad, then spaghetti—which Jenny didn’t really want, since she’d eaten venison spaghetti three times this week, but she didn’t say anything--then manicotti, then lasagna.  At some point she noticed that she was using forks and knives made of gold, and eating off plates inset with the same metal.  When she mentioned this to Seth, he laughed.