The Dead Room

One year laterLeslie paused for a minute, looking skyward. What a beautiful evening it was. The sky couldn't have been a lovelier shade of violet. But then, the countryside in northern Virginia was some of the most beautiful in the world.More so than ever before, at least to her.In the past year, she had come to appreciate such simple thing as the colors of life. It had been such a strange year, filled with vividly conflicting emotions. The touch of the sun, the color of a dawn, seemed more intense than ever. The anguish of learning to live alone still interrupted the newfound beauty. Life had become doubly precious, except that she felt it was such an incredible gift that it should be shared...yet she was alive and Matt was dead.The setting sun was beautiful, and the night breeze sweet and soft. With that thought in mind, she closed her eyes and felt the waning brush of day against her cheeks. The warmth was wonderful.She sighed, then returned to work. She needed to hurry. The light would be gone soon.Painstakingly, bit by bit, she brushed away the dust covering the recently revealed area. She removed the last few specks, and then...Yes!She continued to brush away the dirt from the skull fragment in the crevice, feeling a sense of jubilation. She couldn't be certain, of course, not absolutely, but it looked like they had discovered the old St. Mathias graveyard that Professor David Laymon had been certain was here. She eyed the skull for size and shape. Bones weren't her specialty. She knew objects, fabrics, even architecture, all the things that made up life, backward and forward. She knew bones only because she had come across them in her work so often.The fragments of calico by the skull hinted at a type of hair decoration that fit perfectly with Laymon's belief that this section of the graveyard had been reserved for indentured servants, slaves and those who were simply too poor to pay for anything better."Brad!""Yeah?"Brad Verdun, her good friend and colleague, was busy working a few yards away. As she waited for his attention, she took her tweezers and carefully collected the bits of fabric she had discovered; a lab analysis would verify her thoughts, she was certain, but every little shred needed to be preserved."Brad!""Yeah, yeah." At last he dusted his hands and rose, then walked to where she was working. He swore softly, shaking his head. "You were right. Again." He stared at her a little skeptically. "If I didn't know you so well, I just might agree with everyone else that you're psychic."She smiled a little uneasily. "You would have chosen the same spot yourself," she assured him."Yeah, eventually." He looked across the work site, staring at the professor, who was down on his hands and knees about fifty yards away. "Well, princess of the past, announce your discovery. Give the old boy his thrill for the night.""You tell him.""You found the bones.""We work together," she said modestly. "You were just a few feet away.""You made the discovery.""We came as a team, a package deal," she reminded him stubbornly."I won't take your credit.""I want you to take the credit! Please?"He sighed deeply. "All right, all right. I'll bring him over. But I won't lie.""You're not lying if you say we found it as a team," she insisted.He stared at her for a moment, then touched the top of her head with gentle affection. "Okay. You want to stay out of the limelight, kiddo, I'll do my best to help you. For a her an encouraging smile."Thanks," she murmured softly."You're going to be okay. You're coming along just great," he said.She nodded, looking down.Was she?A year had gone by. She functioned, yes, but she continued to hurt every day. Work was good. Friends were good.Nights were torture.And life itself...Was definitely different. That difference had become clear while she'd still been in the hospital after the eGraham, Heather is the author of 'The Dead Room', published 2008 under ISBN 9780778325208 and ISBN 0778325202.