The Singing of the Dead (34 page)

The edges of the words have been eaten away by weather and insects, but some may still be read by those who take the trouble to seek them out. “Valentine Carlyle, Faithful Servant and Friend, born Glasgow, Scotland, 1882, died Fairbanks, Alaska . . .” year illegible. “John O'Henry,” or is it O'Malley, “Bachelor, Miner, born 1893,died 1920,Jeremiah 17:17,” or it might be 19:19. “George Washington Smith, born Savannah, Georgia 1837,died Fairbanks, Alaska 1917, The Secret of Freedom a Brave Heart.”

The sun travels across the circle of blue sky and into the tops of the trees, and the shadows they cast outline a marker unnoticed before, a marker placed beneath a rose bush that has flourished to command its corner of this undisciplined garden. It is different from the other, wilder roses, as a last bloom testifies in hanging its heavy head to shed blood-red petals on the upturned faces of tiny blue flowers carpeting the mound beneath. The sweet perfume is a caress of the skin, a lure to the senses.

The woman kneels before the marker, a round slice of spruce trunk with bits of bark still clinging to it's sides; the face planed and sanded smooth once, warped now, split; the letters and numbers rotted through almost to the other side, but they were well executed to begin with, and the slab is by comparison to its fellows easy to decipher. Many words, of this life much to say. “Here lies Leonie Angelique Josephine Beauchamp Halvorsen, born Melun, France 1875,died Niniltna, Alaska 1915.”

And nothing else, except —yes, lower down on the slab there are more words, hidden where the stiff dry grass has grown so thick. The woman pulls the marker from the ground with great care, for fear it will break in her hands. The tenacious roots cling, and the marker falls to pieces anyway and must be put together like the puzzle it is.

She carries them one at a time to where a last ray of sunlight illuminates a small patch of grass, still green and cropped close by the Arctic hare peering at her from beneath a hemlock. The light disappears into the letters shaped long ago by a loving hand. The remnants of white paint help draw them forth from the shade into the bold statement of a life.

Here lies

Leonie Angelique Josephine Beauchamp Halvorsen

Born Melun, France 1875

Died Niniltna, Alaska 1915

Beloved wife of Sam Halvorsen

Beloved mother of Percy Halvorsen

Beloved grandmother of Leonie Halvorsen Gordaoff

and Angelique Halvorsen Shugak

And in letters smallest of all, placed where they are least likely to be noticed once the slab is in the ground, unless you know they are there and look for them, are the words

A Darling Girl

High up in the bough of a tree a bird, smaller than all the rest, trills out three pure, clear notes on a descending scale.

The woman raises her face into the last rays of the setting sun, and she smiles.