Letters to Lincoln

It wasn’t a conscious decision to take a left towards the church, but I guessed something was calling me that way. When I found myself in the same spot I’d learned about Trey, I paused and sat on the wall. At first I looked out to sea, hoping to maybe see a dolphin or two. The urge I felt to go to Hannah’s grave was strong, but I couldn’t spend time with him. A thought came to me.

I walked to the gate and towards the church. The door was locked and disappointment washed over me. I’d sort of assumed the door would always be open. At the end of the cemetery, in the furthest corner away from where Trey lay, was a bench. I decided to sit for a while. There was something serene about being in the cemetery, so much history was inscribed on the stone and marble headstones.

The creak of the iron gate brought me out of my thoughts, and I held my breath when I saw the elderly gentleman I believed to be Lincoln walk in. He headed, without looking towards me, to Anna’s grave. That time, I was close enough to hear him. He placed one hand on the top of her headstone and used it to help him lower enough to lay flowers.

“Hello, my lovely. I’m sorry not to have visited in a while. I’ve been a little poorly and we had some trouble at home,” he chuckled as he spoke.

The wind picked up and rustled the leaves on nearby trees, masking his words.

“…I’m not sure what to do about it. I tried to tell him he’s not doing a kind thing, she won’t appreciate it if she finds out. But he doesn’t listen.”

Whether I should have been or not, I was interested in what he was saying. He seemed to be looking for guidance from Anna and I wanted to shed a tear for him. I smiled as he made to stand, placing his free hand on his lower back to ease a pain, I imagined. When he turned he caught sight of me. He wrapped his scarf a little tighter around his neck and smiled at me. I smiled back.

“May I? My old bones give me such pain in this cold weather,” he said, indicating towards the bench.

“Please, join me for a while. Give those old bones time to acclimatise,” I said.

He chuckled as he lowered to the bench.

“Funny how a field full of dead people can be one of the most peaceful places on the earth isn’t it? But then…of course it would be peaceful, it’s not like they can talk, is it?” he said, and then started laughing.

His laugh was infectious and I soon joined in.

“Are you visiting your wife?” I asked.

“I am, but she’s not there.”

I turned to look at him, the skin around his eyes had creased a little further as he squinted and his lips smirked in mischief. I frowned.

“You’re probably going to want to run a mile when I tell you this, but I will tell you because you seem like an understanding person.” He patted my knee when he spoke, but it wasn’t in way that had my skin crawl.

“Tell me,” I said.

“My wife didn’t want to be buried, she believed the graveyards are so full up it was unfair, and sooner or later, we’ll all be piled on top of each other. So she was cremated and I scattered her ashes. But I wanted a place I could come and talk to her. No one visits Anna, ever. I cleaned up her headstone, weeded a little, everyone deserves a nice resting place, and I pretend it’s my wife there.”

“Wow, that’s a…”

“Strange thing to do?”

“No. I think it’s actually a nice thing to do. Anna gets company, you’re tending to her grave, and you get the comfort of having somewhere to sit and communicate with your wife.”

I remembered that Daniel had said Anna’s husband wasn’t named Lincoln, and I’d half given up on the idea that the gentleman I was sitting beside, the one I’d seen that time, was him. However…

“My name’s Daniella, but everyone calls me Dani,” I said, turning on the bench slightly to extend my hand.

“Lincoln, but everyone calls me…well, Lincoln. Pleased to meet you, Dani.”

I froze with my hand held in his. His humour threw me; it was the only thing that didn’t match my image of him.

He smiled and I searched his face for any sign of recognition, there was none, and I gently removed my hand from his.

“Do you come here often?” he asked.

“My…my daughter is buried here,” I said.

“I’m sorry to hear that. No one should have to bury their child, it must be terribly painful for you.”

“It is. You know she’s actually buried with someone I’d rather she wasn’t, and I came here today to see how one goes about exhumation.”

“Exhumation?”

“Yes, you know, remove the…”

“I know what it means. Dig up the coffins and move them someplace else. I won’t ask why, unless you want me to, of course. I get the sense you have a lot of words inside you that need to come out.”

There was something familiar in what he’d just said.

“Lincoln is an unusual name, I bet there aren’t that many around,” I said, still fishing.

“My father was Lincoln, so is my son. So I know of three of us,” he replied, still chuckling.

Although I was disappointed that he possibly wasn’t the Lincoln from my letters, I was enjoying his company.

“Do you live locally?”

“No, I used to. Now I’m in the old people’s home about a mile from here. I quite enjoy it really. The nurses are nice.”

Somehow I thought he was trying to convince himself more than me.

“Do they look after you well?”

“They do, they’re so pushed though. I’m quite able to take care of myself, unlike some of the other poor souls in there. And of course, I do escape as often as I can. They’ll be hunting the grounds for me because I don’t tell them when I’m off on a travel.”

I watched as he pulled up the sleeve of his overcoat to check on the time.

“I guess I ought to get back, I’ve been gone an hour now.”

“How will you get back? A mile is a long walk,” I said.

“Oh, I have a car.”

He rose and adjusted his coat. “It was a pleasure to talk with you, Dani. Hopefully, we’ll do that again, soon.”

I stood and shook his outstretched hand. “I enjoyed meeting you, too. And I’d love to chat again, soon.”

He nodded before smiling and walking away, leaving me a little bemused.

Was that my Lincoln? Could he have pretended not to know me to keep our letter exchange the enigma they’d become? He’d never mentioned my casual request to meet in person and maybe, if he was in a home, he wouldn’t want to. But then he said he had a car. I spun on my heels, there hadn’t been the sound of a car engine starting, and I hadn’t heard one the first time I’d been at the cemetery and he’d walked in. I raced for the gate but by the time I’d gotten there, he was nowhere to be seen.

I took a slow walk home and through the back door into the kitchen. No one was around but sitting on the table was some mail. On top of the pile was a purple envelope. I took the mail, a large mug of tea, and headed upstairs, opening the purple envelope as I did.

My dearest Dani,

I really don’t know what to say to you. I cannot imagine the pain you must be feeling right now. I totally understand everything you are telling me: how you feel, and the confusion you have. It’s a living nightmare, I imagine. I’m usually thrilled to receive a letter from you, the last few have shown an upbeat in your thinking but this…I’m blown away a little and my heart is breaking for you right now.

So you’re lost? I don’t doubt that for one minute, but you can come back from this. How? By finding that inner strength that I know you have. It will be hard, but you can do it. You ask what child was a mistake. I don’t believe Hannah was. Not that I have any experience in this, but I can’t imagine a planned pregnancy with a mistress was in your husband’s mind. Are you sure she didn’t entrap him? Not that I guess it makes much difference.

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