THE MIRACLE AT RESTHAVEN

CHAPTER ONE

No living person in the township of Lockton could remember the last time anyone was buried in Resthaven Cemetery. Even the town clerk was unable to find any record of burials there; which wasn’t surprising.

Resthaven Cemetery didn’t face any main highway, nor was it to be seen from any secondary road. The cemetery was located on a remote parcel of land whose title went back to Revolutionary War days and was probably founded as a burial place for the rural community of that time. As the population grew and relocated to villages or cities, Resthaven was abandoned and forgotten. According to the few still legible old tombstones, the last person to be interred in Resthaven was Noel Carter who was buried there at age twenty-four. The year of his death, according to the granite memorial, was 1904.

To the world at large Resthaven Cemetery was a relic of long forgotten history that never would be researched or noted in any history book.

In the broad sense this assessment was accurate, but like a lingering pang of unsatisfied hunger, curiosity about Resthaven asserted itself in the minds of Vincent and Cameron Leigh; the twin sons of Alicia and Mark Leigh whose dairy farm on a dirt country road was well within sight and walking distance of the neglected and forgotten cemetery.

The daily routines and duties of farm life frustrated the yearning for adventure that underscored the spirits of the sixteen-year-old Leigh twins.

This came to the surface on a comfortable September evening in the year 2000. The brothers, having undressed preparatory to retiring for the night, stood in their boxer shorts and stared out of their bedroom window.

“Look at the size of that harvest moon!” Vincent exclaimed, “It’s massive, and lights up the road and fields as if it were noon instead of ten o’clock at night. The moon glow is especially ghostly as it shines on Resthaven Cemetery. Makes one think of Halloween and horror movies.”

Cameron shook his curly blonde head. “Right now you’re obsessed with that spooky cemetery. See it for what it really is —acreage of land where dead people are buried until the big general resurrection. Why does it fascinate you so much?”

“It’s a piece of American history;” Vincent responded, “or at least a piece of local history. That it hasn’t been kept up is a disgrace and insult to those buried there. Cam, I think that we should do something about it.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“We could upright the headstones that have fallen or been pushed over. We could clean out the wild brush that has taken root there. With our power mowers, we can give the graves a respectable neatness, I think it will be an exciting project.”

Cameron turned and, faced his brother. “Something exciting will be a welcome change. All we seem to be getting out of life is going to school and then coming back home to do farm chores. After supper, it’s homework. Not my idea of a thrilling time.”

“Cam, I know it seems like we’re living in an endless Tate, but it’s only temporary,” Vincent told his twin. “In a couple of years we’ll graduate from high school and go our own way.”

“We’re lucky, you know,” Cameron stated. “Although the rote is a downside, we’ve been blessed with parents who have been damn good to us. You can’t deny it, Vince.”

“I wouldn’t deny it,” Vincent insisted. “Still, I’d like each of us to have something more than the treadmill we’re on day after day.”

“As the old saw goes ‘be careful of what you ask for? You may get it.’”

“If whatever it is turns out badly, you’ll be there for me, won’t you?” Vincent asked,

“That’s a stupid question,” Cameron irritably remarked, “Of course I’ll be there for you."

Vincent rested a hand on Cameron’s shoulder. “I knew you would be.”

“How did you know?”

“Because we’ve always been friends. I love you, Cam; in the ways that brothers do,”

“I love you, too,” Cameron assured his twin. “We’re inseparable.”

“We always will be,” Vincent promised.

Additional conversation between the brothers was delayed by a knocking at their bedroom door and Mark Leigh’s commanding voice saying, “You two had better hit the sack! Morning chores begin at five o’clock, and that doesn’t mean five—fifteen,”

“We’ll turn in right away,” Vincent said in compliance.

“And once you’re both in bed, don’t be running your mouths until midnight,” their father added.

“We hear you!” Cameron yelled through the door.

“Heed me as well,” Mark Leigh demanded. “Now, goodnight to both of you.”

Cameron was the first to hit the twin beds, leaving his brother to open the window and turn of f the bedroom lights.

“Dad does like to sound stern and ferocious,” Vincent remarked as he climbed into his own bed,

“But we know, as Morn does, that he’s really a pussycat,” Cameron asserted,

“Even pussycats will tolerate just so much guff and then they will freak out,” Vincent said,

“Have you ever seen Dad freak out or be vicious?”

“No, Cam. And I wouldn’t want to push him to that extreme. It could mean rough justice.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Cameron stated, yawning.

Following a few moments of total silence between them, Vincent, in a soft-spoken voice, told his brother, “At school you’ve been declared a hunk. At least most of the girls say so. They think you have a cute butt and breathtaking shoulders. They especially like it when you wear skintight jeans and a tank shirt.”

“Did you conduct some kind of a poll?”

“In a way. I’m a careful listener and I remember what I hear,” Vincent replied.

Seeing that his brother was making little effort to doze off, Cameron impatiently asked, “Are you, or are you not, going to give sleep a try? As Dad pointed out, five o’clock in the morning rolls around early,”

“He got that right!”

“He certainly did,” Cameron agreed, He pressed the point by reaching across the space between the twin beds and giving Vincent a stinging rap on the buttocks. “Now shut up and go to sleep,”

For all of their years the Leigh twins had been sound sleepers; often to the degree that their mother, Alicia, was required to call them several times before the brothers would awaken or respond. On occasion, Mark Leigh was compelled to physically drag them out of bed.

On this particular night Cameron Leigh slept so soundly that not even an explosion within the house would have awakened him.

Conversely_,his brother suffered a night of broken rest.

At intervals, Vincent would nod off for half an hour or so, and then open his eyes. At first, he thought his restlessness might be due to the clammy night air filtering through the gaping sash. He soon dismissed this as a probable cause when he realized that a full moon was drawing him to the window to observe whatever lay beyond. He delayed investigating until his curiosity overcame his resistance. Only then did he throw off the bedcovers and cross to the casement. After a moment, he opened it and stuck his head out into the night.

Almost immediately his attention was directed to the change in the sky. In the course of its orbit, the revolving earth had relocated the moon to the opposite side of the house from where it was originally seen, Scanning the dirt road, he saw that creamy moonlight no longer rained down on Resthaven Cemetery, It had been replaced by an eerie phosphorescent glow that covered the entire acreage of the graveyard.

Vincent’s instant reaction was that of stupefaction, Stupefaction evolved into confusion, and confusion gave birth to a feeling of intimidation.

In a state bordering on abject fear, he ran to Cameron’s bed and roughly shook his brother,

“What’s the panic all about?” Cameron asked in a drowsy tone,

“The cemetery is on fire. Resthaven Cemetery is burning, but there aren’t any flames.”

That statement isn’t even intelligent.” Cameron said, “What ARE you talking about?”

“I just said it, I just told you. Something unnatural is happening there,” Vincent insisted, “The cemetery is ablaze, but there’s no smoke or flames as we know them.”

“You woke me up f or that?” Cameron sleepily inquired, “Most likely you’ve been dreaming. Go back to bed and settle down,”

“Been dreaming, have I? Well get your butt over to the window and see for yourself.”

“This had better be something choice,” Cameron cautioned Vincent as he left the bed and crossed to the window.

“Focus on the cemetery,” Vincent urged his twin. “It’s something you don’t see every day. In fact, it’s something I’ve never seen before.”

Cameron Leigh spent very little time observing the condition of Resthaven. Having reached a conclusion, he turned to Vincent and announced, “What you saw is a rare display of armillary mella.”

“Which is what?” Vincent wanted to know.

“A luminous fungus that causes decaying wood to glow. An effect more commonly known as foxfire. Just how a fox fits into the equation is something for zoologists to sort out.”

“Are you certain it’s only foxfire?” Vincent asked.

“I should be. After all, I’m majoring in biology and botany,” Cameron reminded his brother. “Vince, what did you think it might be? Why did it frighten you so?”

“I thought it might be some mystical force in that cemetery reaching out for me.”

“You’re talking rubbish,” Cameron stated. “Knock off the reading of horror novels and such nonsense will go right out of your head. Care to give it a try?”

“Cam, will it make you uncomfortable if I close the window? I know you like fresh air in the bedroom.”

“Guess I can live without it for one night,” Cameron said. “Whatever your fantasy, it has really unnerved you.”

“Big time!” Vincent agreed.

“You can’t believe that I’d let anything or anyone harm you if I could prevent it.”

“Maybe, Cam, I’m being influenced by an entity that you can’t see or prevent.”

Cameron threw a comforting arm around Vincent’s shoulders. “Let’s sit on the edge of the bed and reason this thing out,” he suggested.

“Okay,” his twin consented.

“Vince, let me enlighten you about Resthaven Cemetery. To begin with, the only things there are tombstones and the long since rotted away bodies and coffins of those who have been buried there. Decayed trees and fungus produced the foxfire. The only living things in Resthaven are field mice, wild hares, and natural flora. There's nothing that can harm either of us. Plus, there’s absolutely nothing to connect you with those people who lived and died so long ago.”

“Existence doesn’t end here,” Vincent reminded Cameron. “Only the body dies. The life part transmutes into a spiritual form.

“And you believe that the spiritual form concerns itself with the affairs of the living?”

“That makes sense when one considers the miracles at Lourdes, at Fatima, and other religious shrines throughout the world.”

“On the sacred level, you’re perfectly right,” Cameron said, “but there is no profane form meddling with your life. Trust me,”

“I think I’d rather have more persuasive evidence,” Vincent said,

“All right. I’ll prove to you that you’re not being stalked by some un-embodied entity,” Cameron promised.

“How?”

“Every Saturday morning, Mom and Dad drive into Lockton to shop. This coming Saturday, after they leave for the city, you and I will investigate every inch of Resthaven. Are you game?”

“Let’s go for it!” Vincent exclaimed.

“Saturday is two days away,” Cameron reminded his brother. “For tonight, let’s snag some sleep,”

CHAPTER TWO

Saturday morning, shortly before getting out of bed, the Leigh twins decided that their best wisdom was to keep the Resthaven discussion strictly between themselves, and made a pact not to tell their parents of the intended exploration of the old cemetery.

Cameron was pulling on his skintight jeans when Vincent opened his own dresser drawer, looked into it, and frowned. “I’m down to my last pair of shorts,” he grumbled. “Remind me to have Mom pick up a set of them when she goes shopping this morning.”

“Boxers or briefs?” Cameron asked.

“Boxers. I can’t stand briefs. They’re like a small hotel.”

“How do you mean?”

“No ballroom.”

Cameron shook his head. “One day your smart ass remarks are going to get you into very deep trouble,” he predicted.

“So what? You’ll be there to help me get out of it.”

“You count on my always being there for you.”

“Indeed I do!”

“Why?”

“‘Cause you always have been, and you always will be.”

Vincent’s comment was true and Cameron knew it. “Guess we’ve always had a symbiotic relationship,” he affirmed while garbing himself in a cotton flannel shirt.

“And there’s no reason why it should end now. We’ll forever be a couple of symbies.”

“If there is such a word,” Cameron said, under his breath.

Vincent’s nostrils caught the appealing scents that were drifting upstairs from the kitchen. “Mom’s baking griddlecakes!”

“That means sausages, too: Let’s get ‘em while they’re hot.”

“I’ll race you to the table,” Vincent offered.

“You’re on!”

Upon reaching the ground floor, the twins found their father already seated at the round oak table. He was pouring a copious amount of maple syrup over a large stack of pancakes.

“Was it necessary to thunder down the staircase like a herd of charging rhinos?” Mark Leigh asked his sons. “We felt the kitchen floor shake.”

Tending the griddlecakes, Alicia’s back was turned toward her men. “Your father and I are going to the city after I do up the breakfast dishes. There being no school today, you lads can make up your own bed. Is there anything you boys need from town?”

“Yeah, Morn,” Vincent said. “Would you mind picking me up a couple packs of boxer shorts? I’ll give you the money for them before you leave.”

“Where did you get the money?” Alicia asked.

“I’ve been saving up the allowance Dad gives us every Friday night.” -

“He’s going to spend some of it... for a

change,” Cameron wisecracked.

“No one will ever call you the last of the big spenders!” Vincent exclaimed in retaliation.

“Enough!” Mark snapped. “I won’t tolerate quarreling at the table.”

“Vince and I don’t quarrel,” Cameron contradicted. “We discuss.” -

“Well whatever you call it, KNOCK IT OFF!"

“Sorry, Dad,” the twins said in unison.

“Morn, about the shorts. Buy the most flashy ones you can find,” Vincent requested.

“Why flashy? Who’s going to see them?”

“Alicia, the boys are sixteen,” Mark pointed out. “Need I elaborate?”

“I know what you’re driving at,” Alicia replied. “It’s the puberty thing.”

“And all that comes with it,” her •husband added. “Divide the new batch of pancakes between the boys.”

“They’ll be ready in a minute, Alicia promised. “Can you lads hold out that long?”

“We’ll force ourselves,” Cameron said. “I’m more anxious to have the sausages than I am the pancakes.”

“You’ll have your share of both,” Mark asserted.

Alicia Leigh turned to greet her sons. She and Cameron exchanged a bright and cheerful smile, but when she looked at Vincent her smile quickly faded. There was something about his body that she couldn’t accurately pinpoint; like Dorian Gray’s first perception of his altered portrait.

“I’m not an imaginative person,” she told herself. “What I see is real. Something is happening to Vincent’s body. I’m certain of it.” Not wanting to alarm the others, she casually asked, “Vince, are you feeling up to par?”

“Sure, Mom. Only right now, my stomach is growling forth hunger pangs.”

“We’ll satisfy those growling pangs right now,” she said, using a spatula to place the griddlecakes on a serving plate. “Then you don’t feel even slightly unwell?”

“Alicia, why are you pushing it?” Mark inquired.

“I thought I caught a slight change in Vincent’s body.”

“Undoubtedly you did. He’s only a teenager. His body will undergo constant changes until he reaches maturity,” Mark pointed out. “When you come right down to it, our body undergoes changes every day of our life. Nothing could be more normal.”

“We’ll let it go at that,” Alicia told her husband.

Mark leaned toward his sons. “What will you two be doing while your mother and I are in Lockton’?”

Cameron was the twin who replied. “Vince is going to help me with a project somewhat related to my courses in botany and biology.”

“I don’t see any harm in that,” Mark agreeably stated.

Intuition told Alicia, “There’s everything wrong with it. Those two are bound to get themselves in trouble of some sort.” To keep peace in the family, she said nothing.

Forty-five minutes later, while their parents were dressing to go to town, the twins were in their room converting their rumpled beds into objects of neatness.

Smoothing out the last wrinkles of the bedspread, Vincent remarked, “I wonder what caused Mom to suddenly question the state of my health?”

“She’s a mother. Like most of them, she has an over—protective nature... and is suspicious of every little change she spots; no matter how trivial it may be.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m unusually wary of things that I don’t understand,” Vincent said. “Perhaps I inherited it from her.”

“All this natural beauty seems out of place considering our private mission,” Vincent told Cameron. “Creation is dealing with living things while we’ll be delving into matters of the dead.”

“Of such is the alpha and omega of existence,” Cameron instructed Vincent. “We get ourselves born, pass through a period called life, and terminate the whole business by getting planted in a pit. That, brother mine, is the route of reality.”

“What about things that exist without having a material substance?”

“You mean such creature of superstition as witches, vampires, werewolves and all of that related gibberish?”

Vincent shook his head. “Not that rubbish. I’m not talking literature and movie monsters. Consider this Cam, memory and dreams are real. Every human being has them, but they don’t exist in a solid form. They have no physical substance.”

“Neither does a soul, but that is the eternal part of’ us that survives the deceased shell.

“Could it be that some like dynamic holds true at Resthaven?” Vincent asked. “We’ll be messing with the unknown,” he warned.

“If the unknown can stand it, so can we,” Cameron responded.

“Do you think that a presence of the eternal can be found at Resthaven?”

“Don’t count on it manifesting,” Cameron told him.

The founders of Resthaven had had the foresight to enclose -the cemetery with a wrought iron fence whose top ends were crowned with decorative fleur-de-lis. The entrance gate, if ever there had been one, was missing. Possibly stolen by mindless vandals whose concept of fun was to desecrate burial grounds. A broad gaping space divided the cemetery. The absence of gravestones there suggested that a roadway for vehicles of the period was a necessary convenience. It also permitted graves to be dug only on both sides of the drive. No well worn tracks of the actual roadway ‘were to be seer... Time and the weather had obliterated them forever. What had formerly been a roadway was now overrun with bracken, decaying trees, an abundance of wildflowers and such fauna as chose to make a life there. Respect for the dead was nowhere in evidence.

Cameron Leigh found the sight depressing and sad. These emotions found their way into his voice as he elegiac ally murmured, “And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain.”

“Has a ring of Shakespeare,” Vincent said...

“It is Shakespeare. A quotation from the last act of Hamlet.”

“What made you think of it?”

“Remembering that those who rest here once had a life. They were people such as you and I, and Mom and Dad. Now they’re forgotten vestiges of another era, and no one seems to care. If you doubt my words, consider the condition of this graveyard. It’s a disgrace and insult to the men, women, and children interred here.”

“I can sympathize with your point of view,” Vincent told his brother, “Hey let’s not lose sight that we’re here on a specific project.”

“Then let’s begin what we came here to do, benefit local history.”

“Shall we split up the work?”

“If you’ll read the headstones, I’ll catalog the info in the notebook you brought along.”

“Okay. Where do you want to start?”

“Most of the sunlight is on the east side. It only makes sense to start there. The stones will be easier to read.”

“You going to list every name in this cemetery?” Vincent asked.

“We can’t do very much with only half the available information,” Cameron replied. “Is there any special reason why this has to be a rush job?”

“Mom and Dad won’t be in Lockton all day.”

“Yes they will. I overheard Mom tell Dad that she was going to get her hair done. They’ll probably return home about chore time,”

“Which means we’re home free,” Vincent decided. “Since this search is to benefit the Lockton Historical Society, let’s get to it.”

Cameron nodded. There was no way that he could have anticipated the shock he was about to receive.

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