of the stall, leaving Peter to finish the job she’d begun, then ran through the rose garden and around the corner of the house just in time to see Beth and Peggy starting up the trail toward the mausoleum.
She was about to call out to them, and tell Peggy Russell to go home, when she changed her mind. Maybe it would be more fun to follow them, and find out what they were doing.
* * *
Peggy stood staring in awe at the strange marble structure that was the tomb of the Sturgesses. “Wow,” she breathed. “What is it?”
Beth explained the mausoleum as best she could, then pulled Peggy away. “But this isn’t what I wanted to show you,” she said. “It’s down here. Come on.”
They started down the overgrown path on the other side of the mausoleum, walking carefully, their feet crunching on the thick bed of fallen leaves and twigs that covered the old trail. Here and there the path seemed to Peggy to disappear completely, and several times they had to scramble over fallen trees. And then, just as Peggy was sure the trail was coming to an end, it suddenly branched off to the left. Peggy looked around. At the place where the two paths converged, she spotted a sign, old and rusty, its paint peeling away, hanging crookedly on a tree.
PRIVATE PROPERTY
NO TRESPASSING
“Maybe we’d better go back,” Peggy said, her voice dropping to a whisper as she glanced around guiltily.
“It doesn’t mean us,” Beth replied. “It’s just marking the place where Uncle Phillip’s property starts. It’s for people coming up the hill, not going down. Come on.”
With Peggy following somewhat reluctantly now, Beth started along the track that would lead to the little meadow.
“Where are you going?” Peggy asked.
“You’ll see,” Beth replied. “Don’t worry.”
“But what if we get lost?” Peggy argued. “How do you know which trail to follow?” More and more, she was wishing they hadn’t come down here at all. It seemed to her that the woods were closing in around her. She wished she were back up on the top of the hill, where at least everything was open.
“I’ve been down here before,” Beth replied. “Mom and I came down here one day, and Uncle Phillip and I came out here on the horses. Stop being chicken.”
Peggy hesitated, wondering what to do. Maybe she should turn around, and try to find her own way back. But if she did that, she’d have to go by herself.
Making up her mind, she followed Beth. They had gone only about a hundred yards when Beth stopped. “Look,” she said softly. “Here it is.”
Peggy stared around the little meadow. Saplings stood here and there in the clearing, and the underbrush came nearly to her waist. But there didn’t seem to her to be any difference between this meadow and any of the others that dotted the woods around Westover.
“What’s so special about this?” Peggy complained. “It’s just a clearing, isn’t it?”
Beth shook her head, and led Peggy across the meadow to the place where she’d found the small depression last time she had been there.
She pointed to it silently, and Peggy frowned in puzzlement. “What is it?”
“It’s a grave,” Beth said.
Peggy’s eyes widened. She glanced around nervously, wishing she were somewhere else. “H-how do you know?” she breathed.
“I just know,” Beth replied. “I found it the other day.”
“Whose is it?” Peggy whispered, her wide eyes fixed on the odd depression. “Who’s buried here? Is it one of the Sturgesses?”
Beth shook her head. “They’re all buried up in the mausoleum. I think—” She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I think this is where Amy’s buried.”
“Amy?” Peggy repeated blankly. “Who’s Amy? What’s her last name?”
“I … I don’t know,” Beth admitted.
The two girls stood silently for a moment, their eyes fixed on the odd sunken spot.
“Maybe it isn’t a grave at all,” Peggy suggested. “If it was a grave, wouldn’t there be a headstone or something?”
Beth’s eyes flicked up the hill, toward the spot where the mausoleum lay hidden in the woods. “There isn’t any headstone because they didn’t want anyone to know,” she said in a whisper. “They didn’t want anyone to know who she was, or that she’s even here.”
“But who is she?” Peggy pressed.
Beth turned to look at Peggy, and there was something in her eyes that made Peggy feel suddenly nervous.
“She’s my friend,” Beth said.
“Y-your friend?” Peggy repeated. “But … but I thought she was dead.”
“She is,” Beth agreed. “But she’s still alive, too.