Riding horses!

I’ve never been a plotter when it comes to writing. I have an idea about where the story starts and where it ends. But getting from point A to point B is rarely a straight shot.

I’d like to think my writing reflects life.

You can chart your life out all you want. But the path to get there involves detours, obstacles, and more often than not finding yourself off the map.

In Deadman, I took a turn and ended up in unexplored country.

In my previous works, I mentioned that RJ and Pam, after her release from Camp Victory and after finding the remains of Howard Brightman, went out to Napa, California, to get DNA swabs from the Brightmans. When I started writing that into the new book, we got to see what happened behind the scenes.

RJ is suddenly confronted with the fact that he’s consorting with someone who has money. That prompts him to ask, “Pam. What are you doing being a cop?”

We get the answer. Here’s the revelation.

RJ saw the rows of tombstones standing white and stark under the shade of the trees long before they arrived there. A simple Adobe fence circled the graveyard and kept animals away. As they approached, he saw tat the only grass in it was what grew on its own there.

They rode up to the fence line. A hitching post for the horses was off to one side of the gate. The hitching was worn from decades of horses being tied to it. It seemed most of the locals rode up there rather than drove. It was probably just as well, he thought. After they had saddled the animals and started the ride to the hill, Pam had become quiet.

So had Timmy. He rode behind his mom, hanging onto her waist. When she told him they were going to “go see Daddy,” he also got very quiet.

RJ dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching post.

“Here, Tim,” he said. “Let me help you down.”

The boy reached down, and RJ was careful to pull him down from the horse and set him on the ground.

Pam swung down off the horse with grace and ease; the RJ was sure she didn’t feel. Her hand was still on the saddle horn as she turned and looked at the graveyard. She took a deep breath and then let it out.

“Are you okay?” RJ asked.

She nodded slowly. “I haven’t been up here in years,” she said. She said it as if it were something that was long overdue.

RJ nodded. He understood. This was part of her healing process.

“I’ll get the flowers,” he said. He went back to his horse and pulled out three bunches of flowers. They’d purchased them at the market the evening before. They were just simple flower arrangements and had cost almost nothing. But they represented something more than being mere flowers, RJ realized.

This was at once an expression of love and an apology for staying away.

He handed a bunch to Pam. “Who’s first?”

She nodded up the hill. “Scott.”

The small graveyard had a gate. RJ opened it and let her and Timmy pass through before following on his own.

He caught up to them, and they walked in silence up the dirt road. A simple white tombstone stood near a large granite stone. It read:

In memory of

Scott E. Harmon

Sgt

Gulf War

US Marine Corps

It listed his date of birth and death.

RJ looked at the large stone near it. The names Mark and Rita Carlson, Pam’s parents, were carved on it. The words “Killed by a drunk driver,” were etched under the names.

Pam’s family rested in the shade provided by the old trees.

“Hey everyone,” Pam said, taking off her hat.

She went up between the two gravesites. “Hey, Boy,” she said, kneeling down next to where her husband rested. She was using her pet name for him. “I’m here with Timmy.”

For a second, RJ wondered if she was expecting someone to respond. Maybe there was, but it was a conversation between her and a ghost if it had happened.

“Say hi to Daddy,” she urged Timmy.

Awkwardly, the boy said, “Hello, Daddy.”

She put the flowers on the grave and then reached out her hand to RJ for the other flowers, and he handed them to her. She turned to the other graves.

As she placed the flowers, she said, “Hey Mom and Dad.”

She kneeled silently for a moment while Timmy touched her shoulder, not knowing what to do or say.

For several long minutes, during which the only sound was her crying softly and the wind in the trees, RJ had stood watching, almost feeling like an intruder at a private party. But he stepped up behind her and put his hands on her and Timmy’s shoulders. Pam reached up with a free hand and took his.

She looked up and over her shoulder at RJ, and then back towards the graves.

“I want to introduce you guys to someone who means a lot to me,” she said.