Introduction

Rachel Miller is on the cusp of a new life when she moves to Union Cemetery after marrying Adam, the 7th generation cemetery keeper. Though she's known him only twelve weeks, his tender love seems like a miracle of fate after her years alone.

On her first walk through the lush and silent grounds of her new home, Rachel discovers a stunning monument to Tillie Smith, who died in 1886. Reading the words carved into the stone, "She Died in Defence of Her Honor," Rachel is overcome by a powerful memory buried deep in her past.

A series of uncanny coincidences linked to Tillie Smith follows, setting Rachel on a journey that grows into an obsession: Why did the murder of a poor kitchen maid at the local seminary become a national sensation? Why were people in town trying to keep her from finding the truth? But most disturbing of all, why was Tillie reawakening a past Rachel chose to bury long ago. A past that could threaten her marriage.

The Cemetery Keeper's Wife poignantly blends fact and fiction as two women scarred by shame, and separated by more than a century, reach across time to rewrite history.

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Excerpt

PROLOGUE

November 1883

Tillie stumbled out of the cabin, the stench of sickness nearly making her vomit. She stood in the cold a bit, bent over, gulping in fresh air. They were all with the fever, but Catherine was coughing so fierce she brought up blood. If her mother was still with them she’d know what to do, but her mother had been gone for too many years already, her presence like a shadow Tillie couldn’t seem to grasp. The doctor was what they needed, but the doctor and his medicine cost money. And there was none. It was Nora who said to maybe go over to Waterloo and see if the uncle might lend them some.

Tillie went over to the well, careful not to slip on icy patches of mud, thanking God she wasn’t sick, or who would have helped them? She stood there a moment, a bucket in her hand, shivering and trying not to cry. The last she’d seen any of the uncle’s family had been in town that summer, her cousins in their fancy store-bought dresses and bonnets with feathers and ribbons, like something out of a newspaper advertisement. They’d looked right at her and at Nora, too, and then stuck their noses up in the air as if she and her sister smelled of manure. She’d be damned if she’d go begging to the likes of them.

Catherine’s fever was burning up for the third day, and her pa was delirious when he wasn’t passed out from the whiskey he insisted would make him better. Nora tried not to make it harder on Tillie, but she had it in the bowels and couldn’t make it to the outhouse. Yesterday one of her pa’s customers came to pick up an ax handle but wouldn’t come near the cabin when he heard of the sickness. Tillie wanted to curse him because the coins for the handle would have at least paid for some medicine.

She brought the bucket to the door, set it down, then gathered wood, carrying it into the house in batches, sweat running down her camisole by the time she was done.

“Tillie?” Catherine’s voice was barely a whisper. “You must rest up, Tillie. If you were to get sick, what would happen to the lot of us?”

She went over to Catherine, older by seven years, lying in bed, her face flushed with fever, her eyes like glass marbles. “Hush up. I’m just fine.”

Catherine took her hand, and Tillie’s stomach seized with fear. Her hand was like ice. “I wish Mama was here,” Catherine whispered.

Tillie had to turn away a moment and bite her lip to keep the tears from coming. Then she stood up and in her high-falutin’ play voice said, “Well, Duchess, I’m going to do one better. I’m going to fetch the doctor to come look at you all.”

“But Tillie, you know we ain’t got that kind of money.”

“I do. I’ve saved a bit and hid some,” she lied. “So you take a good rest, and I’m going to walk up to Waterloo and see if I can fetch the doctor now. It may take me some hours, so just be patient.”

She left her sisters each a cup of tea laced with whiskey, thankful her father had been too sick to drink it all. She hoped that would keep them all asleep for the hours she’d need to be away and get the doctor. But first to get the money.

Despite the cold, she stripped down at the well and washed herself with the icy water as well as she could, then went back in the house, brushed her hair, and put a few drops of her ma’s cooking vanilla behind her ears. She put on Nora’s Sunday dress, which was tight on her, though maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Then she looked at herself in the piece of mirror hanging on the kitchen wall beside the stove, wishing she looked a bit older than sixteen.

Star Port at Saxton Falls was a three-mile walk each way. She would be gone most of the day and prayed they’d be no worse when she got back. She wondered if she would burn in hell for what she was about to do. But God, she told herself, had to under­ stand there was no choice for her, was there?

Tillie kept her mind busy during the long, bitter walk, praying the wind would ease up. She thought over what she knew about the relations between men and women. It wasn’t a secret what happened and what the result could be. Anyone who lived on a farm knew such things. Catherine had warned her to be careful there when she’d first explained about monthlies and all that. Not that she’d had much opportunity as of yet. Still, some­ times she felt her heart might burst out of her chest from wanting. To be held. To be kissed. That handsome fella who came sometimes and talked to her sisters, picking up his pa’s handles, made her cheeks flush when he looked at her. And she dreamed at night about what it might be like to kiss him. He hadn’t come there in a long time now.

Just ahead she saw a clearing for the turn into Saxton Falls and knew that Star Port was just up the road a piece. Her feet seemed to slow of their own will. She knew of the house there, where the canal and mine workers went for sport. A rough lot they were. Crossing the little bridge, she looked down at the river, the water so clean and clear as it rushed over the rocks. She thought over what she was about to do, her heart beating so fast, it was like a baby bird was caught inside her chest trying to fight its way out. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

Why does Rachel choose to bury her past and try to keep it from her husband? Is this fair?

Tillie made some difficult choices in her tough life. How do you feel about some of those?

Shame is a theme throughout the book, affecting Rachel, Tillie, Adam, and others. Do you think they could/should have controlled this? How would their lives have been different if they had not let shame shape their decisions?

Do you believe justice should not have an expiration date? Or do you think that sometimes it’s best to let some things go to the grave?

Some people are uncomfortable with cemeteries. What did you think of the setting of the book? Could you ever imagine living in a cemetery?

Were you at all surprised by the difficulties of women in the Victorian era, which has been romanticized? How far do you think we’ve come since then?

Rachel loves connecting with people who’ve passed through her “finds.” Have you ever found or discovered something from a person in your past?

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