Unveiled Echoes

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He saw Tía Parada’s adobe in the distance, a small house, white-washed. He knew all adobes were deceptive: bigger inside than one would imagine seeing the exterior, even standing right in front. But first he went to see something else, something he’d neglected the last time. He saw immediately it was a cemetery with all the ornamental charm even whimsy you might find in the heart of Mexico and, typical of such spots, he had trouble finding “his” graves. There was, of course, no symmetry to the stone markers. Some lay south and some lay east and some just athwart each other. The rows between the headstones were spastic zigzags, hardly parallel lines. Matt smiled inside, thinking with what mockery this burial ground might be greeted by the groundkeepers at the National Cemetery at Arlington, Virginia. Walking around for a while, along the angled pathways, he came upon them. The graves. There was a headstone for Ajax. A Cross and a Star of David had been cut into his stone. Maybe, for her husband’s grave, Tía Parada had been memorializing the little church in Remedios that always fascinated tourists with its famous star underlaying a cross on its front wall. On a grave beside it there was only a carved angel. It read : “Tres Concupisente Franklin.” My God! She had named him Tres! Tres from her old stories of our family and our long ago relative. Matt couldn’t hold back the tears. The lump in throat grew, and finally he put his head in his hands and sobbed. When he recovered and looked at the stone again he was puzzled to see fresh flowers on both graves; and pebbles atop both headstones. When he got the chance, if it seemed okay, he would have to ask Tía Parada about the flowers and pebbles. Or was Mr. Piñedo simply doing his job as Tía Parada’s representative, in life and in death? Did he come with the flowers every Monday, like today? Perhaps the flowers were from yesterday. The little pebbles could have been there for months. Matt wondered if this was the Redheads' way, decorating graves with flowers and pebbles? Like the quick burials and death shrouds in place of coffins? These weren’t old Mexican customs, but certainly the headstones in this cemetery were dominated by crosses and lovely stone statues of the Holy Mother. He suddenly recalled that in Montevideo he had seen pebbles on top of a gravestone. But he didn’t know what it signified. He was starting to leave when he noticed that on the side of Ajax's stone there was lightly etched a seven-piece ceremonial candlestick holder. He looked on the side of Tres Concupisente's stone marker. Inscribed there were the words”sweet natured” in Spanish. He went around the cemetery, studied the symbols on the other graves-- besides the crosses and holy images an occasional engraving of the opened Tablets of the Ten Commandments appeared. Dear Jesus and Mary! What are these symbols saying? Were these so-called Redheads descendants of conversos? Impossible! But maybe not. Hadn’t his friend, Steve Steamer once said that conversos might have been in the expedition that settled Reino de Dios as well as Remedios! Matt moved toward the little house, trying to puzzle it out. He could picture the church in Remedios with its star and cross. Was it only old Mr. Steamer’s – Steve’s great, great, great Grandfather -- doing or was there something encryptic there, something secretly acknowledged? Or was the knowledge all unconscious, an incomprehensible ancestral wailing of some centuries-old truth? He knocked on the door, lightly because of Tía Parada’s famous hearing. The family had always marvelled at how acutely she could hear They said she heard better than a dog, perhaps as good as any creature that roams in the night. No answer. Again, louder. Still silence. The door opened when he turned the knob. The house felt warm as though it were presently being lived in. He suspected she was home, but had decided not to answer. She had never had a phone in this house, much to the fami

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