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ept these days?" she asked. "Still in the shed by the garage," I said pointing.

We headed for it and I located a spade.

"I know the exact spot to go to," she whispered.

She led me around the house and to the right, almost to the woods.

"I once buried a doll here," she told me. "I had dropped it and it cracked into two pieces. My father had brought it back from a trip for me. It was so beautiful and precious. I cried so hard. I nearly cracked myself into pieces and then my father said I should give my doll a funeral. My sister Victoria thought it was absolutely ridiculous, but my father and I came out here. He dug the grave and we put the broken doll into the ground. Then he covered it and we said a prayer and I did feel better.

"Go on, dig your little grave and bury your horror," she ordered.

I glanced around. There was no one watching us outside, but when I looked at the house. I thought I saw Mommy peering out of the window in the kitchen nook. As quickly as I could, I dug a hole.

"Drop it in," she said handing me the folded paper.

I did so and then I covered it quickly. She stepped on the covered hole as if she was stamping down on an ugly insect.

"Stomp it," she commanded.

I stepped on it.

"Harder." she instructed, "Go on. Harder and harder."

I did so and I had the strangest feeling that I was crushing my nightmares.

"Harder," she chanted and then added. "die, die. die." I muttered that. too.

"Ok-ay,-. she said putting her hand on my shoulder. She smiled at me. "It's gone. You've rid yourself of it. Don't you feel lighter, freer? Well? Don't you?"

"Yes," I said. Maybe it was crazy. but at the moment. I did.

We walked back to the shed to put away the spade and then returned to the house to have lunch. Not once during the remainder of that day was a word spoken about what we had done or what had happened to me. When I said Goodbye to her after she had gotten into the limousine later, she looked out at me. smiled and said. "Its gone, all gone." She patted my hand and sounded just like Mommy did when I was little and she wanted to convince me my nightmare wouldn't return.

Then she and Grandfather Grant were driven off. After the limousine disappeared. I stood and gazed over our great property. Everything was plush, the trees thick with rich green leaves, the grass like carpet with all our summer flowers blooming. It looked full of life and cheerful. yet I had the distinct feeling that the grounds of this estate were peppered with little graves, all filled with Grandmother Megan's moments and memories of unhappiness and all gone from her mind.

Was it madness or was it great therapy?

Sometimes, we have to believe in a little magic. I thought. That's what I told Mommy when she brought it up later.

"My mother is absolutely bankers," she said. "Maybe."

"Don't tell me she convinced you that you can bury bad times as easily as that."

"Wouldn't it be a nice thought. Mommy?" I asked. "A little magic?"

She stared at me and then shook her head and laughed.

"Maybe," she admitted. "Maybe that's what I finally found myself when I found your father and later, when we had you. I guess that's magic. Just the same," she said. "please don't tell anyone about your mad grandmother. It's too embarrassing."

I didn't say I would or I wouldn't. I did eventually tell Harley and when I told him, he didn't laugh at it. Be looked envious and said, "One of these days, I'll ask her to help me bury a few things."

It wasn't hard to figure out what they would be. so I didn't ask. Most of our conversations were about good things these days or funny things. Harley visited with me as much as possible, doing his best to cheer me up. When he came over, he talked continuously as if he thought any small silences between us would drop me quickly back into the thick pool of sadness. In fact, he was over so often. I heard Uncle Roy outside the house one day begin to reprimand him for it.

"You're making a pest of yourself when those people need some peace," he told him.

For a few days after that. Harley did stay away. Then late one night I saw him silhouetted in the moonlight, walking along the bank of the lake. He stood staring at the water. He was there so long, I was sure something was wrong, so I slipped out of my room and down the stairs very quietly to join him.

"Why are you out here so late?" I asked as I drew closer. I had my arms folded under my breasts and wore my robe and slippers. Harley was still dressed in his jeans and black T-shirt. He glanced up at me and then looked toward his house.