The Stone Kiss.(Kevin Hughes) I had been taking the shortcut through the cemetery for seasons. I liked the peace and calm, the well kept graves, and the occasional bench to sit and just…well, rest. One of the more cared for plots had a statue of a carved girl angel on it. I used to rub its marble hair and tell it my problems. Then I would give it a soft kiss on the cold unforgiving marble lips.

“Thanks for listening.”

I would kiss it goodbye, tap it lightly on the hair, and walk the rest of the way to school. I was graduating in a few days, so I spent a little more time than usual talking with my “angel”. I told her that we didn’t have many classes at all. The Seniors could pretty much take the week off if they wanted to. So she shouldn’t worry about me lingering around longer than usual.

I told her all about my day. Heck, over the seasons, I had told her about every problem in my young life. From girl problems (Girls!) to my Father’s continued insistence that I forgo college and help run the Family Business. It was a thriving Concrete Business and my two older Brothers had fit right in when they started working for my Father.

Even my Sister Peggy turned out to have a knack for scheduling, filling, and weighing all the different loads and kinds of cement. She was so good that Dad made her a Vice President. She lives in a big old grand house over at the new gated community near the ocean. You couldn’t tell she was wealthy when she was at work. She got right down and helped clean the trucks when they came back at the end of the day. It is one of the reasons she is my favorite sibling.

She never puts on airs, nor does she look down at people who don’t have as much. On top of that, she was my only Ally in my constant battles with my Dad to let me go to College. So I told my stone angel all about that kind of stuff too.

I cried on my stone angel when I got cut from the Basketball team. I was the last guy cut. I felt it was unfair, because the kid they chose over me for the team was not as talented as I was, but he was taller. The Coach told me later that he just didn’t want any dwarfs on his team. I was furious. Five foot eight is no dwarf. I did get my revenge during the season though. My CYO Basketball Team got to play my High School in an Open Tournament. We trounced them soundly.

I lead the team in scoring, assists, and steals. Believe me, I wasn’t shy about letting the Coach know about his mistake in cutting me. Then I felt bad. I was bragging to someone who made a mistake. I cried on my angel that day for sure. I told her I would never consciously be cruel or vindictive again. I swear she smiled. I know I imagined it…but it made me feel lighter anyway.

I am only telling you all this, because of what happened in that graveyard on my Graduation Day. Maybe you’ll believe me…maybe you won’t. I hope you do, because it is true. Every word of it. Miracles…do…happen.

Here is how it started:

It was the afternoon of Graduation Day. The Formal Ceremony was over. Families would visit most of the afternoon, and then after Supper…well, the Partying would begin. I wasn’t in the mood for partying. In the mail yesterday I got my Acceptance Letter from Notre Dame College. I had saved and scrimped from all my Summer Jobs, and the part time job I had at my Dad’s Cement Plant during weekends all year.

One thing I do have to say about my Dad, he believed in work. And he believed in honest pay for an honest days work. I guess that is why he had such a low turnover at the Plant. He paid well above minimum wage and everyone got bonuses at Christmas. Even us kids got paid what entry level workers got paid. I managed to save almost every penny. I did spend a bit on Monica for the six months we went together…but she wanted me to spoil her like a Rich Kid.

I kept telling her I was broke, my Parents were Rich. Burger King wasn’t good enough for her. Heck, neither was Denny’s. Nope. She wanted Applebee’s or one of the fancy stand alone Fish Restaurants down by the Bay. The ones where a salad and a drink cost more than a large delivery pizza, plus a two liter coke, tip and delivery charge. Well, that isn’t how I wanted to spend my limited funds. She was pretty, and if you were Rich enough, she was good company. I am glad she broke up with me. Not that we really were much more than dating…she was the only girl I ever went out with more than once…and I finally figured out why. She thought I had money. So the goodbye was fairly easy on me…and I told my angle so.

Sorry, I digress. Back to my story.

I cried in front of my angel. Even with the several thousand dollars I had saved up…it wasn’t enough to make a dent in what Notre Dame Cost for a single semester. My Dad had made it perfectly clear that he would not pay a penny towards my education. Unless it was to go to Business College and learn how to help out the Family Business. Both my brothers got Business Degrees and they worked for Dad too. My Sister got her degree in Supply Chain Economics and she was a wizard at it.

I just didn’t fit.

I got into the college of my choice…the only one I even applied to. My heart was broken. Just like the Basketball tryout, I got as close as possible to a goal, without being able to make it happen. I was more than despondent. I was desperate. Maybe even delusional. Because of what happened next.

(Brace yourself, this is where it starts to get …well…interesting.)

I took my shirt to wipe my tears off the marble angel’s face. I had been leaning against the top of her head as I bawled about Life’s unfairness. I noticed that her hand was now pointing down. One tiny marble finger pointing in a certain direction. I followed it with my eyes. It was pointing at a small sack on the ground. I swear that sack wasn’t there when I first started talking to my stone angel.

I bent down to lift it. It was heavy. So heavy I had to use both hands. Even then, I had to grunt to pull it up onto of the headstone. I looked inside and just stared. Gold. Gold bars. Six of them. They were from the lost fleet of 1715. Their gold Value alone was about $48,000 dollars, but with their History, Spanish Mint Marks, and Shipwreck condition (with minor bits of coral still clinging to them) their worth jumped tenfold.

There was a note inside. It was the most beautiful handwriting he had ever seen. The Note was simple:

“These bars were buried near here in 1754. Hidden by a Sailor who used to work for the English in the Caribbean. He died before he could come back for them. If you go dig at the base of the old Oak at the near the back gate of the Cemetery, you will find six more. The Law will have to give you at least half the value. Go to school.”

I did what the note said. They gave me a little more than half. I was in the Local Papers and a celebrity for my fifteen minutes of fame. It was way to much Fame for me. Two things happened afterwords. One: Notre Dame. Two: Monica wanted to go out with me…again. I went to Notre Dame, I did not go with Monica.

*****
Four years blew by. I applied to Grad School. I still had most of the money I “earned” from the Gold Bars. I didn’t live extravagantly. I lived in the Dorms all four years at Notre Dame. I made a few close friend. I dated a few girls, but nothing serious. The only thing I was serious about was my Degree. Materials Science. It turns out I had a back for engineering materials. Who knew? Not me, at least not until my Junior year, when (and I kid you not) I took a class on Cement.

Yes. Cement. I thought it would be an easy “A” (and believe me when I tell you, there are not many “easy A’s” at Notre Dame). After all, I grew up around cement. I knew how to mix it, pour it, frame it, and smooth it. I could even drive the mixer truck, clean the chutes, and tell just how much water you needed for a particular blend. What could be more simple? I was expecting an “A.”

What I wasn’t expecting is how hard I had to work for it. And how much fun it was to earn it.

(I know, you are wondering about now: “What the heck does this have to do with that Graduation Day at the cemetery?” Bear with me.)

I went home for a few days after Graduating. My Dad surprised me with a check to cover my entire four years. You could have knocked me over with a feather.
We had a long talk. I gave him a hug. All my thanks, but told him to keep the check. I was doing just fine. He hugged me even harder when I refused the check. He wasn’t mad about it. In fact he was sort of proud of me…I think.

Anyways, I went over to the Cemetery. It was just as pristine and welcoming as it was four years ago, almost to the day, that I found the Note and the bag of gold. I know it sounds corny, but I brought my Degree, my Transcripts and a Notre Dame Sweater to show my angel. I also showed her my Dad’s check, which I had carefully written “VOID” on. I wanted to frame it and keep it as a reminder of both: my effort... and my Dad’s generosity.

I must have been there an hour. I talked the whole time, and shyly showed her my Degree and stuff. I told her about my decision to continue in school and get a Doctorate…in Cement. That made me laugh out loud at the Irony. Here I hated working at my Dad’s Cement Plant, and yet I was going to end up knowing more about actual cement than anyone in my Family…including my Dad! It was rock hard irony. LOL

And then…it happened.

*****

I stood up, brushed myself off, and bent over to kiss the lips of the girl angel head. Just like I had done thousands of times before. Except this time…the lips were not cold stone marble: hard, cold, unrelenting. No. Not at all. Those lips were warm, soft, pliant…welcoming. I kissed a little harder. The stone angel kissed back a little stronger. It was the most luscious, inviting, enthralling kiss I ever experienced. I opened my eyes. Shut them quickly. Shook my head. Opened my eyes again.

And fainted.

*****

I felt a gentle caress of my hair. A supple finger moving a bang away from my eyes. My head was resting on the warm lap of a girl I knew, but had never known. I opened my eyes. It was her. HER. My Angel. Her flesh wasn’t cold marble anymore. Her eyes weren’t hollows in stone. Her hair was silky and flowing. She was the prettiest human I had ever seen.

She laughed and bent to give me the equivalent of a butterfly kiss on my lips. It was gentle, caring, kind, and possessive. I wondered if I had had a stroke, or heart attack, or maybe Heat Exhaustion. Something was making me hallucinate a scenario I could never have imagined. I didn’t want it to end. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed resting on a feminine lap, one that only I could feel.

Then she spoke to me. I opened my eyes wide. It was real. She was speaking to me. I missed the first few words …in shock. I told her I missed them. She giggled and started over:

“I am not a figment of your Imagination. I have watched you grow from a little boy, to a teenager, to a young man. I was privileged to share almost all of it with you with your kind conversations and visits. I died at the age you are now. I never got to live out the life I had imagined. When I died, I believed that my True Love would come along, and my Life would return to me.

I hoped and hoped it would be you. You were always so kind, so gentle, so caring. You washed my marble hair with your tears, you warmed my marble lips with your kisses, and you filled my soul with a future. I waited. The rules of Death are hard to break. Almost impossible. But “True Love” makes its own rules. You would not believe how many Spirits have been cheering us both on over the last decades…believe me, they are all smiling now.”

I won’t tell you the rest of that day. Or how we planned to explain how we met. She kept her name: Angel Peterson. Her tombstone read: Agnes Louise Peterson, so nobody ever made the connection. She was then, and is now, and will always be: my Angel.

When we announced our Engagement, my Family was thrilled. We got a small apartment of Campus until I got my Ph. D. The day after we got married. When we planning the Wedding, Angel made me smile when she got a twinkle in her eye and said:

“You know, I think we should invite Monica. “

I laughed and said:

“That would be cruel.”

She laughed back at me.

“I know.”

We didn’t invite Monica…I remembered how I felt when I rubbed it in the Coach that cut me. I promised I wouldn’t be cruel or unkind ever again.

Angel leaned over and kissed me.

“That’s why I Love you. You keep your promises."

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