That was long before she had known anything about William Fitzgibbon. The cemetery wasn’t Catholic, but Alexis thought that Mary Bernadette’s devotion to Oliver’s Well might have convinced her to lay her child to rest in the company of the town’s earliest settlers. If William’s grave was not to be found here, Alexis would look elsewhere for it. She had a very strong need to visit the little boy’s place of rest. The cemetery was a jumble of half-crumbling headstones dating back to the early seventeenth century and newer, shiny marble memorials erected as late as the 1980s. There were a few mausoleums, largely covered in lichen and moss. Some areas were overgrown with weeds, though other areas were well cared for. Alexis wondered if the cemetery was owned by the OWHA. She had never bothered to ask. Alexis had no clear idea of where to begin her search. She didn’t want to ask the custodian for help in locating the site. She didn’t want it advertised around town that she was aware that William Fitzgibbon had lived and died.
