The Morbid and Sultry Tales of Genevieve Clare (20 page)

The week Ahren had officially moved in, I went into my old bedroom and checked the top of the closet for Twister. I was sure I could turn it into a filthy sex game. But when I walked in, something rushed right over me, and I was sure it was a ghost. Eden Hills was old. We lived next door to a cemetery. Conditions were perfect for a haunting. And I would have given anything to talk to her, to see her ghostly apparition just once.

It still hasn’t happened.

But now, not only did I talk to my mom when I was in that room; I secretly stashed all my wedding stuff in there. I wanted to keep some things from Ahren as a surprise. If he opened the dresser drawer and took a closer look, the surprise would have been ruined.

And now, it was the end of a very long summer. Ahren kept busy with five homes he maintained. Other than that, he was studying for his real-estate license. We had money, our futures were both secure without having to work, my home—now our home—was paid for, but idle hands and all…  I think we were both looking for something to occupy our time. Ahren didn’t spend much and rarely accepted money from clients. At the beginning of his career, when he took over his dad’s business, he took on new projects, learned more about garden design and landscaping, but he said he wanted to stay in Greer’s Rest. He was ready to come home and begin our life here. I honestly didn’t know what I wanted to do, but truly, we were both happy.

In the meantime, we were also making Eden Hills shine in preparation for two weddings, Rocky and Cosmo in October, and mine and Ahren’s in December.

But tonight, Ahren and I had a date.

It took some deep soul searching, but I’d made a decision about my mourning business. It had started with wanting to help people, to give them that someone not associated with the funeral home; someone they knew would honor their last wishes or hold their hands through one of the shittiest days of their lives. I then remembered what my gran had said about the people at The Elms who had no one.

That’s how my business had started, and then I began to receive requests for all sorts of things, most of which were fabulous. It fed my morbid fascination, but some skimmed the edge of a morally grey area. At first, I thought nothing of it, but now, it was just a way to distract myself from living my own life. From feeling. And ultimately, from healing. I’d been in a perpetual state of grief for the last ten years.

I didn’t discuss it with Ahren because I knew, though he never voiced his opinion, I knew how he felt. Instead, I’d fiddled with my website and showed him the statement which now graced the main page:

When it comes to timing, Death can be quite inconsiderate. I will do my best to return your inquiries as quickly as possible. Thank you for your understanding.

“That’s what I have for now, just until I work out new packages. I want to help the oldies, and I may take the odd special request, but…” I let my words drift, not bothering to finish my statement.

Ahren’s arms wrapped around me and said, “You’ve grieved enough, Gen.”

I supposed it would make the jobs I took as special requests more special. I did like getting dressed up, and I loved being able to help people in their time of need, but I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Even if they likely deserved it, it wasn’t me anymore, and probably never was to begin with. When you feel ambivalent about life in general, it’s harder to use good judgement.

I found Ahren at the fireplace in our living room, or sitting room, as Gran called it.

“I’m getting married; my best friend is getting married. The house is being prepared; my fiancé is dismantling the fireplace in the living room, and I have about three thousand pumpkins to carve.” I giggled at the picture in my head of Rocky’s wedding ‘vision’. “Anyway, I have a lot going on. I don’t have time to throw myself into open graves anymore.”

I was trying to convince myself I was doing the right thing.

Ahren asked, “Are you trying to convince me or convince yourself?”

Damn it, he knew me so well.

“Both, I think.” It was better to always be honest in my conversations with him. Skating around the truth just wasted time.

He held a chunk of mortar in his hands and asked, “Do you want me to point out the obvious?”

Ugh. If he did, he knew it could cause an argument. This was huge. He knew it, and I knew it, but right then, I needed his truth. So I nodded.

He placed the chip of solid mortar in the pocket of his jeans and said, “Gen, when you stop going to these funerals, you stop going to their funerals. You’re not saying goodbye, but you are letting go of that grief a little bit more. You lost a lot that day, and you let it consume ten years of your life.”

“I didn’t let it; it just did, Ahren.” Beginning of argument, me on the defense, just as I’d predicted.

He came up to me and reached out to take my hand and hold it over his heart. “Baby…” He shook his head. “At some point, you knew what you were doing probably wasn’t healthy, and you balanced that by helping people like Bryce and Delilah. But before Delilah came along, you didn’t care what you were doing, as long as you wore the same suit you wore to your parents’ and Gran’s funeral, the same hat, the same gloves… I think it was easier for you to live in the pain instead of out of it, because you simply could not imagine how to live without them.”

Damn. I took a deep breath and let it out. He was right, and I’d asked for his honesty. I knew what he was saying, totally.

“I was there, Gen. I watched it happen, and I understood your need to immerse yourself in that world. You forget that you and I are a lot alike in that way. I did the same thing, immersing myself into Dad’s business.”

I nodded, this time my eyes wet with unshed tears.

“But I want to try living with you. We both saw it, how your parents were, how my parents were. They were happy, they were in love, and they fucking loved life.”

“I think we should have an annual Halloween party. I’m gonna wear the dress that Rock created. Instead of maid-of-honor, I’ll be Mistress of Eden Hills.” I grinned through my tears and sniffles. “And you’ll be Master of Eden Hills. And our kids will be, I don’t know, Minions of Eden Hills.” I laughed.

He chuckled. “Minions. That sounds like a lot.” He quickly recovered and went straight back into the heavy. “Tonight, Gen. Me and you, this is our life and we’re living it.”

He moved his hand to the back of my neck and brought my face to his. He brushed my lips with the scruff of his beard, which did things to me, dirty things; things that made me want to rip off his clothes, right there in the living room. But I had somewhere to be.

“I have to meet Bryce,” I said quietly.

His hand reached down as his fingers dug roughly into my ass cheek. “I have to match this mortar. That stone mason guy is coming to look at the cemetery in about a half an hour. I’ll ask him about matching this so we can get the fireplace repaired.”

“Love it when you talk to me about concrete. It makes me think about your cock,” I said against his lips.

“Really?” he smirked.

“Hard.” It only took the one word.

He was pressed into me, concrete-like cock and all. “Later,” he promised.

Then he kissed me. Both hands now digging into my ass—hard, rough, thorough and fantastic.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

On his way out the door, he said, “I made you an appointment to get your feet done at three. I got Guava and Rock to buy you sandals and shorts. They’re in a bag at the front of the closet. Jeans and Chuck’s, Gen, I love them. But it’s faster getting you out of shorts and sandals than jeans and Chuck’s.”

I ran upstairs and changed, not really caring about the change to my wardrobe, and more impressed with Ahren’s ability to book me in for a pedicure.

****

I sat across from Bryce with my newly, beautified feet propped on an oversized terra cotta pot in the garden at The Elms.

“Cookie, what’s on your mind?” Bryce was busy with his strawberry shortcake. I was very careful with its transport, because Mrs. Brewster had created a masterpiece of angel food cake, fresh vanilla bean whipped cream, and local strawberries, the likes of which I had only tasted when Ahren’s dad had brought berries to my mom.

I was thinking about strawberries when Bryce’s question registered, and I finally answered honestly. “Sorry, I was thinking about strawberries.”

“Likely story,” he bristled.

“I shit you not. I was honestly thinking about strawberries. Ahren’s dad, well, you knew Adam, he used to bring my mom a tray every season. She’d go buy an angel food cake from Brewster’s, though she always bought a big tub of Coolwhip. Not this delicious delight Mrs. Brewster makes.” I was using my finger to gather any residual cream from my plate when I mock scolded it. “Do not deny my desire for cream. Get on to my finger!”

I grinned at Bryce, then I took a deep breath and tried to locate my balls. I was not able to do this on the first go, so I tried again, and this time, I didn’t find my balls, but I did find courage. “Bryce?”

“Finally,” he said with annoyed humor. “What is it, Cookie? Your toes look good. ”I looked at my freshly painted toenails. “Thanks. How do you feel about plaid?”

“Thinkin’ about paintin’ your toenails plaid for Christmas?”

“No.” I was now lifting my feet distractedly to make my flip flops flop against my feet and was satisfied with the ensuing flap flap sound.

“Cookie?” he asked impatiently.

I smiled with delight that I could still do something I hadn’t done since I was, oh, about eight. “Yeah?” I replied.

“Ain’t gettin’ any younger over here.”

“Think you can walk about fifteen feet if I’m holding onto you?”

I smacked my feet down, grateful for the summer clothes on the ninety-eight-degree day. It was scorching outside, middle of the afternoon. It took Ahren all summer to get me out of my Chuck’s and jeans, but a grab of my ass and the promise of easy access and sexual gratification, Ahren-style, forced my hand.

“I reckon I can do it on my own,” he replied.

“Well, come with me to the front desk. I have to pick something up from Ruby, and I want to make sure I get her before her dinner break. It’ll be a nice change for us.” I didn’t give him a chance to comment; I stood up and offered him my arm. “Let’s go.”

We took it slowly. I was conscious of every step, not wanting to rush him, but at the same time, not wanting to make him feel like an invalid either. I knew Bryce was a proud man. So when we reached the front desk, I said to Ruby, “Jesus, did you see this guy dragging me behind him? I’m exhausted!”

“I know,” she drawled as if annoyed. “Does it to me all the damn time, except he makes sure I walk ahead of him. It’s ‘cause he stares at my butt.”

“Bet your sweet ass I stare at it,” he affirmed.

Ruby winked at him.

“Ruby, you mind grabbing that thing?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said with a knowing smile. “I’ll be right back.”

She returned only a moment later with a garment bag. I laid it on the counter in front of us and unzipped it. “Bryce, again, how do you feel about plaid?” I didn’t want to keep him standing for too long, so I mocked him with his own words, “Ain’t gettin’ any younger over here.”

“Well, Cookie, I think that looks just fine. This for Ahren?” He reached his hand out and touched the velvet lapel.

“No,” I said softly. “It’s for the man I want to walk me down the aisle, to give me to the man he said would protect my heart.”

I could see he was struggling with his emotions, but he kept his hand to the suit, and, not looking at me, replied, “I like plaid, Cookie. A whole lot.”

****

Ahren had big plans for the night. We were going somewhere special for our date. All I knew was, we were traveling there by canoe. He did all the packing, which didn’t look like much, but he dragged a long, jumbo-sized canoe down the steep riverbank behind the cemetery and anchored it to the old dock. 

When the sun was just about to set, he said, “Grab that picnic basket and meet me out front. I’ll lock up.” And with a grin creeping up at the edges of his mouth, he met me out front a few minutes later.

“You’re up to something,” I accused with narrowed eyes.

“I’m really not.” He put the keys in his pocket and took the heavy basket from me.

“Feels like you’re up to something.” I followed him toward the river.

He said nothing, just shook his head as we walked.

Once settled in the canoe, he pushed us off, me at the front, him at the back, and handed me a paddle. I think mine was more for looks than power. We were quiet for a while, just taking in the quickly darkening sky, then I said over my shoulder, “Bryce Oskin is going to give me away.”

The canoe started to drift toward the riverbank under a tangle of tree branches. I ducked awkwardly, almost dropping the paddle as I tried to look behind me without tipping us into the water.

“Relax, Gen. I’m stopping for a sec.” There was humor in his voice since I couldn’t hide my physical panic.

I dodged another branch as Ahren tied a rope from the boat to the tree to secure us there.

“Is everything o—” I wasn’t able to finish my question because his mouth was on mine, and the paddles were thrown into the boat as he gave me a deep kiss that instantly made me wet. It also made the canoe move in a way that might make our clothing wet, too.