The Morbid and Sultry Tales of Genevieve Clare (27 page)

“See ya, Bryce. I got an extra piece for Mare. Make sure you come and haunt the cemetery soon, okay?”

He looked so peaceful, but not quite himself, of course. I gave Bryce a poke because that’s what he paid me to do, but I didn’t need to. It didn’t matter what chemicals they’d pumped into a body or how skilled an artist the mortician was; you know when nobody’s home.

“I think you should sprinkle fake snow around the house.” This was Rocky. I was having my final fitting and thanking everything on God’s green earth that she had the seamstress skills she did.

“I’m huge. Already, I’m huge.” This was me, complaining about my weight gain. I wasn’t huge, not at all, and I hadn’t really gained weight, but my body was definitely changing.

“Shut up. You’re not huge. Okay, how’s that feel?” She stepped beside me so she could look on in the full-length mirror.

“Actually, it feels just fine, Rock. Thanks so much. I love it.”

My dress was a chartreuse velveteen. Heavy, perfect for a December wedding. It was exactly what I envisioned, with a beautiful bodice, a bustle with a short train, and a small matching hat with tulle netting that covered my face. It was gorgeous and everything I ever wanted. I teased Ahren about having a plaid gown, not that I was against it, but on some level of OCD I wasn’t even aware that I had, I could not combine two different plaids into one dress. Every idea Rocky presented made me twitchy.

Instead, she made Ahren’s and Clark’s vest and tie in the Finnegan plaid. Clark was a new addition to the wedding party. I knew there were things Ahren had been keeping from me, but I assumed they were things he was working through, topics I either didn’t want to know, or didn’t need to know…like ex-girlfriends. I learned Ahren had shut himself off from anyone who was blood. He and Clark had been close, almost like brothers. When he lost his dad, he told Clark he was sorry, but he just needed time. Maybe months, maybe years, but when he was ready, he would call. After ten years, he finally made that call, and, of course, his aunts and uncles, being as nice as I remembered, were over the moon to hear from him. The call ended with Ahren asking Clark if he would stand up with him as his best man and wear the Finnegan tartan, to which he apparently said, “Fuck yeah.”

This left my side with the “Clare” tartan. Bryce was going to give me away and wear the vest and tie in my family colors. Rocky had a simple A-line dress with a little cap sleeve in the Clare plaid. All in all, even minus one significant member, the wedding party was going to look awesome, different, unforgettable.

The service would be at the house, followed by a buffet reception catered by Zephyr’s. For a Greek-themed restaurant, they had the best Christmas Eve menu you could imagine. The place was suggested by Cosmo, whose father, Zephyr Giannopoulos, owned it. Ahren and I went for a tasting, and I had no idea what they did to the turkey to make it so… Words could not describe the succulence of the meat. A table dedicated to various cupcakes of Brewster’s delights would cover dessert, and, basically, the entire town was invited to the celebration. Normally, the town had their own traditional Christmas Eve celebration. People would still leave our place and attend midnight carols and Mass. We asked that no one bring a gift, because being part of the Greer’s Rest community was all the gift we needed.

All these thoughts were going through my head when Rocky decided to have a mini heart-to-heart with me.

“I got lucky,” she said, her voice wavering as she spoke.

“Huh?” I asked.

“I never expected I’d have a dad to give me away and a brother who is, and always has been, a really nice guy. I got lucky.” She walked around me, looking over her handiwork. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

I took her hand, knowing, if I got too close, there was going to be a tear-fest for all, and I had ten tons of stuff to do. Not that I didn’t want to have this moment, but I knew there were going to be more just like it.

“I got lucky, too, Rock. I got the man of my dreams…twice. I got a second chance with him. Who gets to say that?”

“Gen—”

“It doesn’t matter how we got to where we are, and I’m not about to question it, not any of it. I’m happy, Ahren’s happy. I think we both have our moments when we freak out with the ‘what if’s,’ but all in all, it’s wonderful.”

I knew she wanted to say more. She was ready for the heavy, but I didn’t have it in me. Mostly because I’d been living the heavy for too long. I thought it was time to give myself a break.

“Now, I gotta get outta here. I’m meeting Ahren at Everly and Scott.”

She began to loosen the back of the dress and jumped into our normal, everyday banter. “I didn’t know you were doing funerals this month. I thought you were slowing down. In fact, I thought you took down your website?”

I was free from the bodice and felt disappointed when everything that felt nice and firm went into its normal, natural position. “Well, I have done all that, but I’m going to restructure. I won’t, you know, do anything that might get me stalked, sued, or hurt.”

“So…Everly and Scott?” she prompted.

“Pre-need.” Two words she knew, because my parents didn’t have one. I’d always said, if I ever got married, my first order of business would be a pre-need. Before kids came along. I hated that my child would have to answer questions about caskets, burials, and everything else that goes along with death. I’d learned that, most of the time, the family is completely unprepared. And if nothing has been set up, and you weren’t very nice to those you’ve left behind, they will put you in the ugliest clothes, the cheapest casket, and likely won’t even spring for flowers.

Not cool.

“Right. Tell me how it goes. Cosmo would love a trip to the funeral home.” She zipped the beautiful gown into a huge garment bag and followed me out to my car. “I can’t believe this thing is still running.”

“I don’t go far in it, and anyway, it has sentimental value.”

“It sure does.”

We stared at the car in silence until we both burst out laughing at the same moment, memories of our wild years burned, soaked, and stained into the seats of my car.

“Well,” she said, her laughter dying down. “I better let you go.”

I opened the back door and laid the dress across the back seat. “No, don’t ever do that, ‘k?”

“‘K,” she replied softly.

****

Mr. Derrick Everly was all business. I liked him. He’d seen me on many occasions over the years and seemed to tolerate my presence at some of the more questionable funerals I’d been hired for. But today, I was a client.

I could have asked Taylor, but I decided not to put him in that position. I wanted Taylor to attend my funeral, if he was still around, as a mourner. I liked the fact that I almost felt he and I were friends.

“I am assuming, Ms. Clare, that you have a good idea of what you would like to include in your contract?” he asked. Ahren had given me carte blanche in this area since I “knew my shit,” as he put it.

“Here ya go.” I handed him a folder with everything he needed, including a contract, a variety of caskets, details of a service, flowers, music…everything. We also included permission from the state to have Ahren, myself, and future generations that came from our union interred at Eden Hills. Since “our” cemetery was considered a historical landmark and was currently going through a listing process as such, we had to go by the new rules. There was plenty of room, and on the same day our marriage license arrived, so did a nice letter from the state saying yes, you can be buried at Eden Hills.

Yay!

We celebrated by having Chinese food with Mom, Dad and Gran.

They had no reaction to our news.

We wrapped things up with Derrick. I gave him our insurance information, as well as a lump sum to be used toward funeral costs. Anything left over would go to our child or children, God willing. And that was another thing—children.

See, Derrick was retiring in the next year. That left Taylor, who was all set to buy him out. He and Cheryl were going to run the funeral home together, and Taylor’s nephew, who had just graduated with a Mortuary Science degree, was happy to join the family business and eventually run it himself.

Ahren was saying thanks to Taylor, just shooting the shit, being neighborly, I assumed. I was thinking about Delilah. Then I thought about Bryce. Then I remembered having a conversation about the exorbitant cost of funerals one day during a very pricey service I was hired for.

Taylor had said in his well-practiced, soft voice, “Birth, marriage, and death. Those three businesses, you cannot go wrong. Everyone experiences two out of three.”

Ahren drove us to see his parents. He hadn’t been there on his own in a while, and I wished I’d had the foresight to bring flowers, though he insisted the news we were going to bring was better than flowers.

Across the lawn, with the sun just beginning to set, Ahren laid the thick wool blanket down for us to sit.

“We have news,” he told them. His tone wasn’t somber. He didn’t sound like a man marred by grief. It was like his parents had called and said, “Hey, why don’t you two come over for dinner next Thursday.” And there we were, sitting down, having pre-dinner drinks with the smell of good food cooking on the stove.

I remembered Aine being a wonderful cook. She brought something over she’d cooked, and my dad secretly told Ahren’s dad, “Your wife is a better cook than mine. Never repeat that to anyone.” But he told Aine, who found it hilarious, and she told Mom. They laughed about it, Aine saying that Adam insisted my mother’s baked goods were the best he’d ever had. The two women considered it even. So Mom always made a sweet, and Aine always made a savory.

On this thought, I was trying to decide if I wanted double chocolate mud cake, deep dish apple pie, or chili with cornbread from Marie Callender’s. Or all three. I could have done all three. Then Ahren’s hand squeezed mine.

“She’s due in July. If it’s a girl, we’ll name her Aine after you, of course.” He laid his free hand on his mother’s plaque. “If it’s a boy, since he’d be our first child, we’ll call him Adam. But after that, Gen is going to choose. I know you guys won’t mind.” He chuckled, but his demeanor changed, and that’s when I saw just a hint of his grief. “I wish you could all be here for this. We have people all around us, people who care, but they’ll never come close to replacing you.”

I pushed my body closer to his and let my hand rest on his chest.

“We need to get going before it gets too cold,” he said. “We’ll come by again soon. Love you guys.” Then he stood up, taking me with him.

“What’s going on?” I asked as he gathered up the blanket in a haphazard fold.

He pulled me into his chest, looked down, and said, “The gate closes at six. We have an hour.” Then he took my hand and pulled me behind him.

“An hour for what?” I called, but he didn’t answer.

He led us into an older part of the huge cemetery. This area was filled with stone columns, marble statues, and monuments adorned with crosses and angels. It reminded me just a little of Eden Hills, if Eden Hills hadn’t been neglected and pummelled by age and the elements.

Below a weeping willow that covered an above ground crypt, Ahren arranged the blanket over the top. He turned me in his arms so my back was to his front and pushed me forward. His hands went around my waist where he grasped for the top button of my jeans. I did my best to suck in and he noticed.

“Don’t try to hide your body from me, Gen. You know I love every inch of you, rounded, beautiful, all woman, all mine.” His chin was on my shoulder, the button gave way as he unzipped my jeans and pushed them down to my thighs.

“We might get caught here?” I breathed.

“But we won’t,” he said as his long fingers hooked into my panties, but didn’t move them any farther.

“I think doing it on someone’s grave might be seen as disrespectful,” I commented. It had always been a weird fantasy, but in reality, I let my mind wonder how I would feel if some couple fucked on my parents’ graves. “What if it was your parents’ graves?” I asked.

His hands skimmed over the satiny fabric of my panties. “They were young once. They lived. They made love. I don’t think they would mind at all.”

When he put it like that, I had to agree with him, and as his fingers pressed harder against me, I knew he could feel the wetness soaking through. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the feel of his fingers moving the fabric to the side and gliding the wetness over my clit.

“Should I stop?” he asked.

I took his fingers and guided them to dip inside me with my own. “No way.”

He chuckled and took one hand away to free himself from his jeans and boxers. A zipper one-handed was impressive. A zipper one-handed with an erection was a talent.

I could feel his hard length against the skin of my bare ass. His fingers edged my panties down as he slid between my cheeks, found his destination, and pushed against the opening of my sex. My head came up when he was barely inside me.

“God,
God
,” I gasped.

Then he pressed his back against mine, his mouth was at my ear again as he whispered, “We’ll be able to say we were young once. We lived and we made love wherever we could, Gen.”