Red Ochre Falls

by Kristen Gibson

  Welcome home. Only time would tell what the house had in store for us.

  CHAPTER 3

  Mom and I grabbed a couple suitcases and rolled them up the handicap ramp to the side door, not the front. It felt like the door was meant for the hired help—us. As soon as we got inside, my nose crinkled at the smell of new carpet and strong flowers. The inside was well lit, which helped reduce the spook factor.

  Mom pointed left. “Those stairs lead up to our apartment.”

  The side door allowed us quick access, like a regular apartment building, instead of an entrance for the lowly help. I took a breath.

  “The door ahead leads to the viewing room.” She pulled a bag off her shoulder and set it down.

  “Do you mean there are dead people here?”

  “It’s a funeral home, Mattie. Of course there are dead people. We discussed this already.” Some days it was hard to be patient with me.

  My eyes darted from the viewing room door only a few steps ahead of where we stood, then to the stairs leading to our place a few steps to the left. I’d figured it out. The viewing room sat below our apartment. “You didn’t tell me we’d be living right above them!”

  “At least they’re prepped and dressed by the time they’re under us,” she said half-jokingly.

  “And why wouldn’t they be?” I was totally annoyed she left out that detail.

  “Well,” she paused, searching for the right words. “They aren’t like that when they first get here.”

  “What do you mean? Don’t they come dressed and ready to go? Are you telling me we’ve got random dead people lying around naked?” I couldn’t believe we’d engaged in a conversation about dead people. I was too young for this! I needed to be shopping, and texting my friends about guys and classes, or complaining about work.

  The problem since mom told me about our new “residence” was I’d been closed off and told none of my friends about our new living situation. Jocelyn and I hadn’t talked much lately, and she should’ve been the first to hear news this huge. But I hadn’t told a soul. It’s a lot to keep inside and I really needed to vent about it, ASAP.

  “Sweetie, this is a full-service business. They receive, embalm, dress, and prepare the bodies here. They also held viewings and services for the deceased.”

  “Eww, old naked people.” I acted twelve, but it sounded gross. Was it too late to leave? Something moved and I screamed.

  “Whoa, take it easy. Grandpa Stanley hardly ever runs around without his clothes, so all the old naked folks around here are dead.” My heart pounded and my face flushed when he winked at me.

  Mom put a reassuring hand on my arm.

  He stood nearly a foot taller than me in dark suit pants and a white business shirt that hugged his upper body. He unbuttoned the cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. Who was this tall Romeo with a gorgeous smile, and…incredible blue eyes? Was I staring? Did anybody notice? He extended his hand. I tried to park a heavy suitcase, but lost my grip and the thing landed on my foot.

  “Ouch!” I yelped then clasped a hand over my mouth. I tried to move, but tripped over mom’s bag instead. Mom made a move to help; only he was faster. In one move he stopped me from tumbling head over rump and snagged the suitcase so I didn’t klutz my way to the emergency room. I couldn’t figure out what it was, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He held my gaze for a second. Electricity shot through me. We walked to the nearest table and sat down in a couple of plush chairs.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I didn’t mean to trip over my own feet, sort of a bad habit. Thanks for saving me.”

  “Anytime.”

  Maybe he was so focused on helping, he didn’t catch me gawking at him. My face turned several shades of red. Where is a rock I can crawl under?

  I was so busy worrying about my first impression I nearly forgot mom was still with us.

  “You okay?” She brushed some hair from my face.

  I was embarrassed at what I’d done, and wasn’t sure if mom caught me staring at the guy. “I’m okay mom, just a bruised ego. Should be fine in no time.”

  He let out a laugh and I smiled back.

  “Well, we’ve got more stuff,” mom explained.

  “I should be ready to unload in a couple minutes.”

  Since her heart attack, I hardly let her do anything. I felt bad she was alone when it happened. The school pulled me out of a history class when they broke the news. I was happy to get out of another one of Professor Conklin’s Civil War lectures, but would have preferred it if mom had never been hurt at all.

  I begged my ex, Ethan, to drive me home and he agreed immediately. Mom liked him—he was generally polite and a pre-med student. We made a go of it for a while, but it didn’t work out. There was something about him that felt more like brother than boyfriend.

  When mom got sick, it’d been a year since the break up, and Ethan moved on with a freshman or two. Despite our awkward end, he was a good choice to drive me home. He owned a car and lived close.

  Being a nice guy, he helped me get home. We spoke with the Dean of Students, an awesome lady who looked like she could have walked right out of Haight-Ashbury circa 1960. Mrs. Thayer excused us from classes to make the trip. She told me to take as much time as I needed, and said there would be a place for me when I returned. It was a relief because losing scholarships would have made it impossible to come back.

  We didn’t have a lot of money. Most of the money mom made went to our middle-class home, maintaining a reasonably priced car, and keeping food on the table. She’d done it my whole life and part of me felt like she was left hanging when I went to school. I breathed a little easier knowing I was headed home to help. I just didn’t know what it would be like when I got there. I had no idea she’d be in such rough shape.

  Ethan took me straight to the hospital. Mom was asleep when we arrived. She’d had some problems during surgery, but the doctor said she was tough. He expected she’d recover, but with some limitations.

  Mom had monitors taped all over when I finally got there. She looked pale and tired. Her breathing was ragged, but eased when I took her hand. I hadn’t realized how much I needed her until then, so I held her hand and cried.

  Mom raised me. Dad left when I was a baby, so she did it all. Played every role: mom, dad, coach, and friend. She fixed stuff around the house and knew her way around just about everything. What she didn’t know, she learned. While we struggled during my high school years—what teenage girl and her mom don’t have trouble then? —we reached a place where we could talk again without fighting about her being the head of the house, and me being old enough to make my own decisions. At least we were working on it and could survive under the same roof with minimal eruptions. It’s tough having two strong personalities in the same house.

  I knew she needed me. In the hospital room, before we even spoke, I resolved to help her any way I could. No matter what it took, so I left school and never looked back. The memory faded as I wandered back to the present.

  “I’m almost good as new. Um…what did you say your name was?” I tried to stand and wobbled a bit until he caught me. He was younger than I expected a business owner would be. My mom mentioned their family ran the place when we talked about moving here, but I’d partly tuned her out hoping our problems would go away, and we could stay in our home. It didn’t work.

  “It’s Garrett.” He shook my hand as an official introduction. “Nice to meet you.”

  Since we were doing the handshake thing, I responded. “I’m Mattie.”

  “Your mom mentioned it. I just finished closing up for the night. Give me the keys. Been sitting most of the day and could use some exercise.” He opened his hand. Was he speaking a foreign language? I tilted my head as if it would help me understand better. He chuckled. “Can I have the keys? Please?”

  What was it about him that distracted me? I needed to shake off whatever I was feeling. Did I hit my head? It sure felt like it. I grinned like an idiot
and got the keys out without looking away from him. He cupped my hands discreetly and took the keys. It happened so quickly only the two of us would have noticed. Was he flirting?

  He turned and walked away. I hadn’t looked before, but he looked good in his tailored pants and shirt. Okay, I did look, but his back was as nice as his front, and I really checked him out this time.

  Was I drooling over mom’s boss? I mean our boss? Our landlord, for cripes sake! Stop thinking about it! This was bad. Very bad. Stop it now! I tried to yell at myself in my head. I did it a lot. Only, it almost never worked.

  I expected Garrett to shake his head, or run, at the site of our beat-up, brown sedan parked next to the Faux-Haul, but he didn’t flinch. Not even when he saw the peeling paint and threadbare seats. Before he got to work, Garrett suggested we not draw too much attention to all the goodies we brought, so I told him to grab our bags out of the car. We didn’t need much to get through the night. The big stuff in the truck could wait until morning when my cousin, Zack, and his buddy planned to help. They were coming up from Louisville and planned to crash at a hotel.

  Garrett carried every bag upstairs. He insisted. Then he showed us the apartment and gave us our keys. Mom sat on a chair he brought up from downstairs while I blew up the air mattress. It wasn’t an ideal bed for her, but it would be better than the hard floor.

  “It’s getting late. I’ll let you two get some rest. If you need anything, just page me.”

  “Thank you,” mom said.

  Garrett walked me to the door.

  “We’ve got people coming in and out of here all day and night.” He showed me the keys and locks. “Just make sure you use the deadbolt and you should be fine.”

  “Thanks for everything.”

  “Sure.” His eyes stayed on mine. “See you in the morning.”

  “Goodnight.” I double-locked the door after he left and smiled. We’d see each other again, soon.

  The owners stocked the kitchen with dishes, napkins, silverware, and towels. Mom got a glass of water from the sink. I unloaded the cooler and made her bed. We washed up and shuffled to our new, but nearly empty bedroom. I looked out the window and could see some of the city lights. We were on the second floor and without curtains it felt a little exposed. We’d take care of it tomorrow, either with actual curtains or pinned up sheets. She sank onto the mattress and yawned, I crawled into the sleeping bag beside her.

  “I’m glad we made it. I love you, Mattie.”

  “Glad we made it, too. Love you, mom.”

  She sighed and drifted off within a couple minutes. I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes until sleep washed over me.

  CHAPTER 4

  The next morning we got an early start. I used a food finder app to locate the nearest breakfast shop and brought back a couple sandwiches and coffees. My cousin Zack texted me he and Tony were on the way, so I bought extra.

  By the time I returned, they were already hard at work, and Garrett was there too. Huh. Maybe he noticed how tired mom looked, because I saw him take a box out of her hands. Then he pointed her in the direction of a lawn chair and told her to sit. She obliged. Interesting, she never listened to me that easily. But, he was bigger than me, and the boss, or one of them.

  Sometime during the move-in, a long, black limo pulled into the driveway, and drove to the back of the house. The sun warmed up, so I went inside to take off my sweatshirt.

  I noticed the vending machine and wanted a cold drink. It wouldn’t take my dollar after repeated attempts to feed the machine. I went into the office to ask for change. No one was there, but I heard someone in the hallway. I hesitated, but didn’t think anything much could be going on, so I pushed open the door. No one was there either, which seemed odd. Then I heard voices behind the door at the end of the hall. Determined to get a cold drink, I followed the voices.

  I walked through another door and stopped short of a corpse. A blanket covered everything but his face and feet. I’d only ever seen the dead at funerals and on TV. This person looked completely different—he looked like he’d been doused by the sandman—both ends were covered in some kind of rust-colored powder. An antiseptic cleanser and something that smelled like the school Biology Lab hit my nostrils. My expression must have been something close to deer in the headlights shock. I heard the voices trail off and the door behind me closed. Garrett stood there dressed in scrubs. He smiled at me from behind his mask, but I panicked.

  “He’s dead, right?” I asked in a hollow voice.

  “Yes,” he spoke carefully. “How can I help you?”

  I stared at the white sheet and the strange face, and wondered what the rest of the body looked like. Some of the powder rubbed off onto the sheet as Garrett tried to cover him up. Even then, I just stared. His feet still stuck out, the guy was dead. I shuddered and took off. Air. Must get air.

  There were two doors between the nearest exit and me. I shoved one open quickly. The second door took longer, but once it was open wide enough to get through, I picked up speed and ran down the driveway. There was no traffic, so I didn’t stop. I kept going and ended up across the street in another parking lot. Not knowing if I’d hurl or pass out, I bent over and clutched my knees. My lungs didn’t burn, but I breathed hard. Hyperventilating, no doubt. A young guy about my age came toward me. He was medium height and build, wore a tailored dark suit, and carried a purple flag in his hand. He stopped near me and looked concerned.

  “Are you okay?”

  My head said no, so did my body. He directed me to sit on a bench near the edge of the lot. Brick pavers below it created a circular pattern around which, boxwoods and some late season yellow-orange marigolds were planted. I flashed back to the body and decided I should sit. He waved the flag to another guy sitting in a parked car, engine running. I noticed the lot was full of cars.

  “Thanks, I think so.”

  “What were you running from?”

  “A dead guy.”

  “Your first?” He smiled, more relaxed than when we met. His warm eyes looked inviting, a good asset to have in this business.

  “My first, outside of funerals and crime shows. All he had on was a sheet, and it didn’t cover everything.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, you’re not the first one to run, and you won’t be the last.” He looked at me with a pleasant and comforting smile. The blood returned to my head and I blushed.

  “I’m Derek.” He put his hand out to shake mine. “Derek Davis.”

  “I’m Mattie. Mattie Harper.” I shook his hand and my eyes wandered to the engraved stone sign on the driveway. It read: Davis and Sons Funeral Home. “Is this place yours?”

  “It’s our family’s. We’ve been here almost as long as those guys.” He pointed across the street to the other funeral home—my new home. “I noticed you moving in earlier. Are you new to the area?”

  I nodded yes, and listened to him explain a little about himself. How he’d gone away to school, but came back to help run the business. He signaled the driver, in what I now realized was the hearse, to go get something. A few moments later, the guy brought me some water.

  “Thanks.” The water quenched my thirst. Things felt a little more normal.

  “Your color looks better. Tell me something about you. Where are you from?”

  Just then Garrett walked up in his street clothes.

  “Derek,” Garrett said curtly, and they did a firm, one and done handshake. Garrett stepped closer. His stance softened, but his eyes showed concern. “Are you okay, Mattie?”

  “Sorry, I forgot that you sometimes have people, er, bodies in there. I was thirsty,” It was all I could muster, and it was the truth. Both of them laughed at me.

  “What are you guys, like thirteen?” My freak-out was embarrassing, but they thought it was funny? Maybe they were right to snicker. I couldn’t help but shake my head and laugh, too.

  Garrett inserted himself between Derek and me. He put his arm around my waist and helped lift me off the bench
. “We should get back,” he said.

  “Yeah, we’re just about to head over to the cemetery,” Derek said. “Mattie, if you want to come over later, I can give you a tour. No dead bodies. Scouts Honor.” He held up his hand, crossed his chest to indicate he meant it. I giggled.

  Garrett stared him down. I wondered why, figured it had something to do with the family rivalry, and shook it off. Then we headed home.

  The Mackenzie house looked different from across the street—it stood out as the highest point on the block. Framed by trees and flowers it didn’t look so blank, and the trim was beautifully detailed—I made a mental note to read up on the home’s history sometime.

  Garrett walked me up the front steps through the glass double-doors. He made sure I was good, and left to get down to business in the back room.

  After everything I saw, work could wait. It was time for a mental break. I let Zack and Tony know they could help themselves to the cold cuts in the fridge, and I crashed on the bedroom floor. My stomach felt uneasy. My head hurt. Reality set in. This business needed people—bodies, like the rust-powdered guy downstairs—to keep it afloat. It made sense, but I’d have to adjust to the whole bodies thing. I couldn’t relax, so I washed up. The icy water hurt my skin at first, but I felt refreshed once I toweled off. After a change of shirts and a sandwich, I got back to work.

  Mom called me over as she positioned a lamp in the living room. Even though we’d been unloading most of the day, and had a lot more to go, she wanted me to meet the other owners.

  As we approached the back office, we heard someone on the phone.

  “Yeah, Bert, I told you this weekend doesn’t work. You have to cover. I already made plans.” Garrett paused while the other guy said something.