by Blythe Baker
When we were children, she would often make lemonade and pie for Suzy, Billy, and I when we would spend our days outside playing. I wondered why she could be calling the funeral home.
After another long pause, Mr. Gentry spoke again, and I felt my heart break a little. “Yes, ma'am. Todd's cremation will take place first thing tomorrow, and the ashes will be returned to you.”
Another stretch of silence.
“Well I’m afraid I don’t have too much control over that. It’s company policy.”
This time the silence was much longer than the others.
“Perhaps we could work something out, but you’ll have to talk to Peter about all of that. I’m just the receptionist, after all.”
A short pause.
“Be sure to stay in touch, and Betty – if there’s ever anything I can do for you don’t hesitate to give me a call.”
He hung up the phone and sighed. “This work is so much harder when you’re in a small town. You know every single client personally.”
I nodded my head respectfully. Working with people he knew personally, talking about the process and the financial aspect of it when their loved one had passed just days ago, I imagined that couldn't be easy.
“When did he pass?” I asked quietly.
Mr. Gentry looked up. “Oh, uh, a few nights ago. He went peacefully in his sleep. 78 years is a great, long life, but still, I hate to see Betty so tore up. The worst part is that she can’t even afford a proper burial. Cremation was the only other option.”
“That’s terrible,” I said.
Mr. Gentry nodded. “It’s far too often the sad reality. Death is something we all face, and of course someone would find a way to make a profit from it. Ours is a booming industry, I’ll give it that much. Fads come and go, but dying? That’s never going away.”
I was surprised to hear this type of opinion coming from a man who worked in a funeral home, of all places. He seemed to notice my change in expression as he shrugged his shoulders.
“What? Just ‘cause I don’t like profiting from death doesn’t mean I can’t work here. If you can’t beat it then you might as well join it. It’s a necessary evil.”
We chatted a bit more about the funeral industry and the Bostics. By the time I glanced outside it was beginning to get dark.
“Oh!” I exclaimed, cutting Mr. Gentry's last statement short. “I’m so sorry but I have got to get going! I have a dinner I have to get to.”
Mr. Gentry smiled. “No, it’s no trouble at all. Sorry to keep you chatting. It was nice catching up with you, Emma.”
I said goodbye and quickly made my way outside.
Chapter 16
I had nearly reached my truck when I noticed a shape out in the distance behind the funeral home. Upon closer observation, I realized it was Peter Snipes. He was covered in dirt and held a shovel in his hand. Hadn't Mr. Gentry said he was in his office? Why would Peter Snipes let Mr. Gentry think he was in there when he was really outdoors? And what could Snipes possibly be doing outside with a shovel?
I dismissed the first ridiculous thought that his occupation naturally suggested. He might be the director of the funeral home but Snipes was no grave digger and this was no cemetery. Perhaps he was doing a little landscaping around the home.
I began walking towards him, and we reached each other at the halfway point.
“Peter Snipes?” I asked carefully.
His bushy eyebrows twitched in response, and his hand gripped the rod of the shovel.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
I outstretched my arm and he shook my hand with his free one. I noticed the dirt caked up under his fingernails and tried my best out of politeness not to wipe my hand off on my pants.
“I’m Emma Hooper, an old friend of Prudence's,” I said.
He looked at me blankly for a moment, and then began walking towards the funeral home. It seemed a slightly rude response and I wondered what Prudence had seen in this brusque man.
“She never mentioned an Emma,” he called out behind him. It was obvious he was skeptical, and had no interest in talking to me.
I knew I had to do something. This could be my only chance to talk to him before Prudence – Well, before the worst might happen.
I called, “Well, she mentioned you.”
He still continued walking, so I knew I had to push harder. “I know about the engagement,” I blurted out in a moment of boldness.
That stopped him in his tracks. He turned and faced me.
Making his way closer, he spoke in a hushed tone. “Sh–She told you? We were trying to keep it quiet –”
I cut him off. “Why?”
He looked at me, as if confused.
“Why were you trying to keep it quiet?” I repeated, the accusation loud and clear in my voice.
Peter Snipes sighed and for a moment he looked genuinely distraught. Maybe he wasn’t such an unpleasant man after all, at least where Prudence was concerned.
It was only then that I noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and the way his skin seemed to cling to his bones. It was evident he was not getting nearly enough sleep, or food for that matter. This was a man in the deepest depths of loss, grieving for his love, and I was interrogating him and judging him for being brusque.
I felt a pang of guilt for the second time that day. Still, grieving or not, Peter seemed inclined to answer my question. His words were slow, deliberate, almost as if he had said them before.
“With all the talk after Preacher Jacob's death... Prudence was going through a lot. There
were rumors, you know? Everyone acts like they care, but at the end of the day all they care about is what big thing they can gossip about next. We refused to let it be us. With Cindy already tarnishing Prudence's good name, we didn’t want anything else to have to deal with. We just wanted to be happy. We were happy...” His voice trailed off and he looked as though he might cry.
He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Well, I thought we were. I don’t know why she did what she did. How could I have not seen the signs? She’s gone, and I couldn't help her.” He put his hand against his head and his shoulders moved up and down as he cried softly.
“She’s not gone yet, Peter. You can always have hope. There's always a chance that she could come out of this, and you’ll get that wedding you planned on.”
He shook his head and mumbled from between his hands, “I lost whatever hope I had when I heard about what she had done to herself.”
“Peter, I don’t think Prudence tried to take her own life.” Maybe I should have kept that to myself, but I couldn’t stand to see this man in so much pain, thinking his fiancé tried to take her own life because she wasn’t happy. He deserved to know the truth, even if I didn’t know the whole truth just yet myself.
“What are you saying right now?”
I breathed in, knowing how much of a shock this must be to him. “I think someone else did this. I believe someone made an attempt on her life.”
He shook his head slowly. “No. She took the pills. There was already an investigation.”
I disagreed. “Prudence was happier than she has been in a long, long time. If there had been signs, don't you think you would have seen them?”
Again he shook his head sadly. “I wish I could believe you. But Prudence tried to kill herself. She put herself in that coma. There’s no use thinking any different. Goodbye, Miss Hooper.”
He headed off into the funeral home without another word.
I wondered if I should go after him to apologize for the comments that had obviously only troubled him further, but the darkening sky told me that if I didn’t leave at that moment I would be late for dinner. I rushed over to my truck and made my way to Billy's.
My mind was racing the whole ride there. So Prudence really had been seeing Peter while he was still with Cindy. That gave Cindy more motive than anyone else. Still, would she really go as far as to try and kill Prudence? All over Peter? It seemed to be the
only explanation, but I still could not quite figure Peter Snipes out.
Why would he cheat on Cindy, instead of just ending the relationship? Why hadn’t he believed me when I suggested Prudence hadn’t done this to herself? No, Cindy might have the most motive, but there was also something about Peter Snipes that didn’t add up.
Chapter 17
I arrived at Billy's house, more than fashionably late, and hurried to the door. I knocked only twice before the door swung open and I was greeted by Billy wearing a huge grin. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it.”
I made my way inside and was greeted by a delicious smell. “And miss out on your spectacular cooking? No way,” I teased. Billy had a natural gift for cooking. When we were younger he was always coming up with new food inventions. Most of them were completely inedible, like the time he invented a ketchup and strawberry jam sandwich, but when he did something right, it was absolutely delectable.
He used to dream of being a chef, but in the end he decided cooking was not enough. He wanted to do something selfless, to dedicate his life to serving others. It was a surprise to most people when he pursued a career in the medical field, but not to me. I knew Billy better than anyone, and his career choice just made sense. It was just who he was, who he had always been.
He led me to the wooden table in his dining room and pulled out a chair. The table was set with beautiful china adorned with small green vines painted along the edges of the plates and cups. The silverware wore a similar vine engraving on the handles of each piece of cutlery. It was clear that these beautiful pieces of dining ware had not been used in quite some time.
I looked around and took a moment to admire all the beautiful photography hanging around the room. One photo was of a rain puddle, a leaf floating gently along. Another featured a child sitting on a bench, her mother squatting down in front of her tying her shoe laces. The one that stuck out the most, however, was of an old man sitting on a corner, face turned up to the sky, eyes closed as if he was praying.
“These photos are amazing.” I looked at Billy. “Mind sharing the name of the photographer with me? I’d love to get a few of their pieces of my own.”
Billy smiled. “Well, I’m sure I could get you some of their photos no problem. I’m the one who took them, after all.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Really? You took these?”
He nodded. “Yep. I was pretty big into photography in high school, remember?”
Of course I remembered. He had made life miserable for me and Suzy for nearly two months, following us around, taking photos at any given opportunity. I chuckled at the memory, “Well yeah, but these are exquisite!”
I tore my attention away from the photos and locked eyes with Billy, who was grinning even bigger than he had when I’d first arrived. I glanced away. In the middle of the table was a vase with a single rose, and a candle flickered dimly next to it. I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps Billy saw this evening as something other than what it was. Before the thought had any more time to sink in, Billy made his way to the kitchen and walked out a few moments later with a huge bowl in one hand and a stack of plates and small bowls in the other.
He set down the biggest bowl and I saw it was filled to the brim with spaghetti. He brought out a plate with two plump, perfectly cooked steaks, a bowl full of mashed potatoes, and another bowl of salad.
“What is all of this?” I asked, mouth gaping in awe of the large amount of food for only two people.
“Well,” he said as he made his way back into the kitchen, “I asked if you wanted steak or spaghetti, and you didn’t give me a straight answer.” He came back out with a bottle of wine. “So we’re having both,” he finished with a charming smile.
I laughed and felt the tops of my cheek getting flushed. “Billy, you have really outdone yourself.”
He smirked. “I’m not too sure if I can agree with that. I think I’ll be eating spaghetti leftovers for a while – and I don’t even like spaghetti.” This sent both of us into a fit of laughter.
The night was spent reminiscing over old memories, drinking, laughing, and eating until we were both too full to take another bite.
“Oh man, I am going to be so bloated I might not even fit into my dress tomorrow.”
Billy chuckled. “I don't think Suzy would be too happy about that. Can you just imagine her reaction?”
I laughed so hard I nearly spit out my drink. “She would have a break down! She has worked so hard to get everything perfect for this wedding, but still her face would be priceless.”
Billy raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you want to see that face so badly, then who am I to stop you?” He got up and walked into the kitchen. I wondered what he was doing. Moments later, he emerged holding a chocolate cake with both hands.
“What? You made cake too? Billy, I can not eat that.”
He set it down and began cutting a slice. “Not even one slice?”
The smell was tantalizing, but I knew I had to resist. “I’m the maid of honor. I have a duty to the bride, and part of that duty is making sure I can fit into my dress on her big day!”
Billy chuckled and threw his hands up in mock defeat. “Alright, alright. You've got me there.”
We sat in comfortable quietness for a moment before Billy broke the silence. “She finally made it.”
The sound of his voice snapped me out of my wondering thoughts of Prudence and all the questions I still had. “Hmm?” I asked.
“Suzy. She has come a long way. It feels like only yesterday we were a couple of kids getting ourselves into trouble. I can’t believe she’s getting married tomorrow. Don’t get me wrong, Brian is a great guy. It’s just, well, we will never really be the Three Musketeers again.” He looked down at his hands and took a sip of his drink.
“Maybe not,” I began, “but if Suzy loves Brian, then I love him too. We might not ever be the Three Musketeers again, but who says we can't be the Fabulous Four?”
Billy chuckled. “Always the optimist, Emma. You would not be yourself if you weren’t.” He leaned back in his chair. “I like the Fabulous Four. It has a nice ring to it.”
I sipped on my drink. “Not as nice as the Three Musketeers, but it works.”
Billy set his glass down and looked at me seriously. “Emma, are you okay? You’ve seemed so distracted all night. Like your mind is anywhere but here.”
There were so many things I wanted to tell him. I wouldn’t even know where to start. But I knew that I couldn’t tell, no matter how much I wanted to. It’s not exactly easy to explain that the spirit of a woman in a coma visited you, and now you’re having a hard time figuring out the truth. Of course, he already knew that I sometimes saw ghosts since my accident. But to him it was a scientific phenomenon with a medical explanation. Just misfiring synapses in my brain. He didn’t know how real the ghosts had become to me, or that I felt compelled to investigate their fates. That was too crazy for me to say aloud, even to Billy.
So instead I smiled and said, “Oh, well, to be honest with you, Billy, I’m just a little nervous about tomorrow. I mean there’s so many things that have to go right. I guess I'm also just a little nervous for Suzy. I want everything to go perfectly for her.”
Billy nodded in agreement. “I understand. I feel the same way. Suzy has worked so hard on all of this. We both know how she can be sometimes. That’s why I’m trying my best not to worry. If anyone could pull off an event as big as this, it’s Suzy.”
“I still can’t really believe tomorrow is finally the day. I’m going to be a crying mess.”
Billy shuffled in his chair. “Speaking of tomorrow, I know you will be busy during the ceremony doing your maid of honor duties, but I was thinking if it’s not too much to ask then during the reception, well, maybe –”
“OH. MY. GOSH!” I cut him off. “Is it really already 10:30?”
Billy looked forlorn as I got up and began grabbing my things. I didn’t really mind the time, but I had
a feeling I knew where this conversation was going, and I wasn’t looking forward to it. I made my way to the door.
Chapter 18
“Let me walk you out,” Billy offered.
“Oh no, it’s fine. I had a great time. The food was delicious!”
Billy started to say something, but I quickly made my way to the truck. I turned back to see him watching me from the doorway for a moment more before slowly closing the door.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief. What is it with this town? It seemed like no matter where I went the pressure was on for me to be with Billy. I cared about Billy, he meant more to me than probably anyone else, and that was exactly why I could never be with him. Why couldn’t anyone else see that?
Our friendship, our childhood, all of our memories… It was all so precious to me. None of it was worth throwing away. I couldn’t take that risk, no matter how badly anyone else wanted me to. No matter how badly even I wanted to.
Anyway, this wasn’t the time to be thinking about possible love interests. Tomorrow was the wedding and I still didn’t have a single clue as to what had happened to Prudence. As I began driving home, I had a bad feeling I couldn’t shake off. I pulled up to my grandparents’ home, and gently took the keys out of the ignition.
I crept in quietly, and made my way up to the attic as silently as possible. My grandparents were already asleep by now and there was no reason to wake them. Snowball was already sleeping next to my bed when I finally made my way inside. The little goat stirred and bleated softly when I sat on the bed.
“Shh. Go back to sleep, Snowball,” I cooed quietly. The goat only bleated again. I pushed myself off of the bed and onto the floor next to Snowball. I ran my hand gently along the smooth fur on Snowball’s back. “What am I going to do, Snowball? The wedding is tomorrow and I don’t feel one step closer to figuring this all out than I did when Prudence first came to me.” The goat curled up next to me and drifted off to sleep.