“Yeah, we’re all set!” Ellie clapped.
Janet sighed. “Don’t get too excited, honey. Even if we can get the extra help, I’ve still got to talk to Dad and see what he thinks.”
“Daddy’ll want us to go for sure!” Ellie proclaimed. “And me and Heather’ll be really good for—”
“I know I promised to do this, Ms. Janet,” Laura Trahan announced, storming into the workroom, “but I can’t go back to the funeral home.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she dropped the van keys on the worktable. “All those weird people over there, it freaks me out.”
Stunned at the outburst, Janet fumbled with her shears. “What happened? Did someone do something to you?”
“N-no.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Bertha Lynn asked. “They’re only people for heaven’s sake. Just because there’s a lot of ‘em don’t mean nothing.”
“Yeah, but it’s not just that,” Laura said. She chewed on her bottom lip for a few seconds, then added, “When I went inside the funeral home the last time—I don’t know—I got the creeps bad, like there was a ghost hiding in there or something. I just can’t go back, Ms. Janet. I can’t.”
Janet stared at the eighteen-year-old’s long, pale face and felt her shoulders droop.
“Child, that’s nonsense,” Bertha Lynn said, trimming the bottom of a lemon leaf. Sweat dripped down the sides of her chubby face. “There’s no such a thing as ghosts.”
“Casper’s a ghost,” Ellie said, reaching for another block of Styrofoam. She stuck a eucalyptus branch into it.
“But he’s only make believe, sugar,” Bertha Lynn said.
While Ellie chattered away about Casper’s ability to hide in vacuum cleaners, which, in Ellie’s opinion, certified him as an authentic ghost because make believe spirits wore sheets that would have clogged up vacuums, Janet took a deep breath, worrying about what to do next. Another van-load of wreaths and plants sat waiting near the front of the workroom, and the long worktable, at which they sat, was covered with materials for more orders. Carnations, day lilies, roses, chrysanthemums, lemon, and huckleberry leaves, gerbera, daisies, baby’s breath, all in color ranges so vast it boggled the mind. How could she possibly finish the orders they had now and deliver them?
“Can you at least make one more run?” Janet asked. “I could call the funeral home and see if Chad’s available to help unload the van. I’m sure he’d carry the orders inside so you wouldn’t have to go in.”
Laura shook her head adamantly. “I’ll watch Ellie like always, Ms. Janet, if you want to make the deliveries yourself. But I don’t wanna go back there. I’m too scared.”
“Lord, child, you’re being silly with this ghost stuff. You need to stop that nonsense before it puts ideas in that baby’s head that she’ll start believin’,” Bertha Lynn said, indicating Ellie.
“But I already know there’s a ghost over there,” Ellie said. “I saw her.” She placed a pink carnation alongside the eucalyptus branch and smiled at her artwork.
Janet’s fingertips grew cold as she recalled all too vividly the trepidation she’d felt while walking through the funeral home yesterday.
“See?” Laura said.
Bertha Lynn scowled at Laura. “Stop that.”
“What did you see, honey,” Janet asked Ellie.
“The ghost.” Ellie placed her Styrofoam masterpiece on the table, then grabbed a piece of yellow ribbon, which she draped around the eucalyptus. “This morning when we was passing in front of where Daddy works, I saw her walking around and around outside in a pretty white dress.” Ellie clasped her hands together, then threw them apart. “Then she went poof, like that, right in the wall, just like Casper does. I guess she wanted to go inside but the door was locked.”
With her heart knocking painfully against her rib cage, Janet glanced over at Bertha Lynn and noticed the rose stem in the woman’s hand trembling slightly. As far-fetched as Ellie’s story sounded, her words held an eerie ring of innocence and truth.
“Please, Miss Janet,” Laura begged. “Just let me stay here.”
Bertha Lynn shook her head as though to clear the thoughts conjuring inside. “This is plum silly,” she said. “Now, Ellie, why don’t you go up front and ask Miss Pauline to give you my purse. It’s in the cabinet behind the front counter, and I think there’s a stick of Juicy Fruit in it callin’ your name.”
Ellie looked at her mother hopefully, and when Janet nodded her approval, she hopped from her stool and skipped off for the front of the shop.
As soon as Ellie disappeared from the workroom, Bertha Lynn said to Laura, “You see what happens when you feed that baby such nonsense? Her imagination done took off, and it’s only making yours worse!”
“But it wasn’t my imagination, Miss Bertha Lynn,” Laura said with a snivel. “You heard what Ellie said. I swear I felt—”
“Child, I don’t want to hear no more rubbish about that!”
“Arguing about this isn’t going to solve our problem,” Janet said, getting up from her stool. “If Laura won’t go back, I’ll have to make the deliveries myself—somehow.” She carried the finished rose arrangement to the front of the workroom, placed it beside the other completed orders, and eyed the growing pile. White geraniums—ghosts in white—white-hot dread bubbling in the center of Janet’s chest. What had Ellie seen? And what was going on at the funeral home?
“Seth’s in from offshore, and I can ask him to come over,” Laura offered. “He’s helping Dad clean out the garage this morning, but I know he won’t mind delivering when he’s done. He’d probably even use his one-ton and covered trailer. That way he can haul more in a load. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about him wigging out on you or anything because nothing freaks my brother out.”
“Good. Call him then,” Bertha Lynn said, then turned to Janet. “I’ll phone my girlfriends and get them over. Laura can keep Ellie company while you make a delivery or two, then Seth can take over deliverin’ when he gets here. That way everything’s covered and you and the girls can go like we talked about. Sound good?”
Janet hoisted two sympathy wreaths up by their stands, intending to load them in the van. “I guess so,” she said hesitantly. Although there were a lot of maybes associated with gathering the extra help, Janet felt confident Bertha Lynn would pull it off. What she wasn’t so confident about, however, was going back to the funeral home. Seth might not have issues with ‘wigging’ out, but she might.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Anna allowed Antony to help her from the car. He cupped her elbow gently, tending to her as one would something fragile, something bound to be broken. You’re too late, she thought, wishing she had the strength to say it out loud. Her legs moved mechanically as he steered her closer to the building. She looked down at her shuffling feet, wondering when she’d changed her shoes.
A crowd of people parted as they neared the entrance. Some cried, others whispered. Anna wanted them all to go away.
Antony stopped moving, and she peered up and saw Ephraim holding one of the large, wooden doors open, waiting for her. Once again, Antony tugged gently on her arm, but this time Anna held fast to where she stood. If she walked through those doors and stepped onto that wine-colored carpet, forever would begin. She would see the face of her beautiful Thalia for the last time.
Ephraim signaled for someone to hold the door open and went to Anna.
“You will enter,” he whispered, taking Antony’s place at her elbow. “Out of respect, our people wait for you. You will be strong and enter.”
Anna tried to remove her arm from his grasp, but he held tighter. I don’t have to be strong! she longed to scream at him. I don’t have to be anything anymore. Don’t you understand? There’s nothing that means anything anymore. Not you, not me, not anything! But all that came out of her mouth was a soft moan. She hated the world and its nerve to exist while she felt such pain. She hated that people still smiled and talked and thought about tomorrow. The world should s
top. It should all stop.
“Come,” Ephraim said, his voice a bit gentler. “I will be by your side.” He pressed a hand to the small of her back and urged her forward. “Come.”
Forever begins. Anna dropped her head and allowed the momentum of Ephraim’s body to carry her. Forever begins.
Cool air enveloped her as they entered the building, and Anna shivered until her teeth chattered. A tall, wide-shouldered man in a dark suit greeted them. She studied the ruler-straight part in his thick, blond hair.
“Mrs. Stevenson, my name is Michael Savoy,” he said, and extended a hand. When she didn’t take it, he lowered his hand to his side. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Please let us know if there’s anything we can do for you while you’re here.”
Anna looked into his blue-green eyes and saw compassion. She said nothing.
A white-haired woman dressed in black appeared by Michael’s side, and he said, “This is Sally Mouton, our hostess. She’ll be glad to attend to whatever needs you might have.”
Sally pointed to a wide desk in the north corner of the reception area. “I’ll be right over there. Just let me know if you need anything.” Anna sensed more nervousness than sympathy in the thin woman.
“If you’re ready . . .” Michael motioned with a hand to a large set of accordion doors ahead.
“No,” Anna pulled away from Ephraim. She wasn’t ready for forever yet. “Water,” she said. “I would like water please.”
“Now is not the time for this, Anna,” Ephraim said sternly. “There is much food and drink to come. First, we are to see our daughter.”
Anna ignored him and looked at Michael. “I would like water please,” she repeated.
“Anna—”
“I can get some for her,” Sally said quickly, then turned to walk away.
“No,” Anna said. “I would like to get my own water, please. Where do I find it?”
Sally peered up at Ephraim, then at Michael.
“We have coffee and bottled water in the lounge,” Michael said. “Or if you’d prefer, there’s cold water in the fountain down the next hall.”
A telephone on the desk rang, and Sally said quietly, “Excuse me,” then hurried away to answer it.
“Yes, cold water in the fountain, please,” Anna said.
Michael smiled. “I’ll show you where it is.”
Anna ignored Ephraim’s scowl and followed Michael.
He led her through the reception area, then down the hall past the accordion doors and into another corridor filled with flowers. Anna walked slowly, surveying the different pictures on the walls. Churches, landscapes, old people in old clothes. She spotted a young man in a black suit hurrying toward them with a potted plant in each hand.
“Mrs. Stevenson,” Michael said as the young man approached. “This is Chad Thibodeaux, my apprentice. He will be available to you while you’re here, as well.”
Chad grinned. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Anna gave Chad a slight nod, then noticed the drinking fountain a few feet ahead. She turned to Michael. “I see the cold water from here. Please, I would like to go alone.”
“Of course.”
Anna waited until Michael and Chad had turned the corner of the intersecting hallway before going to the drinking fountain. She pressed the metal bar along the front of the fountain, and a narrow stream of water arched from the spout. Anna lowered her head to drinking level but instead of allowing the stream into her mouth, she watched it, wishing she could disappear with the water into the multi-holed drain. She didn’t want to be here. Not in this place. Not on this earth.
The sound of a door clanking shut caught Anna’s attention. She glanced over to her right and saw a slim, dark-haired woman in a blue summer dress, standing just inside a doorway. She held floral wreaths in each hand and a surprised look on her face.
Anna released the metal bar.
“Hello,” the woman said. “I’m . . .I’m here with a delivery.”
Anna stared at her.
Worry lines creased the woman’s brow for a moment, then she quickly followed the lineup of flowers to a nest of wreaths farther down the hall. She placed the ones she carried amongst the group, then hesitantly turned back around. A look of determination crossed her face, and she headed directly for Anna.
The woman extended her hand when she reached her. “My name’s Janet Savoy,” she said.
For reasons Anna didn’t understand, she immediately clasped the woman’s hand. “I am Anna Stevenson,” she said, her voice sounding like a bare whisper to her ears. She held onto Janet’s hand, shaking it gently, feeling the warmth of her palm—and something else.
“You have a loved one here?” Janet asked quietly.
Anna’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. “My . . .my daughter.”
Janet’s hand squeezed harder around Anna’s, and her face crumpled with sorrow. “Oh—I can’t—you must—oh, I’m so sorry.” She touched Anna’s shoulder with her free hand.
Brushing her tears away, Anna nodded and stared into Janet’s large hazel eyes. Although she’d never met the woman before, Anna felt a strange connection to her. To something inside her.
“You have a daughter, no? One that is very young?” Anna asked.
Looking perplexed, Janet took a small step back. “Yes . . . but how did you know?”
Suddenly feeling a rush of emotion akin to panic, Anna quickly covered Janet’s hand with both of hers. “Watch over her closely. Your—”
“Anna.”
Ephraim’s loud voice startled Anna, and she quickly released Janet’s hand. She turned to face her husband.
He stood only a foot away, his lips set in a thin hard line, his eyes narrowed. “You must come now,” he demanded.
Anna looked back and sought Janet’s eyes for a moment, hoping to somehow relay the message she felt so strongly. Your daughter may be in danger. From what I am not sure. But it carries the potential for death.
The worry lines on Janet’s forehead grew deeper, but Anna saw no understanding in her eyes, only confusion.
Reluctantly, Anna turned back to Ephraim, who took her arm and led her back toward the front of the building. Before they turned the corner of the back hall, Anna glanced over her shoulder and saw Janet still standing where she’d left her.
Ephraim tugged Anna along faster. “Our people suffer, waiting outside in the heat while you waste time speaking with the Gaji. Have you no dignity? Must I remind you of your responsibility here?”
Anna refused to answer him, and her silence caused him to tighten his grip on her arm.
They soon reached the set of accordion doors, where Michael stood waiting. Ephraim gave him a nod, and Michael undid a clasp set in the middle of the doors, then opened them.
A sharp pain struck Anna in the chest, and she struggled to breathe as Ephraim urged her past the doors. A soft click testified to the doors being shut behind them.
Anna saw flowers, more numerous and colorful than a hundred gardens combined. Amidst their sickening sweet aroma, she caught an odd, musky scent that told her Lenora had already been here.
Ephraim’s steps faltered as he moved her farther into the room, then to the left. Anna quickly looked down at her feet. She didn’t want to see anymore. She wasn’t ready for forever. Ephraim’s right hand, still clasping her arm, squeezed and relaxed, squeezed and relaxed as though to keep time with the soft music drifting down from the ceiling.
Suddenly, she heard Ephraim choke back a sob. “Thalia—my—my little Thalia,” he cried. He let go of Anna’s arm, and from the corner of her eye, she watched him lurch to the front of the room. Her legs threatened to buckle, and she collapsed onto the nearest chair, keeping her eyes trained to the floor.
Deep, hoarse laments filled the air, pulling reality from the corners of Anna’s mind to its center, forcing her to look up. Ephraim was on his knees in front of a shiny casket, his hands clasped together along its edge. As he lowered his head, Anna saw Thalia’s f
ace. Soft—gentle—and still.
At that moment, something inside Anna burst, and she sprang to her feet and wailed, “Thaaaalia!” She stumbled forward, shoving past chairs, her chest heaving with sobs, her body racked with tremors.
When she reached the casket, Anna fell at Ephraim’s feet and clawed at his clothes. “Nooo!” she cried. He grabbed her hands and held them tight. She fought to free herself. “Nooo! My baby! My baby!”
Ephraim’s grip tightened. “Anna.”
The sound of her name froze her next cry. Anna peered up, focusing on the face in front of her, the hands that restrained her.
“Anna, please,” Ephraim said. His face sharpened and cleared before her.
She drew in a shuddering breath, then yanked her hands free of his, stood up, and leaned over the casket.
“No, Anna!” Ephraim said, struggling to his feet. “You know we are not to touch the dead once they are prepared!”
So beautiful, Anna thought, gazing at her daughter’s face. She watched Thalia’s eyelids closely and ached to see them flutter and open. She reached out to touch her daughter’s cheek, and Ephraim grabbed her hand.
“No,” he said, breathing hard.
Anna raked his wrist with the fingernails of her free hand, drawing blood. “Leave me,” she demanded.
A look of defeat fell over Ephraim’s face, and he backed away as Anna cupped Thalia’s face in her hands. Her skin felt cold and hard to the touch, smooth like a piece of fine furniture. Anna leaned over farther and kissed Thalia’s cheek. Forever had begun.
CHAPTER NINE
Janet stretched out sideways on her sister, Theresa’s, bed and propped her head up with a hand. “So what would you do?” she asked.
Theresa shoved another pair of jeans into a small suitcase. “Probably commit myself to the nearest psych ward.”
“I already thought of that. No vacancies.”
Theresa threw a pair of socks at her. “Seriously? I don’t think there’s much you can do. He’s Michael’s father not yours. All you can do is be supportive. Michael’s got to take the lead on this one.”
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