The Morbid and Sultry Tales of Genevieve Clare (18 page)

He’d sat with Delilah long after the sun had set and only carried her into the house when a frantic Mrs. Smith came out into the garden looking for them. He said it was a beautiful experience and an honor.

“She knew, Gen. Somehow, she knew it was coming.” He told me.

We finished our drinks, I finished beautifying myself, and off we went to Everly and Scott Funeral Home.

Mrs. Smith had made the call informing Taylor of Delilah’s passing. He ran the obituary in The Marin Chronicle and The Phoenix Sun Times, as well as online. Though she did not want a lot of hoopla, she did want a small service, just in case someone showed.

When we arrived at the funeral home, I was in my black suit, hat, and gloves. Ahren looking dashing in the same suit he wore to my Olympic event tryout for coffin vaulting. This time he wore his shirt buttoned to the top, a grey and black striped tie, and silver cufflinks. I hid my naughty thoughts – kinda – and determined he and I would have to make the best of a shitty day later.

Mrs. Smith met me at the front door. She’d been waiting in the lobby with her husband, Michael, who looked just as mild-mannered and sweet as his wife had described him. He was a long-haul truck driver, and he and Mrs. Smith had agreed he would retire when Delilah passed.

So when I met the man, his hand outstretched to shake mine, Mrs. Smith introduced us by saying, “This is my Michael.” She turned to look at him and explained, with obvious emotion, “He’s home.”

The four of us stood, waiting to see if anyone else would show. It was early yet. The service was supposed to start at eleven, and it was only a quarter till.

“Genevieve?” Mrs. Smith asked with an envelope in hand for me. “From Delilah. I’m supposed to give it to you now.”

I supposed I knew what that meant. I gave Ahren an okay sign and moved to the back of the small viewing area in the chapel. Delilah didn’t want a pastor; she wanted me to say a few words that she left up to me to compose.

Ahren came up beside me and asked, “Have you decided what you’re going to say?”

He was checking on me. I loved his concern, but I wasn’t actually all that sad. I would miss Delilah. Definitely. But from what I knew of her though, and what she’d shared with Ahren, my job had taught me that sometimes, people needed the peace only death could bring.

“Give me a sec, K?” I reached for his hand and looked over the letter from Delilah. Then I read it in a quiet voice to Ahren.

Dear Genevieve,

Oh, you dear, sweet girl. You have been an absolute delight. I’m sharing my story with you now, because all these years later, the memories are still raw. At first, I did not share because I thought it might hit a little too close to home for you. Later, I did not share because I was certain I had made the wrong choice. I did not want this choice to influence you.

My first husband was in the military and went to Vietnam long before the war even began. I was thirty-four when he left. The first year he was gone, I received six letters. Then, they stopped. Years later I was told he was declared missing-in-action. He had life insurance, and as soon as I was able, I left Phoenix. There were too many memories and one too many ghosts.

I moved here, for a quiet life of solitude and peace. I was sure nothing could penetrate my grief, and for a very long time, it did not. Not until I met a man, a widower by the name of Mir. He’d worked on the river his entire life. His wife had died in childbirth, leaving him with a son. From what I understand, the son has been estranged for years, and Mir was left to raise his grandson.

I would like for you to give my ashes to Mir. If he is no longer living, I would like my ashes to go into the river at the bottom of dock fifteen. It is below the holiday cabins at the big bend. He was my second chance, and I was so afraid to lose him that I walked away. Those memories and ghosts followed me from Arizona. I want him to know it was the biggest mistake and regret of my life. I should have been his wife. He should be the one to do with my remains what he wishes, and I would like you to deliver them with that message.

I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you and Ahren have found your way back to each other. Take care of him, Genevieve. There is so much beauty in that boy’s heart, and it is all for you.

Delilah

I looked up through the fat tears streaming down my cheeks to see Ahren, intensely listening to every single word. He lifted his head and motioned toward the door. An older man was being assisted by a very good-looking younger man. They were making their way toward Delilah’s wicker casket.

Mir.

Vladimir to be exact, and he was there to say goodbye.

The man with him had to be his grandson. When the time was right, I approached them before the service began and introduced myself to the younger man.

“Hi. I’m Genevieve Clare. May I borrow you for just a moment?”

The younger man put his hand on his grandfather’s shoulder and said, “Only be a sec.”

Mir nodded, and I led his grandson to the back of the room.

“You don’t know me, but I’m going to assume you’re that man’s grandson?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m Adim, Vladimir, after my father and my grandfather. Original, I know.” He lifted his eyebrows with a smile that could charm a girl right outta her panties. Or, me out of mine anyway.

My first thought was, ‘You are taken, Gen.’ Jesus.

“Well, can you please read this? It’ll only take a sec.” I handed him the letter.

His face moved through a variety of emotions. When he finished, he said, “Yeah, she broke his heart.”

“She had her reasons,” I told him softly.

“He didn’t have much time with my grandmother. I think they were married for a year when she got pregnant. She died having my dad. Then my dad liked to drink, and he liked to gamble. He knocked up my mom. Mom moved back east somewhere, apparently drank herself to death. Dad, last I heard, he was in debt for hundreds of thousands of dollars. He asked my grandfather to sell the business, or put it up as collateral. That was twelve years ago, so I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”

“You’ve lost your parents.”

His shoulders lifted with a matter-of-fact sigh. “I never really had them to begin with. I can’t really say I’ve ever missed having them either. When he goes,” he turned his head toward his grandfather, “that is going to fucking kill me.”

“Well, I’m your Girl Friday,” I said gently. “You call me, I’ll give you my card. This is what I do.”

“Right,” he said and looked to his grandfather thoughtfully. “He talks about ‘Dee’. He used to take the canoe up to her place just to look at her garden and see if she was on her deck.” His eyes moved to the letter again. “Give me her ashes, Ms. Clare. I’ll respect her wishes. I have a feeling my grandfather will want them to be together, even if it is just scattered in the river.”

“She loved him.”

“So it would seem,” he commented. “Hey, do you mind if I…?” He held the letter to his side, motioning toward his grandfather.

“Go right ahead.”

A few minutes later, Taylor had taken his place off to the side at the front. A small podium stood left of where Delilah laid. Taylor gave me a signal that we could begin whenever I was ready.

Mrs. Smith did not want to say anything, telling me she’d already said her goodbyes to “Mrs. D.” I was just about to make my way to the front, thinking I was going to wing it, when the older man beat me to it.

“Delilah came here from Arizona for peace and quiet. When she arrived, looking for a home, she stayed at my cabins…” It was then I realized he was the Russian guy that ran the holiday cabins near the bridge. “We fell in love in one day. One.” He held up his finger to the small gathering. “The day started with our pasts and ended with our futures. Ours. Four years I had with this woman, and, aside from my grandson, I have never loved another person like I loved her. Rest now…my beautiful Dee.”

Seven people there, but not a dry eye in the house.

The casket was closed. The long wooden display table with the casket was lowered and would await us in the crematory. After our goodbyes, I made my way to the back. Mr. Everly was waiting for me, but I had to check on my man.

“Ahren?” I said as he peered out toward the beautiful gardens that surrounded the funeral home. He didn’t answer me. “Baby?” I asked, using the affectionate term he often used with me.

I saw his eyes then. He was having his own moment, privately. 

“I’m sorry,” I said. “We’re going to start, but I know it’s pretty confronting. I can meet you at the car. It won’t take long.”

He reached out for my hand, wrapped his fingers around my own, and silently led us back inside.

Mr. Everly had opened the casket again so I could do one last thing.

I set a small Brewster’s box with a piece of red velvet cake, her favorite, right between her hands. I even placed a little eco-friendly fork between her fingers.

“Now, make sure you share, Delilah.” I smiled through my tears. “I’m gonna miss our chats. See ya.”

The little metal plaque was removed from the wicker casket and placed with all the other identification as Mr. Everly went through their thorough steps. Once her casket was inside the retort, a button was pressed, the door slid down, and the fiery jets began.

I moved to the back and said to Taylor, “I’ll come by tomorrow to pick her up.”

He gave me a solemn nod, but there was sincere happiness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“You and Cheryl?” I asked, hoping that was the reason.

“Match made in heaven.” He smiled.

Beautiful.

****

I sat tucked into Ahren’s side, deep in the cushions of my yummy sectional. He often commented that he knew I really liked something when I used the same words to describe an inanimate object as I did to describe food. His legs were on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles. We both had a beer, and my best friend sat on the lap of her own fiancé in one of two generous lounge chairs in my living room.

“So, when’s the big day?” I asked. We were all in a food coma after Ahren decreed he was the master of all things barbeque.

“Well,” she began, “we were thinking October. You know, October bride.”

“Is that a thing?” I asked, though my knowledge of wedding lore was nothing compared to my funerary lore. I thought it was June bride or something.

“I’m making it a thing.” She was giddy, all smiles, and Cosmo was holding her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “And I have my dress and—”

“Hang on.” I sat on the edge of the couch, full attention. “You mean, in like, six months October?”

“Yeah.” She grinned and put her bottle to her lips.

“Yeah? That’s like, in five seconds from now, Rock.” My voice rose to shrill decibel levels, so much so, Ahren actually gave my arm a squeeze.

“No, that’s in like, six months from now. I have my dress. I finished it a couple of months ago. I also have your dress.”

“Really.” This was stated sarcastically by me.

She, on the other hand continued to smile, though she did use a softer tone with me. “I’m not sure why this is a problem for you.”

Oh my God.

Realization dawned on me then. They’d been seeing each other for a while. I knew that. They’d been living together for a while, in an apartment I basically gave them no less. But I was so wrapped up in my life, I hadn’t even noticed hers was happily moving right along.

“I’m sorry, excuse me,” I whispered, and everyone in the room seemed to brace. I got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen to regroup.

After a few minutes, Rock came in and stood beside me, bringing the rest of the empty plates from dinner. “Dude?”

“God,” I choked out. Even if I wanted to, I could not hide the disappointment I was feeling in myself.

“It’s okay, Gen.”

“It really isn’t.”

“Am I complaining?” she asked.

I blinked a few times and said, “Well, no. But you’re too nice to complain.”

“No, I’m not,” she quickly returned.

“Rocky, I—”

She closed her eyes and cut me off by grabbing my hands. “Gen, when I was a little girl, do you know how bad I wanted to be you?”

I shook my head at her in disbelief. “What?”

“You lived next door to a cemetery, dude. A freaking cemetery. Your house has a billion rooms. And your room? So cool. But mostly, you had a dad. Both your parents, your gran, they were so good to you and to each other…and they were good to me. I love my mom, you know I do, but I was jealous.”

“Rocky, I think you—”

“Just listen, okay?” she requested, not letting me go.

“‘K,” I replied.

“But that was all okay because I knew, one day, I could ask my best friend’s parents if I could get married at their house. My best friend would wear a black and purple dress with a corset that laced up the back, and black patent Doc’s underneath. And when I had a kid, if it was a girl, she’d let me name her after her mom because her mom was a beautiful woman, with a beautiful heart who one day told me that her husband would be honored to walk me down the aisle. You love me, Gen. You’re my best friend. You gave me and my boyfriend, now fiancé, an apartment. You need me to say more?”

I shook my head, because, now, talking was impossible. I could only sob.

“Look at me, dude,” she asked.

I did as I was told.

“I want you to be happy.”

“‘K,” I managed to get out.

“Are you going to let us transform this place?”

“Of course,” I replied.

“Then we’re having a Halloween wedding. Eden Hills is going to rise to its full potential.”

“‘K.” I didn’t meet her eyes, but I did smile.

“I’m sending your man in and making my man take me home.”

I thought she was going to leave the kitchen then, but she didn’t. As long as I could remember, she’d called me “dude.”

But when she began her next sentence with, “Honey,” I knew I was gonna have to prepare myself.

“Yeah?”

“Today was a big day.”

It was. I just didn’t want to talk about it. For most of the day, I thought it wasn’t affecting me. I just hadn’t allowed it to yet. I filled her in on the letter I’d received from Delilah.