The Inn at Laurel Creek (12 page)

Before Ma died, we talked about what she wanted, and I promised
her I’d honor her requests. They were simple. She wanted to be
cremated
and buried with my grandparents in Chicago. Since we lived in the suburbs of Atlanta, we’d have her body cremated here but her
memorial and burial would be handled separately.

My brothers, John and Paul, were already in the assistant director’s
office. There was a spread of coffee and its fixings set out on the conference
table, and I made a beeline for it. I’d have an IV of caffeine
inserted into
my wrist if it were socially acceptable. Actually, forget socially acceptable. I’d do it even if it weren’t. Coffee for me was like sex to a
twenty-year-old man – never too much and never too often.

My oldest brother John lived nearby, and was with Ma and me when she passed. Paul lived in Indiana and didn’t make it here in time to say goodbye. I could see the angst and regret on his face. I said hi, hugged both of them, and turned toward my chair so I wouldn’t cry. Crying in front of my brothers made me appear weak
and I refused to let that happen.

“Ma wanted to be cremated and buried with her parents,” I told the assistant funeral director, a short, squat man, with a bad comb-over and a blue paisley tie that didn’t quite fit over a mid-section that rivaled Santa’s.

“Yes, your brothers told me,” said Comb-over. “It is our policy to return the remains to the loved ones for proper burial if our services are not being used.”

We all nodded in agreement, and then Paul asked Comb-over if he could see our mother.

Comb-over gave us what must have been his really sympathetic face. “Oh, no. No. I’m sorry. It is against our policy to allow family
back into the crematorium. You understand.”

Paul nodded his understanding.

Seriously?

“Excuse me. My brother wasn’t able to see our mom before she died. He lives out of state and couldn’t get here, so I’m sure you can make an exception. I mean, it is our mother and we are paying you after all.”

Jake smirked in my direction, liking my passive aggressive technique, and I gave him a quick smile.

 “Well. ” Comb-over back-pedaled. “I’ll see what I can do.” He then gave us what was obviously his,
I am not making enough money for this job
face, excused himself and closed the door behind him. A chill
filled the air, and I hugged my arms to my chest for warmth.

My brother's mouths gaped. “Well, it’s a stupid rule and
someone had to call him on it.”

Paul nodded. “Thanks."

I nodded and then saw my mother floating behind him, smiling, too. I shook my head to clear the image but it didn't work. She was
still there.

 “You’re such a good girl. I knew you loved your brother."

“Uh, I guess I do.”

Paul tilted his head. “You guess you do what?”

Well, crap. For a brief second I considered saying,
sorry I was
talking
to the ghost of our mother, who, by the way, is floating behind you,
but
instead went with, “Look behind you,” as I pointed behind them.

They did. “What?” Paul asked.

Ma winked at me and laughed. They couldn’t see her.

“Oh, nothing. I thought there was a spider or something on the
wall, sorry.”

Probably it wasn’t a good time to tell my brothers I could see our dead mother and I wasn’t sure there would ever be a good time for something of that nature.

Paul started to say something again, but Comb-over walked back in. The man may have been a fashion nightmare, but his timing was
impeccable. He coughed lightly and straightened his tie. “We don’t normally allow anyone into the crematorium, but given the circumstances, we’ll make an exception.”

We. Uh huh. We, as in the big boss, I bet. I smiled my
I won
smile and thanked him. Comb-over explained since our mother was being cremated, they didn’t prepare her body as they would for a
traditional
burial. I assumed that meant she’s not made up and nodded my
understanding. He walked over to the closed door behind my
brothers and walked right through my mother.

She shuddered. “Oh, Madone, that was creepy.”

I concentrated on the wall and searched for the imaginary spider and tried to ignore her.

Through the doorway I saw my mother lying on a gurney, the mother that wasn’t floating in the room with me, that is. My eyes shot back and forth between the horizontal Ma and the floating Ma. This was all a little confusing. First I had one Ma, and then she died.
Now I had a
dead Ma and a ghost Ma. If they both started talking to me, I’d get right up and drive myself straight to the loony bin. I stood up and shook off the crazy. “Ah, Paul, you can go first.” He did.

The fact that I took control of the meeting was not lost on me. As the youngest of the siblings, my brothers always considered me the baby,
never quite aging me past a toddler in their mind so for them to
acquiesce authority in this situation was surprising. I wrote it off to their shock and grief at losing Ma and expected the newfound
respect to burn out quicker than a birthday candle. But I would be lying if I didn’t admit to enjoying it just a little.

We all said our goodbyes to my mother. I couldn’t hear their private whispered words, but I could hear Ma responding. Not the Ma
lying on
the gurney, the ghost one. As I said, it was confusing. Like the loud
Italian
woman she was in life, her raspy,
I’ve had one thousand too many
cigarettes,
voice enveloped the room, for me at least, since apparently I was the only one who could hear her. “Oh Pauly, it’s okay. I’m not mad that you weren’t here. Don’t be upset. It’s okay.”

I always knew he was her favorite.

Paul and I haven’t always had the smoothest of relationships. In fact, as a child he wanted me dead. No, really. He tried so hard to make it happen he actually pushed me in front of slow moving cars three times. I was lucky to suffer only emotional, not physical, damage. Attempted murders aside, my heart ached for him now. The guilt of not being
there
when Ma passed would haunt him forever, though I couldn’t help
but wonder if that was easier than being haunted by her ghost.

***

An hour later, the four of us sat with coffee in hand, at Starbucks. Coffee made everything seem better, if only a little. Before we left the funeral home, Paul asked Comb-over to let us know when Ma’s body was cremated. I preferred not to know, but everyone handles death
differently and Paul needed what he needed so I didn’t argue. Admittedly,
backing away from an argument with Paul was a new thing for me. Ma’s
death had really messed with my brain.

We were discussing the arrangements of her burial when I got the call. Comb-over told me they’d started, and as I nodded to Jake
and my brothers, a heavy sadness filled the air.

I disconnected from the call and stayed on task. “Okay. When
should we go to Chicago?”

“That’s a good question,” John, the over thinker of us siblings, said. “I’ll call the cemetery later today and find out if we can bury Mom with Grandma and Grandpa. If they won’t let us, we’ll have to figure out what else to do. I was thinking maybe we could each take
a portion of her remains and do something with our kids to honor her.”

Oh, no. No, no, no. That was not going to happen. I promised Ma I’d do this for her and I’ll be damned if I didn’t do it right. Especially
since she was haunting me. There was no way I would to spend the
rest
of my waking days with the ghost of my mother pissed off because
we didn’t honor her final wish. No way.

“It’s okay,” I blurted out before Paul agreed with John. “Ma was worried about the same thing, so we called the cemetery a few weeks ago and found out that it’s fine.” I took a quick breath and hoped God wouldn’t strike me dead for lying.

“They told me that as long as we’re not getting a stone, the plots are ours to do with as we please. Except for digging up our grandparents, that is.” I checked the sky, but still no lightning. Phew.

My brothers nodded. “Okay.”

Dodged that bullet. What’s wrong with a few little lies? This was what Ma wanted and eventually I’d tell them the truth, once she was buried and we were on our way home. Or maybe next year. What’s the saying? Ask for forgiveness, not permission. That’s what I’d do, eventually.

I offered to make the memorial arrangements even though we all knew they’d have asked me to do it anyway.

I filled them in on my call to our cousin. “I already called
Roxanne, who said she’d make the rounds of calls, and since the funeral home here said they would put the obituary in the Chicago papers, that’s covered. Does the weekend after next work? That gives us all time to plan accordingly.”

“I don’t see a problem with that, but I’ll have to check with
Elizabeth and see what her schedule is,” John said.

Jake nodded in agreement with his eyes still glued to the screen of his iPhone.

Paul nodded too. “Let’s go through all of our pictures of Mom. I can make a video with music, and we can show it at her memorial.”

We all agreed that was a great idea and made plans to confirm the date over email by tonight. My brothers left Jake and me there to share our addiction to the warm, smooth taste of coffee. We got refills before we headed home, too.

The rest of the day I was on autopilot and truth be told I couldn’t remember much of it. One minute Jake and I were getting coffee and the next it was after ten p.m. I kissed Jake goodnight and went upstairs and checked on the kids, who were already blissfully sound asleep.

“It’s done,” I texted Mel after I settled under the covers.

“I’m sorry,” she texted back. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay. Going to bed. I’m tired.”

“K. I’m here if you need me. (HUGS).”

Unfinished Business

An Angela Panther Novel

Unbreakable Bonds

An Angela Panther Novel

COMING SOON

Uncharted Territory

An Angela Panther Novel

8 to Lose the Weight

For more information visit

carolynridderaspenson.com

Many thanks to my team at Booktrope Editions,
Stephanie Konat, Clarice Joos, Wendy Janes and Tatiana Vila, for their support, patience, guidance and help with this story and the others we're working on. They're incredible and wonderful and I couldn't have done any of this
without them.

As always, a big dose of love to my husband
Jack, for his love and support.

Get updates about Carolyn's new releases and receive a free download of her holiday romance novella, Santa's Gift, A Cumming Christmas Novella, at
http://carolynridderaspenson.com/?page_id=835

carolynridderaspenson.com

[email protected]

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