Sample. Copyright 2020
INHERITANCE:
Craven Ghost Mysteries
by Jennifer LB Leese
Copyright 2020
Craven Ghost Mysteries
by Jennifer LB Leese
Copyright 2020
Chapter One
That Night
July 1935
That Night
July 1935
The boy with the greasy red hair grabbed a sock from one of the bureaus and stuffed it into her small mouth.
“Thanks, buddy.” A crafty grin spread across his cheeks. “She can’t be doing that, now can she?
“Get something and tie her ankles and wrists too,” he said. His overbite slurring a word here and there.
As instructed, the boy grabbed a pair of stockings from the bureau, ripped them into two strips and tied her ankles together, then her wrists.
Then he, and a third boy, watched with a mixture of curiosity and wickedness as the leader toyed with the straps of her white cotton nightgown. With trembling fingers, he moved his hand across the top of her breasts. Stopping at the nipple, he moaned. “What do we have here?”
She groaned and thrashed, trying desperately to escape his grasp. Her stomach burned, her head pounded, and her throat clenched. She tried screaming, but the sock muffled her attempts. Fear ran through her. What could she do? Her eyes scanned the room for something — anything!
Sliding the neck of her nightgown to the side, he took her nipple between his index finger and thumb, smiling at her husband on the floor. Her eyes pleaded. He lay on the bedroom floor — his chest expanding then dropping hard against his rib cage. He panicked, twisting and turning, but he couldn’t break free. The boy didn’t seem to notice her muffled screams as his thick cold fingers moved over and under the length of her nightgown.
Anger churned inside her now. She huffed and wriggled her shoulders, trying her damnedest to break free. But it was useless. He overpowered her. The harder she tried and the more she pushed back, the tighter his grip became — causing the skin beneath his fat fingertips to bruise and swell. She let her body go limp — just for a moment — with the hope of regaining strength later.
Hot tears rolled down her already-dampened cheeks as she watched her husband wriggle, trying to loosen his manacles. Nothing worked. Their eyes were locked and for a moment her mind dizzied as his love for her entered and flowed throughout her body. Oh, how she longed to run to his side.
I can’t beat it.
I can’t watch Emil hurt like this.
What do they want?
She screamed inside.
Oh, God, where’s my daughter?
“You go to bed with your hair up like that?” the boy asked. Grabbing the end of her long braid, he pulled out the tie. Moaning as he gingerly separated each braid with his fingers. “Let’s get this down and see how sexy you really are.”
The other two hooted and whistled, stirring the excitement even more.
Then a fourth boy — tall and burly with dark blue eyes stuck his head in. His face reddened as his thick eyebrows turned in. He yelled, “Hey, that’s enough. What are you doing? Let’s go! This isn’t right. We’ve wasted enough of our time… and theirs,” he said, glancing down at the woman’s husband on the floor. His eyes softened as his eyes found hers. This boy was different. He looked frightened and confused — sorry even.
“In a minute, let me enjoy this… her for a minute, goddamn,” their leader said, his voice now low and spilling with desire. “You guys look and see what you can find of interest.” He pushed his face into her hair and took a deep breath in. “I’ll only be a minute.” He looked at her husband and licked his lips. “I’ve been wanting her a long time … this won’t take me long.”
Disgust and fear swirled around inside her. All she could do was cry and moan “no” the best she could.
Blue eyes, growled. “What are you doing? This wasn’t part of…”
“This isn’t part of what? This was my idea. You just came along. Remember?” His face reddened. “Don’t forget that. Go and do what you gotta do. I’m coming.” A slow-moving, creepy grin moved across his firm lips.
The other two boys, who obviously were game for anything that might take place, ran off, jumping over the man on the floor — barely missing his face — laughing and punching the air as they searched. They rummaged through their drawers, throwing clothes everywhere.
When the woman looked at the door, the boy with the friendly face was gone.
Her captor ignored them as he swayed his waist back and forth — pressing himself against her backside. “That’s not good enough. I know you want this as much as I do. I’ve seen you look at me.” He wedged his arm between their bodies, grasped her nightgown and pulled it up, revealing her bare ass. “You naughty girl,” he said, rubbing his cheek against her hair. “No panties.” His widened eyes looking down at her husband. “Did you know about this?” He started moving his waist once again across her backside. “See, isn’t that better? Skin on skin.” He groaned. “Move with me,” he ordered.
Play along, she thought. Maybe he’ll loosen his grip enough, so she could claw his eyes out.
“Mmm, that’s it, move with me. Enjoy it,” he said, never losing eye contact with her husband.
“I’m looking in other rooms!” one of the boys yelled.
“Me too!” the other shouted.
They left the room, leaving the woman and her husband alone with the boy with the overbite.
Her eyes begged for him to stop. He had no intention of listening. “Let me show you how a real man — a man with pride — a man of his word…” His voice dark and enraged… “does it.” He glared at the man on the floor with those words.
Tears filled her eyes again and fell onto her bosom.
“Yum. Is that for me?” the boy asked, moving in front of her. He dropped his head and started to lick the tops of her breasts. “Um, you taste so good,” he growled. “Shall we see what else awaits us?” With the neck of her nightgown still to the side, he lowered his head to her breast, “This is getting in the way. This will need to come off.” He pulled the neck down more, revealing one breast. “Very nice,” he said.
The man on the floor groaned loud, kicking the floor — his eyes burned with hatred.
The boy tossed her onto the bed and dropped hard onto his knees beside her husband.
Overbite’s eyes darkened as he neared him. His round, light-pale skin darkened in anger. “You want to hurt me, don’t you?” he laughed, throwing his head back. “Not anymore! You hear me? Not anymore!”
Something went wrong… glass crashed to the floor… smoke filled the air… burning fabric… crackling of burning wood… hard to breathe….
“Thanks, buddy.” A crafty grin spread across his cheeks. “She can’t be doing that, now can she?
“Get something and tie her ankles and wrists too,” he said. His overbite slurring a word here and there.
As instructed, the boy grabbed a pair of stockings from the bureau, ripped them into two strips and tied her ankles together, then her wrists.
Then he, and a third boy, watched with a mixture of curiosity and wickedness as the leader toyed with the straps of her white cotton nightgown. With trembling fingers, he moved his hand across the top of her breasts. Stopping at the nipple, he moaned. “What do we have here?”
She groaned and thrashed, trying desperately to escape his grasp. Her stomach burned, her head pounded, and her throat clenched. She tried screaming, but the sock muffled her attempts. Fear ran through her. What could she do? Her eyes scanned the room for something — anything!
Sliding the neck of her nightgown to the side, he took her nipple between his index finger and thumb, smiling at her husband on the floor. Her eyes pleaded. He lay on the bedroom floor — his chest expanding then dropping hard against his rib cage. He panicked, twisting and turning, but he couldn’t break free. The boy didn’t seem to notice her muffled screams as his thick cold fingers moved over and under the length of her nightgown.
Anger churned inside her now. She huffed and wriggled her shoulders, trying her damnedest to break free. But it was useless. He overpowered her. The harder she tried and the more she pushed back, the tighter his grip became — causing the skin beneath his fat fingertips to bruise and swell. She let her body go limp — just for a moment — with the hope of regaining strength later.
Hot tears rolled down her already-dampened cheeks as she watched her husband wriggle, trying to loosen his manacles. Nothing worked. Their eyes were locked and for a moment her mind dizzied as his love for her entered and flowed throughout her body. Oh, how she longed to run to his side.
I can’t beat it.
I can’t watch Emil hurt like this.
What do they want?
She screamed inside.
Oh, God, where’s my daughter?
“You go to bed with your hair up like that?” the boy asked. Grabbing the end of her long braid, he pulled out the tie. Moaning as he gingerly separated each braid with his fingers. “Let’s get this down and see how sexy you really are.”
The other two hooted and whistled, stirring the excitement even more.
Then a fourth boy — tall and burly with dark blue eyes stuck his head in. His face reddened as his thick eyebrows turned in. He yelled, “Hey, that’s enough. What are you doing? Let’s go! This isn’t right. We’ve wasted enough of our time… and theirs,” he said, glancing down at the woman’s husband on the floor. His eyes softened as his eyes found hers. This boy was different. He looked frightened and confused — sorry even.
“In a minute, let me enjoy this… her for a minute, goddamn,” their leader said, his voice now low and spilling with desire. “You guys look and see what you can find of interest.” He pushed his face into her hair and took a deep breath in. “I’ll only be a minute.” He looked at her husband and licked his lips. “I’ve been wanting her a long time … this won’t take me long.”
Disgust and fear swirled around inside her. All she could do was cry and moan “no” the best she could.
Blue eyes, growled. “What are you doing? This wasn’t part of…”
“This isn’t part of what? This was my idea. You just came along. Remember?” His face reddened. “Don’t forget that. Go and do what you gotta do. I’m coming.” A slow-moving, creepy grin moved across his firm lips.
The other two boys, who obviously were game for anything that might take place, ran off, jumping over the man on the floor — barely missing his face — laughing and punching the air as they searched. They rummaged through their drawers, throwing clothes everywhere.
When the woman looked at the door, the boy with the friendly face was gone.
Her captor ignored them as he swayed his waist back and forth — pressing himself against her backside. “That’s not good enough. I know you want this as much as I do. I’ve seen you look at me.” He wedged his arm between their bodies, grasped her nightgown and pulled it up, revealing her bare ass. “You naughty girl,” he said, rubbing his cheek against her hair. “No panties.” His widened eyes looking down at her husband. “Did you know about this?” He started moving his waist once again across her backside. “See, isn’t that better? Skin on skin.” He groaned. “Move with me,” he ordered.
Play along, she thought. Maybe he’ll loosen his grip enough, so she could claw his eyes out.
“Mmm, that’s it, move with me. Enjoy it,” he said, never losing eye contact with her husband.
“I’m looking in other rooms!” one of the boys yelled.
“Me too!” the other shouted.
They left the room, leaving the woman and her husband alone with the boy with the overbite.
Her eyes begged for him to stop. He had no intention of listening. “Let me show you how a real man — a man with pride — a man of his word…” His voice dark and enraged… “does it.” He glared at the man on the floor with those words.
Tears filled her eyes again and fell onto her bosom.
“Yum. Is that for me?” the boy asked, moving in front of her. He dropped his head and started to lick the tops of her breasts. “Um, you taste so good,” he growled. “Shall we see what else awaits us?” With the neck of her nightgown still to the side, he lowered his head to her breast, “This is getting in the way. This will need to come off.” He pulled the neck down more, revealing one breast. “Very nice,” he said.
The man on the floor groaned loud, kicking the floor — his eyes burned with hatred.
The boy tossed her onto the bed and dropped hard onto his knees beside her husband.
Overbite’s eyes darkened as he neared him. His round, light-pale skin darkened in anger. “You want to hurt me, don’t you?” he laughed, throwing his head back. “Not anymore! You hear me? Not anymore!”
Something went wrong… glass crashed to the floor… smoke filled the air… burning fabric… crackling of burning wood… hard to breathe….
Chapter Two
The Funeral
October 2
The Funeral
October 2
Cool, foggy, and downright depressing — a perfect day for a funeral.
October mornings in Maryland are breathtaking — crisp, clear, and sometimes cool.
Rue Luclia didn’t want to go. If she didn’t go — then it didn’t happen, or at least, she’d be able to deal with it later — not today. She sighed as she yanked off the down-filled quilt her grandmother had made her. Her hand smoothed out the wrinkles as a tear ran down her cheek.
The funeral was for one of the most important men in her life — her grandfather.
“Oh, Grandma, I can hardly believe it.” She swung her legs to the side of the bed. “Why so soon after losing you?”
Rue always knew her grandparents would die. They were old. It was bound to happen. She didn’t think it would happen so soon though. Sliding her teal-colored toes into a pair of worn bunny slippers, she stood.
Her body heavy; her mind clouded, and her eyes felt like two hot puffy balls. Rue knew there was no better word for today's agenda other than — shitty — just unequivocally shitty.
Opening the drapes to her bedroom window, she wasn’t at all surprised to see thick gray clouds marking up the usually blue sky. She groaned as if someone placed them there just to piss her off. The annoying sky blemishes were not only going to further dampen the day, they also threatened to dump fat raindrops at any second.
A sea of black with specks of gray and matching umbrellas, approached the graveside. Straight out of a black and white movie — grandpa would have loved this, Rue thought. Playing their parts well, many whimpered as they dabbed a fallen tear with their tissue. The overcast skies swallowed everything in sight, taking every happy moment with it. Snivels, moans, and sobs skipped across the puffs of air that shot from their mouths. A blanket of moisture hung above their heads, promising to be there a while.
Rue’s hands were cold and clammy. She didn’t want to be there. Dealing with uncomfortable and sometimes unsettling situations, such as having a mother erupt the most heart-wrenching guttural wail during an interview over the death of her four-year-old at the hands of a drunk driver; or a betrayed woman full of anger and rage brought to the public’s eye during a political messy divorce, was commonplace for her as editor of a small town weekly, but this was different — this was personal.
The view before her was in no doubt a depressing funeral scene and the only things extra in Rue’s black and white were the dead people trying to get her attention. One made her think of Abraham Lincoln right down to the top hat. He was tall… lanky tall, and thin with a long deep crease on his right cheek. He stood behind a tree waving his arms intensely. Another, a woman in a light blue tea-length dress, stood crying, wiping her tears with a handkerchief. And an old man with a cane and long, thick white beard kept yelling, "Dolores" as if lost and searching for his loved one.
Rue had almost forgotten about the ghosts. It had been a good six months since she had last seen one and now was hardly the time. She did her best to ignore them as she held her mother’s hand and approached the casket. Family congested the gravesite first.
Except for a few ghosts popping up here and there, the cemetery was relatively empty. Still and quiet — odd for being a cemetery and all. The eeriness was exactly what you’d expect from a cemetery as old as this one. The founder of Hagerstown and his wife Elizabeth were buried there nearly three-hundred years ago... their gravestones long depleted. Broken tombstones littered the older parts of the cemetery. Many without legible writings due to age and weather conditions throughout the years.
Granite headstones stuck out from the ground like little-crooked teeth memorializing a loved one gone forever. Rue took a deep breath. The air felt good in her lungs — refreshing and cleansing. Her chest stiffened as her breath stuck in her throat. With each jerk of her chest, a piece of her heart broke off and dropped deep — vanishing forever. She didn’t think her heart could take much more.
The night before, at the funeral home, she sat in the front row staring at her grandfather’s face — pictures of his life played on two giant screens beside him. He looked handsome — dead, but handsome, dressed in a dark suit, slicked-back hair, and his favorite worn lime green tie her mother had given him when she was a little girl. The only piece of jewelry Rue ever saw him wear was his simple gold wedding band. He wore it with pride, telling her often that it, ‘announces his lifelong commitment to the woman he admires most without him having to say a single word’. May idolized her, even in death. He’d smile and rub the shiny band. He was the kind of man who hardly ever raised his voice, but when he did even just the tiniest bit, those around knew he meant business and listened. A trait she was sure he worked hard to achieve.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Rue’s mother placed a single white daisy, his favorite, on top of the mahogany casket. Palms flat she held onto the cold box as she lowered herself to kiss the top for the last time. Rue’s knees felt like jelly — buckling more than once, but she had to be strong — for her mother — for now — for today at least. With Rue’s father on one side and her on the other, they lowered Claire to the seat. Although Rue and her mother didn’t always see eye to eye most days, she didn’t like seeing her this way. Weak and disoriented… broken was not at all her mother’s character. Rue removed a lonesome tear from her mother’s cheekbone with the backside of a soft tissue and sat to her right, her father on the left. Rue’s mother stared off into the distance where the white-bearded man hollered for his beloved. Does she know he’s there?
They watched as the rest of their family and friends made their way. No-one made a sound. It’s as if they floated across the thick, cool grass, autumn leaves crunching at their feet.
Rue lifted her head and saw her ghostly followers, each still standing exactly where she had last seen them. However, this time there was a new one in the distance. To the right of a large oak tree, she could barely make out the tall man in a dark suit leaning against it. He didn’t seem as clear nor did he want her attention like the others. He stood staring down at his shoes. The man oozed sadness and her heart broke for him. Unlike the others, his presence kept her attention. There was something about him.
He contorted his face and opened his mouth, flickering more out of focus, before disappearing only to reappear ten paces to her left.
Sobs filled the air as the reverend approached them. He took both her hands in his, whispered a few hopes and wishes into her ear, before moving over to her mother and doing the same. He then took his place at the head of the casket, crossing his hands in front of him. Claire cried even harder. Both her parents were gone now. Life changed dramatically when her mother died a few months ago — now with her father gone, life at Brooks Estates would never be the same.
Reverend Hanson took a small black book from his pocket, flipped it to a bookmarked page, and read her grandfather’s favorite passage…
“The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want…”
The smell of roses, peace lilies, carnations, and hydrangeas hit her in the face like a bag of nickels.
Hot tears leaked from her already swollen eyes, landing on her black knee-length raincoat. She knew he would go shortly after her grandmother. For the past few months, he didn’t seem the same. The cheerful glow left his eyes the moment he heard the words ‘she’s gone’.
“…He maketh me to lie down in green pastures…”
A knot twisted in her stomach at the sight of her mother’s hollow eyes. How alone she must feel now. Maybe this could bring them closer. Maybe now her mother would open up to her. Or she to her mother.
“He leadeth me beside the still waters….”
Rue wanted to scream, “Don’t go! You can’t leave us now — we’re not ready!” She loved her sleepovers at her grandparents’ house, spending more time there than at home most of her life. She wasn’t ready for this change. What would happen to the house? What would happen to her?
As a tear slid across her lips, she remembered she was the reason he was called May — after struggling with the name of grandpa, she had overheard her grandma Daisy calling him May, so she did too.
This was all too much.
She shifted her weight and lowered her head. The cool air felt magnificent against the back of her neck. Calming her.
“…He restoreth my soul:”
A part of her wanted to run away screaming — to escape this nightmare and yet the other part wanted to soak every second in remembering every single moment of this day. Strong, independent Rue was going to miss him… miss his laugh, his burly back-slapping hugs, his mischievous smile, and his wiry-mustached kisses. She chuckled at the remembrance, her finger blindly caressing the tickling on her top lip.
“He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake…” She felt angry. She needed to hear his stories again and the silly songs he’d make up. He always lit up a room no matter how dark it was. He was a special man — the most loving grandfather a child could ever ask for. She could no longer hold it in. She dropped her head and sobbed.
Reverend Hanson continued reading, his monotonic voice enhancing the depth of meaning and misery of their dreary surroundings. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
“When hearing the reverend recite “…I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;”, she raised her head.
All eyes were on May’s casket … hers were on the sad man staring at his shoes — her May. He now stood beside the reverend and smiled. The warmth of happiness traveled through her veins. He was here! Now was the exact moment she appreciated her gift.
“They’ll need your help soon, Rue Rue,” he trilled. “Help them, please.”
Rue’s heart quickened. She sat forward, careful not to draw attention to herself.
“Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;”
She wanted to talk to him, but she couldn’t. She hoped he would give her another chance. Help who? Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought of her grandmother nearby. Tears overwhelmed her. She wanted… no needed to talk to her. Where was she? Why wasn’t she here at her husband’s funeral?
As the reverend finished the last words, “Thou anointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over.”
As she searched among the sad faces, around the darkened trees and lonely tombstones, she allowed the reverend’s words to soak in…
“…Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.
“Amen.”
Everyone repeated, “Amen.”
“Amen,” she said, still looking around. Her eyes caught her father’s as she looked back toward the front. He gave her a look of confusion.
Rue adjusted her seating, hanging onto her grandfather’s gaze.
He pointed to her and said, “I’m sorry.”
October mornings in Maryland are breathtaking — crisp, clear, and sometimes cool.
Rue Luclia didn’t want to go. If she didn’t go — then it didn’t happen, or at least, she’d be able to deal with it later — not today. She sighed as she yanked off the down-filled quilt her grandmother had made her. Her hand smoothed out the wrinkles as a tear ran down her cheek.
The funeral was for one of the most important men in her life — her grandfather.
“Oh, Grandma, I can hardly believe it.” She swung her legs to the side of the bed. “Why so soon after losing you?”
Rue always knew her grandparents would die. They were old. It was bound to happen. She didn’t think it would happen so soon though. Sliding her teal-colored toes into a pair of worn bunny slippers, she stood.
Her body heavy; her mind clouded, and her eyes felt like two hot puffy balls. Rue knew there was no better word for today's agenda other than — shitty — just unequivocally shitty.
Opening the drapes to her bedroom window, she wasn’t at all surprised to see thick gray clouds marking up the usually blue sky. She groaned as if someone placed them there just to piss her off. The annoying sky blemishes were not only going to further dampen the day, they also threatened to dump fat raindrops at any second.
A sea of black with specks of gray and matching umbrellas, approached the graveside. Straight out of a black and white movie — grandpa would have loved this, Rue thought. Playing their parts well, many whimpered as they dabbed a fallen tear with their tissue. The overcast skies swallowed everything in sight, taking every happy moment with it. Snivels, moans, and sobs skipped across the puffs of air that shot from their mouths. A blanket of moisture hung above their heads, promising to be there a while.
Rue’s hands were cold and clammy. She didn’t want to be there. Dealing with uncomfortable and sometimes unsettling situations, such as having a mother erupt the most heart-wrenching guttural wail during an interview over the death of her four-year-old at the hands of a drunk driver; or a betrayed woman full of anger and rage brought to the public’s eye during a political messy divorce, was commonplace for her as editor of a small town weekly, but this was different — this was personal.
The view before her was in no doubt a depressing funeral scene and the only things extra in Rue’s black and white were the dead people trying to get her attention. One made her think of Abraham Lincoln right down to the top hat. He was tall… lanky tall, and thin with a long deep crease on his right cheek. He stood behind a tree waving his arms intensely. Another, a woman in a light blue tea-length dress, stood crying, wiping her tears with a handkerchief. And an old man with a cane and long, thick white beard kept yelling, "Dolores" as if lost and searching for his loved one.
Rue had almost forgotten about the ghosts. It had been a good six months since she had last seen one and now was hardly the time. She did her best to ignore them as she held her mother’s hand and approached the casket. Family congested the gravesite first.
Except for a few ghosts popping up here and there, the cemetery was relatively empty. Still and quiet — odd for being a cemetery and all. The eeriness was exactly what you’d expect from a cemetery as old as this one. The founder of Hagerstown and his wife Elizabeth were buried there nearly three-hundred years ago... their gravestones long depleted. Broken tombstones littered the older parts of the cemetery. Many without legible writings due to age and weather conditions throughout the years.
Granite headstones stuck out from the ground like little-crooked teeth memorializing a loved one gone forever. Rue took a deep breath. The air felt good in her lungs — refreshing and cleansing. Her chest stiffened as her breath stuck in her throat. With each jerk of her chest, a piece of her heart broke off and dropped deep — vanishing forever. She didn’t think her heart could take much more.
The night before, at the funeral home, she sat in the front row staring at her grandfather’s face — pictures of his life played on two giant screens beside him. He looked handsome — dead, but handsome, dressed in a dark suit, slicked-back hair, and his favorite worn lime green tie her mother had given him when she was a little girl. The only piece of jewelry Rue ever saw him wear was his simple gold wedding band. He wore it with pride, telling her often that it, ‘announces his lifelong commitment to the woman he admires most without him having to say a single word’. May idolized her, even in death. He’d smile and rub the shiny band. He was the kind of man who hardly ever raised his voice, but when he did even just the tiniest bit, those around knew he meant business and listened. A trait she was sure he worked hard to achieve.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Rue’s mother placed a single white daisy, his favorite, on top of the mahogany casket. Palms flat she held onto the cold box as she lowered herself to kiss the top for the last time. Rue’s knees felt like jelly — buckling more than once, but she had to be strong — for her mother — for now — for today at least. With Rue’s father on one side and her on the other, they lowered Claire to the seat. Although Rue and her mother didn’t always see eye to eye most days, she didn’t like seeing her this way. Weak and disoriented… broken was not at all her mother’s character. Rue removed a lonesome tear from her mother’s cheekbone with the backside of a soft tissue and sat to her right, her father on the left. Rue’s mother stared off into the distance where the white-bearded man hollered for his beloved. Does she know he’s there?
They watched as the rest of their family and friends made their way. No-one made a sound. It’s as if they floated across the thick, cool grass, autumn leaves crunching at their feet.
Rue lifted her head and saw her ghostly followers, each still standing exactly where she had last seen them. However, this time there was a new one in the distance. To the right of a large oak tree, she could barely make out the tall man in a dark suit leaning against it. He didn’t seem as clear nor did he want her attention like the others. He stood staring down at his shoes. The man oozed sadness and her heart broke for him. Unlike the others, his presence kept her attention. There was something about him.
He contorted his face and opened his mouth, flickering more out of focus, before disappearing only to reappear ten paces to her left.
Sobs filled the air as the reverend approached them. He took both her hands in his, whispered a few hopes and wishes into her ear, before moving over to her mother and doing the same. He then took his place at the head of the casket, crossing his hands in front of him. Claire cried even harder. Both her parents were gone now. Life changed dramatically when her mother died a few months ago — now with her father gone, life at Brooks Estates would never be the same.
Reverend Hanson took a small black book from his pocket, flipped it to a bookmarked page, and read her grandfather’s favorite passage…
“The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want…”
The smell of roses, peace lilies, carnations, and hydrangeas hit her in the face like a bag of nickels.
Hot tears leaked from her already swollen eyes, landing on her black knee-length raincoat. She knew he would go shortly after her grandmother. For the past few months, he didn’t seem the same. The cheerful glow left his eyes the moment he heard the words ‘she’s gone’.
“…He maketh me to lie down in green pastures…”
A knot twisted in her stomach at the sight of her mother’s hollow eyes. How alone she must feel now. Maybe this could bring them closer. Maybe now her mother would open up to her. Or she to her mother.
“He leadeth me beside the still waters….”
Rue wanted to scream, “Don’t go! You can’t leave us now — we’re not ready!” She loved her sleepovers at her grandparents’ house, spending more time there than at home most of her life. She wasn’t ready for this change. What would happen to the house? What would happen to her?
As a tear slid across her lips, she remembered she was the reason he was called May — after struggling with the name of grandpa, she had overheard her grandma Daisy calling him May, so she did too.
This was all too much.
She shifted her weight and lowered her head. The cool air felt magnificent against the back of her neck. Calming her.
“…He restoreth my soul:”
A part of her wanted to run away screaming — to escape this nightmare and yet the other part wanted to soak every second in remembering every single moment of this day. Strong, independent Rue was going to miss him… miss his laugh, his burly back-slapping hugs, his mischievous smile, and his wiry-mustached kisses. She chuckled at the remembrance, her finger blindly caressing the tickling on her top lip.
“He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake…” She felt angry. She needed to hear his stories again and the silly songs he’d make up. He always lit up a room no matter how dark it was. He was a special man — the most loving grandfather a child could ever ask for. She could no longer hold it in. She dropped her head and sobbed.
Reverend Hanson continued reading, his monotonic voice enhancing the depth of meaning and misery of their dreary surroundings. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
“When hearing the reverend recite “…I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;”, she raised her head.
All eyes were on May’s casket … hers were on the sad man staring at his shoes — her May. He now stood beside the reverend and smiled. The warmth of happiness traveled through her veins. He was here! Now was the exact moment she appreciated her gift.
“They’ll need your help soon, Rue Rue,” he trilled. “Help them, please.”
Rue’s heart quickened. She sat forward, careful not to draw attention to herself.
“Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;”
She wanted to talk to him, but she couldn’t. She hoped he would give her another chance. Help who? Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought of her grandmother nearby. Tears overwhelmed her. She wanted… no needed to talk to her. Where was she? Why wasn’t she here at her husband’s funeral?
As the reverend finished the last words, “Thou anointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over.”
As she searched among the sad faces, around the darkened trees and lonely tombstones, she allowed the reverend’s words to soak in…
“…Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.
“Amen.”
Everyone repeated, “Amen.”
“Amen,” she said, still looking around. Her eyes caught her father’s as she looked back toward the front. He gave her a look of confusion.
Rue adjusted her seating, hanging onto her grandfather’s gaze.
He pointed to her and said, “I’m sorry.”
Chapter Three (partial)
Her Own
Her Own
Rue sat in the car staring at the house. Everything had moved so fast — May’s death, his funeral, and now the house. Oh, the house. She sat back and smiled, thankful her grandparents never forgot just how much the house meant to her.
“Go in,” Annie, her best friend, said.
“I will.” Tears pooled under her lashes. With the back of her finger, she brushed them away. “I just need a minute to catch my breath,” she said, switching the phone from one ear to the other. She learned the house was hers not but a week ago — at the reading of the will. She thought the house would be put up for sale and distributed to her mother and brothers, but thankfully that did not happen.
She desperately wanted the house. She had always thought of it as hers anyway. Every time she tried talking to her mother about what was going on with the house, her mother would start crying. So, Rue dropped it, thinking she’d just try another day. But that day has never come.
“Do you want me to come over?” Annie offered.
Rue giggled. Annie Lee was the best. “Nah, I got this.” May and Grandma Daisy never told Rue they were going to leave her the house. Guess they wanted to make it a surprise. Rue smiled. Well, it worked, she thought. With her cousins married and in their own homes and her being an only child, she was, after all, the logical choice.
“Well is your mother coming to help at least?” Annie said.
“No, she isn’t,” Rue said, “and I’m okay with that. This has always been my house. I want to go in alone.”
Rue and her mother’s relationship needed TLC. Rue actually used their relationship in an article she put together last year on advice to mothers from their daughters. No one but her best friend knew that the sour relationship was actually her own. Her mother never seemed, in Rue's opinion, to have time for her — activities and people outside their house always took precedence, which often led to hurt feelings and resentment.
“Everything going all right there?” Rue asked, almost hoping she was needed at work.
#END SAMPLE#
“Go in,” Annie, her best friend, said.
“I will.” Tears pooled under her lashes. With the back of her finger, she brushed them away. “I just need a minute to catch my breath,” she said, switching the phone from one ear to the other. She learned the house was hers not but a week ago — at the reading of the will. She thought the house would be put up for sale and distributed to her mother and brothers, but thankfully that did not happen.
She desperately wanted the house. She had always thought of it as hers anyway. Every time she tried talking to her mother about what was going on with the house, her mother would start crying. So, Rue dropped it, thinking she’d just try another day. But that day has never come.
“Do you want me to come over?” Annie offered.
Rue giggled. Annie Lee was the best. “Nah, I got this.” May and Grandma Daisy never told Rue they were going to leave her the house. Guess they wanted to make it a surprise. Rue smiled. Well, it worked, she thought. With her cousins married and in their own homes and her being an only child, she was, after all, the logical choice.
“Well is your mother coming to help at least?” Annie said.
“No, she isn’t,” Rue said, “and I’m okay with that. This has always been my house. I want to go in alone.”
Rue and her mother’s relationship needed TLC. Rue actually used their relationship in an article she put together last year on advice to mothers from their daughters. No one but her best friend knew that the sour relationship was actually her own. Her mother never seemed, in Rue's opinion, to have time for her — activities and people outside their house always took precedence, which often led to hurt feelings and resentment.
“Everything going all right there?” Rue asked, almost hoping she was needed at work.
#END SAMPLE#