Jerry has zipped up his duffel bag with the papers inside and stands to face me again.
“Is that why you used to hang out and watch us?” I ask. “Because you wanted to play the groom?”
“I was waiting for cake,” Jerry says with a laugh. “I don’t know why none of your weddings ever got to the cake part. That’s the good part of any wedding.”
I groan. “We never gave the cake a thought.”
“I know. And I was hungry.”
“It’s way too late for Cassie and me to have cake. But for Elaine, we’ll have to put an order in at a bakery around here.”
“And people need rice, too,” Jerry says. “We need to throw something. That’s half the reason people go to weddings. And, of course, we should talk to someone who does catering. Maybe something easy to eat like shish kebabs and rice.”
I’m starting to notice that Jerry is helpful in thinking of things. In the distant future, if I ever open a wedding business, Jerry would make a good partner. “Have you ever thought of going into business for yourself?”
Jerry gets pale and his eyes narrow. “What have you heard?”
“Me? Nothing.”
“I do a good job. They’d be fools to lay me off,” Jerry continues. He’s glowering, but not exactly at me. “Who else is going to lie on their back and change oil pans all day?”
“No one. You do a great job.”
“And it’s not true that business is drying up in Blythe. Sure Uncle Howard was complaining that his business was off and that one gas station did close and—” Jerry looks at me “—and you got laid off at your job, of course. Sorry about that, by the way. But that doesn’t mean other jobs are in jeopardy.”
It all falls into place. Jerry isn’t on vacation from his job at the car repair place. I should have known he’d never take two weeks off to run around and buy candles. Besides, the owner of that shop isn’t noted for being generous. In the past, he didn’t even give Jerry two weeks of paid vacation. The man always said one week was enough. “Even if you do get laid off, that doesn’t mean you won’t find something else.”
“Yeah,” Jerry says, but he doesn’t look me in the eye.
We just sit there together for a moment.
“I really liked that job, too,” Jerry says as he moves his duffel bag to the other side of his feet. “I was there seven years if you count the time I worked after school in my senior year.”
“Does your mom know?”
Jerry finally looks up at me and then he sighs. “Everyone has been so worried about this wedding. I didn’t want to say anything until it was all over.”
I nod. “I know what you mean. That’s what I told myself about keeping quiet about the Big M. The aunts don’t need more stress.”
Jerry shakes his head. “My mom says Aunt Ruth has stopped combing her hair. She just goes around with a cold washcloth draped over her head.”
“I always thought they were so strong. All of them.”
Jerry smiles. “They’re Norwegian women. Viking stock. They’re tough.”
I nod. “That’s the way they always seemed—until now.”
I rise and Jerry follows. We start to walk to the door that leads out to the courtyard.
“How are you set for money and all?” I ask when we get to the door. I can’t believe I’m making this offer. “I’m getting paid on Friday and I could—”
Jerry waves the offer away as he opens the door. “I got a couple of weeks of severance pay. I’m good for now.”
I walk through the open door. “Maybe you could go into business for yourself around here.”
“Hollywood doesn’t need more mechanics.”
“There are other things you can do,” I say as Jerry closes the door behind us.
“Maybe,” Jerry says as he looks around the courtyard. “Measuring everything here was fun. I don’t suppose there’s a job in it, though.”
“When this is all over, we should talk about jobs,” I say.
Jerry nods, but I can see he thinks I’ll be telling him to work in the fast-food business so he doesn’t seem too excited. That’s all right, I decide. We’ve got time later.
The sun is beginning to set and the light from the west is turning the pale beige stone of the courtyard into a more golden hue. Here and there clumps of ivy are climbing up the walls and there are enough roses along the edge of the paved area to make the air fragrant.
“If we could only keep people out here,” Jerry says. “They’d never suspect it is a mortuary inside.”
“Oh, but they wouldn’t want to miss seeing the chapel.”
“I know. It’s the hallway between the two places that will give us problems.”
Jerry is right. That hallway leads to all the rooms where the Big M does the funeral part of its work. The largest room there is where the caskets are on display. From golden-brushed bronze to solid cherrywood, the caskets at the Big M are a sight to behold.
I was a little freaked out by that room when I was first at the Big M, but I’m okay with it now. Mr. Z even showed me that most of the caskets have an adjustable bed in them so the final viewing can be better. I don’t even have an adjustable bed in my room at Aunt Inga’s. It seems odd to think that I’d sleep in better comfort if I were dead than in Blythe.
I don’t know if most people know about the bed thing, but I’m sure Elaine would be upset if she wandered in there thinking it was the room where the bride changes into her dress when, instead, it’s where the corpse changes into its burial clothes. Well, of course, the corpse doesn’t change by itself.
“We’ll lock the room that has the caskets,” I say. “We’ll have that master key that Miss Billings gave us to use tonight so we can lock off any of the rooms.”
Miss Billings told me once that all of the rooms at the Big M used to have different keys, but that the jangle of keys from the loaded key chains the staff carried disturbed the mourners so Mr. Z had all the doors fitted onto one master key. He felt it made the staff people look more in charge when they were showing clients around, which was something very comforting to mourners, he always said. The bereaved wanted to know everything was in good hands and that they didn’t need to worry.
“And the room with all the files. We’ll lock that.” No one would freak out about the files, but I feel they are a sacred trust. I wouldn’t want a stray guest wandering in there and looking through them.
“Of course,” Jerry agrees.
“We’ll have to keep the lounge areas open.” The lounge areas lead to the restrooms and there is nothing in either of the rooms that would make people think they were in a mortuary instead of a church. At least, not in the women’s restrooms.
“Nobody has scratched Lincoln Died Here on the walls of the men’s room, have they?”
Jerry shook his head. “It’s strictly boring in there.”
“Good. And the kitchen that’s off the main viewing room—we’ll need to have that open for the caterers,” I say. The kitchen was there when the Big M was a church and Mr. Z left it the way it was. That’s where the staff keep their lunches now when they bring something from home.
Jerry and I are quiet for a moment, thinking of all the things that need to be done and breathing in the scent of the roses.
“I’ll ask Miss Billings about caterers tomorrow,” I say.
We’re quiet some more.
“Do you think we have a chance to pull it off?” Jerry finally asks.
I shrug. “I’m going to tell the aunts that the Big M is a mortuary when we have some of the details figured out. Probably tomorrow will be the day. That gives them a day before they make their calls to people about the new location. I think we can keep the guests from knowing this is a mortuary, but I’ll let the aunts make the decision. I guess, if need be, Elaine can always do the cruise.”
Jerry nods. “Or maybe that Chinese restaurant.”
We hear voices calling our names and realize that Cassie and Doug are here.
“We’r
e in the courtyard,” I call out to them as I walk to the opening that goes from the courtyard to the front yard area. I see Cassie and Doug crossing the lawn from where they were by the front door to the Big M.
“I forgot to bring the candles,” Jerry says as he leaves his duffel on one of the benches in the courtyard and walks back toward the rear door of the mortuary. “I left them in the chapel.”
Cassie and Doug come into the courtyard just as Jerry walks back into the building. I happen to notice that Cassie’s eyes go to Jerry the first thing.
Doug is carrying his backpack and he reaches in and pulls out a brown bag that he sets on the wrought iron table next to where we’re standing in the courtyard. There are two tables like this one and twenty or so portable round tables in the supply room.
“How was it today?” Cassie asks me.
“Okay, and you?”
“I have some more plants to pick up when Jerry has time,” Cassie says.
I nod. “I’m glad Jerry is here. It’s good. You know he’s changed a lot since we were kids.”
There, I’ve said my bit to show Cassie that it’s okay with me if she’s interested in Jerry.
“He is nice,” Cassie says and gives a smile. “I like him.”
“I thought you might,” I say with a smile back.
In the meantime, Doug has pulled out four wrapped turkey sandwiches and four oranges from the brown bag and set them on the table. Just then Jerry gets back with a few candles.
The sun is almost gone by the time we light the candles and, I must say, the courtyard is very romantic by candlelight. Jerry has these small metal candle-holders and he places four candles in the center of the table.
One of the candles goes out, however, and he frowns as he examines it and then decides he needs another one. Before he goes back to the chapel to get another one from the pile he has there, he goes to his duffel bag and pulls out a flashlight.
“From my detective kit,” Jerry announces with a flourish as he holds the small blue flashlight up. It’s plastic and its beam is feeble, but it does give off enough light to see.
“Just what we need,” Cassie says as she reaches up and takes the flashlight when Jerry gives it to her.
“You can carry it inside,” Jerry says. “If you want to come with me.”
Cassie holds the flashlight and the two of them head back through the rear door of the mortuary. They don’t even get to the door of the mortuary before Jerry puts his arm around Cassie.
It’s funny how them going off like that, arm in arm, suddenly turns this into a serious date instead of a casual date where four people are just getting together to have a sandwich. They might even share a kiss in there. I look over at Doug.
“I didn’t know they were going to do that,” I say. I’m not sure if he’s still afraid I might want a commitment from him or not. “I think they’ve just discovered they like each other.”
“Lucky them,” Doug says.
I relax. Doug doesn’t sound stressed or anything. I can tell because his voice sounds normal.
“So, how’s it going with the homework?” I say because it’s something to ask.
“I looked up John 3:16,” he says. “You know, after Jerry made such a big deal out of it.”
“Jerry likes to tease me.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
We sit and watch the candle flames for a few minutes.
“I got some waters in my backpack, too,” Doug finally says. “I almost brought some bottles of flavored waters.”
“No, plain water is good.”
We’re quiet for a few more minutes.
“Can I ask you something?” Doug says as he lifts his backpack onto the table and opens it up.
“Sure.”
“What do you have against God?” Doug pulls out two water bottles and sets them on the table.
“Oh, well.” I swallow and look at the rear door of the mortuary, hoping it will open and Jerry and Cassie will step out so this conversation will be derailed. After a second or two, though, when nothing has happened, I decide it is a fair question. “God sort of messed up my life when I was a kid.”
Doug has set the water bottles down and is looking at me. “I’m listening.”
“You know about my mother leaving me in Blythe when she moved to Las Vegas.” I feel a little funny saying that to him when his parents both were killed in a car accident.
“So you think God was mad at you?”
I nod. “Something like that. I just figured He didn’t like me much.” And for good measure, I add, “Besides, he let my father die when I was little, too. I never even got to know him. It didn’t seem like it’s fair that I couldn’t have either one of my parents.”
Doug holds up his hands. “You don’t have to convince me. I can see why you would be mad at God.”
“Really?” Now that’s not the response I expected. “Of course, you know what it feels like.”
I’m glad Doug understands. Something is bothering me however. “I notice it didn’t stop you, though. You just walked down that aisle.”
Doug shrugs as he reaches into his backpack for the other two bottles of water. “We’re all different. I might have felt like you did if I had known about God when I was a kid. Maybe not knowing Him gave me very low expectations. I don’t think I ever expected Him to do anything for me back then. I bet He was sorry you were mad at Him, though.”
I open my bottle of water and take a drink. It never occurred to me to think of this from God’s point of view before. All of this working around death is making me crazy. If I’m not careful, I won’t have any of my enemies left. I’ve already caved on Jerry and I’m going soft on Elaine. If I make my peace with God—well, what would my life be like then? I take another drink of water. Wow. I need to think for a minute.
When Cassie and Jerry walk out of the mortuary, they are holding hands. At least both of them have their hands on the flashlight and they are swinging it around as if it’s a light saber. I forgot they were both Star Wars fans.
“Don’t blind us with that thing,” I say when they point it at Doug and me. In truth, the beam is so feeble it wouldn’t blind anything, but I’ve grumbled at Jerry all my life. “You’ll spoil our force field.”
They laugh as they walk closer.
“Oh, I had forgotten how beautiful that shepherd is in the stained glass window,” Cassie says as she sits down on one of the chairs around the table. “Jerry turned the back light on so the light would shine through.”
I nod. “That’s one thing that will be memorable about the wedding. Assuming Aunt Ruth doesn’t want to cover it up.”
“Why would she—” Jerry begins and then stops.
“Farm animal,” I say and he nods.
“But it’s a little lamb,” Cassie protests.
“Aunt Ruth doesn’t like farm animals,” I say.
“They smell,” Jerry adds.
“Well, of course they smell,” Cassie says indignantly. “They’re farm animals.”
We spend the next few minutes trying to decide what to do if Aunt Ruth absolutely refuses to have Elaine’s wedding take place in the presence of a farm animal.
Finally Doug says. “If she’s okay with the dead bodies around here, I wouldn’t think she’d complain about a stained glass lamb.”
That stops us all short. He’s right, of course. The rest of us have almost forgotten about the Big M being a mortuary. I wonder if that is wishful thinking or just the natural beauty of the place lulling us into forgetfulness.
Doug passes around the sandwiches and we eat them as we discuss various options for the wedding. Jerry mentions calling hotels in downtown Los Angeles and Cassie mentions the tearoom at the Huntington Gardens, which we decide would be too small.
There’s really nothing for it, but for me to tell the aunts about the Big M and leave it to them to decide what to do. Now that Jerry has his measurements, I can give those to Aunt Ruth at the same time I tell her. Maybe if I get her all i
nvolved in the numbers of how far everything is from everything, she won’t notice when I mention that the place is really a very nice mortuary.
I take another deep breath. I’ll have to be sure and mention the roses again.
Chapter Twelve
When I wake up on Friday morning, I am surprised that there are no sounds in the apartment. For the past few mornings, I have woken up either to the sound of someone talking in the living room or someone crying in the bedroom. Today it’s nice to just hear the sounds of the cars on the street outside and the clank of the garbage trucks as they empty the trash bins in the parking lot.
I am lying on the air mattress in Cassie’s room and she is curled up on her bed sound asleep. The light is just starting to rise and some of that clear morning sun is shining through the glass in the places where the blind does not meet the edge of the window. It makes thin stripes on everything: Cassie’s blue fuzzy bathrobe that is hanging on a hook on the open door of her closet; the English flower calendar that she has tacked above her dresser; and the huge ficus plant that she moved to her bedroom last night so there would be space in the living room to fold out the Hide-A-Bed for Jerry.
I try to talk myself into feeling strong today. I need to talk to the aunts this morning and it’s not a task I’m looking forward to. So, I do some mental pumping and try to picture myself saying something so smoothly that neither aunt is upset. It doesn’t work—I can’t even think of what I will say, smooth or unsmooth—so eventually I just get up and give a quiet knock on the door separating the living room and the bedroom.
Jerry whispers that I can come in.
The first place I head to is the counter so that I can start the coffee. We set the pot up last night so really all I have to do is press a button to turn it on. Then I head to the bathroom to wash up.
After I come out of the bathroom, all combed and scrubbed, I slip into the bedroom and change into some jeans and a sweater, all the while taking care to not wake Cassie. The alarm isn’t set to go off for another twenty minutes.
Going to the Chapel Page 20
