Jeepers Reapers: There Goes My Midlife Crisis

by Marianne Morea

  “He doesn’t, huh?” Cade thought that funny. “The first stop must be a doozy if his knickers are in a knot.”

  Pfft. “Alistair was born with his knickers in a knot. First stop on the parade of pain happens in Washington Square Park. According to our man of the hour, that was nothing more than a blip on his life’s radar.”

  “He said that.”

  I nodded.

  “Sounds like you’ve got a day ahead of you.”

  “Wait...” I stopped Cade in the doorway. “Where are you going? You’re supposed to be taking the lead on this.”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “That was before I had to make yet another trip uptown.”

  “Well, Level Five, that’s why they pay you the big bucks.” I watched him shrug into his jacket, admiring the width of his shoulders and how they tapered to his waist, and I had to stop my eyes from dipping any lower.

  “I’ll meet you at the cemetery. Unless Angelica pulls me into her office for something, I shouldn’t be too long.” He blew me a kiss and was out the door with the transport ghost box, leaving nothing but breeze and the snick of the front door closing.

  “Ready?” Alistair asked, following my eyes to the door.

  I nodded. “Just let me grab a pashmina. It might be chilly in the columbarium.”

  “So…when are they going to give you super sonic speed? Or is that just for the Hollywood types?”

  I shot him a look, reaching for my scarf. “And how would you like to spend the rest of your audit cramped into a transport box?”

  He shut up quick, giving me time to think as we headed to meet the uber. Thea sent train directions, but the thought of taking the subway with Alistair and his pet peeves made me cringe.

  I had no idea if his hate of all things mass transit carried over in death, but I wasn’t up to finding out. The last time he was forced to take the subway, he went from point A to point B with his nose perpetually wrinkled.

  The uber made it to the cemetery in less than an hour, and was even able to drop me in front of the columbarium. At first I wasn’t sure I was in the right place, but then I spotted Thea.

  I’m glad I saw her because the cemetery was huge. Rolling greens in the middle of the city, with acres and acres of tombstones surrounded by an urban horizon. The columbarium itself was at the center of the cemetery, with a wide circular drive in front of the stucco building.

  Alistair hung toward the back of the memorial room. I didn’t blame him. It was awkward enough being here as a friend of the departed, I could only imagine how it felt for him being the departed.

  “Hey, T,” I said, walking up to her pew.

  “Hey yourself.”

  I slid in beside her, glad for the company. “I saw you walk in as my uber pulled up. We got a little lost driving in. This cemetery is enormous.”

  “Yeah, too bad we can’t say the same thing about this turnout.”

  “Poor Alistair. There’s no one here. I didn’t expect much, but I expected more than just us and his immediate family.”

  “Well, when you’re a piss poor person, what can you expect but a piss poor turnout at your funeral?” Thea shrugged. “Like Ebenezer Scrooge, only Alistair didn’t get his chance at overnight redemption.”

  Thea’s purse clattered to the floor, along with a loud thud from a psalm book. She cringed, sliding her eyes to the empty spot beside her.

  “He’s sitting right next to me, isn’t he?” She scrunched her eyes in a pseudo-wince.

  “Nope.”

  “Okay. Good.” Her shoulders visibly relaxed, and I stifled a chuckle.

  “He’s standing behind you.”

  She jerked forward on the pew’s seat, schlumping her shoulders forward to make herself smaller.

  “Gotcha!”

  She grumbled a dramatic exhale. “Girl, I really hate you sometimes.”

  You had your stuff so close to the edge of the pew, I couldn’t resist.”

  “Hmmph.” She yanked at her black sequined top, clearly put out.

  “Aw, come on. If we don’t laugh we’ll cry, and you know you love me so quit it.”

  She looked at the skylight, introspective. “I thought I’d sense him.”

  “I know, honey. Alistair is all the way in the back. To be honest, I think he was afraid of what he’d overhear. And speaking of overhearing, where’s our favorite yenta?”

  “Goldie’s coming. Ivy is driving her in from New Jersey.” Thea checked the time on her phone. “She should’ve been here by now.”

  “Maybe traffic was crazy.”

  I sat back, looking at the wall of niche squares ahead, and the poster-sized picture of Alistair, draped with black and flanked by urns of flowers.

  Muted conversation and muffled coughs created a soft hum against the marble columbarium walls. It was actually quite peaceful. So far, so good.

  “Louisa, why do your boobs look like your bra has built-in twinkle lights? Did you forget to do laundry and have to dig into the holiday lingerie?”

  I looked down, and the Keeper pendant glowed beneath my blouse like Times Square on Saturday night.

  “Wowza.” Cade stood at the end of the pew. “Now that’s not something you see every day, let alone at a funeral.”

  My hand flew to cover my cleavage, while the other wrestled with my pashmina for camouflage.

  “With the week I had, I didn’t get a chance to do laundry. I forgot this thing had batteries.”

  There had to be a reaper close by, or why else would Emmie’s pendant light up like a Christmas tree?

  I did a quick scan of the room, but nothing jumped out at me. Literally or figuratively. This was a cemetery, so maybe it was just a coincidence.

  “Marigold’s here.” Thea nudged my arm, and I turned, spotting her beehive immediately.

  Waving her over, she seemed preoccupied. Nervous even. “You okay?” I asked as Thea moved her stuff off the empty seat.

  “I’m fine. Traffic was terrible.” Her eyes darted as if looking for someone. Probably Ivy.

  “Is Ivy stopping in?”

  “No. She’s waiting for me in the car.” She gripped her purse like Sophia from the Golden Girls.

  “Goldie, you’re as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. What’s wrong?” I wasn’t going to sit by and watch her blood pressure go up for no reason. “Did you and Ivy have another fight?”

  Things had been strained between them the past six months, but Marigold stayed close-lipped about it. Neither Thea nor I pressed, but it was out of character for our friend not to vent.

  That she went to Ivy’s after Alistair’s accident made me think they’d patched up whatever was between them, but now I wasn’t so sure.

  “Do you want to come back to my place after?” I asked. “We never got to have our girls’ night.”

  She shook her head a little too quickly. “I can’t. Ivy is waiting, and has somewhere she needs to be.”

  “Okay. I’d be happy to drive you back to Jersey if that’s the problem.”

  “No, bubbaleh. But thank you.”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she looked scared. Ivy had the worst taste in men, and I nearly pressed Goldie on whether or not there was a new boyfriend in the picture making her uneasy, but it wasn’t the time or place. I’d talk it over with Thea, and if we needed to intervene, we would.

  A vase crashed to the floor at the back of the alcove chapel, and all eyes jerked toward the noise. Except for Cade, no one saw what I saw, because no one else could see Alistair.

  “I think our boy’s in trouble.” Cade leaned in, whispering. “You want me to check it out?”

  “No. I got it.”

  He nodded. “Good, because Angelica just texted. I need to call her back.”

  “Go. If I have to leave with Alistair before you’re done, I’ll be in Washington Square, like I said.”

  “Don’t you have an appointment later?”

  I slid a covert glance toward Alistair pacing in fro
nt of the door. The funeral director and his assistant rubbed their arms from the chill, and I got a bad feeling.

  “I do, but I’ll reschedule if I have to. I’ll text you one way or the other.” Cade slid out of the pew first, and then I got up to make my excuses only to see Marigold wasn’t in her seat.

  “Did Goldie go to the ladies’ room?”

  Thea shrugged. “No, she whispered she had to leave and then just left. She barely said goodbye to me.”

  I tried to catch a glimpse of her before she left, but it was too late. “Something’s up with her. I just hope Ivy isn’t bullying her for money like she did with her last boyfriend.”

  “I know.” Thea made a face. “Let it be, Louisa. We’ll call her later in the week. Ivy’s her daughter, and she’ll do whatever to keep her around.”

  I stared at the empty doorway. “That’s what worries me.”

  Grabbing my magic messenger bag, I turned to exit the pew as well, but Thea caught the edge of my pashmina. “Where are you going?”

  “I have to see a man about a ghost.” My eyes slid to the back again. “He’s having a bit of a hard time.”

  What could Thea say? I excused myself, and made a beeline for the condolence book and the ghost that stood reading everyone’s comments.

  “What are you doing?” My question was barely a whisper, but I knew Alistair heard me loud and clear.

  I pretended to mull over sympathy cards, waiting for his answer.

  “I know that woman.”

  “It’s your funeral, Alistair. I would hope you recognize everyone here.”

  He shook his head. “No, I mean know her, know her.”

  “If you mean in the biblical sense, I don’t need to know that.”

  I followed his line of sight to a pretty thirty-something-year-old woman sitting alone in the back row. She turned, and the moment we made eye contact, the Messorem Malleo vibrated in my messenger bag.

  Ding. Ding.

  It was time to board the audit train.

  Stop one had arrived.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “HER NAME IS laurel martin. I can’t believe she showed up.” Alistair’s face was a melancholy mix, and he couldn’t drag his eyes from her. “She hasn’t changed a bit. Even down to the barista apron hanging from her jacket pocket.”

  “How long since you last saw her?”

  He exhaled, shimmering the air with a sudden chill. “It’s got to be fifteen years. I was a post-grad working on my doctorate in library science, and she worked at the local Starbucks I frequented.”

  My eyebrows went up in tandem. “I didn’t know you had a doctorate.”

  “I don’t. I quit when my mentor red-lined my dissertation so much it looked like the pages bled.”

  “That’s tough, Alistair. I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It’s just one of many regrets I carried with me every day.” He inclined his head toward Laurel. “Not her, though. I see she’s still a coffeehouse barista.”

  “And?”

  “She wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer when we were together, but she was beautiful, and she was into me. For an academic, it was intoxicating to have someone who looked like her on my arm, but like all superficial fascinations, it got old, fast. I told her as much when she and I broke up.”

  “So, callous douche can be added to the list of everything else I ticked off about you.”

  His eyes jerked to mine. “That’s not fair. You’re an educated woman. If Cade wasn’t an educated man you wouldn’t give him the time of day. A pretty face is, as a pretty face does, until they try to speak.”

  My mouth actually dropped. “That is so wrong on so many levels it’s not worth trying to explain. I have no idea if Cade is educated or not. Formal education does not define a person or their character. It can add to it, but Alistair, you are an educated man, and you suck.”

  I took his hand, and whoosh! I was in the super-sonic driver’s seat. I gripped the pendant and thought where I needed to be, and boom. We were there.

  “How did we?” Alistair turned in all directions, stunned.

  “Just call me Keeper super-sonic.”

  He glanced up at the iconic Washington Square arches, and then at the children’s play area and the benches lining the paved thoroughfare. Washington Square wasn’t a green oasis like Central Park. Its arches opened to a giant asphalt circle with a central fountain, leaving its greenery to its perimeter.

  “Do you know why we’re here?”

  He nodded. “I broke up with Laurel on that bench.”

  “Yes.”

  I lifted my hand and the surrounding park disappeared. Alistair and I watched his younger self and Laurel on the bench, witnessing his dismissive cruelty all over again.

  “Watch her face, Alistair. Watch your own.” The book guided me without words on how and when to prompt my charge.

  He stood stock still as he listened to the dialogue unfold, his shoulders rising to his ears the more he heard.

  “But Alistair—”

  “No, Laurel. The only but worth having in conversation is your shapely ass, and since I’ve been there done that, as you like to say, I’m done with this. I can’t go places or converse with my peers with you around. I’m sick of limiting topics of conversation. You don’t fit in my world, Laurel.”

  “But—”

  Disdain etched his mouth. “Watching you mingle in my circle is painful and embarrassing. I don’t want to hurt you, but it’s the truth. I can’t do it anymore…”

  Alistair covered his ears, humiliated. “What’s wrong with me? I’m not even looking at her as I speak!”

  “And?”

  Shame etched his face realizing the mean-spiritedness of his diatribe, not once giving the girl a chance to defend herself or explain her circumstance.

  The moment was completely one-sided, and what’s worse, the poor girl visibly shrank into the bench where she sat the longer Alistair spoke.

  “Am I really that self-absorbed?” He seemed stunned at what it looked like to be on the other end of his condescension.

  “That’s for you to tell me.”

  His hand went to his forehead, brushing his hair from his eyes in disbelief. “I’m so pleased with the sound of my own voice I don’t see the effect my words had on that poor girl.”

  He shook his head. “How could I be that mean?” He jerked his eyes to me. “I told her to improve her reading level beyond Babar the Elephant, then call me.”

  “Yet she came to your funeral.”

  “To spit on my grave, no doubt. I’m the reason that girl is still wearing a barista’s apron.”

  “Alistair, even in your remorse and realization, it’s not all about you. Do you know who Laurel Martin is today?”

  He shook his head.

  The beginnings of a hot flash took me by surprise, so I gripped the pendant, but even its glow grew hotter in my grasp. Was this a past reaper, or one that knew why I was in the park? One that followed me here specifically.

  “Laurel Martin owns Babar Bakes,” I continued, hoping the hot flash wouldn’t spread. “The bakery chain with its flagship store in Times Square. I’d say she not only improved herself, but she capitalized on it and established a literacy foundation.”

  I let that sink in for a moment. “Maybe she came to your funeral today to quietly thank you.” I shrugged. “And maybe spit a little, just because you were a dick. Either way, you made enough of an impression she named her bakery chain after the book in your jibe.”

  The Messorem Malleo stopped vibrating, and the world around us was back to present day.

  “I don’t know what to say to all this.” His face was contemplative. “I’m overwhelmed.”

  “As a Keeper and someone who has known you for years, I’d say that’s a good start.” I gestured for us to go, but no sooner did I turn than blast! A detonated inferno hit. My extremities froze even as my core went up in flame. This was as bad, if not worse than the day I had coffee with Marcus.<
br />
  I gripped the pendant, hoping it would abate the whiplashing temperatures, but its own heat seared my hand. Pain radiated up my forearm, but I didn’t let go, though every sinew screamed for me to run.

  Cade yelled, sprinting across the thoroughfare to where I bent, half collapsed.

  “What the hell happened?” He helped me to my feet, my hot flash ebbing.

  “It’s here,” I panted. “The rogue. It started during the audit vision and exploded just as you—”

  I stopped myself midsentence. A realization bloomed and dots connected all over my head. My mind revolted immediately, but the more the evidence caviled and swirled, the more I couldn’t deny it. I straightened, swallowing my disbelief.

  “Every instance, every encounter I’ve had with a reaper, save one, has been when you’re around.” I spoke slowly and clearly, trying to convince myself as I said the words out loud. “And now you were the only one who knew the exact place in time and space for Alistair’s audit.”

  “Louisa, what are you saying? I’m not a reaper.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then what?”

  Cade’s face was incredulous. Mine would be too, but I had to finish my thought to the end.

  “Is what I’m saying circumstantial? Of course! I know that. But the mantra is trust but verify. Isn’t that what Angelica did with me this week?”

  “No,” he snapped back. “She never accused you of being something you’re not. Every case you cited is circumstantial, and I take great offense to your accusation that I’m working both sides against the middle. How could you say something like that to me? Put personal gain or personal grievance in my mouth!”

  “I didn’t say that. You did.”

  “You implied it.”

  I wiggled out from his arm, confused and anxious. Emmie warned not to trust too easily. I thought she meant Angelica or Morana, or even Marcus. And what did I do? I fell for a man I barely knew, who could be using me for ulterior motives.

  Did I believe it? I sure as hell didn’t want to. Was I overreacting? At this point I wasn’t sure about anything or anyone. Not me. Not Cade. Not anyone. I had a metaphysical target on my back and had just been ambushed, and the pendant between my breasts still hummed with heat and warning.