Embrace the Grim Reaper

by Judy Clemens

  “Work?” His face crinkled in concentration. “About silverware?”

  “No. No, I mean about HomeMaker.”

  “Oh, that work.” He turned backed to his silverware, as if he didn’t care to reply.

  “Praise the Lord,” Loretta said, “Ellen was going to make the need for this kitchen go away, thank you Jesus! ”

  Casey went closer to her. “Did she tell you how?”

  “Didn’t say much, did she now, poor angel of God, but she was confident in His power, yes she was. Praise the Lord! ”

  “She thought God was going to save the factory?”

  Loretta pursed her lips. “Now don’t be getting that tone, young lady, although God loves you even so.”

  “I’m sorry. But I was serious. What made her confident? Trust in God?”

  “That’s always there, honey. But she was the one doing God’s work and helping the meek and poor in spirit.”

  Casey clenched her fists against her hips. “But how?”

  “Oh, well now, baby, I’d tell you if I knew, wouldn’t I? Hallelujah! ”

  Casey took a deep breath, reminding herself that taking an elderly woman to the mat was really not appropriate. No matter how heartfelt it would be.

  The door slapped open again, and Casey’s stomach dropped. “Leila.”

  “Where’s Eric?” The girl’s eyes sparked with anger—and something else—when she saw Casey.

  Casey jerked her thumb toward the dining room. “Out there.”

  Leila spun on her heel and marched out of the kitchen. Casey followed, stopping in the doorway to make sure Eric wasn’t about to get assaulted. She needn’t have worried. Leila’s only concern seemed to be to find Eric and give him some urgent message. Somehow, Casey had the feeling it was about her.

  Casey went back to the kitchen and took a couple heads of lettuce from the fridge, washing them and cutting off the brown spots with a knife. Maybe it was time for her to leave Home Sweet Home, at least, if not Clymer altogether. She wasn’t getting any answers. Eric was angry with her. Leila was telling secrets. Loretta thought she was a heathen. Johnny had even turned his back on her.

  She closed her eyes and leaned on the sink, a wave of dizziness sweeping through her.

  “Don’t go falling into the sink now,” Death said. “You’ll cut yourself with that knife.”

  Casey shook her head, her eyes still closed, and whispered, “No one would care.”

  “Sure they would. You’d get blood on the lettuce.”

  Casey straightened, giving Death a good glare. “Thanks so much for your concern.”

  Death shrugged and peeled a perfect yellow banana.

  “What is with you?” Casey said. “First junk food, now the healthy stuff.”

  “I get bored. And besides, I’m really enjoying learning about—”

  “Gardening. I know.”

  “Casey?” Eric came to stand beside Casey and she blinked as he stood in Death’s spot, Death’s form shimmering, but staying in place, outlining Eric’s body. Eric shivered. “Is it cold in here, or is it just me?” He reached over to shut the door.

  Leila stood in the entryway to the dining room, her expression triumphant, arms crossed over her chest. Casey went back to chopping lettuce, avoiding the sight of Death/Eric.

  “Um, I’m sorry,” Eric said. “I know you’re just trying to help by asking me to think of these things. I’ll go home tonight and look through my calendar. See if I can piece together which visit to my dad that would’ve been.”

  Casey nodded. “Good. That would be helpful.”

  Leila cleared her throat.

  Eric looked back at her, then turned again to Casey, a violent shudder running through his body. He looked at the window, but it was closed. “Why is it so cold in here?”

  “Go on back out to the dining room,” Casey said. “We’ve got things under control in here.”

  “All right.” He leaned closer. “But that means I’ve got to deal with Leila.”

  Casey grinned. “You’re a big boy. You can handle her.”

  He glanced over at the girl in the doorway, who now had her fists planted on her hips. “I’m not so sure.”

  Casey nudged him out of the way as she leaned over the sink, and he left.

  “That wasn’t nice,” she told Death.

  Death shrugged. “I was here first.”

  Loretta walked past Casey, a stack of pizzas in her arms as she headed for the stove. “Another volunteer for the kitchen, Praise God! Did you bring a friend, Casey?”

  Casey shook her head, somehow not surprised that Loretta could see Death. “No. This friend was just leaving.”

  Death frowned. “I was?”

  “Nice lady’s friend?” Johnny turned from his task in the corner and headed for Death, arms open.

  “No! Not you, too!” Casey stepped in front of Death, and Johnny’s face fell. “I mean,” Casey stammered, “my friend has…a cold, Johnny. I don’t want you to get it.”

  “Oh. Sorry, nice lady’s friend!”

  “Well,” Loretta said, pointing at Death. “If you have a cold, baby, you get out of the kitchen. Praise the Lord we don’t need anyone else getting sick.”

  “But I’m not—”

  “You heard the woman,” Casey said. “Get out.”

  Death frowned. “I’ll be back.”

  “Oh,” Casey said, sighing. “I have no doubt about that.”

  With a final glare, Death stomped out the back door, leaving it flung open.

  Loretta clicked her tongue. “With a temper like that, we don’t need more help, do we, thank the Lord?”

  “That’s right,” Casey said.

  For some reason cutting up lettuce got a whole lot more enjoyable after that.

  The smell of pizza soon filled the kitchen, and Eric and Leila carried it out to the diners—Leila shooting Casey smug, angry looks—along with the salad and some chips. Leila must have felt so strongly about Casey’s presence it was worth it to serve her own family. Casey stayed in the kitchen, helping Loretta and Johnny with dishes and refilling the pizza trays as necessary.

  Before long the people were gone and the volunteers were standing around eating the leftovers. Leila didn’t leave Eric’s side, her demeanor daring Casey to make an issue of it. For the second time that night Casey had to remind herself that martial arts had no place in a charity kitchen.

  “Well, it’s about that time.” Eric said, glancing at his watch.

  “I’ll drive you to rehearsal.” Leila batted her eyes at Eric.

  He glanced at Casey. “I’ll just walk. Thanks, though.”

  “Oh, then I’ll walk with you,” Leila said. “I can leave my Bug parked in the back, can’t I?”

  Eric looked at Casey. “You coming?”

  She smiled. “Why don’t you two go ahead. I’ll catch up with you there.”

  Leila’s narrowed eyes widened, and she smirked, grabbing Eric’s arm. “Come on, Eric, let’s go.”

  With a pleading backward glance, Eric allowed Leila to lead him from the room. Casey listened until she heard the front door open and close.

  “You should go, too,” Loretta said. “You’ll be late for rehearsal, Praise God! ”

  “I’ll go in a minute. I just didn’t want Leila to kill me before I got there.”

  Loretta chuckled. “You just take that friend of yours along, babydoll. Then that girl will behave.”

  A good idea, but there was no way Leila would be seeing Death. Casey was quite confident of that.

  She picked up a pizza tray to take it to the sink, but Johnny was already coming at her for a hug, and the tray came up, smashing against her chest. He backed up, and they looked down at the mess, splotches of tomato sauce and cheese clinging to Casey’s shirt.

  Johnny cried out and grabbed a dishcloth, swiping at the spots, making little sobbing noises.

  Casey gently took his wrists, holding them away from her. “It’s okay, Johnny.”

  “I’m
sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He jerked against her hold, wanting to go at the stains with the cloth.

  “Really, Johnny.” She tried to make eye contact. “It’s okay. I’ll wash it out.”

  “Just don’t you put that blouse in the dryer until those stains are all gone, baby,” Loretta said. “Or they’ll be there until kingdom come, Lord willing.”

  Johnny gasped. “Not the dryer!” He jerked his hands upward, flinging the dishrag, narrowly missing Casey’s face.

  “I’ll spray the spots really well,” Casey said. “And I’ll double check before throwing the shirt in the dryer. I promise.”

  “No!” Johnny said, coming at her again with the dishcloth. “Stay away from the dryer!”

  Casey again grabbed his wrists, forcing him to look at her, but his anxiety had climbed way past a simple messy accident. “Johnny. It’s okay. I’m not angry. The clothes will be fine. I promise.”

  “No! No!” He jerked and writhed, sudden tears running down his face.

  Loretta was there now, laying soothing hands on Johnny’s shoulders, praying for God to come and throw his calming presence over their beloved brother in Christ.

  “The dryer!” Johnny screeched. “You have to stay away from the dryer!”

  Casey shook her head. “Why, Johnny? Why do I have to stay away from the dryer?”

  “Because dryers kill people!” he sobbed. “They kill people!” He wrenched his arms from Casey’s and fell to the floor, grabbing her around her knees. “I don’t want you to die, nice lady! Don’t die!”

  “I’m not going to die. I promise.” She stroked his head, smoothing his hair back from his face. “But the dryer, Johnny. Why are you afraid of those?”

  “When people use dryers they die,” he said. “Ellen told me so.”

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Casey could get nothing more out of Johnny, partly because he was too distraught, but mostly, she thought, because he knew nothing further. Loretta couldn’t remember hearing Ellen ever talk about dryers. Just that she had discovered something that could save the factory.

  “She was happy about that, praise God,” Loretta said, “but behind the happiness was something sad, too. Like what she’d found out was haunting her, may she rest in peace.”

  Which Casey could understand. If the saving of HomeMaker came at the expense of someone’s life, Ellen would have to feel the irony, and sadness, in that.

  “What do you know about this, L’Ankou?” Casey muttered as she walked to rehearsal. But Death, when wanted, chose not to come. “You really are an ass, you know,” Casey said.

  The air in front of her shimmered, but nothing materialized.

  Rehearsal had already started when Casey slipped in the double doors, and Eric, Aaron, and Jack were on-stage. She scrambled to find her place in her script, glad to see the others rehearsing a scene she wasn’t in. Becca showed obvious relief at her arrival, and Casey waved her an apology.

  Lonnie squeezed into a seat beside her, his eyes glowing. “And where have you been, our mysterious stranger? I was afraid Thomas was going to blow a gasket when you weren’t here at seven. Eric promised you were coming, but Thomas looked ready to pass out until you came in the door.”

  A glance at Thomas provided only his stony profile, his focus—at least the one he was showing—on the stage.

  “Any clue why he was so freaked out?” Casey asked.

  Lonnie grinned. “He’s really anal about practice time?”

  “Somehow I don’t think that’s it.”

  “No.” He laughed. “Me, either. He never acts that way when Holly’s late. Which she is again today.”

  Thomas turned and glared at them, and Lonnie covered his mouth with both hands. “I guess we need to behave,” he said, from beneath his fingers.

  “We?”

  Lonnie pushed his hands tighter to keep from laughing out loud.

  At the end of the scene Becca called a break, and Eric jumped off of the stage, making his way toward Casey, Leila close behind him.

  “Uh-oh,” Lonnie said. “Here comes loverboy. And his lapdog.”

  Casey smacked his shoulder, then got up to meet Eric. She pulled him to the side, away from Leila, and explained, in hushed tones, what Johnny had told her.

  “A dryer killed somebody?”

  “If Ellen was right. And if Johnny’s correct about what she said.”

  Eric dropped into the nearest seat. “Todd didn’t tell you that?”

  “No.” She sat down next to him. “He said what he and Karl talked about was personal, and had nothing to do with Ellen. But then, maybe he didn’t know she knew about it. Speaking of Todd…” She looked up. “Where is he?”

  “He was here earlier. Probably went outside for break. So that dryer latch we have—”

  “—is somehow connected. It’s got to be. I’m sure it’s not actually the lock of that particular dryer—at least I wouldn’t think so—but it’s important.” She leaned over and grabbed Eric’s hand. “Eric, when you met with your dad that day, was it about dryers?”

  “No. I mean, we never talked about dryers. Except in really vague ways about production. Never anything about somebody dying.”

  “Who’s dying?”

  They looked up at Leila, who stood, hip cocked, beside Casey’s seat, her face betraying some kind of excitement.

  “Nobody.” Eric’s voice was flat.

  Leila gasped. “Eric, did you not tell her?”

  Casey looked at him. “Tell me what?”

  “Nothing,” Eric said in the same flat tone.

  Leila’s nostrils flared. “So are you taking a break or not, Eric?” She glared at Casey, as if Casey was keeping him from his respite.

  Casey stood. “I’m going outside. I need some fresh air.” She walked quickly away, not wanting to hear anything else Leila might say.

  Todd was not outside.

  She waited in the lobby, in the hopes he would come through there before rehearsal resumed, but she was out of luck. By the time Becca was calling for them to return, Todd still was nowhere to be seen.

  Casey went back into the theater, only to see Todd slumped in the front row. She moved up the aisle and sat beside him. He looked at her warily from beneath his half-closed eyes.

  “What do you know about dryers?”

  “Dryers?” His face was blank.

  “You know, the appliance that dries clothes.”

  “I know what you mean. I’m not an idiot.” He looked around, but no one was close. “What about dryers?”

  “Did you and Karl ever talk about them?”

  “About dryers?”

  Casey felt someone’s eyes on her, and she looked up to see Thomas staring at her from several rows back. “Yes,” she said to Todd. “Did you ever have a discussion about them?”

  His expression went from blank to confused. “No.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Casey! Todd!” Becca was gesturing to them. “Act five, scene one.”

  “Coming.” She stood and looked down at Todd. “If you remember anything—”

  “I’m telling you, we never talked about them.”

  Casey climbed the stairs to the stage, Todd following her to join Eric. Eric still hadn’t recovered from what she’d told him, if the pallor of his skin was real and not just a trick of the lights. Casey winked at him, and a smile flickered on his face.

  The double doors at the back of the theater flung open, and Holly strode in, making her way to the front.

  “About time,” Thomas growled.

  Holly froze. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re late. Rehearsal began at seven.”

  She stood there, her mouth gaping, while the rest of the cast looked at each other with shock. Lonnie laughed out loud. Holly and Thomas both rounded on him, and he pinched his lips together with his fingers.

  “Um, Act five, scene one, Holly,” Becca said. “You’ll be on in a few minutes.”

  Holly swung her hair off her n
eck and sat regally in a front row seat, her head forward, eyes at stage level. Casey caught Eric’s eye, and he made a face.

  “Okay, people,” Thomas bellowed. “Let’s go!”

  They got through the scene, and the rest of rehearsal, without anyone blowing up or stalking out. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly relaxed, however, and Casey breathed a sigh of relief when Thomas called it quits for the night.

  “No rehearsal tomorrow,” he said. “Take Sunday off.”

  “Thank you, kind leader,” Lonnie said, then ducked the wadded papers Aaron and Jack threw at him.

  Casey was making her way toward Jack, to see if Johnny’s news about dryers sparked any memories, when Thomas called her name.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Again?” Eric said.

  Thomas bestowed an angry look on him. “I have the right to talk with my actors.”

  “Sure, but Thomas—”

  “It’s all right,” Casey said. “You go on. I’ll be fine.”

  “But we need to figure out what—”

  “I’ll be fine.” Shut up about the dryer, Eric.

  Leila was waiting beside Eric, cracking a stick of gum, and did her part in getting him up the aisle and out of the theater.

  Becca stood at Casey’s elbow, her arms full of notebooks. “Do you need me, Thomas?”

  “What? Oh, no. You can go.”

  She shot a glance at Casey before leaving the same way as the others.

  “Thomas…”

  “Listen, Casey. I don’t know who you are. But I know why you’re here.”

  “You do?”

  “I’m sorry I ever got involved in it, okay? I’m sorry I ever even went to Louisville. I’m out of it now. It’s over. Done. Finis.”

  “Look, Thomas, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know what you were into—”

  His head snapped up.

  “—and it’s really none of my business. Whatever the deal is between you and Eric, well, that’s just the way it is.”

  “Eric?” His lips formed a tight line. “This is way past Eric.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He shook his head slowly. “I wish you wouldn’t play it this way.”

  “Thomas, I’m not playing this any way. I’m telling you I’m not here for you.”