The Obituary Society

by Jessica L. Randall

  She had only waded up to her knees, so her head was still well above water, but the thing wouldn't let go. She grabbed at her ankle, but she couldn’t feel what held her. It began dragging her toward the center of the pond.

  She flailed her arms and her free leg. Water splashed into her throat, gurgling her screams. Panic seized her chest, and time seemed to slow. The force that held her began pulling her down. She had barely a second to suck in air before she was completely submerged in the water.

  Lila finally struggled to the surface to gulp in air before she was pulled down again. She fought hard, but couldn’t make it to the surface again. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold her breath. Her heart thumped hard against her ribs.

  An image flashed through her mind. Although she couldn’t place it, she knew the face. It was accompanied by a curious burst of anger that started in her chest and crept outward like ice in her veins. The animosity wasn’t coming from her, but felt as if it was. The hate swelled inside of her, heavy and black. She stopped fighting.

  Suddenly something poked at her side. She jerked away, then her mind became hers again. She wrapped her hands around the object and hoisted herself out. Whatever had been pulling her must have released its hold. As Lila's head emerged from the water, there was a splash at the edge of the pond.

  Gasping and coughing, she clamored toward the edge of the pond. With bleary eyes she saw a small figure pull itself up. It stood watching her, delicate and still.

  As soon as she reached dry ground, Lila bent and wretched. Her stomach clenched as it emptied its contents into the grass. Then she rolled onto her side, gasping as she blinked the water from her eyes, trying to focus on the small person standing a few feet away.

  Finally, she recognized the impish brown eyes of the girl from the grocery store. She was dripping wet, but curiously calm.

  “I’m Juniper,” she said. “We don’t swim here.” Her face was expressionless, her tone matter-of-fact.

  Lila tried to calm down enough to form her thoughts into words. What was that thing in the water? Did the girl know what had happened to her just now? Before the questions could swim their way from her murky mind to her lips there was a rustle in the bushes and the girl’s father broke through.

  “Juniper,” he shouted, crouching down to her level. “What are you doing back here?” His brows were lowered, like the first time she'd seen him, but when he wrapped his arms around his daughter they pulled together, reshaping beautifully into a concerned expression she couldn't help but wish she was on the other end of.

  “Are you okay? You’re all wet.” He stroked her hair, pulling it away from her face. She nodded. His eyes followed her gaze to where Lila lay on the ground. He stumbled over to her, and Lila pushed herself up.

  “I’m all right.” She held a hand out in assurance, but couldn’t control the shaking of her splayed fingers. She tried to relax her breathing. “Thanks to your little girl. Sorry, honey.” Lila's chest tightened. Her eyes found Juniper, and she paused to catch her breath again. “I didn’t mean to pull you in. I just felt the branch and held on tight.” Then she looked at Max, her voice pleading. “I didn’t know there was a child on the other end.”

  She cringed, expecting the intense expression to shift again to the heavy scowl she'd seen at the grocery store. She hated to let an arrogant man like him intimidate her, but she was afraid she deserved it. This time she had not simply hurt his daughter’s feelings, but had inadvertently endangered her life.

  Instead he crouched down, putting a hand on her back. The intensity of his concern and his close proximity made her shift uncomfortably. She looked down and cleared her throat as she peeled the wet fabric away from her skin and repositioned her dress, which had slid up and clung to her thigh.

  His eyes darted away. “Um —You don't look—are you all right?”

  “Yes. I'll be fine.” She tried to stand, but her legs were still unsteady.

  “WHOA.” He grabbed her arm, then the smirk she'd seen the other day returned to his lips. “I think you may need to consider safer modes of transportation. Looks like driving and swimming are out.”

  She lifted her chin and pulled her arm away, shooting a toxic look his way. “I said I'm fine.” She took a step and winced as a twig stuck into her foot. She glanced at the pond, and caught a glimpse of one flip-flop floating around in the center. There was no way she was going after it.

  Max looked down at her bare feet, then removed his own large shoes and handed them to her.

  “No, don’t do that. I can manage,” she said stiffly. He stared quietly, the moment expanding uncomfortably until she gave up. She took the shoes and slipped her feet in.

  Lila crossed her arms over her chest and clumped silently behind Max and Juniper along the path. Adrenaline still pumped through her system. Her legs felt unsteady, and most of her attention was absorbed in pushing her way through the path in what she estimated to be size eleven shoes.

  When they left the wooded area he turned to her, crossing his arms over his Led Zeppelin t-shirt. “I’m Max,” he said awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure if he had missed the appropriate time for introductions.

  “I know. I own you.”

  His brows shot up.

  “F—for one evening anyway. Does this count?”

  Max laughed nervously. “Um, I guess, if you want. But don't tell Grandma. She paid good money to fix us up.” He motioned to the girl. “This is Juniper. I guess you met her the other day, more or less.” He ducked his head, then adjusted the thick-rimmed glasses and glanced back up.

  “Lila Moore,” she said to Juniper. Warmth rose in her cheeks at the mention of the grocery store encounter. She glanced at Max. “And, um, sorry about that. No filter.”

  He grimaced. “Not one of my best days, either. So you're staying with Ada? You were, uh, driving her truck.”

  “Yeah. I guess I’m out of practice with a stick shift.”

  “I came by to set up a new computer for her. I was just getting my things out of my truck when I saw Juniper running off.” He shot the little girl a warning look. Her expression darkened and her sharp chin shot up in a defensive position.

  “She knows she’s not supposed to go back there, but I guess we’ll let her off the hook this time, since she saved a life.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze, pulling her closer to him, and she relaxed. Lila gave the girl an apologetic look, hoping she hadn’t gotten her into trouble.

  “Can we come back to the house with you? I should get that work done for Ada.” His voice was stiff, strained, and Lila wanted more than anything to release both of them from their discomfort. But she nodded her head and they turned toward the house.

  The huge shoe squished as she took a step. “Oh—here.” She stopped to pull the shoes off and held them out, tipping them so water streamed from the insides. “And thank you.” Her eyes rested on Juniper’s, and a glint of appreciation flashed back at Lila. She had the inexplicable feeling that this was a child whose good graces you would do well to find yourself in.

  On the back steps, Lila twisted her skirt to ring out as much water as possible. It dripped onto the hot cement, where it immediately sank in and started to disappear. She waited to hold the door open for Max, who had retrieved a large box from his truck, and Juniper, who carried a clear container full of cords and odd objects. It looked very large in her skinny arms.

  Max dropped the box on the table and surveyed the room, his eyes finally resting on an ancient computer in the corner.

  “That’s what she’s been using?” he asked, walking over to examine it.

  “Well, I don’t know that she uses it all that much. But she did mention she’d like everything updated. Apparently it was pointed out by Betsy Barker that the Society should have a blog, and possibly a Facebook page. She may have called it a mugshot page.” She smiled, imagining what the mugshots of the Society ladies would look like. “Anyway, it runs really slow.”

  Lila recognized his smirk, but
she didn't read it as arrogant this time.

  “If you have everything you need, I’m going to go change,” she said, suddenly self-conscious about the see-through state of her cotton dress. “I’ll find something for Juniper to put on, and how about if I heat some water for cocoa?”

  Juniper nodded enthusiastically. Lila was relieved she hadn’t asked her for a list of the ingredients.

  “And hey—I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to Ada.”

  Max looked up from the mess of dusty cords he was untangling and coughed. He raised an eyebrow. “I’m just as afraid of her as you are.”

  She took it as a peace offering.

  After filling the tea kettle and turning the stove on, she trudged up the stairs and started down the hall, but stopped short as something caught her eye and tugged at her consciousness. She stared at the picture of Ada with the pearl necklace. She squeezed her eyes shut and swayed as the memory of the pond flooded through her. The image that had flashed through her mind as she struggled beneath the water was of Ada. The smooth-faced Ada that smiled from these photos. Why had she felt such anger as she envisioned that face?

  As she pulled off the soaking-wet dress she looked down at her scratched calves and arms. Blood still seeped from some of them and streaked down her wet skin. She searched through the small bathroom closet and found a tin of Band-Aids. Behind it was a bottle of men's cologne. It was clearly decades old, and the label had been torn off. Curious, she sprayed it into the air. Her stomach lurched and she gagged at the familiar scent of Old Spice.

  Chapter 9

  Store-Bought

  The sun hadn't yet cleared the horizon. Lila sat at the vanity blinking the blur from her eyes so she could apply her mascara. Ada woke so early that Lila felt guilty if she slept past six. She did not consider herself a morning person, but she'd adjust.

  Every day Ada gave her a list of tasks and errands to do, and she was glad to ease her burden in any little way. It reminded her of the time she had spent with Grandpa Isaac. Learning about Ada gave her that same sense of belonging.

  She'd spent her days changing light bulbs, dusting hard-to-reach areas, and pulling stubborn weeds. Ada even had her rubbing the scratches on her piano with walnuts, and surprisingly enough, while it was not a bad way to spend an afternoon, it did not qualify as fulfilling. Her grandpa had left her a responsibility, and she knew she wouldn't have any peace until she took care of the house.

  Lila had ordered a couple of books and perused several online articles. She'd taken several days to clean the old house from top to bottom, but she hadn't begun any serious work yet.

  The thought of renovating an entire house was overwhelming. She'd read enough to know that money would be a concern, but it was more than that. She was afraid she would become attached to it, and she wasn't ready to commit to settling in Auburn, Nebraska, at the ripe age of twenty-four. People her age were continuing their education, beginning life-long careers. They were not hanging out with old ladies, clipping obituaries from the newspaper, and drinking herbal tea.

  But then again, Grandpa Issac used to talk about that house like it was an old friend he'd left behind. He didn't want her to just fix it up and sell it. And nothing could have prepared Lila for the moment she stood on her grandpa's porch with the key in her hand. It was as if he had offered her her heritage, and the chance to call a place home. She didn't know what her future held, but she knew it was time to start repairs on the house.

  Suddenly the silence was broken by the crashing and clanging of metal pans downstairs, followed by a stream of exasperated remarks from Ada. Lila dropped her makeup and hurried down to the kitchen. Flour, sugar, and all the usual ingredients were scattered across the kitchen as she had seen them many times during her stay, and a hint of vanilla hung in the air. But a partially-cooked cake sat on the counter, and the oven racks and various pots and pans lay on the floor. All Lila could see of Ada was her polyester backside sticking out of the open oven door.

  “Of all days, why did it have to go out on the fourth of July?” The question echoed around inside the oven.

  “What happened?” Lila asked.

  Ada grunted as she pulled herself out of the oven and stretched herself up to her full five-foot-two height. Her hair stuck out in every direction, and she was adorned with flour and smudges of black. She reminded Lila of the fairy tales where some simpleton tampers with the treasure of a fearsome dragon.

  “My oven,” she said. “I put my prize-winning cake in the oven and when I checked on it, it was still gooey. This oven has worked like a charm for twenty-five years. Now it’s suddenly gone ka-put!”

  “Well, I doubt you’ll find the answer in there.” Lila was afraid to smile. “I’m sure there’s something we can do. Maybe we could use one of the other ladies’ ovens?”

  “The cake’s already ruined. I can’t save it now. Most of The Society will have their ovens full already. Besides, I won’t do it. They’ve been telling me to replace this thing for years because all the knobs broke and the handle keeps falling off. But it was a good oven. I've had it so long I knew exactly how to time things. Anyway, look at me.” She spread her soft arms wide, then flopped them to her sides. “I won’t have time to fix myself up and make another dessert fit for the Society’s bake sale, even if I had a working oven.” She started pulling at frizzy patches of her hair.

  “When’s the party?” Lila asked.

  “Well, the flag-raising is at seven. The breakfast starts at seven-thirty. The boy scouts are in charge of that. They have help, of course, and it’s real good. They have pancakes and eggs and bacon. I guess we could skip it this year. But I always supervise, and make sure the tables are covered and the condiments ready.” She looked around the kitchen, her eyes dull and hopeless.

  Lila took Ada’s hands and looked at her steadily. “I may not know much about good home-cooking. But one thing I have learned as a latchkey kid and taking care of Grandpa was how not to cook.”

  Ada cocked her head and stared at her with wide eyes.

  “You still have plenty of strawberries, right?” Lila asked.

  Ada nodded slowly, unconvinced. “What do you plan to do?”

  “Trust me, Ada. Get yourself ready and go to the breakfast. I’ll meet you there.”

  “I can’t do it,” Ada said, wringing her apron hard. “I have a reputation here. Don’t let those ladies fool you. Some of them have been waiting for me to mess up like this.

  “And besides, people are depending on me. Verna Kelley told me that every year her brother Elmer waits and waits for our booth to go up, just so he can get some of my baked goods. She doesn’t mind, you see; her desserts are always store-bought. And Elmer, he has a bit of my cake and a glass of milk before he goes out to work each day. He saves it so it feeds him for a week.” Her round chin tilted upward, and her blue eyes were misty under her glasses.

  Lila wrapped her arm around Ada and led her out of the kitchen.

  “It will be good. Don’t worry about a thing. I have a reputation back where I come from too, you know,” she said, winking.

  “Really?” Ada asked.

  “Really.”

  Ada smiled tightly. “All right, then. I'll be busy helping the library get their book sale going after the breakfast. Our booth goes up at eleven. Try to have it there by then.”

  “I'll be there.”

  Ada nodded and headed to her room as Lila turned back toward the kitchen. She shuffled in, wrapped her hands around the edge of the table, and dropped her head, letting her hair fall over her face like a curtain. It was true she had a reputation back home, but it was more for speaking before she thought than anything regarding cooking. She couldn’t believe what she'd just told Ada. Her stomach twisted up in knots.

  But it was true what she had said about not cooking. She was great at not cooking. She wasn't a disaster in the kitchen, but she had definitely learned the benefit of short cuts. Surely she could pull out some of her old tricks to make th
is work. She took a deep breath. She could do this. First she had to go to the store to see what she could find to work with. It couldn’t be hard to make something good with ripe, home-grown strawberries.

  Her heart dropped as she realized this meant she would have to drive the old pick-up again. She'd been to the grocery store a couple of times, but had made the excuse that Gladys might need help, so she had walked over to her house and they had driven Gladys's car.

  She was never sorry, because Gladys had the most interesting way of describing everyone they saw along the way. Partly it was because people here didn't just know a person. They knew the whole family tree from the roots up, and each individual was one branch of a complicated system. She knew why a person was the way they were. But it wasn't just that. She seemed to see things that other people didn't notice, like what a person's gifts were, or how they felt inside. Maybe it was those gigantic glasses. She imagined Gladys seeing into people with her magnified eyes and laughed to herself.

  Lila hesitated, then grabbed the keys and slipped on a pair of flip-flops. She opened the door and came face to face with Max, who jumped back slightly, his brows raised in surprise.

  “Oh. Hi. Can I . . . help you?” Lila knew that this house was no place for a man on this particular morning.

  He took his glasses off and wiped them on his shirt. “I just came by to finish up some work on Ada’s computer.”

  Max looked different today. It took Lila a moment to realize he was clean-shaven, and had taken the time to comb his hair. He had a difficult time making eye contact. Lila thought he must be one of those awkward young men who get along much better with the retired-types than with those his own age. Not that there were many retired-types around in Auburn. It seemed that the old farmers around here worked, in heat or extreme cold, until the day they died.