Contents
Title Page
Author’s Note
Synopsis
The Graveyard Kiss
Catching Echoes
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other books by MCD
Copyright
THE GRAVEYARD KISS
— Reconstructionist 0.5 —
Meghan Ciana Doidge
Published by Old Man in the CrossWalk Productions
Salt Spring Island, BC, Canada
www.madebymeghan.ca
Author’s Note
The Graveyard Kiss is a prequel short story for the Reconstructionist Series, which is set in same universe as the same universe as the Dowser and Oracle series.
While it is not necessary to read all three series, the ideal reading order is as follows:
Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic (Dowser 1)
Trinkets, Treasures, and Other Bloody Magic (Dowser 2)
Treasures, Demons, and Other Black Magic (Dowser 3)
I See Me (Oracle 1)
Shadows, Maps, and Other Ancient Magic (Dowser 4)
Maps, Artifacts, and Other Arcane Magic (Dowser 5)
I See You (Oracle 2)
Artifacts, Dragons, and Other Lethal Magic (Dowser 6)
I See Us (Oracle 3)
The Graveyard Kiss (Reconstructionist 0.5)
Catching Echoes (Reconstructionist 1)
Though the Oracle and Reconstructionist series can each be enjoyed on their own without having read the Dowser series, readers are warned that the Oracle and Reconstructionist books feature characters from and discuss certain events within the Dowser series — and thus might contain spoilers for the Dowser books that appear before them in the preferred reading order.
More information can be found at www.madebymeghan.ca/novels
’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all — But really? Is it?
Luci, a true believer in Victorian love poetry, is about to find out whether her teenaged heart and soul is up to surviving a boyfriend who prefers elegies … and the ancient evil he might have dug up on the Internet.
THE GRAVEYARD KISS
When she turned twelve, Lucy changed her name to Luci. Then, at fourteen, she added the little heart over the letter I. But now at sixteen, she was starting to worry that the name itself was a little … frivolous. Not that she condemned anyone else who liked being frivolous, and she certainly thought of herself as being fun. She totally cheered for school teams, painted her toes in bright pinks, and — since she’d started wearing one two years ago — always made sure her bra matched her underwear.
Still, she’d just entered her last year of high school and maybe Luci-with-a-heart-over-the-I just wasn’t her anymore. Unfortunately, when in search of a more serious moniker, she’d asked her mom what Luci was short for, or who she’d been named after. Her mom hadn’t had any interesting answers — except that Luci could change her name after she turned eighteen and at her own expense.
Thus foiled, she was forced to sign her most recent love note Luci-with-a-little-heart-over-the-I even though it conflicted with the serious tenor of the message.
How do I love thee? Let me count the —
Her pink sparkle pencil slid with a smooth sort of grip across the register tape. Luci always liked writing in pencil. Not that she ever had to erase anything, but because she liked the sound of it. The register tape, pilfered from the register of the card shop where she worked, was streaked with red, though in some other stores those warning lines were streaks of green or blue. They let the cashier know when the tape had to be changed. And since the end bits were unenvironmentally thrown out, Luci had no issue with using the neat little rolls to pass love notes. Or, much more specifically, to carry a bit of her heart and poetry to her boyfriend Colby. When starting one of these notes — as she just had — she always made sure to draw the O in Colby’s name as a heart as well. She was really big on symmetry.
Luci had gotten the job at the card shop after the Christmas holidays. She would have preferred working at the Body Shop or Lush, but they hadn’t been looking for anyone when she was looking for a bit of cash. She was lucky the card shop had been hiring. Their regular part-timer had taken off to travel for a year. Having an extra excuse to be out of the house on Thursdays from five to nine and Sundays from one to five was a bonus for Luci. Sundays, according to her stepfather, were supposed to be family days.
Years ago, she’d been the one who rubbed garlic powder all over the roast and made the gravy, but now she was a vegetarian. Well, she’d eat chicken if it was free range and fish if it was certified Ocean Wise. But other than that, no meat. Despite her stepfather’s insistence, this no-meat policy wasn’t simply an ongoing attempt to piss him off, but rather the result of recently viewing a bunch of documentaries that had really grossed Luci and her friends out. That it pissed off her stepdad was a bonus.
Anyway, the card shop carried cool gift things, including great recycled-paper bags and pencils. Her latest sparkly pink pencil had a fluffy hair poof attached to the end where the eraser usually was. Luci had done her nails during study period today in sparkly pink to match this pretty pencil. But then she’d worn her wristwatch wrist warmers — hand knitted on request by her grandmother — to add an ironic touch to the ensemble. She liked that none of the sewn-on watches — there were three different faces on each warmer — displayed the same time.
Currently the shop was dead, as it usually was on Thursday nights. Luci had her fifteen-minute break, along with a fruit-and-nut chocolate bar and a root beer — her latest favorite combo — before the owner went home for the evening at six. She didn’t mind closing by herself. She liked the responsibility and the bits of organization that came with the task.
As she paused to assess the wording of the love note — she was attempting to personalize the famous Elizabeth Barrett Browning poem with her own list — a woman wearing Lululemon as a style choice, not just workout clothing, rushed into the store. She was laden with multiple packages and carrying a large bouquet of white lilies. At a quick glance, based on logos and thicknesses, Luci estimated the woman was carrying close to eight hundred and eighty dollars in her paper bags. She stopped midstore and looked about frantically.
“I need … I must have a card for a funeral. Or not a funeral … a prefuneral. A card for the actual event of a death,” the woman said.
Now, the store was pretty simply laid out and the woman hadn’t even taken a moment to look around, but Luci — dutifully — glanced up from her note and gestured to a bank of cards about halfway back along the western wall.
“Bereavement cards. Past the thank-yous, but before the birthdays,” she said. The woman bustled farther into the shop, following her instructions.
As she returned to adding more hearts to her note, Luci recognized the woman as Vanessa, a vague friend of her mother’s. Probably from a Zumba class.
Vanessa spared a couple of seconds to peer at the indicated section, but hesitated to pick out a card. Luci was always amazed at how people made a big deal out of such simple things. She had long ago decided it was because everyone wanted to feel more important than they actually were. They therefore infused their card selection with that performance pressure. Even thus personally forewarned, she waited until Vanessa actually spoke before offering to help.
“But … but which one is the most popular one?”
Luci abandoned her note with a bit of a sigh, but she was actually always happy to help pick out cards.
Crossing around the counter and deeper into the store, she reached by Vanessa’s elbow and pic
ked out a light blue card from the wall. Vanessa opened and read the proffered sample.
Unable are the loved to die, for love is mortality.
“Emily Dickinson,” Luci said, offering this enlightenment with a satisfied sigh.
Vanessa thought about the sentiment for as long as she could stand to — about seven seconds, Luci judged — and then distractedly fanned herself with the card.
“I just don't know … What do you say to a mother whose son has just committed suicide? ‘So sorry you weren't paying attention?’ Oh, that's awful of me … never mind.” Vanessa pressed the card back into Luci’s hands and exited the store in a rush very similar to how she entered.
Luci carefully replaced the card in the rack, then straightened a few others before she returned to the desk and her note.
Her phone, neatly, but unobtrusively tucked beside the cash register, vibrated. Luci ignored it. She carefully rerolled the note, which was now as long as her arm, back into its tight tube and tucked it beside the phone. As she did so, she glanced down at the screen and noted that she’d now missed ten calls and had twenty texts waiting.
The thing was, she knew exactly why everyone wanted to check in with her all of a sudden, but she wasn’t much interested in actually talking to anyone. She wasn’t interested in the confirmation. And she certainly wasn’t interested in the daunting task ahead of her now. A task that was too much to ask of anyone, even her. Not that he’d actually asked.
He had — obviously and always — left her a note.
Luci wasn’t going to get away with ignoring everyone and their condolences for very long. She was lucky that Vanessa hadn’t seemed to recognize her. Though it was part of a much larger metropolitan sprawl, West Vancouver was ultimately a small — even incestuous — municipality. There was only one high school worth going to at all.
She had a feeling someone would be picking her up from work. Someone else would be making sure she got to school and through the day okay tomorrow. Actually, someone was probably going to suggest she skip Friday’s classes all together.
But she knew better. She knew what was really going on — or at least what he’d hoped was going to happen. And she had her own plan. Or at least the beginning of one.
✏ ✏ ✏
Luci hadn’t spent a lot of time in church before this. In fact, this might be the longest she’d ever sat in a pew. But she’d at least known what to expect from movies and TV, so she’d worn her black dress and nylons even though she didn’t like them. She also wore the pink flower bracelet that Colby had given her for her birthday, balancing it with a pink rhinestone clip in her hair and a light pink lip gloss. She opted to sit with her friends, not her family, who were behind her and to the right. She figured her friends needed her more right now.
There had been some talk of not having a funeral under the circumstances, but Luci was glad they’d chosen to go ahead so that everyone had a traditional time and space to mourn. She was also glad to have the extra preparation time for herself … before she had to say a final goodbye.
A massive gold cross loomed over the open coffin at the front of the church sanctuary. Luci tried to pay attention to the minister rather than the edge of the white waxy profile she could see just above the side of the coffin.
The church was really full. Luci doubted that many of the people there had even known this church existed before today. Vanessa — who Luci recognized from the card shop, of course — sat right behind Colby’s parents, Candace and Abram, who along with their daughter Cicely occupied the front row. Every now and then, depending on what the minister was saying and whether or not Colby’s mother was slumped over her handkerchief, Vanessa placed her hand on Candace’s shoulder and squeezed. It appeared that Vanessa had figured out what to say and do even without the bereavement card.
From her vantage point two rows behind, Luci couldn’t see the faces of Colby’s father, mother, and sister unless they turned toward the coffin, but she could read their body language. Candace dabbed her eyes regularly with a black lace handkerchief, which Luci was sure her grandmother would proclaim gauche. Abram looked disconnected and maybe a little bored. Cicely wasn’t currently crying, but by her crazy puffy eyes fixed on the coffin, it was obvious she had been.
All of Luci’s friends had come, of course, and they hadn’t even bugged her about what to wear. She was glad to see they’d managed to dress well without her supervision. It was a respectful gesture, even though not one of them felt Colby deserved that respect — even before he was dead. At least half the school was in the church, though none of them had been close to Colby. Luci wondered where the other half were.
“John, a close friend of Colby’s, will now read a favorite poem,” the minister said, finally voicing the words Luci had been waiting to hear. “Friends and family are invited to visit and say their good byes.”
The minister beckoned to John, who was sitting on Luci’s right. John, his suit too tight across his shoulders, nervously pulled the cheat sheet Luci had typed up for him from his pocket. John was one of Luci’s oldest friends, and he hadn’t been even remotely close to Colby. But, reading a poem was the correct thing to do, and though she could pick it, it wasn’t for her to stand up and read.
John glanced at her — she saw him in her peripheral vision — and she nodded slightly without meeting his gaze. He lumbered to his feet, only doing so because she asked it of him.
As John pushed through to the aisle to approach the podium, other mourners glanced around, not knowing what to do.
Finally, Candace stood, inhaling her newly renewed sobs as she practically dragged Abram with her toward the coffin. Cicely dutifully followed her parents, scuffing her feet on the fine-piled carpeting.
John stood at the podium, tapped his finger on the microphone even though it was obviously on, and cleared his throat. “Okay. Here it goes … I have no idea what it means, but this was, like, one of Colby’s favorite poems from English lit. I think he wrote a paper on it …” He glanced up from his cheat sheet to Luci, and she nodded to encourage him to continue.
Oh, yet we trust that somehow good will be the final end of ill, to pangs of nature, sins of will, defects of doubt, and taints of blood …
A line had begun to form up the center aisle toward the coffin. Mourners shuffled over to look at Colby’s body, then crossed away down a side aisle to exit the church. It was old-fashioned and ritualistic. Luci had made sure that Colby’s mother intended to subject herself to such a display. It was part of the plan.
That nothing walks with aimless feet; that not one life shall be destroy'd, or cast as rubbish to the void, when God hath made the pile complete.
Luci straightened her skirt and started to rise, only to be immediately pulled back to her seat by her girlfriend, Melinda, who was sitting on her left.
“You’re not going up there!” Melinda hissed. “This is all just sick. Looking at him and everything. You aren’t going up there. Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then. I’m coming with you.”
Luci stood. She had steeled herself to move forward but was now forced to wait to step into the aisle. It was blocked by a wave of stragglers who had decided to brave the trek at the same time as her.
Thus stalled, she was forced to listen to John not understanding a single word coming out of his mouth, but continuing to recite the poem as requested. Because ultimately, that’s what true friends did for each other.
That not a worm is cloven in vain; that not a moth with vain desire is shrivell'd in a fruitless fire, or but subserves another's gain.
This was the best Luci could do on short notice. The best she could do under the circumstances. Abram had almost convinced Candace that an open casket was obscene. She’d heard their fight from the front yard, though Colby’s parents had assumed she’d left after delivering her mother’s tuna casserole.
She hadn’t. The light had been on in Colby’s room. Luci had waited, but he obviously hadn’t appeared
at the window to grin down at her. Colby wasn’t prone to smiling, but he’d always smiled at her from that window.
Melinda, never the patient one, shoved by Luci to hiss at the slow-moving line of people blocking them from the aisle. “Wake up, people. Girlfriend here.”
She gave Luci a little shove to urge her forward, but people seemed super slow to understand that they needed to move out of the way.
“I’m okay going to the end of the line,” Luci said to placate her fierce friend.
“Forget it. If you’re doing this, then do it. We have to get to the wake, don’t we? I thought you made cheesecake.”
People shuffled enough for Luci to step into line. Melinda pressed in behind her while hissing like a cat at the guy at her back. Luci wrapped her hand around her friend’s wrist, and that seemed to settle Melinda a little. No one knew how to protect her, so they were going off in all the wrong directions. She knew she wasn’t helping, but she didn’t feel much like talking it out.
Behold, we know not anything; I can but trust that good shall fall. At last — far off — at last, to all. And every winter change to spring.
After what seemed like ages, Luci stepped up to look down at the pale boy, forever seventeen now, in the gleaming mahogany coffin. Colby would have loved this coffin. Luci had made sure that Candace knew that before meeting with the funeral director. It was atrociously expensive, but they wouldn’t be splitting an inheritance between two children now, so the money probably didn’t matter.
The Graveyard Kiss: Reconstructionist 0.5 Page 1
