The Language of Death

by K. J. Emrick

  COPYRIGHT

  First published in Australia by South Coast Publishing, June 2014.

  Copyright K.J. Emrick (2014)

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and locations portrayed in this book and the names herein are fictitious. Any similarity to or identification with the locations, names, characters or history of any person, product or entity is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

  - From a Declaration of Principles jointly adopted by a Committee of the American Bar Association and a Committee of Publishers and Associations.

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  All information is generalized, presented for informational purposes only and presented "as is" without warranty or guarantee of any kind.

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  Chapter One

  It was Smudge who woke her up Saturday morning. Darcy had planned on sleeping in until at least noon. Her big black and white tomcat had other ideas.

  "Meow?" Smudge said to her.

  She pulled the comforter up further, burying her head under it. "No," she answered the cat, knowing that he was waking her up to ask if she wanted breakfast.

  Her cat pushed his head into the outline of her shoulder and purred.

  "I don't care if it's a nice day out, Smudge. I want to sleep."

  Smudge tried a few more times to convince her that now would be a wonderful time to get up and get going. When Darcy kept saying no, Smudge took more drastic steps by pouncing on her toes and biting her through the puffy blanket.

  "Ow! Smudge, for Pete's sake!"

  She sat up in bed then and lunged for him, catching him as he tried to jump down off the mattress, laughing and hauling him back to ruffle the fur on his chest and around his neck. His eyes got wide and his tail swished and he worked his way free to run away like a jackrabbit.

  Darcy smiled to herself. She loved that cat. It was just the two of them in the house now, and he certainly kept her from being lonely.

  Clatters and thumps came from downstairs, the sound of pots and pans being rattled around. Darcy combed fingers through her long dark hair with a sigh. Well. It used to be just her and Smudge. For now, and for the next few weeks, she had someone else living in the house with her.

  In her oversized blue pajamas she padded barefoot down the hall to the stairs. She stretched and yawned and inhaled the smells of cooking. Bacon and eggs, and homefries. Darcy smiled. The same breakfast her mother used to make for her and her sister Grace back when they were just little girls.

  Mom had come to stay with her while she was in town. It wasn't like she could stay with Grace, not in that tiny apartment she shared with her husband Aaron. Especially now that Grace was six months pregnant. So her mom was staying here while they planned her wedding.

  Now that was an idea that had taken time to get used to. Eileen, her mother, was getting remarried years after Darcy's dad had passed away. Darcy was happy for her, sure, but the thought of a new man in her mother's life somehow made her stomach bunch up.

  Just the fact that Darcy had agreed to let her mother stay here was something of an accomplishment. Feelings had been strained in her family for as long as Darcy could remember. Neither she nor her sister had spoken much to Eileen in the past few years, yet here she was under the same roof with Darcy, planning her wedding. One step at a time, Darcy supposed.

  It didn't help the emotional pretzel inside of her that she had to be happy for her mom when her own love life had fallen to pieces. Jon Tinker had moved out on Darcy two months ago, after pushing to move in together and giving every indication that they would have a life together. Now, he was working at a new job at a police department in another town over an hour away. There hadn't been a lot of communication between them since he'd gone there. A few phone calls. Exactly six e-mails. Text messages every now and then sent by way of her sister's phone.

  Darcy was thirty years old and had already been through a divorce. It had taken her a long time to open up to someone again like she had with Jon. Now, as the days ticked by with him gone, it was becoming harder and harder to hold out any hope of them getting back together.

  Smudge wound his way around her ankles and then sat down imperiously between her feet. "I love you, too," she told him, "but it's not quite the same thing."

  He shook his head as if to say he'd never understand people.

  Darcy stretched and yawned and inhaled the aromas from downstairs. Heading down to the kitchen, she sat in one of the chairs at the dining table, drawing her knees up to her chest and bracing her bare heels on the edge of the seat.

  Eileen Sweet stood at the stove, busily stirring and tending to the food she was preparing. "Morning, honey," she said to Darcy over her shoulder.

  "Good morning," Darcy answered. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she watched as her mother scooped eggs around a frying pan. For as long as Darcy could remember, her mother had always been a very proper woman. Here it was the early morning hours of a Saturday, and still her mother was already dressed, her silver hair done up just so. There was even a touch of makeup on her face. Darcy shook her head. That was a lot more effort than she ever wanted to put into making breakfast.

  "Everything will be ready in a moment," her mom let her know. "It would have been ready by now, except I had to wait for your water to get hot enough for a shower. You really should consider selling this place and getting something, you know, more suited to you."

  Smaller, was what her mother meant. Now that Darcy was alone again, was what her mother wasn't saying. Darcy rolled her eyes. Their relationship was better than it had been in years, but that didn't mean her mother wasn't still her mother. Nitpicking was a second language for her. So were well-meaning insults and a large serving of critical observations.

  Darcy liked this house. It was a sturdy old house, with original windows that let just enough draft in and original floors that creaked in familiar ways. It had been her Great Aunt Millie's, before her death, and then Millie had passed it on to Darcy. She'd done the same with the bookstore in town. Darcy didn't want to part with either of them. This was her life, and she liked her life here in Misty Hollow. Of course, that had been one of the things she and Jon had argued about when he wanted to go take a promotion in another town…

  She cleared her throat and tried to keep her mind off that line of thought. It wasn't easy, that was for certain. She'd had the same conversation with herself every other day since Jon had left. "So, mom," she said now. "After breakfast are we still meeting with Helen to pick out a wedding cake?"

  "Oh, yes," her mother said, a smile on her face as she scooped eggs onto two plates. "Your friend Helen is just the most wonderful person, isn't
she? And offering the Town Hall as a place for me and James to have our wedding? Well, I just couldn't thank her enough. I know we weren't supposed to be there until this afternoon, but perhaps she could see us early."

  James Bollinger was Eileen's fiancé. Darcy hadn't met the man yet, but the way her mother talked about him she felt like they were long-lost friends. He was coming to Misty Hollow in a few days, so Darcy would get the chance to see if the real James Bollinger matched the image her mother had painted of a tall, handsome man with a square chin and thick black hair and eyes that sparkled in the moonlight.

  Her mother's exact words. Darcy tried to hide a smile of her own. Her prim, no-nonsense mother was head over heels in love. It was kind of nice to see.

  Plates of eggs and bacon in her hands, her mother sat down across from Darcy. She set the food down, pouring orange juice for them from the store-bought glass container on the table.

  "This looks good, Mom," Darcy told her, pulling her hair back over one shoulder. "I thought I smelled homefries?"

  "You did. I burned them."

  Darcy didn't mention that it was the second time this week that had happened. Homefries had become something more like homefires around here. Hopefully, James Bollinger would be the one doing the cooking once he married Eileen Sweet. "No matter," her mom continued. "I saved the eggs this time. We shall eat our fill and then be off to meet with Helen."

  "Sounds good. I'll have to take a quick shower before we go."

  "Of course. I can't have you going out like that, now can I?"

  When she was younger, comments like that had made Darcy feel very self-conscious. It had been worse once her gift had started to manifest itself. Talking to ghosts. Seeing things that no one else could. Eileen Sweet wasn't going to have any of that. Not in her home. It was the main reason Darcy had come to live with Great Aunt Millie. Here, in this house, there hadn't been any judgment. There’d been only encouragement and guidance in a special ability that had done more for Darcy in her life than any book on proper etiquette and manners ever could have.

  Now, though, her mother's comments rolled right past her. She'd come to accept that it was just the way her mother was. Maybe she didn't mean anything by it, or maybe she thought she was being helpful. In the end it didn't matter. If she wanted to have her mom in her life, she had to accept Eileen for who she was.

  Being engaged had actually changed her mom quite a bit. She and Grace had both commented on the changes in their mother the last time she had come to Misty Hollow. Or maybe the changes were actually in Darcy. She'd grown up quite a bit herself. She wasn't the little girl living in her mother's house anymore. Now her mother was staying in her house.

  There was a whole circle of life comment in there somewhere.

  After she'd eaten her second helping of eggs Darcy collected their plates and put them in the sink. "Thanks for breakfast, mom."

  "Oh, it's the least I can do, honey. After all, you opened your home to me."

  Darcy paused in the doorway from the kitchen. "Mom, do you ever miss Millie? This was her house, after all."

  Her mother looked around them, her eyes a little unfocused like she was seeing more than just the quiet, simple kitchen. For a moment, her face became sad. Then with a little shake she came back to herself. "Millie and I had a complicated relationship, you might say. I suppose I miss her in my own way."

  Darcy didn't press the issue. Her mom never talked about Millie much. "Well, I'll be ready to go in a few minutes. Do you want to call Helen and make sure she's ready for us?"

  Her mother had the number on a card and promised to make the call as soon as she was finished with her tea. Upstairs again, Darcy picked out an outfit of jeans and a red tank top that had become her favorite. Then she headed into the upstairs bathroom.

  The white tiles and the white walls and the white shower seemed a little too bright for her this morning. Smudge sat up on the toilet seat, squinting his eyes at her. Darcy took a moment to rub his ears until he started purring.

  "Yeah, you're a good cat," she said to him. He blinked at her to acknowledge the compliment.

  In the mirror, she stared at herself, her heart-shaped face and her long dark hair still tangled from sleep. Her green eyes were the color of jade this morning, dark and a little stormy. Usually that was a sign that she needed more rest. Maybe after her mom's wedding she could get a chance to have her life go back to normal. Or, as normal as her life ever got.

  Turning the water on in the shower she put her hand under the spray and noticed that her mother had been right. The water did take forever to get hot. She'd have to hire someone to come in and check the pipes for her. When it finally flowed hot and steamy, she got her towel out of the linen closet and turned back to the mirror.

  It was fogged over now, the damp, moist air from the shower collecting on the glass. She could still see herself standing there but now it was as if she had become a ghost, all hazy and indistinct. Darcy the ghost. She waved to herself and grinned at how silly she looked.

  In the misty image, words began to appear.

  The skin at the back of her neck prickled. Anyone else might have jumped and ran. This was her life, though, and she was used to this sort of thing. It took a lot to scare her these days. Ghosts communicated in a lot of different ways and she'd seen this one before.

  Still, it wasn't part of her normal morning routine to have some ghost text messaging her. In her mirror. There was a reason she didn't own a cell phone. This was the reason, right here. With ghosts, there really wasn't any such thing as personal space.

  Darcy waited for the message to finish. When it did, the cold prickles at the back of her neck spread all over. Her insides knotted in tight bunches. It had to be a mistake.

  "Miss you like peanut butter," the note read.

  Darcy put a shaky hand up over her mouth. It couldn't be. Oh, please God, it couldn't be.

  When Darcy had been in college, she and her best friend Chloe Marrin had been inseparable. They'd both been in the same literature courses and laughed at Death of a Salesman together. They'd crushed on the same guys, made sure both of them got to class on time, and cried on each other's shoulders at graduation. Throughout it all, they'd even developed their own little way of talking to each other.

  Chloe had been the one to come up with "miss you like peanut butter." It had been their way of saying goodbye whenever they had to go separate ways. No one else knew that phrase. There was no way anyone could know it, living or dead. No ghost could have brought her that message.

  Unless it was Chloe's ghost.

  Darcy began to cry. She hadn't spoken to Chloe in probably a year. That was what happened after people graduated college and went to live at opposite ends of the country. People grew apart, no matter how close they were. Chloe had been alive, though. Alive and happy and taking on a new job and dating someone she was being oh so mysterious about because they were just starting out.

  Now… Was she dead?

  The ghostly hand wrote more now, as if it had been waiting for Darcy to make the connection about who was speaking to her. In a wide swath the unseen hand wiped away the words that had been there. In their place, just two words appeared.

  "Help me."

  Chapter Two

  "Are you sure you can do all this with mom?"

  Grace managed to look insulted at the question, pursing her lips and staring at Darcy. "I'm not dead, I'm pregnant. I can handle being alone with mom for a few days."

  "You're six months pregnant, sis," Darcy reminded her. "I know you're tough. I'm not saying you aren't. I'm just being cautious for my future little niece."

  "Or nephew," Grace added. She didn't know the sex of her baby. She and her husband Aaron had opted not to have the doctor tell them. They wanted to be surprised, a custom that had sort of fallen by the wayside for most couples.

  "Right. Niece or nephew," Darcy conceded, although she had a feeling Grace was definitely going to have a girl. When she felt something this strongl
y, she was usually right. "Anyway. I'm real sorry to dump all this on you but I have to go."

  Grace had met her in Helen's café after several phone calls had confirmed for Darcy what she already knew. Chloe was dead. She had died last night, in bed, and the service was in three days. Chloe's mother had been surprised to hear from Darcy, surprised that the news of Chloe's death had reached that far so fast. Darcy couldn't very well tell her that her daughter's ghost had left her a cryptic message in her bathroom mirror asking for help.

  If she was going to get out to where Chloe had been living, a small town called Smithsville that was three states away, she had to leave now. Today. Twisting the antique silver ring on her right hand Darcy tried to make a list of all the things she needed to do yet. She'd need to borrow a car and she'd need to make sure her friend Izzy would be all right to watch the store for this week and oh, someone would have to take care of Smudge while she was gone…

  Grace suddenly reached across the table where they sat inside the Bean There Bakery and Café and took Darcy's hand in hers. "It's all right. Go be there for your friend's service. Misty Hollow won't fall apart if you're gone for a few days."

  They sat in silence for a little while. Darcy was grateful for her sister's gentle encouragement. Grace might try to act rough and tough, but she had a very tender side a lot of people didn't ever see. She was going to make a wonderful mother.

  Their own mother was at one of the other tables in the café, sitting with Helen, testing flavors of wedding cake. Darcy looked over at them now, as they chatted away like old friends. "I can't remember when I've seen her this happy," she said, meaning her mother.

  "I know," Grace agreed. "I can't wait to meet this man of hers. Speaking of men. Have you, uh, told Jon? About your friend Chloe, I mean."

  "Grace. Why would I do that? Jon hardly speaks to me now as it is. He's finding his own way. Or something." She tried not to sound bitter about it.