Moans grumbled up my throat as I took the stairs down in a sluggish and unmotivated manner. It had been close to five in the morning by the time I’d returned to Gramps, and I barely got any sleep. Flashbacks of the Hollow Heathens, the fire, the woods, the goat, all kept me up the remainder of the night.
“Great, yah still heyah?” Gramps mumbled with sarcasm from his chair in the same butter-yellow kitchen with the daily crossword puzzle laying across the table in front of him. “I thought yah got fed up and left. Just like Tobias, leavin’ me heyah with a lousy lettah. Didn’t have tha guts ta tell me ta my face,” he growled, pinching a pencil between his fingers.
“Please, Gramps, I’ve had a long night.” I brought my fingers to my temples and moseyed toward the coffee maker.
The cat from last night weaved between my legs, having not left my sight since we’d met. He’d followed me to Gramps’, and when I didn’t let him inside the house, he’d climbed the outdoor staircase to my bedroom and cried on the other side of my French doors with the neurotic wind.
I’d caved. I’d named him Casper.
Static crackled through the radio, and Gramps pounded his fist over the top. “This damn thing,” his husky voice rattled, cut short by a coughing fit. I turned to see him pull a tissue out of the box and cover his mouth. His shoulders lurched forward until he cleared his lungs. “What happened to yah? Yah look like roadkill. And wheyas yah cah? It’s not out theya on tha street.”
I ignored him, more concerned over the subtle shivering he was trying to hide and marched over to him, pressed the back of my hand against his clammy forehead. “Oh, my god, Gramps. You’re burning up.”
Gramps pushed my hand away. “I’m fine.”
“No, I’m taking you back to bed.”
He cursed under short breaths and shook his head.
“If you don’t go to bed, I’ll get Mina over here,” I threatened.
Gramps’ eyes bulged out of their sockets, staring blankly at the newspaper.
That’s right, Gramps. I knew Mina’s name, the elderly lady with the braided hair from the diner, would get his attention. There was a reason he didn’t want me to go there and had recommended The Bean instead. He didn’t want me talking to her.
“Come to think of it, the bed doesn’t sound so bad aftah all, Moonshine,” he muttered, standing to his feet. “Make me that tea, will yah? I can walk on my own, no need ta coddle.” A slow smirk formed on my face, and I pulled it back as Gramps balanced himself over the table, preparing to walk.
After getting him situated, I retreated to my bedroom and pulled my suitcase off the floor and onto the mattress before zipping it open. Casper watched from the top of the armoire, his long white tail swaying across the wood while I grabbed clothes and headed to the bathroom.
The shower cried out as the water sprayed my hair and back, my long locks sticking to my skin. Once dressed, I swiped the beeper from the top of the armoire and noticed I’d missed an alert.
Crap. I’d never been fired from a job, and Jonah had every right not to give me the job back after he had watched me drive out of town last night. I glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. It was already late in the morning and way past the time I was supposed to be there. I’d have to explain myself to him. Indeed, everyone experienced a freak-out moment, especially after witnessing a goat slaughter.
The sun had risen over the sea cliffs, and my chapped skin soaked up the warm rays as I drove the scooter through the quiet town. Everyone hid from the day now that the festivities were over. Bulbs inside the corner lamp posts faded out, the music had died, and evidence of last night littered around the gazebo. Goblets cluttered the rails, and candy wrappers blew with the wind. I paused the scooter once I reached the town exit sign and peered down the winding road where my car had crashed.
Except, my car was no longer there. It was gone.
The scooter skipped forward, a part of me wanting to drive down Archer Avenue to make sure I wasn’t seeing things, but I gripped the handlebar and turned the wheel toward the funeral home instead.
Jonah’s head snapped up from his computer when I pushed through the funeral home door, surprise in his eyes. He rested back against his chair and crossed his arms.
“Before you say anything,” I immediately started, closing the door behind me, “I am cut out for this job. I never partied, I never had friends. I never even had a boyfriend. I devoted my life to school and my apprenticeship. This is all I have and all I want to do. Being late this morning and not answering the call last night isn’t me—”
Jonah’s sigh cut me off. “Fallon—”
But I kept going. “You have to give me a second chance. I can’t stay here in this town without doing this. It’ll drive me crazy. I need this.”
“Fallon,” Jonah repeated, and this time I stopped rambling. “I thought you left.”
“Truth is, I tried to leave. But then I crashed my car outside of town.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just had a long night.”
“And now … what? You’re staying?”
I nodded. “I’m staying. I got freaked out, but it won’t happen again. I’m usually not like this. My mind’s all …” I lifted my hands to my head and imitated a bomb going off. “Can we just forget this morning happened? Like an Etch-A-Sketch? Slate clean?”
Like an artist had to paint or a singer had to sing, I needed to do this. This… this passion of mine, this calling, it was the only thing that didn’t leave or die on me.
Jonah tapped a finger over his chin, pretending to be in deep thought. I flashed a pouty lip, and he dropped his elbows on his desk. “Fine, but only because I need you more than you need me right now.” He rose from his chair, walked around his desk, and sat over the edge. “I’m not too cocky to admit it.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I lurched forward and wrapped my arms around him. The smell of his rustic cologne filled my senses before it clicked inside my brain how unprofessional this was, hugging him. “Shit,” I said through a breathy exhale, slowly releasing him from my tight hold. “I’m sorry. That was…”
“Like an Etch-A-Sketch,” he cleared his throat, standing, “Never happened.”
We exchanged a tight smile. I took a step back. “Are we good?”
Jonah smoothed down the front of his black button-up shirt and fixed his blood-red tie. “Yeah, we’re good. Why don’t you take the day off, get some rest and restart tomorrow?”
“Will Monday be able to handle everything? I feel terrible. I noticed the alert on the beeper,” my words trailed as Jonah walked back around his desk. Then it dawned on me that I’d left her in the woods last night. “Monday is here, right? She’s okay?”
He lifted his tie as he sat back down. “Monday’s here. She can handle it.”
A relieved breath escaped my lips. I never had to consider anyone else before. I was so used to it just being me. “You sure? I don’t mind, really. I got a few hours of sleep. I just need a few cups of coffee—”
“Fallon, please,” Jonah interrupted through a chuckle. “Get out of here.”