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The storm came in that night like the rage of God for what had happened to Mr. Beaumont. Howling winds assaulted Riverton while rain hit the panes of my bedroom window, sounding like pellets against the glass. Deep bellows of thunder filled the air, and flashes of lightning stabbed the earth. It was the start of something chilling and dark. I didn’t fear the old ghost lady would come sneak a peek at me through my cracked door. Instead, it would be Lester Kilborn... or something worse.
I didn’t get much sleep, but when I woke up, the last drizzle of rain had stopped, and the clouds were moving on. The sun peeked through the last remaining clouds and sent its rays of heat out to warm the earth, and the moisture rose from the ground like spirits from their graves, only to evaporate into the sky.
Around seven thirty in the morning, I dragged my bones to the kitchen. I rarely woke up that early during the summer, and normally, I woke up starving. But I didn’t feel like eating anything that morning. Instead, I washed the cobwebs and dust from my throat with a glass of orange juice.
Something told me to step outside—into the backyard, to be precise. And there would be only one reason to go out there. I grabbed my brother’s binoculars and stepped onto our steaming porch.
The hearse was there, as I’d expected, and two men were standing next to it, both wearing dark clothes. One was taller than the other, and the shorter man was wider. The second man was definitely Lester.
The tall man was older and stood with an erect stature, his shoulders straight, chest out, and chin up. His walk was precise as if a decision preceded every step, and he gave Lester a condescending look.
All of those mannerisms were in direct contradiction to Mr. Beaumont. He was tall, but because of his age and health, he hunched over slightly. He never stood his full height, and his walk had a hobble to it, as if the bones in his legs were constantly in immense pain.
The man couldn’t have been Gerald Beaumont... but it was. I couldn’t make out distinct details with the binoculars, but I could discern enough to identify my employer, and friend, Mr. Beaumont.
I wanted to scream with excitement and relief. He was alive after all! But I couldn’t. Something was wrong with Mr. Beaumont. He was not himself.
Beaumont and Lester entered the hearse and drove away.
I questioned whether I should go into work or not, but quickly realized I must. My last conversation with Mr. Beaumont was a promise to come in the next day to work. Plus, I needed more physical reassurance that he was indeed alive. I threw some clothes on, jumped on my bike, and rode to work.
When I stepped in through the back door and marched up the hall, I heard Beaumont speaking to Lester. The tone of his voice was lower than usual and monotone. The underlying resonance in his voice chilled my bones.
“Mr. Beaumont!” I exclaimed and approached with a smile.
Lester stood next to him, scowling. Moving only his head, as if it were somehow detached from his body, he turned to look down at me. Not even the skin around his face moved to form a smile. He was a statue, cold and refined.
“It’s so good to see you! You’re okay?”
Saying nothing, he looked right through me.
“We were worried about you.”
He scowled. “We?”
“Yeah, myself, Mrs. Beaumont, Sheriff Packard... even Lester, I think.”
“What are you doing here, boy? Did someone die?”
“Die?” I was taken aback.
“Yes. Die. This is a mortuary, and most people come here because someone has died. I assume you’re here on business matters.”
“No. No one has died. I don’t think.”
“Then scoot along. We’re very busy here and don’t have time for silly games.”
I was still trying to wrap my brain around what he’d said to me. Does he even remember who I am? Both of them stared at me, unmoving. My mouth was open, and one eyebrow was raised in question. “What about my job?”
“What job?”
“You’re not needed anymore,” Lester jumped in. He turned to Beaumont. “Mr. Beaumont, you gave him a job. To clean things for an hour or two.”
“I did?” He turned back to me. “Are they clean?”
“Well... yes, but you needed other things...”
“What other things?”
“You said you had a lot of services this week and needed some deep cleaning.”
He stared at me again in silence, and I stared back.
The eyes were the windows to the soul, or so people always said. When I looked into Mr. Beaumont’s eyes, though, there was no soul. I saw a cold, hollowed-out shell. I was looking into the eyes of a stranger, not Mr. Beaumont. He had changed.
“Fine. You can finish your deep cleaning. When you’re done, no more.”
“Okay.” I nodded.
I couldn’t believe I was brave enough to fight for my job. The funeral home was suddenly a place I wanted to be far away from, but I had to stay. I had a responsibility to both Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont to stay, and maybe I could find out what really happened.
When I was nearly finished with my chores, I witnessed the saddest thing in my life, and it frightened me. Mrs. Beaumont entered through the front doors. By the look on her face, she still believed her husband was gone. She didn’t know he’d been found.
Mr. Beaumont was in his office at the time, so she didn’t see him. Lester stepped out and greeted her.
“Mr. Kilborn”—her voice cracked with despair—“please tell me you’ve seen my husband. Forgive me for bothering you, but I just don’t know where else to go. My daughter lives out of state, and she’ll arrive later today, but until then, I just... I just...”
Mr. Beaumont stepped into the foyer, straightening his suit jacket. Nose high in the air, he stopped fifteen feet from her.
“Gerald? My goodness, Gerald!” Excitement and shock beamed from her face, and even though every ounce of energy was depleted in her body, she quick stepped toward him, arms outstretched.
He backed away and held up his hands. In a cold voice, he said, “Excuse me.”
She froze, clearly confused.
“I’m working right now. Very busy. You know I don’t like to be bothered at work.”
Words caught in her throat, and mouth gaping, she furrowed her brow as she stared at him. I too was surprised that Mr. Beaumont would be so dismissive with his wife.
“Where have you been, Gerry? You haven’t been home in two nights. You didn’t call. No one knew where you were...”
“I don’t need to explain myself. You know how busy I am. Three services this week. The bodies rolled in last night. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Mrs. Beaumont was crushed, and her body sank as if she’d deflated.
“Gerry,” she pleaded, attempting once more to approach with a hug, but he stepped back, with palms out, again.
Tears ran down her cheeks. How could someone be so cold? This is not Mr. Beaumont.
They exchanged a few more words, but Gerald cut her off cold at each turn then told her she had to leave. She asked him when he would be home for dinner.
“It’ll be too late, so don’t bother with dinner.”
Mrs. Beaumont blinked, as if she’d been physically smacked. She was so confused that she almost went through the chapel doors to leave before she stopped and changed direction to exit through the front doors.
Beaumont caught me in the hall, holding a broom and doing nothing. He scowled. “I’m not paying you hourly, am I?”
“Sorry” was all I said. I turned and continued my work.
Once Mr. Beaumont and Lester were back in their offices, I stepped out into the parking lot. Like déjà vu, Mrs. Beaumont was sitting in her car, hunched over and sobbing.
I walked over and tapped on her window. She turned, red-faced, and mascara ran with her tears. Her eyes widened at the sight of me.
She rolled down her window. “Ret, how are you, my dear?”
I shrugged. “Not good. I’m sorry about...”
Sounding embarrassed, she said, “Did you see that in there? You shouldn’t have to see such things. I’m sorry.”
“Mrs. Beaumont? Can I ask you a strange question?”
“What could be stranger than what’s just happened?”
“Well...” I didn’t quite know how to say it. “Is that really Mr. Beaumont in there?”
She paused. “It appears so. He’s never acted like this before. We’ve had our spats over the years, but nothing like this. I just don’t understand.” She said it not so much to me as to herself. For a moment, she stared silently off into nothing as the wheels turned in her head. Finally, she said, “I just want to know what happened. Is that too much to ask?”
“No, Mrs. Beaumont. Not at all.”
We said our goodbyes and good luck to each other, and she drove away. I went back to my work inside a building electrified with tension, quietly kept to myself, and did my work.
I was nearly done mopping the women’s restroom when I heard Sheriff Packard’s voice, followed by muffled discussion, from the other room. I cracked open the door to listen.
“Gerald Beaumont?” Packard’s voice boomed.
“Yes, Officer?”
“Officer? Since when did you stop calling me Orrin?” He chuckled.
“It’s been a busy day. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Yes. You’ve been missing.”
“You must be mistaken. I’ve always known where I was at.”
“Your wife was frantic yesterday. You didn’t come home at night, and you disappeared from work.”
“Is that a crime?”
“You wasted a lot of city man-hours. Deputy James and I searched round the clock. Not to mention all your neighbors and friends who helped.”
“I chose not to go home that night. I despise my wife, Mr. Packard. I always have. Fifty-five years with that hag, and I’d had enough. I don’t live my life by when I should be home for dinner,” he snapped.
I couldn’t see Sheriff Packard from inside the bathroom, but in the moment of silence, I imagined his face in horrific shock.
“I did not intend for anyone to come looking for me,” Mr. Beaumont continued, his voice smug and patronizing. “I can look after myself well enough. If I go missing again, I’ll be the first to let you know.”
“Where did you go?” Packard demanded.
“That is my own business.”
“Were you hurt? In an accident? Did you fall down and lose consciousness?”
“It is really none of your concern. Now I must go. I have several services to prepare. Ironically, the dead do not wait.”
“You’ve been unaccounted for nearly forty-eight hours. Let’s at least have you come down to the hospital and have you checked out.”
“Is that mandatory?”
Packard sighed. “No.”
“I assure you I’m quite fine.”
“No, you’re not,” Packard snapped. “This isn’t you, Gerald. The Gerald I know wouldn’t say such things, especially about his wife. Just last week, you told me how much you adore her.” I could hear Packard’s anger escalating.
“This is the real me. You may not have seen me before. I was living a life I wasn’t happy with. I have finally awakened, Mr. Packard. This man you see before you is the real me. Like it or not.
“My only wish is that one day you too will open your eyes and look at your wife for who she really is, and who your children really are, and ask that dreadful question. ‘Am I happy?’ Because if you’re honest with yourself, and let your secrets out, maybe you can finally live the life you deserve.”
“You son of a bitch! Say one more thing about my wife or children again, and you will be missing.”
“Is that a threat?” Beaumont chuckled.
“It’s a promise.”
“Mr. Kilborn? I take it you’re witness to Sheriff Packard’s threat?”
“I am,” Lester answered.
There was silence again.
“Careful, Gerald. Make sure you treat your wife well. I don’t want to see this happen again. I will have my eyes on you.”
I heard the front door open and shut, then there was silence.
“Mr. Kilborn, is this going to continue happening?”
“No. I’m sure it won’t. We’ll be more careful.”
I heard them shuffle back into their offices.
My body shook with fear and rage. I couldn’t imagine how Packard felt.
I finished mopping, did a fast, sloppy job of putting everything away, and left. I didn’t even ask Mr. Beaumont for my pay or say goodbye. I was too scared.