Audrey rummaged through her slim supply of dresses, searching for the proper attire. What did one wear to apply for a mortuary position? Black. She didn’t have a black dress; the navy blue would have to suffice.
Not that she meant to overpower Kirkland Burying, but she had to have that job if she wanted to stay in town. It was almost impossible to appear professional when one looked like a drowned cat, but she had to make the effort.
When she came down to breakfast, Willow smiled sympathetically. “I know you really don’t want to do this, but if it will help your chances, I’ll be praying.”
“I appreciate it.” Audrey picked up the pitcher and poured milk into a glass. “I’m not eager to work in a funeral parlor. I’m a teacher, but until a teaching position opens up, I still have to eat and provide a roof over my head, and I will not impose on you and Wallace one minute more than is absolutely necessary.”
Willow expertly flipped a pancake. “You know we’re happy to have you, although I do know your independent streak. I’d feel the same if I were in your situation, but Audrey, please don’t be in a hurry to move out. I enjoy having you here so much. Having you and Copper around makes it easier to deal with Uncle’s illness. Even with Tucker’s love and care, I get awfully lonely sometimes.”
Audrey stopped to slip her arm around Willow’s slim shoulders. “I know you do. But one of these days you’ll be married, and it will be better then. I’m not your responsibility, and I definitely don’t want to be around when you and Tucker set up housekeeping. That’s not even a consideration, even if you do manage to scrape together enough money to repair the roof and live here instead of in Tucker’s one-room cabin.”
Willow grinned. “I’m not looking forward to living in the cabin either, but really I don’t care what kind of place we share as long as I can be with Tucker. I never dreamed that falling in love could be like this. How I pray that you and Copper will find someone as wonderful.”
Audrey laughed. “Well, no doubt we’d like that too, but I’m sure no matter who we find, you won’t think he measures up to Tucker.”
Willow slid a plate of pancakes and sausage patties in front of her. “Probably not. When I think of how much at odds we were for the longest time, it’s nothing short of a miracle that we’re together now.”
After breakfast, Audrey went upstairs to fetch her cape. She took one last look in the mirror, wishing against all odds that she would look half as nice when she reached the funeral parlor. Even with rain protection she would be soaked through before she reached her destination.
She paused at the kitchen door to say good-bye to Willow and Copper, who was now seated at the table eating breakfast. Willow came over to give her a hug. “If this is God’s will, it will work out all right.”
Copper made a moue of distaste. “You’re really going to go through with this? I can’t believe you’d work in a funeral parlor. It’s really mind-reeling.”
“Well perhaps, dear one, you’ll be forced to do something you dislike.”
Copper cut a piece of sausage, eyeing her. “We have choices.”
“Not always.”
“Perhaps the burying business wouldn’t be so bad.” Willow was still trying to reassure her. “I’m sure it will be much better than you expect. After all, people come to pay their respects to their loved ones, and you’ll have an opportunity to serve in a way you’d never have otherwise. It can’t be all that bad.”
Copper shivered. “Well, it’s not for me. However, I do wish you well, Audrey love. You must know, though, that I’m praying God has something more suitable in store for you.”
“That would be nice,” Audrey agreed. “However, until God sends something different my way, I have no choice except to talk to Mr. Burying about employment.”
She left before Copper could argue. It seemed to her they should be less vocal and more supportive. A blast of wind-driven rain staggered her as she stepped off Wallace’s front stoop. She hoisted the tarp, bowed her head, and plowed through the lake of water that formed the yard.
Five minutes later, she paused outside the sturdy frame building, eyeing what she hoped would be her place of employment. White, two-story, with an attractive front porch. A small, discreet sign, white with black letters, identified the establishment as Burying Funeral Parlor. Audrey swallowed, glanced up and down the street, and then forced her feet up the brick steps.
The porch roof sheltered her from the rain, and she lowered the tarp and shook off the water. She wet her lips and breathed a sigh before pushing open the door and stepping inside. A tall, thin man wielding a feather duster turned to face her. She stopped, not sure what to do next.
The man approached. “Kirkland Burying at your disposal. What may I do for you?” His voice had a hollow sound, like someone standing at the bottom of a well. Deep, dark, sunken eyes stared into hers. His complexion was pale, as if he didn’t spend much time out of doors, unlike the ruddy features of the Gray cousins. The hand he extended was slender, with long, tapered fingers that felt cool to the touch.
She forced a smile. “My name is Audrey Pride, and I understand you are in need of an assistant. I’m here to inquire about the position.”
“Ah. I see.”
No, he didn’t, but she waited. Finally he cleared his throat. “Mmm, yes. You have prior experience?”
“None—other than I’ve buried a few on the battlefield.”
“On the battlefield.”
She nodded. “I fought in the war.”
“Indeed.”
“Does that count?”
“Depends on which side you fought.”
“Oh—the South.”
“Well then, let me give you a tour of the home. The upstairs is my private living quarters, of course, and as a rule is off limits.”
As a rule? Were there exceptions? He lived here? Above the funeral parlor? Would she actually be working in the man’s house? Copper would really be appalled when she heard this.
Kirkland motioned toward the front of the room to a platform extending out about four feet from the wall. “The semi-final resting place.”
“The final being…?”
“The grave, of course.”
“Oh. Of course.” Audrey stared. She tried to picture a casket fitting into that space, with the lintel framing it, lending dignity to the deceased. At either end stood floor lamps about five feet tall, with brass bases and stained glass shades. Wooden chairs were arranged in rows, facing the viewing area. The floor was of wide oak planks, and dusty, wine-colored drapes framed the windows. She sniffed, breathing in the musty scent. If she got the job, the first thing she would do was give the place a good cleaning.
“And now if you’ll follow me.” Kirkland led her through alcoves, foyers, and hallways, past a small office, and into a back room outfitted with three sturdy tables. “Preparation room.” His voice took on a formal tone. “I will bathe the men’s bodies, of course. You will take care of the women.”
Take care of them. Bathe the bodies. Audrey swallowed. “By myself?” The question came out as a squeak, and she cleared her throat and tried again. “Alone? I mean—I’ll do it by myself?”
“Of course. Nothing to it. The bodies get a little stiff at first, but then they loosen up. It’s difficult getting the clothing on. Dead weight.” He brayed a laugh. When she remained silent, he prodded. “Dead weight. Get it?”
She stared at him, bewildered. He shook his head, and a pitying expression crossed his face. “That was a joke. You do have a sense of humor, do you not? It helps in this business.”
“Oh yes. I can see where it might.” My stars. Willow was right. The man was definitely odd. She obediently followed him to a small walnut table holding jars of creams.
Kirkland indicated the ointments. “Face paint. You do know how to use it, I assume?”
“Certainly.” Not that she’d had much experience with such things. It was nothing ladies were supposed to do, and her life had held little opportunity for such frivolous habits. It had been all she could do since the war to hold body and soul together.
Kirkland was speaking. “Just a touch, you know. A faint blush, a dusting of powder, a smidgen of color around the eyes. Subtle nuances. Very subtle. Often I’m told people look better when I’m through with them than they did when they were alive.”
Audrey closed her eyes and breathed a faint prayer. Bathe and dress dead bodies? Paint them? And she’d have to fix their hair. It had been easier to think about this in the judge’s kitchen. Here in the building where the work was actually done, it all seemed so overwhelming…and final.
“Do people hold services here? In Timber Creek the last rites were held in their homes.”
Kirkland sniffed. “Oh my yes, for the most part. Of course there are those who can’t afford our services and prefer to have the deceased in their homes. They prepare the loved one themselves, but people with discriminating tastes prefer the services of the Burying Funeral Parlor. There is no comparison in the quality, of course.”
“Of course.” Snob appeal was alive and well in Thunder Ridge. Audrey paused, head cocked slightly, listening. For some time she had been aware of a tapping noise. “What is that?”
Kirkland raised his eyebrows. “What is what?”
“That noise. Like hammers.”
“Oh that.” Kirkland shrugged. “I employ a couple of men to build caskets. It’s far too cost prohibitive to have them brought in, and it’s a profitable sideline for us.”
“The casket.”
He nodded. “The casket. Don’t be afraid to voice the word. It will be of grave concern to our customer.” He brayed. “Get it? Of grave concern?”
She managed a tolerant smile. “Got it.”
Evidently there was more to leaving the earth than she’d previously thought. Comb the hair, rub on a little face paint, and that would be it. Even though others had tried to prepare her, she had harbored a secret hope that the bodies would come washed and dressed. She tried to picture herself wrestling with a cold, lifeless corpse, but the image wouldn’t form.
Could she do this? The alternative course filled her with dread. Live with Tucker and Willow, and them newlyweds? She couldn’t do that. Somehow she had to be independent, and Kirkland Burying and his fancy funeral parlor was her only hope. She gathered her courage. “When can I start work?”
“Tomorrow? We don’t have anything scheduled right now, but that will give you time to learn the burying business.” He watched her. “Get it? The Burying business?”
“Got it. Tomorrow then. What time?”
“Eight o’clock. I suppose we should discuss compensation.”
Definitely they should. If she must do this kind of work, she expected some rather nice compensation. Why else would she subject herself to Burying humor?
Get it?
He sighed heavily, lips pursed, as if in pain. “The position pays fifty cents a week plus two dollars a client.”
Audrey’s heart constricted. Not a fortune, to be sure, but she could manage. God was surely smiling on her.
“Very well, I’ll be here at eight o’clock prompt.”
She left the funeral parlor in a blinding downpour. It never rains in Thunder Ridge. Willow’s litany in her former letters rang in her ears. What a joke. She stepped in a puddle, splashing mud over the hem of her best dress. She could probably have worn her everyday calico with the same results. She quickened her steps. All she wanted now was to get back to the house and change out of these wet clothes.
With her head bent against the wind and the tarp held in front of her, she found it difficult to see where she was going. She struck something fairly solid and heard a muffled grunt. Pulling the tarp aside, she stared up into the eyes of Eli Gray.
He frowned at her. “Miss Pride. You do seem to favor rain, don’t you?”
“No…I just applied for a position at the funeral parlor.”
Eli shook his head, his gaze wandering to the dreary-looking establishment. “Is that a position worthy of a lady?”
Audrey braced against the cold rain. “It’s worthy of this lady. I fought a war, remember?”
His expression softened. “I understand, but I still wonder if there isn’t a better choice.”
She tried to smile but the rain took her breath. “I begin work tomorrow morning.”
He took her arm, and she experienced a jolt. How very odd that his touch could set up such a reaction so soon. Oh, she knew this was her man, but she’d rather thought this sort of electricity the novels touted would come later. Much later. He led her around standing water, and she shamelessly huddled against him. “I thought it never rained in Thunder Ridge.”
He smiled down at her. “Well, that’s what we used to say, but seems things are changing around here.”
“Well, you know what they say. Change is good.”
“Who says that?”
She shrugged. “Folks who don’t mind change, I suppose.”
He took the tarp and walked beside her, shielding her from the worst of the blowing downpour. When they reached the judge’s house, she stopped and turned to face him. “Will you come in?”
For a moment he hesitated, and then his expression turned aloof. “Not today.” He handed her the covering, his hand lingering for a moment on hers, then he turned and walked off. She watched him go, heaving a mental sigh.
It appeared Eli Gray’s walls held firm, even in the rain.