AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Well, we’re gonna get it all spic-and-span,” she promised, before wiggling a beer can at him. “Go easy on this, though.”
“Yes ma’am,” he teased.
Together they cleaned in comfortable silence. Once the sink was empty and scrubbed clean, Bunny filled it with hot soapy water and set all the casserole dishes to soaking while Marshall took care of the rest of the mess. Her mother’s moonstone pendant shifted and danced as she worked, prompting Bunny to edge into the topic she had really come here to discuss.
“Did Mom ever mention anything to you about this?” she asked, holding the pendant out for inspection.
Her dad shifted closer, his hand reaching out to cradle the necklace fondly. “Only that it had been Grandma Alice’s,” he said, “and Grandmother Irene’s before her. It’s been in your mother’s side of the family for years.” He let it rest gently against Bunny’s chest before smiling at her with unshed tears shining in his eyes. “Your mother had always hoped you’d have a daughter to pass it on to.”
Bunny’s heart tightened at the familiar words. Even though her dad didn’t mean it as a guilt trip, those words had always felt like one to her. Here she was at 52—unless she adopted, she wasn’t going to be having any kids. And she didn’t want to adopt, anyway.
But it wasn’t just that. She’d come home looking for answers about her mom, hoping that if she told her dad what she knew about her mother being a celestial, he’d have some kind of advice or information for her. But now it was clear that he didn’t know anything about it.
Her heart relaxed, and then sank.
“Sadly not,” she finally said, hoping to make light of her father’s comment. “You’ll have to pin any hopes you have for grandchildren on your son’s shoulders.”
“He’d have to find someone and settle down first,” Marshall chuckled. “Your brother likes his own company too well.”
“I hope you don’t get like that,” she admitted, glancing at her father from the corner of her eye. In actual fact, she was worried that he already had.
“Don’t plan on it,” Marshall said, but his tone didn’t hold enough conviction for Bunny’s liking.
A lull in the conversation made all the sounds around the house suddenly seem much louder. The old house creaked, beams adjusting and settling for the night. The wind outside was rushing through the treetops impatiently, as though giving Bunny the push she needed to ask the question she had come with a mind to ask.
“I know you won’t like this,” she began, her stomach in tight knots of trepidation. She stopped cleaning and turned to look at her father expectantly. “But I really think we need to exhume Mom.”
Marshall was quiet. He was swiping a dishcloth over the now-clear counter, trying to dislodge week-old crumbs. After a couple of breaths with no reply, Bunny felt compelled to fill the silence.
“Something’s not right about the way she died,” she explained, “especially after Dr. Goode gave her a clean bill of health. I think an autopsy would really help us all get some closure.”
Marshall threw down the dishcloth.
“Dad?” Bunny frowned.
“No.”
It was the answer she had expected, and she was already pre-loaded with all the reasons why he should turn it into a yes. She took a breath to deliver them. “I think you—”
“No,” Marshall repeated, his usually measured baritone taking on an aggressive note that made Bunny blink in surprise. “Your mother needs to rest in peace. That’s all there is to it.”
“You’re not the only one who loved her, you know,” Bunny lashed out, her frown deepening.
“I know,” he said. The hard edges her question had brought to his winkled face softened just a smidge. “But I am the one who has the final say over what happens to her now. And the answer is no, Bernadette.”
His use of her full Christian name couldn’t have shocked her more than if he had dropped an f-bomb. The formality and finality of it rang in her ears mockingly, pulling out the rug from under her.
“I’m tired,” he sighed, dusting his clean hands off on the outside of the ridiculous coat he was wearing. “I’m going to bed.”
The stairs creaked as he climbed them, leaving Bunny standing alone by the oven, in the same spot where her mother had died.
* * *
Though Bunny had slept comfortablyin her childhood bed thousands of times, tonight it seemed like it was full of lumps. She rolled onto one side and then the other, the covers pulled snugly up around her chin and her eyes closed tight against the surroundings that wanted to make her feel like she was ten years old again. She had spent too much of her childhood in that room, recovering from sick while she could hear other kids—her brother included—having fun outside.
When she finally caved and cracked open an eye, the bright pink digital clock on her bedside table told her that it was 3:16. She groaned and flopped onto her back, stretching out in the hopes that it would help her finally get comfortable. But the wind had picked up, too. The tree outside of her bedroom window was tapping insistent wooden fingers on the windowpane, an off-beat rhythm that was too erratic to lend itself to the hypnosis of an overworked mind.
“For fuck’s sake!” Bunny hissed, throwing back the covers when she couldn’t take another second of the tapping. She stalked across the room and unlatched the window, throwing it open with a thunk. The wind instantly took hold of her hair and pajamas, ruffling both as she leaned out the window to reach from the offending branch.
