The Morbid and Sultry Tales of Genevieve Clare by J.B. Hartnett Page A

said, summoning a smile while I tried to retain some kind of professionalism.
    “Oh, you sweet girl.” Russel put his hand on mine. “You held the entire thing together with that smile right there…and your hat.”
    I did. I smiled that day because Louis was funny and the funerals I attended were not about me. I was there to give that dying man his last wish. So I called the men he used to perform with, then I called his parents and his sister, who was flying in from across the country. I worked with the funeral home to make sure the surprise remained exactly that, a surprise.
    But it took a lot out of me.
    “I can do this,” I told them. “I’m your Girl Friday, your Wailing Woman, and Your Merry Widow, all rolled into one.”
    ****
    Thanksgiving crept up on me.
    I wasn’t sure what to wear, what to bring, what to say, if I should wax, if I should wear my hair up or down… I just had no idea.
    Rocky called me in the morning to see if I was going to chicken out. She didn’t say it, but I knew she was thinking it, so I finally told her, “A new beginning, Rock.”
    She didn’t say anything. I just heard her sniffle. And that was exactly what this was, a second chance, a new beginning, and whatever happened, I knew it was time for me to start living again.
    Before I left the house, I went to the cemetery, sat with my family, and poured them each a glass of fine Irish whiskey.
    “I can’t light a candle tonight. Too many leaves, too much wind and no rain. You understand,” I explained. “I have a favor to ask, and believe me, I’ve already had many conversations with the Big Guy upstairs. But, if you have any sway at all, do you think you might be able to put in a good word for us? I mean, you know, he’s lost so much. I’m not asking for me, if it’s my time, I get it…but I don’t want him to suffer anymore. If this is going to happen…” I didn’t finish my sentence, because they knew. I’d talked with them about Ahren so much over the years, they knew. I’d prayed to God every night that he was safe and healthy and happy. I figured, the message had been well and truly received.
    “Drink up,” I said with a smile. “You don’t get another shot ‘til Christmas.”
    The cars parked on my way to the woods made me laugh at how some things never change. Who knew how many generations of high-schoolers would come to the river and make out? The path was long gone, but I knew it paralleled the river. After trudging through the thick underbrush for fifteen minutes, I could smell burning wood and saw a lantern in the distance. I wanted to run as fast as possible, but I was too afraid I would fall, break my neck, and Ahren would have to carry my lifeless body back to town. No, no, I thought, safety and self-preservation were probably in both of our best interests.
    The crunching of leaves made his head whip around, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the lantern. I stood in place, stunned silent by emotion as he stepped off the small porch and met me.
    “You came,” he whispered.
    I nodded, my eyes welling up with tears.
    “I don’t want to live without you, Gen. It’s the same as being dead.”
    “I know,” I whispered back as I reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry, Ahren. I couldn’t… I just…”
    He put his forehead against mine. “I know, baby. I know.”
    We walked into his father’s cabin, and, instead of being met with what I assumed would be modest-rustic, it was beautifully outfitted with a polished stone fireplace, a bed, a tiny kitchen and stove, and even a bathroom.
    I couldn’t help but comment, “You have electricity.”
    “And running water. And plumbing.” He grinned, still holding my hand.
    “Can you excuse me for a sec?” I asked.
    “Sure.” He led me toward the bathroom, assuming that’s where I was headed, but still did not release me from his grip.
    “Mind if I, uh…”
    “Oh, God, sorry.” He chuckled nervously and let me go.
    Once inside the safe