Dearly Departed Read online

  Dearly Departed

  A Love Me Dead Romance

  Heather Novak

  Dearly Departed

  Copyright© 2022 Heather Novak

  EPUB Edition

  The Tule Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  First Publication by Tule Publishing 2022

  Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-957748-88-7

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  Dedication

  To Eliza: This book exists because of our friendship. Love you.

  For those who carry grief in their heart, I see you and sit with you.

  Shout out to all my fellow allergy/digestive condition/restricted diet friends—don’t let anyone make you feel like a burden! You’re a badass.

  Jen Luerssen—“Tit’s up!” Thanks for your constant support.

  And to my mom, who left a letter for me to find when I needed it most.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Love Me Dead series

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Eliza

  Twenty-eight months ago

  When my fifth-grade teacher had asked me what I wanted to do for the school’s talent show, I’d said, “I could write a letter to your dead mom.” This resulted in my first detention for lying, despite the fact my teacher’s mother had passed away the summer before, and I never lied. I may not have been old enough to drive or vote, but I had the power to alter someone’s last words to a dearly departed loved one. It forced me to grow up fast. Especially because the transaction came with a hefty price tag for the sender—one year of their life.

  What I hadn’t known was that I paid a price, too.

  That price felt exceptionally cruel today as I watched my fiancé’s ashes being lowered into the ground from a safe distance. My white knuckles locked around iron posts that separated me from Applechester Cemetery, the flaking paint stabbing my palms. I couldn’t look away from his black headstone. I’d paid extra to have it erected before the burial.

  He was forever immortalized as “Benjamin Dylan Somerset” instead of “Ben” or “my love,” which he preferred. Thirty years of heartbeats, laughter, and I love yous were shoved into one little dash between the date of his birth and death. That tiny line could never tell a passerby about the amazing new thing his daughter had done, or about the time he was accidentally an extra in an action film, or how much he loved basketball.

  My body trembled with silent tears, and it took several paralyzing moments to realize the earth wasn’t shattering around me. Huge flowerpots with red, white, and blue petals to celebrate the Fourth of July lined the sidewalk, their cloying scent suffocating. How dare they rejoice under the hot summer sun when my entire body was ice cold.

  My hold on the bars was the only thing keeping me upright as my stepbrother Jake helped my daughter Daisy throw a shovelful of dirt onto her dad’s ashes. I wished I’d gotten to see Ben’s body before they cremated him, to kiss his cheek, to smooth his hair off his forehead one last time, but morgues aren’t much kinder to me than cemeteries. I was thankful Ben never wanted a visitation or memorial service, especially since funeral homes weren’t any easier to bear. I just had to get through the last ten minutes of this burial.

  Usually, the din of the dead was just a buzz in my head, something I was able to keep in the background of my thoughts until I needed to communicate. This close to a cemetery—or any place with a high concentration of the dead—it was deafening. I was like a magnet; each spirit had a story about why they needed to get in contact with a loved one, and they were determined to tell me. Someone tugged on my hair hard, making my head snap back.

  “No,” I whispered firmly. “Do not touch me.”

  My left arm prickled, as if stung by several bees. Scratches, red and angry, raised up on my fair skin. A retort.

  I shook my head. “No,” I repeated. While I could see ghosts, the spirits here wanted to stay invisible to pick on easy targets. Either their deaths had made them so resentful they couldn’t cross over, or they were bullies in their former lives.

  Sometimes I hated being a medium, hated that I not only had to worry about creatures in this world—the kind that everyone thought were fictional, like vampires and demons—but also those in the afterlife. I wished I could throw dirt on my Ben’s grave, tell him I loved him one last time. It wasn’t worth the risk. If the spirits were this restless and violent outside the cemetery, it would be so much worse the moment I stepped onto consecrated ground. I was a single mother now, and my six-year-old needed a parent who wasn’t possessed by a handful of ghosts.

  Jake kissed Daisy’s cheek before throwing his own shovelful of dirt. He passed the shovel first to Ben’s parents, who were clinging to each other as if existence itself depended on it, and then ours. My brother asked for the shovel one more time, and he scooped one last pile of dirt. He lifted his gaze to mine, and I knew this one was for me. He poured the rocks and dirt into the hole.

  My knees disappeared and I sank to the sidewalk, my chest aching. I was alone now. How was I supposed to do this? How was I going to get up off this cement and put one foot in front of the other? How was the earth still turning?

  “Mommy!”

  I looked up and saw Daisy releasing Jake’s hand and run ahead of him. She was the reason I had to get off the ground and figure it out. Get up, Eliza. Don’t let her see you break down.

  “Help me or go away,” I told the ghost who had tugged my hair again. Something poked me under my ribs hard, and I scrambled to my feet to get away. “Thanks,” I grumbled.

  Daisy rounded the gate and pushed her red face against my leg. Shit,
how was I not going to completely ruin her childhood? Was it possible to live without ever really breathing again?

  My daughter mumbled something through her sobs. I bent down and scooped her up, holding her close. “What, munchkin?”

  “Why did Daddy leave us?” she wailed.

  Oh god, I didn’t think there was anything else that could destroy my heart, but those five words sucked all the oxygen out of the atmosphere. I struggled to fill my lungs once, then twice.

  “It wasn’t by choice,” I promised her. “He’d never leave you on purpose. He loves you so, so much, even now.”

  She buried her head in my shoulder, and my chest cracked open. Could I have stopped this? Should I have seen it coming? Had Ben suspected?

  The flowerpot next to us on the sidewalk exploded. With a shout, I pulled Daisy closer, a chunk of shattered terracotta catching my arm and leaving a bloody gash. Jake propelled us across the street.

  “Was that a ghost?” he asked.

  “Probably,” I said, straightening. “Go check on Ben’s parents.”

  I looked down at Daisy, whose gaze was glued to the small trail of blood on my arm. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

  “Shh, shh.” I ran my hand over her head. “This wasn’t your fault, baby girl.”

  She tilted her head up, sky blue eyes filled with tears. “I did it.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  She buried her head against the crook of my shoulder. “I wanted to explode something.”

  I rubbed her back and looked over at the pile of dirt and clay. It had just been the ghosts, right?

  Chapter One

  Eliza

  Present day, eleven days before Thanksgiving

  Robinson Family Dinner had been a source of stability in a life full of devastating losses. I thought I was safe with my family, safe from them. When I could barely get out of bed, when it took everything I had just to feed Daisy and send her to school, someone in my family would come by and provide us with a home-cooked meal. On one memorable occasion after a particularly bad week, Mom had shoved me fully clothed into the shower. They were the only people I trusted would never betray me.

  Until today.

  Until my mother destroyed our family before dessert was served.

  I didn’t know how many times I could break and still be mended, but I must be close to totaled. So far, no amount of compartmentalizing or therapy quotes put me back together again.

  “I don’t want to leave!” Daisy complained as I pulled her through the front door of my parents’ house, then handed her the coat I’d grabbed on the way out.

  “Put this on,” I ordered, ducking my head against the ice-cold rain that pelted my face.

  She grabbed the coat and shoved her arms through the opposite way, wearing it backward. I wanted to argue with her, but I didn’t have the energy.

  The front door opened and my mom walked out, bathed in the porch light. “Eliza! Don’t leave until we’ve discussed this like adults!” she called.

  “Twelve years, Mom. You lied to me for twelve years!”

  “Stop fighting!” Daisy tried.

  “You have a daughter. Are you telling me you wouldn’t do everything you can to protect her?”

  I put my hands on my hips. “How was lying to Jake and me protecting us? You could’ve given us closure!”

  Mom mirrored my position. “You would’ve lost all hope! And then she wouldn’t be back now.” My mother may look like me, light blue eyes and red hair with streaks of gray, but I didn’t recognize her anymore.

  I shook my head in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Don’t use that tone with me, young woman!”

  “You know I don’t tolerate lying.”

  “And you think you’re a better mother because of it?”

  “Yeah, I think I’ve got a leg up!”

  The decorative gourds on Mom’s porch exploded, sending chunks of skin and seeds everywhere.

  “STOP IT!” Daisy screeched.

  We both looked at Daisy who had her hands over her ears and her eyes shut tight. A shimmering light dissipated around her.

  I bent down so my face was level with hers and brushed her hands away. “Are you okay, baby girl?”

  “Stop fighting,” she whispered.

  “We’ve stopped. I promise. Let’s go.” I looked over my shoulder at my mom, who stood wide-eyed, glancing between the vegetable carnage and Daisy. “She’s okay, just overtired,” I explained. “She’ll call you later.”

  Mom nodded. “And you?”

  I shook my head and hurried Daisy to the car. I reached for the back door handle and swore when it didn’t budge. I made sure it was unlocked and tried again, but still nothing. I sucked in a sharp breath, making a mental note to get the car to the shop. Stupid latch.

  Daisy brushed me out of the way. A scattering of blue sparks emitted from her hand, and then the door opened with ease. “I got it, Mom.”

  “Thanks, baby,” I sighed, my voice stretched tight to cover the rest of my emotions. The magic fix wouldn’t last, but it would hold for a few days. “You can have tablet time.”

  She nodded and grabbed the tablet from the back seat pouch as I closed the door and rounded the back of the car. My knees were shaking, and I held on to the trunk as I tried to put one foot in front of the other, without looking behind me. Mom had gone inside, but no doubt she’d be back to clean up the porch. I needed to go before she tried to stick another Band-Aid over the knife she’d plunged into my chest.

  “Eliza!”

  My spine stiffened as I turned to face the one person I never wanted to see again, Paris Evans. My new partner at Supernatural Human Accountability Partnership, known as SHAP. The woman we were celebrating tonight for saving Jake’s and his soul mate Poppy’s lives. The same woman who had destroyed mine.

  I tried to tell her to go away, only to have a sob escape. The key ring around my finger hit my lip hard as I clamped my hand over my mouth. I closed my eyes and focused on relaxing the tightness in my throat.

  “You can’t drive,” she stated.

  I opened my eyes to find Paris standing too close, studying me as if I were three-week-old trash. I welcomed the heat of anger over the coldness of sadness. “Been doing it since I was fifteen. No tickets, no accidents,” I spat back.

  “You’re shaking.” She pressed her lips together.

  “I’m—” I held out my hand to prove her wrong, but it betrayed me. The voices of the dead poked at my mental defenses, always ready to pounce whenever I let my guard down. Their white noise stampeded into a loud static, blocking out the howl of the wind.

  “Just let me drive you and Daisy home.” She reached out and grabbed my keys, her fingers brushing my knuckles.

  My stomach dipped, and the voices immediately quieted like they always did when she was around. I dropped my hand and glared. “Don’t touch me.”

  Paris gestured toward the passenger side.

  “I know how cars work,” I barked, swiping at my eyes, then stepping away from her. I climbed in and slammed the door like a petulant child.

  “If I did that, you’d ground me for two days,” my daughter, Daisy, said. At eight years old, she was full of sass and stubbornness, a combination of me and her late father.

  “Damn straight,” I agreed.

  “Then why do you get to do it?”

  “Because I’m an adult.”

  “I think that’s an excuse adults make to get away with things they know are wrong.”

  She was right in this case. “One of the perks of getting older.”

  Paris climbed into the driver’s side, filling the car with her soft sunshine and gardenia scent. It burned through me and robbed me of breath, as if I’d inhaled fire. I yanked at my seatbelt, but it twisted and fought back.

  “Need help?” Paris asked.

  “No,” I growled, tugging one last time. The belt finally released, and I nearly sighed in relief. “How are you going to get home?
Your car is here.”

  “I’ll figure it out,” she promised. She put on her own seatbelt with one smooth motion, then checked Daisy was buckled before starting the car and backing out of the driveway. Her long, thin fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, her grandma’s emerald ring sliding off center on her right middle finger. I turned away, resisting the unexpected impulse to take her likely cold hand in mine to warm it.

  The rattle of the glovebox and the squeak of the windshield wipers filled the silence, and I focused on two raindrops racing down the passenger window. Another tear escaped and I tugged my sweater sleeve over my coat cuff to wipe it away. I could feel Paris’s eyes burning a hole in the side of my head, but I refused to acknowledge her.

  My heart beat hard, trying to fight against the pressure building under my ribcage. The urge to scream, to cry, to break something swirled faster and faster until a tornado was trapped in my chest. Four more miles. I closed my eyes when we passed the cemetery, avoiding the temptation to stare at the sidewalk under the streetlamp.

  “If you want to talk…” she began.

  I clenched my jaw.

  “Your parents—”

  “No.” My parents had known we’d lose Poppy one day, that she was a grim reaper, and they never warned us, never confessed what happened when she disappeared. She had been my best friend and Jake’s first love, yet they’d refused to give us the closure we so badly needed. They’d let us search for her for years and only admitted their deception after a miraculous series of events had given Poppy her human life back.

  “I know.” Paris navigated the left turn onto my street. “I’m sorry.”

  Her apology weighed between us, as if it were not just a platitude about tonight, but an attempt to revisit our past. I shoved it away. Nearly everyone I loved had either ended up dead or betrayed me. I would do anything and everything to protect Daisy, to give her a life full of joy and smiles so she never had to feel her chest caving in. My inner circle could no longer be infiltrated, not even by my parents. It now only consisted of my daughter, Jake, Poppy, our friend Mina, and her partner Carma.