Boned
By Erin Lee
()
About this ebook
Boned
A morbidly romantic NA contemporary about life and death
Life after Harris & Sons Funeral Home has gone on for Marlow, the daughter of funeral directors set on her destiny of carrying on the family tradition. A thousand miles from Rolling Hills Cemetery and now in her twenties, Marlow Harris is determined to make sense of the living and dearly departed alike.
With the mortuary sciences mostly behind her and finally free of her leg casts, Marlow is set on finding the guy who will give her 'until death.'
After that? Well, who knows?
For better or for worse.
It's what everyone says and no different than the rings clients pay to have carved on their tombstones.
But landing Mr. Dead comes with complications only a death-ling like Marlow would ever stumble against.
It is to be expected. After all, it's not your average guy who will tolerate the morbidly curious and Thanksgiving visits at a funeral parlor complete with its own crematorium.
Will Owen be able to see past the organic tissue soot and body lifts to the beauty of life inside Harris & Sons?
And what happens when Marlow is called back serve the community she's spent so much time running from? Can she ever escape death?
Erin Lee
Erin Lee lives in Queensland, Australia and has been working with children for over 25 years. She has worked in both long day care and primary school settings and has a passion for inclusive education and helping all children find joy in learning. Erin has three children of her own and says they have helped contribute ideas and themes towards her quirky writing style. Her experience working in the classroom has motivated her to write books that bring joy to little readers, but also resource educators to help teach fundamental skills to children, such as being safe, respectful learners.
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Boned - Erin Lee
Dedication:
For the living, who still have hope and know that love can see us through the most peculiar of circumstances.
Thank you for your persistence.
Also for Matty G. because why stop at Pretty Bones?
You have been officially Boned.
Boned
Chapter One
It doesn’t matter how many bodies you’ve embalmed. There’s a big difference between working on a client and a loved one. It’s kind of like a surgeon who can’t operate on their spouse. I’ve pictured it in my mind a million times. I know that when we get there, I won’t want anyone else working on my dad. But we aren’t there yet. And I try to push the image of his corpse out of my mind as I struggle to focus on my mother’s words.
You just have to come home,
she says flatly and with no room for argument.
Two weeks before midterms, going home will mean the cremation of my semester. My dreams of graduating in the standard four years will be no different than cremains soot that serves only as a reminder of what will never be again.
How long?
I’m not sure if I’m asking how much longer Dad will live or how long I’ll need to stay home. The thing about Harris & Son’s Funeral Home is that once you walk in, well, it’s hard to ever walk out again – literally. Returning to the family business and homestead is a one-way ticket into life as a living dead.
I can’t even think about what Owen will say to this. We are trying to plan a life together. So much has changed since my high school graduation. After two years of a compromise stint in mortuary school, I’m finally enrolled in a university where I thought I’d have a shot at pursuing an art history degree. But again, death is calling me. Shocker.
My mother’s words are like the Grim Reaper. I know what I need to do and I know what I’ll ultimately do. Honestly, my predetermined destiny is a fact I try too hard to escape from. I always have. I’d probably be healthier to just accept it. Never in my fragile-assed life have I wished more for a sibling who could help shoulder what’s to come. The closest thing I have to family outside the funeral industry is Owen. And since his great aunt’s death, well, let’s just say, my family’s business triggers him.
I think we can get the money back,
Mom says. I could call the school if you’d like. Even if they won’t give you a refund, at least you could get back the meal plan credits. I’d imagine with your room opened up, you’d get a partial refund too. None of it really matters, Mar. Even if we have to eat the semester, there are more important things in life – starting with family.
It’s not that I don’t agree. I’m not a monster. I’ve been around death and even the dying long enough to know there are no take-backs to a person’s final days. But my father is nowhere near the end. And that’s the thing my mother doesn’t seem to understand. Cancer is not an immediate death sentence. The man could live for years. And if I give it up now, what will become of me? I can see myself standing next to Harry, complaining about how he’s too old for his gig as the industry’s best embalmer for eternity. And bye, bye, Owen. Once I go back, I’ll never get out of there... God why does this cast have to itch so badly? I hate everything.
Right, I think they’ll give me the money back – or some of it. But I guess what I’m asking is, what if I came home for a bit and then go back to finish out the semester? After that, I could come home on weekends and help with Dad but still come away with the credits.
It’s a last ditch effort to reason with her. But reasoning with Mom about what she is sure is the impending death of my father is sort of like the year I begged her not to force me into the wheelchair. There are just some things that aren’t up for negotiation. This whole ‘come home indefinitely gig’ is a death certificate to any shot at normalcy.
She sighs.
I can hear the things she’s thinking as I reach for a pencil to dig at my skin under the cast to ease the itch. Does she think I don’t know it? I highly doubt it. I’m not dumb. Itchy! Not stupid. Things haven’t been exactly the same between us since I left. Honestly, I owe the monitored ability I’ve had to spread my wings to Dad. He was the one who finally agreed to allow me to enroll in a four year university only weeks after receiving my embalmer’s license. If it weren’t for him, I’d never have left. And in that way, I guess I owe him.
Figure it out later. Owen can help. There’s no use arguing with her. You can’t be late to class and she’ll start with the guilt. Okay. I’ll go down to the business office after class.
Everything in this rubs me the wrong way. I’ve never been one to quit something I’ve started. Today, we have an exam on Greek mythology, and I’ll be dammed if I don’t at least finish that. Will it matter if I ultimately toss another semester? No. But something about taking that exam will at least allow me to have some level of closure. Like a visiting hour for the dead, taking the exam will be a futile exercise in saying goodbye to life with the living. Later, I’ll deal with Owen. He isn’t going anywhere – yet.
I can start looking for plane tickets while you take your test,
Mom says.
Why would you do that? If I’m not coming back – at least not soon – I’ll need my car.
The hell that I’m leaving the Rav4 across the country. Lord knows it took me forever to save up for it, given that the value of a twenty-two-year-old hearse wasn’t exactly what Dad had said it would be. The trade in on my high school hand-me-down had been weaker than a dead man’s pulse. My car, the only thing that got me through three hundred and seven death calls my senior year of high school, was coming with me. That is not up for negotiation.
Do you know how long that drive will take?
Seventeen hours.
And it will shatter my bones. But who cares about that? As long as I’m home. The hell you are taking my car. I’ll need my freedom.
You could be here so much quicker if you fly.
I look at my watch. I’m already six minutes late for my test. I grab my backpack, careful to pull it around my cast, and head out the door.
Am I missing something? I thought he was stage two. Did you get new results or something? I don’t understand why this sounds like an emergency.
No,
she whispers. I guess I just miss you. You’re right. It will make more sense for you to drive.
Okay. So I’m going to go. I’ll find out what I can about withdrawing for the semester and I’ll text before I get on the road.
In reality, my plan is nothing of the sort. Instead, I’ll hit my advisor to inform him of what’s going on. Won’t be a shock. Not like he hasn’t talked to Mom a million times before. It’s not like she’ll ever leave