Grim Reaper 01 - Embrace the Grim Reaper

”
    “Pretty lady’s back!” Johnny skipped toward her, arms outstretched, a bundle of silverware in each hand.
    Ducking to avoid losing an eye, Casey allowed Johnny to hug her, squeezing her so tightly she lost her breath, along with her sense of place.
    It was at the funeral. The last time someone had hugged her like that. Not as hard, nor as joyfully. Her aching breasts had sent arcs of pain through her body. Full breasts, and tender, no longer the sustainer of life, but the reminder of life lost. Omar’s casket, so small in the receiving room next to the larger box.
    Casey’s whole life, enclosed in two cases of pine.
    “Let her go, Johnny.” Eric was laughing. “Ease up, my man.”
    She almost fell from his arms, grabbing onto the counter for support.
    Eric’s hand slid onto her back. “Casey? You okay?”
    She took a deep breath, eyes focused on the bread knife lying on the counter. “I’m all right. It’s nothing.” She darted a quick look around the kitchen, expecting Death’s face. It was not there.
    “Well, you look pale. Johnny, you’ve got to be more careful.”
    “No.” Casey stood up, her hands flat on the counter. “It wasn’t his fault.” She attempted a smile. “He’s fine.”
    Johnny stood chewing on his lip, his eyes twitching.
    She tried harder at the smile. “I’m glad to see you, too, Johnny. Thank you.”
    His tight face relaxed, and the smile returned. “See, Eric. You find nice ladies.”
    “Yes, Johnny, I do.” He steered Casey toward a chair and pushed her down into it. “What happened?”
    “Nothing.” She brushed him away and rubbed her face. “He just surprised me, is all. Now, what can I do?”
    Obviously not convinced, he reluctantly set her to work doing what she had the previous night—arranging bread in baskets and cutting up just-past-ripe fruit. She could feel his eyes on her throughout their food preparation, and even when the guests began arriving.
    “Eric.” She waved him over to the kitchen door from his spot in the dining room.
    “What is it? Are you feeling all right?”
    “I’m fine. Really. Now pay attention to them , not me. Okay?”
    Color rose in his cheeks, and he looked away.
    “I appreciate it, Eric, but really, they need your attention more than I do.”
    He let out a breath. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. You don’t really need help from me, do you?” Without looking at her again, he set to work welcoming the diners.
    Casey did what she could to serve, scooping out macaroni, taking away garbage, and refilling water glasses. As she worked and watched, it became even more apparent, this second night, that food was only partly why the people came. The time here in Home Sweet Home served another, perhaps even more important, function. More than filling their bellies.
    These people’s lives were hard. They’d lost jobs. They’d lost dignity. They’d lost Ellen Schneider. This fellowship, this time together, underscored the reality that they weren’t alone. They weren’t the only people suffering. Here, in this room, was proof that others were as badly off as they. Some even worse. It wasn’t their life, alone, that had been affected.
    But this realization wouldn’t come through conversation. The people were as quiet as the night before, speaking only when they needed something passed, or to offer a quick thank you after being served. But they were together. They understood each other.
    And they had Eric.
    Casey watched Eric as he mingled with the people. He, out of everyone, was the central figure. Not in a showy way. But everyone in the room seemed aware of him, turning toward him, searching him out, as one searches out any item of comfort. His concern for the people was evident on his face as he moved from one to another, listening, talking, putting an arm around a shoulder.
    What exactly was his connection here? While Eric had questioned Casey about her presence at HomeMaker, she hadn’t asked why he was there. Was he an employee? Had he been visiting someone? And what had those other two—Holly and Thomas—meant in the church garden? Who were Eric’s parents? And why did they think he had the upper hand?
    “ Praise God , here are the cookies!” Loretta handed Casey a tray with cookie plates, filled with a variety of day-old goodies from the bakery.
    Casey took the tray and walked around the tables, leaning in to deposit dessert every so often. The people whispered thank yous, but didn’t look up and meet