while shrugging back in her seat. I felt so bad but I just couldn’t stop.
“You never take me seriously, Lizzy!” she barked. Her eyes were narrowed and the corners of her mouth turned down, like a kindergartner who’d just had her lunch money stolen.
“I’m sorry, Em! I’ll try it. I promise,” I said, still giggling.
She wouldn’t look at me. She grabbed her fork and stabbed at her enchilada, which the waitress managed to sneak in while we were having our heated conversation.
“I’ll try it…. And I’ll call you if I get any response… Okay?” I said kindly, trying to make peace.
“Fine,” she huffed, shoving a forkful of food into her mouth.
I was anxious to get home, away from all human interaction. I wanted to lock myself away from the world… if even for a day. I wanted to see if I could contact Michael, and find out exactly what happened. He would have already crossed over if he was at peace. More than anything else I needed him to be at peace, and I needed to find out exactly how I could help to make that happen.
Chapter 5
When Emily finally dropped me off at home, I was relieved and exhausted. It was around 4:00 P.M. and the sun was fading. I stepped in the door and heard my answering machine beeping like mad. Fifteen messages flashed on the small square box. Holy cow! I turned up the volume and begrudgingly pressed the play button. I then went to my room to change into something more comfortable. The first thirteen messages were friends and acquaintances sending their condolences, wanting more details on what happened to Michael. The fourteenth message was from Mrs. Young, Michael’s mom.
“Lizzy, Mr. Young and I were wondering if you would come over to our house tonight. We’d love it if you could have dinner with us. There are some important issues that we need to discuss, and we would like you to be involved with. Please give me a call when you get this. Love you.”
I sighed. I knew exactly what those “issues” were. They were planning Michael’s funeral. I still hadn’t come to grip with the fact that he was gone. Planning his funeral only seemed to finalize everything. But I knew I needed to be there for them. They considered me a daughter and I knew, although reluctantly, that I had to go.
The fifteenth message was bizarre. No one spoke, but there was a lot of heavy breathing. Then, a deep, raspy voice started singing the words “I Got You Babe”. It was horrible and out of tune, and then whoever it was… hung up abruptly. It was definitely male but the number was marked private. Creepy!
It was probably some stupid person playing a prank. That wasn’t the first time I’d had crank calls. But then, a quick thought turned my stomach and sent a shiver down my spine. What if it was the murderer? But how would he know my number? It was unlisted.
I checked and re-checked my doors and windows just to make sure they were securely locked, and dialed Mrs. Young to accept her invitation. I told her I’d have to change and that I’d be there shortly.
I quickly freshened up, sprayed on some perfume, grabbed a warm, down jacket from my closet and dashed out the door. The temperature was below freezing outside and the darkness was heavy. I ran to my Jeep, jumped in, locked the doors, and started it up, turning the heater on high. It was cold as ice but my jacket managed to keep me somewhat warm. It took a good ten minutes for the jeep to start to warm up, and thirty minutes until I arrived at the Young’s, who lived way down on the S. Knick Goosebay Road.
The time I spent with Michael’s parents was exactly as I had anticipated. We hugged and cried, then sat in their living room and discussed Michael’s funeral arrangements. Portraits and trophies of Michael surrounded us. I tried to block out the discussion, methodically nodding and answering yes to what they’d already planned. His funeral would be in six days, on December 11th… just ten days before my eighteenth
“You never take me seriously, Lizzy!” she barked. Her eyes were narrowed and the corners of her mouth turned down, like a kindergartner who’d just had her lunch money stolen.
“I’m sorry, Em! I’ll try it. I promise,” I said, still giggling.
She wouldn’t look at me. She grabbed her fork and stabbed at her enchilada, which the waitress managed to sneak in while we were having our heated conversation.
“I’ll try it…. And I’ll call you if I get any response… Okay?” I said kindly, trying to make peace.
“Fine,” she huffed, shoving a forkful of food into her mouth.
I was anxious to get home, away from all human interaction. I wanted to lock myself away from the world… if even for a day. I wanted to see if I could contact Michael, and find out exactly what happened. He would have already crossed over if he was at peace. More than anything else I needed him to be at peace, and I needed to find out exactly how I could help to make that happen.
Chapter 5
When Emily finally dropped me off at home, I was relieved and exhausted. It was around 4:00 P.M. and the sun was fading. I stepped in the door and heard my answering machine beeping like mad. Fifteen messages flashed on the small square box. Holy cow! I turned up the volume and begrudgingly pressed the play button. I then went to my room to change into something more comfortable. The first thirteen messages were friends and acquaintances sending their condolences, wanting more details on what happened to Michael. The fourteenth message was from Mrs. Young, Michael’s mom.
“Lizzy, Mr. Young and I were wondering if you would come over to our house tonight. We’d love it if you could have dinner with us. There are some important issues that we need to discuss, and we would like you to be involved with. Please give me a call when you get this. Love you.”
I sighed. I knew exactly what those “issues” were. They were planning Michael’s funeral. I still hadn’t come to grip with the fact that he was gone. Planning his funeral only seemed to finalize everything. But I knew I needed to be there for them. They considered me a daughter and I knew, although reluctantly, that I had to go.
The fifteenth message was bizarre. No one spoke, but there was a lot of heavy breathing. Then, a deep, raspy voice started singing the words “I Got You Babe”. It was horrible and out of tune, and then whoever it was… hung up abruptly. It was definitely male but the number was marked private. Creepy!
It was probably some stupid person playing a prank. That wasn’t the first time I’d had crank calls. But then, a quick thought turned my stomach and sent a shiver down my spine. What if it was the murderer? But how would he know my number? It was unlisted.
I checked and re-checked my doors and windows just to make sure they were securely locked, and dialed Mrs. Young to accept her invitation. I told her I’d have to change and that I’d be there shortly.
I quickly freshened up, sprayed on some perfume, grabbed a warm, down jacket from my closet and dashed out the door. The temperature was below freezing outside and the darkness was heavy. I ran to my Jeep, jumped in, locked the doors, and started it up, turning the heater on high. It was cold as ice but my jacket managed to keep me somewhat warm. It took a good ten minutes for the jeep to start to warm up, and thirty minutes until I arrived at the Young’s, who lived way down on the S. Knick Goosebay Road.
The time I spent with Michael’s parents was exactly as I had anticipated. We hugged and cried, then sat in their living room and discussed Michael’s funeral arrangements. Portraits and trophies of Michael surrounded us. I tried to block out the discussion, methodically nodding and answering yes to what they’d already planned. His funeral would be in six days, on December 11th… just ten days before my eighteenth
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