Casket Case

Chapter 10

Nora wakes up early and rolls over so that she and Garrett lie nose to nose. He looks young when he’s sleeping, or at the very least innocent. She had just wanted to look at him, but she can’t stop herself. She places her hand against his jaw and glides her thumb across his cheek.

“Hey,” he says. He opens his eyes, and they stare at each other for a moment.

“Hi.”

“How did you sleep?”

“You’re like sleeping with a heater.” She had known that already, but a night without air-conditioning made it harder to ignore. The power had come back on in the middle of the night.

“I’ll sleep on my side of the bed next time.”

Should she care that he has already claimed one side of her bed? She runs her hands over his chest and his shoulders and around his neck until she has some leverage to pull him on top of her. He’s still half asleep, but he complies with her silent request without much ado.

“How did you sleep?” she asks.

“Good,” he says. He presses his lips to hers.

“Looks like the power is back on.”

“Uh-huh.” Garrett kisses her cheek and her jaw and her neck. She moves her hand down his body until she finds what she’s looking for, and he kisses her soundly.

A couple of hours later, Garrett whispers, “I have to go.”

She opens her eyes. He’s sitting fully dressed next to her.

It takes her a moment to understand what’s going on. That he is ready for work, and she is very much not. “What time is it?”

“Seven forty-five.”

She sits up and rubs her eyes. “I don’t know the last time I slept this late.”

He kisses her forehead. “You wore me out, too.”

“Hey!”

“It’s not a complaint.”

“Maybe you should go to work now.”

Garrett’s face has shifted subtly overnight. His eyes seem brighter, and the corners of his mouth point upward. She kisses him; he tastes like toothpaste.

“Did you use my toothbrush?”

He tilts his head. “Does it matter?”

She thinks for a moment, while he laces their fingers together on top of her grandmother’s quilt. “I’m not sure.”

He laughs. “I found an extra in the cabinet.”

“You went through my cabinet?”

“Yes, I know all of your secrets now.”

He kisses her again, gently, like she’s made of glass. Nora pulls him toward the bed, hoping for more, but it’s no surprise that he’s stronger than she is.

“I have to go to work,” he says against her lips.

“Fine.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She says it without hesitation because it’s the truth.

“I’ll see you later,” he says, getting up from the bed.

“Later, when?”

“Tonight? We’ll figure it out.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says from her bedroom doorway. “You can trust me.”

“I trust you,” she says. She has no idea if it’s true, but she holds on to it anyway.

Nora and Garrett become more obnoxiously obsessed with each other as the day goes on. He calls her at lunch. He brings a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine (without a unicycling skeleton on the label) to her house after work. Everything is right. Everything is settled.

Nora wakes up on Saturday morning to the sound of Garrett breathing in her ear. She rolls over to face him and feels him stir as their bodies fit together. He grabs her hips and shifts her on top of him. His eyes are barely open, but she can tell he’s waiting for her to take the lead. Taking the lead in bed has always given Nora anxiety, because she figures it’s likely that she’s doing something wrong—or, at least, not as good as she could be doing it. She’s not hot enough or bold enough or anything enough. Garrett senses her hesitation.

“Is this okay?” he asks in a sleepy voice.

“Is it okay for you?”

He smiles. “I’d say so.”

She leans down to kiss him, and he rolls her over so that he’s looking down at her.

“You’re beautiful,” he says. He kisses her again, so she doesn’t have to come up with a response.

—

Nora is getting ready at her sink when Garrett appears in the bathroom doorway.

“Do you have plans today?” he asks.

“Yeah, I have to go to a work thing. The services for Ethan start at two, and I want to get there early to make sure things go okay.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

She concentrates on her mascara. “You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you have something better to do.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he says, crossing his arms like he means business.

“I’m going with my grandpa. It’s fine. Really.”

“Okay, I won’t push.”

She shoos him out and closes the door, so that she can change into one of her standard funeral dresses in peace. When she opens the door, he’s still standing there with his arms crossed.

“When do I get to meet your grandpa?” he asks.

Nora laughs, brushing past him to get to her dresser. “I thought you weren’t going to push?”

“Well, this is different.”

“When do I get to meet your family?” she asks. She takes a tangle of jewelry from a dish on her dresser and attempts to retrieve the pearl necklace she wants. Garrett takes the pile out of her hand and starts working on the knot himself.

“I’m glad you asked,” he says. “I’m going for my mom’s birthday in November, and I want you to come with me.”

“To North Carolina?”

He nods but doesn’t look up.

“Your mom won’t care?”

He smiles. “No. She’s on my case every day about meeting you.”

“You told your mom about me?”

“Yeah, is that weird?” He holds out his palm with all three necklaces untangled. She takes the pearl necklace and fastens it around her neck, while he puts the other two back in the dish.

“I guess not.” Nora wonders what her mom would think of Garrett. For a moment, she imagines introducing them, before remembering that it will never happen.

“She asked if I would send a picture, so she could see what you look like. I told her absolutely not.”

She laughs. “You can send her a picture, Garrett. I don’t think we have one, but we can take one. You should have just told me.”

“She can meet you in person.”

“If that’s what you want, but make sure she knows that’s your decision.”

He pulls her close to him. “I wouldn’t worry about it. She’ll like you.”

“You don’t know that. Don’t start us on the wrong foot.” She puts her hand on his cheek and runs her thumb across his stubble.

He kisses her quickly. “Fine. I’ll call her right now.”

“Now?”

He darts across the room to grab his phone. “Yeah, it’ll take five minutes and will get both of you off my case.”

Before Nora can show him what being on his case would actually look like, she hears the FaceTime ring followed by his mom’s voice.

“Hey, Mom.” He stands in the middle of the room with the phone a few inches from his face.

“Hi, sweetheart. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” His brow furrows.

“I’m usually the one calling you.”

He rolls his eyes and sits down on the end of Nora’s bed. “Well, you’ve been asking all kinds of questions about Nora—”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” she says. “We’re all just curious.”

“I figured I would call, so you can talk to her yourself.”

He glances at Nora to check for her permission, as if she could say no at this point. She lets out a sigh and collects her manners before sitting on the bed next to him.

Garrett adjusts the phone so that Nora and his mom can see each other. Nora could have picked her out of a crowd. She has Garrett’s green eyes and his mouth and a very familiar surprised face.

“Mom, this is Nora,” Garrett says. “Nora, this is my mom.”

“Hi, Mrs. Bishop.” She smiles with teeth and tries to summon some of her dad’s energetic persona.

“Please call me ‘Jo.’ I’m glad I’m finally getting to put a face with the name. He talks about you all the time.”

Nora raises her eyebrows at Garrett, who’s the color of an Alabama jersey. “A normal amount,” he says, giving his mother a look Nora’s sure she’s seen many times before.

“She knows what I mean, Garrett.”

Nora smiles at him.

“This was a bad idea,” he says.

“No, it wasn’t,” Nora says, reaching over to place her hand on his leg.

“How did you meet Garrett?”

“I already told you that, Mom,” Garrett says.

“Maybe I want to hear it from Nora.”

Garrett is tense all over. Nora didn’t know he could be nervous.

“I’m happy to tell it,” Nora fibs. “I work at a casket company, which I know is strange, but it’s the family business. Anyway, it’s not the sort of business where people come in to look around, and I guess I didn’t hear the bell over the door because all of a sudden, Garrett was standing there at the counter. I never get handsome men in suits wandering in off the street, so I was having a hard time keeping it together.”

Garrett’s mom laughs, and Nora takes this as a sign that she’s doing a decent job.

She continues: “He was looking for directions to the restaurant next door, so I helped him. Then I was eating dinner there with my grandpa that night, and we saw Garrett as he was leaving. Everyone in the restaurant wanted me to chase him down, but I chickened out. I really didn’t think he would be interested.”

“You never told me that part,” Garrett says.

“I was really surprised when he came back the next day. Well, not as surprised as the first time, but you know what I mean.”

“You have to come meet the family in person,” his mom says. “My birthday is in a couple of months, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Nora glances at Garrett, but he doesn’t meet her eyes.

“I would love to,” Nora says, hoping she might mean it later. “You’re kind to invite me.”

Garrett and his mom say their goodbyes, and Garrett tosses his phone across the bed.

“Was that okay?” Nora asks.

“More than okay.” He kisses her with feeling. “Can I drive you to the service? I can come back and pick you up afterward.”

“I guess,” Nora says. She had almost put it out of her mind. “But you don’t have to. I can drive myself.”

“I want to,” he says.

“You want to drive me to church, then drive all the way to town, and then drive all the way back?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’ll do a lot for a pretty girl.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I want to take you out afterward. On a real date. Is that so ridiculous?”

“A little bit, but I’ll let you do it anyway.”

Sometimes Nora forgets that his life is different from hers, but it’s pretty evident as she slides into his Mercedes. She had never been in a Mercedes before she met Garrett.

“How do you keep your car so clean?” she asks as he backs out of the driveway.

“I clean it,” he says.

The black leather looks brand-new. “You practically live in here. There should be a wrapper or something somewhere.” She turns around to examine the backseat; even the floorboards are pristine.

“I don’t leave things in here.” He reaches his hand across the console, and Nora holds it in both of hers.

“Don’t ever look in my car.” She thinks of the coffee stains, receipts, wadded-up napkins, and God knows what else piled in her passenger seat. “Unless you want to clean it.”

“I’ll think about it,” he tells her, smiling.

She stares out the window for a minute, thinking back on the conversation she had with Garrett’s mother. She turns the words over in her mind. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he says.

“I sort of feel like you called your mom like that so I would agree to go with you to North Carolina.”

“That’s not a question.”

“That’s not a no,” she says.

“Not completely.”

“I would have said yes. I want to meet your family.”

He squeezes her hand, and she assumes that’s the only response she’s going to get. She’s not in the mood to push it.

When they pull up to the church, Nora’s grandpa and his friends are standing on the sidewalk. She sees them turn to one another, and she knows they’re trying to guess who might be in the fancy mystery car.

“Thank you for the ride,” she says to Garrett, leaning across the console to kiss him.

“Let me know when I should come back,” he says. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you?”

Nora has been able to postpone thinking about Ethan, since she’s been preoccupied thinking about Garrett. She hopes she can postpone it altogether, but if not, she’s not ready for Garrett to have to deal with it. He’s already seen her cry this week.

“I’ll be fine,” she says. “It’s part of the job.”

“I’m not buying that,” Garrett says. “But we can talk later. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

When she climbs out of the car, Grandpa raises his eyebrows.

“Well, well, well, look who it is,” Joe says as she approaches the group. Joe, Grandpa, and Ed are all wearing black suits. Jean wears a long black skirt with a matching sweater set. Then there’s Margaret, who cannot resist a floral-print dress, even at a funeral. If you were to ask her about it, she would point to her pair of black shoes, which is all the black she owns.

“Is that your new boyfriend?” Jean waves at the car as Garrett drives away.

“Lord, she’s smiling like a tomcat—of course it’s the boyfriend,” Joe says.

Her grandpa hugs her more tightly than usual. “How you doin’?”

“I’m fine,” she says. “You?”

“Fine, fine.”

“You didn’t want to introduce us?” Jean asks.

Nora knows she won’t let go of the Garrett thing until she responds. “Maybe later,” she says. “Maybe not at a funeral.”

“Y’all,” Margaret begins, “I saw Pamela at the pharmacy this morning, and she looked just awful.”

“I can’t imagine losing a grandbaby like that,” Jean says.

“Ed said the accident was terrible. One of the worst he’s ever seen. You could hardly tell it was a car,” Margaret says.

Nora realizes that Ed has been quieter than usual. “Did you have to pick it up?” she asks. He drives a wrecker for the county, and he’s usually the first to know about car accidents in the area.

Ed nods. “You know, I’ve seen that car before.” He points toward the parking lot. “That Mercedes with the UNC plates.”

“You mean Garrett’s car?” Nora asks.

“Garrett,” Ed says. “That was his name. He was there, too. I heard him talking to the police.”

“He was where, honey?” Margaret asks Ed.

“At the accident.”

Everyone looks at Nora for an explanation, but she doesn’t have one. “What accident?” she asks.

“Ethan’s accident,” Ed says. “The other night. He was telling the police what he saw, and then he left in that Mercedes.”

Margaret leans in to whisper to Nora: “He’s taking this one hard, honey.”

“I know what I’m saying, Margaret,” Ed insists. He ambles away from the group and into the parking lot without another word. This is southern-man code for “I’m feeling feelings.”

“Wasn’t he gone last week?” Grandpa asks, and for a moment Nora is back in the yard digging up the garden.

“Garrett?” Nora asks, as if he could mean anyone else. “He was out of town for work, but I don’t know why he wouldn’t mention this to me.” Ed disappears in between rows of cars, and part of her wants to chase him down. To demand every tidbit of information he has. Part of her prefers not knowing.

“What does Garrett do?” Jean asks.

“He works in logistics,” she says. Her brow wrinkles as she tries to fit the puzzle pieces together in her mind.

“Honey, I wouldn’t pay Ed any mind,” Margaret says. “Between you, me, and the fence post, he hasn’t been himself the past few days.”

“So, you think Ed imagined it?” Nora asks. She’s seen grief do a lot of strange things, but she doesn’t think it made Ed dream up this scenario out of thin air.

“It was dark.” Margaret shrugs. “I’m sure it was another silver car. Yesterday, while I was at work, he forgot to turn off the hose and turned our garden into a swamp. He put his ramen noodles on to boil and forgot about those, too, bless his heart. Had to throw out a perfectly good pot when I got home.”

“He was probably in shock,” Joe says.

“It’s been a long week. First this accident and then the tornado. Did you see the pictures of that house near Anniston? Everything blown away but that one closet. Somehow the little boy found his way in there, but he doesn’t remember how. His parents are gone. It’s the saddest thing.”

“Had to be the Lord,” Jean says. She looks at Nora over her glasses, “And if you go looking for a problem, you’re likely to find one.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Margaret says. “Don’t go getting ideas in your head. That Garrett’s cute from what I heard.”

“I’m hoping for more than cute, Margaret.”

“The truth will come out,” Grandpa says. Everyone recognizes this as the final word of the conversation.

“I should probably head inside,” Nora says. “I want to make sure everything is running smoothly.”

“Oh, you better,” Margaret says. “Lord knows the Chandlers could use the help.”

“They’re not that bad off,” Jean says.

“Remember my Aunt Ruby’s funeral? They didn’t reserve enough pews for the family, and I had to sit in the back.”

“All of Rabbittown was kin to your Aunt Ruby,” Joe says.

“Well, they should have known that,” Margaret says.

Margaret is the oldest of eight siblings, and Aunt Ruby was one of ten. They all lined up with their spouses and kids and grandkids at the front of the church, and it took forever for everyone to get through the line. The service started an hour and a half late. All because Johnny Chandler was too scared to tell Margaret it was immediate family only. To be fair, Nora is scared of her, too, but she would never admit that.

“I’ll see you all inside,” Nora says.

She walks up the church stairs and straight into Johnny Chandler.

“Nora Clanton,” he says in lieu of an actual greeting. He runs a hand through his curls, which are a little more unruly than usual. She would wait for him to use the manners his mother taught him, but she’s not sure any of the Chandlers hold manners in high regard.

“Hi, Johnny. How’s it going?” She gestures to the sanctuary behind him, where she assumes the family is having a few private moments before the service.

“Run of the mill,” he says with a shrug.

She tries not to scoff, but it happens anyway. “Run of the mill” is not what she wants to hear when the situation involves people she cares about. She steps past him toward the closed doors. “Excuse me.”

“Where are you going?”

“To check on the family, since you don’t seem to care.”

He steps in front of her, and she gets a whiff of his expensive cologne. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” she says. “Move.”

“This isn’t your job, Clanton. You got your cash for that piece of tin in there, so you can go home.”

“If you were any good at your job, I wouldn’t have to come in here.” She slides past him and into the room.

“Nora!” he whisper-shouts, but he’s not in charge of her.

Nora sits in a pew toward the middle of the room, watching the proceedings, until Ethan’s uncle notices her and invites her to the front. She tries not to intrude, but no one keeps a go bag for funeral services, and families usually need things if they’re going to be on their feet receiving guests for hours. In the past, she’s brought in water bottles, ordered lunch deliveries for people who needed to be reminded to eat, retrieved sweaters from cars, entertained restless kids, and done almost anything else imaginable. Her mom always said you can’t help with the grieving, but you can help with everything else.

She’s enveloped in hugs from everyone in the family, and Ethan’s mom brings her up to the casket to say goodbye. The funeral home did a good job with him, but she doesn’t intend to tell Johnny that.

After walking them through the plans for the rest of the afternoon (Johnny’s job, not hers), Nora reminds them to eat a snack, drink water, and take whatever pills need to be taken. She sees Johnny step into the room, and he gestures to his watch before propping the doors open to let the line start moving.

Once the visitation is flowing smoothly, Nora joins Johnny in the back of the room.

“I don’t need your help, you know,” he says.

“Looked like you did.”

He shakes his head. “I have to say, as much as it annoys me, you really aren’t bad at all this.”

“Wow, is that a compliment?” she asks.

“Something like it.”

“I’m going to go find my grandpa,” she says. “I think you can handle it from here.”

“You’re going to let me do my job? What a treat.”

Johnny smiles at her before she goes, and she almost thinks they could be friends. Almost.

Once she makes it through the visitation line and takes her seat for the service, her mind starts to wander. First, it’s the memories of her parents’ service. She stood with her grandpa where the Sandersons are now, the two of them more exhausted than they’d ever been, listening to all of Rabbittown try to come up with the right thing to say, when everyone was too shocked to make much sense at all.

Garrett keeps popping into her mind. She tries to concentrate on the service, but she can’t keep the thoughts out. She knows that her grandpa is right. The truth will come out. If there’s anything to know about Garrett, she’ll figure it out eventually. In the most likely scenario, Ed is just confused. It was dark. He saw a similar man in a similar car. In the worst-case scenario, Garrett was at the scene of Ethan’s wreck but then pretended he didn’t know anything about it when Nora brought it up. If he helped at the scene of an accident, why would he want to hide that? Why would he lie about it?

After the service, she stands next to her grandpa outside on the sidewalk. Neither of them says anything, but they both know they’re thinking about a couple of patches of grass down at the cemetery. It’s sort of the state of her life that she’s almost numb to funerals, but numbness is not an adequate substitute for feelings. There’s that page in cookbooks that tells you what to do if you need to replace the milk or oil or eggs or anything else you might need for a recipe, but no amount of numbness can replace the feelings you’re supposed to have. You’ll always come up short, and your cake will never rise.

“You look a thousand miles away,” Grandpa says.

Instead of harping on about the same sadness they’re always harping on about, she starts on another subject: “I’m trying to decide if I should be mad at Garrett on the off chance Ed is right.”

“Take it a step at a time, Eleanora,” Grandpa says.

“What would you do? I talked to Garrett about the wreck, and he never said anything about being there. Do you think Ed is lying?” She crosses her arms over her chest, as if that might ease the icky feeling growing there. She wishes she could unknow the whole thing.

“I don’t think it would cross Ed’s mind to lie about something like that. I know there’s more to it, though.” He shakes his head. She imagines the puzzle pieces not quite fitting into place in his mind, either.

“What do you think?” she asks. Her fingers drum against the side of her arm. She could use instructions from an adult right about now. Do this. Say this. Think this.

He shrugs. “Don’t matter what I say, really. You’re gonna ask your questions, but you can’t do all your knowing about a person all at once, Eleanora.”

“So, what’s your advice?” Her hands jolt out in front of her, demanding an answer they can hold on to.

“Just be easy,” he says. “Don’t jump all over him as soon as you see him.”

“So, you think I’m overreacting?”

He shakes his head. “Not as such. But remember you’re not Sherlock Holmes. This is not a murder mystery.”

“It might be!”

Grandpa laughs, so she laughs, too. “I knew your mind was running in circles. Give the man a chance to explain himself.”

She huffs and crosses her arms again. “Why are you taking up for Garrett? You haven’t even met him.”

Grandpa stares at her for a moment, as if she’s missing something obvious and he’s giving her a second to catch up. “I’m taking up for that girl carrying on in the yard a couple of days ago. Let him have enough rope to hang himself.”

“That’s your advice?” she asks. “Let him hang himself?”

“Most people are capable of doing that without help from anybody else. None of us use the sense we were raised with.”

“You know, you probably shouldn’t mention a hanging so close to a funeral.” Nora rocks back and forth on her feet, hoping the motion will settle the rest of her.

“I’m old. I get a pass,” he says. In that moment, he reminds her of her dad. Something about the look in his eye. The crinkle between his eyebrows. Nora wonders if her father would know what to do. If he would give the same advice. She pushes that thought into the ever-growing pile of things she’ll never get the answers to.

Everything shifts when Garrett’s car drives into the lot, and Nora feels less certain about her doubts from the past couple of hours. She had no doubts when she left the house this morning. He’s done everything right. More than right, really. She knows the doubts started in the same place they always start: Why would someone like him be with someone like me? There must be something wrong with him.

Garrett’s door opens, and he steps out, presumably to meet Grandpa. He’s clean-shaven and dressed in serious date clothes, tucked-in shirt and all. He smiles, and she remembers what it feels like for his mouth to be on hers, and her heart starts to run away with itself.

“Hi,” she says casually, as if nothing has ever been wrong. Or that’s how she means to say it, but it comes out with the same swoony tone teenagers use when they talk about their crushes.

“Hello,” he says. His smile is a little swoony, too.

“This is my grandpa, William Clanton,” she says as Garrett joins them on the sidewalk. “Grandpa, this is Garrett.”

“Good to meet you, sir,” Garrett says while shaking her grandfather’s hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Nora had almost forgotten about the funeral. Self-absorption is the most direct way to move past death.

Grandpa nods his thanks. “When you get to be my age, you see the Lord take a lot of folks, but the young ones are never easy.”

“I thought the service went well,” she says, trying to give them both an out. Death’s not a great conversation starter, even if it does cut through most of the nonsense.

“Oh yeah, the preacher did a right nice job,” Grandpa says. “I could tell Johnny Chandler wasn’t too happy with you.”

She rolls her eyes and turns to Garrett. “His family runs Chandler Funeral Home in town.”

“Johnny ain’t got the sense to get in out of the rain, so he’s probably lucky you were willing to help,” Grandpa says. “I wouldn’t want to cross Melanie Sanderson on a good day.”

“He hates when I get involved, but I can’t not get involved sometimes.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Garrett says.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean you like to take care of people.” He smiles.

“Eleanora comes from a long line of nosy women,” Grandpa says.

“Thanks, Grandpa,” she says. “We’re going to leave before you start telling stories.”

“I’ll save those for next time.”

“I’d like to hear them,” Garrett says.

“I’ll think of some good ones. You two get outta here.” Grandpa reaches out to hug her, and he adds, so low that only she can hear, “Take your time, Eleanora.”

“I will,” she says.

The Rolling Stones fill the silence when Garrett starts the car, and he turns down the volume so they can hear themselves think.

“Do you like the Rolling Stones?” she asks.

“You can change it,” he says.

“No, I just realized I don’t know what kind of music you like.”

“Doesn’t everyone like the Rolling Stones?”

“I guess,” she says. Is he being evasive? She should stop reading so much into everything, because some things are nothings.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Garrett asks, reaching over to take her hand.

“About the funeral?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“It was sad,” she says. “Funerals for young people are the worst.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“I just told you,” she says. “It was sad.”

“We can talk about something else.”

“What do you want me to say?”

He squeezes her hand. “I’m just trying to be here for you.”

She holds up their linked hands. “You are here for me.”

“You know what I mean, Nora,” he says in the tone of an impatient parent.

She takes a deep breath. If she’s going to give him a chance, she has to give him a chance. “It reminded me of my parents. When Grandpa and I were the only ones left to stand at the front of the church.”

They drive for a few miles in silence while Nora sorts through the thoughts in her head. The truth is, she doesn’t know what she’s feeling. It’s never just one thing. How do you pinpoint it to one or two words? It’s like a cocktail—you taste all the ingredients at once, but unless you’re an experienced drinker you probably couldn’t break it down into its parts. She wants to tell Garrett that she’ll get over it and that she’s not sad all the time, but it’s always there in some capacity. She will never be wholly one thing.

“I wish my life weren’t like this,” she says. “It seems like I’m always going from one funeral to another. There’s death everywhere. Partly the nature of my job, I guess.”

“I’m sorry about Ethan,” he says. “And about your family. But death is inevitable. A different job wouldn’t change that.”

“Maybe so,” she says. “I just—I want to tell you I won’t always be this sad. I’m sorry you’re having to deal with it. I’m sorry—”

Garrett squeezes her hand. “I told you, you don’t have to apologize for having feelings, Nora.”

“I just meant I’m sorry you’re always having to listen to them. You shouldn’t have to deal with me all the time.”

“Well, I want to deal with you, so you’re going to have to get over it.”

“You know what I mean, Garrett.”

He nods and looks over at her. “I know exactly what you mean.”

He turns next to the car wash where no one would actually get their car washed because it’s always crowded with teenagers hanging out in truck beds. He pulls into a spot in front of Dean’s, which has the best steak in town but the worst service. The waitresses are known for throwing condiment bottles and silverware across the room to customers. A waitress once told Nora’s dad where to find the sweet tea pitcher if he wanted a refill. It doesn’t bother Nora because she’s used to it, but she needs to warn Garrett.

“Have you been here before?” she asks.

He turns to her. “Don’t try to change the subject. I want to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” she asks.

He takes both of her hands into his across the console. “I don’t know who made you feel like you’re a burden, but I’m not that person. I want to know everything you’re thinking and feeling, if you want to share it with me. It’s not too much. I feel lucky you give me the time of day.”

“That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard,” she says before she can stop herself.

“Which part?”

“You do not want to hear everything that goes on in my head. I don’t even want to hear that. At the risk of ruining my chances, you could do better.”

He rolls his eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re fishing for compliments or if you really feel that way. You’re beautiful and smart. You’re a good person. It’s probably too soon for me to say this, but I hate being away from you. Even just this afternoon, I wanted to know what you were doing.”

Nora’s cheeks redden. “You could have come with me.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to!” Garrett’s eyebrows almost reach his hairline for a moment. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not! I don’t even know what the subject is at this point.”

“If you want to talk to me about your family, I want to hear it. I don’t want to push you, but I want to know, okay? Whatever you’re feeling, I want to know.”

“All right,” she says. “I hear you.”

“You don’t have to do everything on your own. You don’t have to shut me out.” He reaches across the console to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

“I already said okay. You also told me not to apologize, so I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says. He leans forward to kiss her.

“Actually, I do want to say something. I’m right about you being out of my league.”

He leans back with a huff. “How do you figure?”

“Look at you!” she says. “Normally, I’m freaked out by hot people, but somehow you’re also a good person. Look at this car! You have a job. You don’t seem to have an ounce of baggage.”

“I have baggage. Everyone has baggage.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever you say. You’re practically a Disney prince.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It’s the truth. There has to be something wrong with you. What is it? I thought you might be bad in bed, but that’s not the issue.”

He smiles and kisses her hand. “I’m sort of enjoying this progress report.”

“That probably means you were good in school, too.”

“I got by.”

“What are you doing here, Garrett? How did you find me?”

“Luck? God, maybe? I don’t know. Why do we have to question it?”

“I question everything.”

He laughs. “That’s an understatement.”

They stare at each other for a moment, both of them smiling like idiots. He sees her. He knows her. He’s still here.

“I love you, Nora,” he says.

“I love you, too.” Nora leans across the console, and they kiss for a while, long enough for her to forget what they were talking about in the first place.

“Should we go inside?” she asks. “Or do you want to keep kissing in the car?”

“I guess we can’t do both.”

She smiles. “No, we can’t.”

“This is supposed to be a proper date,” he says. “I’m not supposed to be kissing you before dinner.”

“I want to be kissed before dinner. And after dinner.”

He laughs. “Well, good, because that’s what you’re going to get.”

Garrett meets her in front of the car and wraps his arms around her. “I’m sorry you had a hard day.”

She sinks into him. “Thank you. I’m sorry, too.”

He takes her hand and leads her to the door.

“Have you been here before?”

“No, I just heard it was the place to go for a steak.”

“It is a good steak, but it might be a culture shock.”

“?‘Culture shock’?” he asks, holding the door open for her.

She doesn’t have to answer because the restaurant answers for her. If they hadn’t walked straight in from outside, she might think they were in a basement. The windows are covered by dark curtains. The carpet is dark. The walls are dark. It still smells like cigarette smoke years after smoking was banned. Everything is laminated, including the hostess’s name tag.

“We have a reservation for two under Bishop,” Garrett tells her. She holds up a finger and disappears into the dining room. Nora sees a group she went to high school with sitting at the bar; Lord willing, they’ll already be too drunk to notice her.

Nora loops an arm around Garrett’s waist, and he wraps his around her shoulders. She starts to tell Garrett that she would feel better going home, because he just said he wants to know how she’s feeling, but he speaks first.

“How would you feel about eating at home?” he asks. “It’s been a long day, and I’m not sure I can handle whatever is happening at that back table.” She looks behind her and sees a banner with penises on either end to celebrate a bachelorette party. The table is covered with neon drinks, and the bride can barely hold her head up.

“I would like that very much. Thank you.”

They order their food to go, pick up wine from Winn-Dixie, and eat their steak and baked potatoes at Garrett’s dining room table while watching the last quarter of the Alabama football game.

“I know this isn’t very romantic,” he says. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

She laughs. “I get to watch the end of the game and avoid people I don’t want to talk to. That’s about as nice as it gets.”

He scrapes his fork around the inside of a tiny plastic cup of butter to get the last bit of it onto his potato. “Wait until we go to Raleigh. There are so many places I want to take you.”

“I don’t need you to take me anywhere,” she says. “I don’t fit in at fancy places.”

“You don’t fit in at Dean’s, either.”

She stabs a piece of steak onto her fork. “It’s an acquired taste. Like everything else around here.”

“I don’t know—I liked you when I saw you,” Garrett says, raising his eyebrows.

“I think you were just happy to meet someone who enjoys soap operas as much as you do.”

“Yes, your legs on the desk had nothing to do with it.”

This time it’s Nora’s eyebrows that go up.

He raises his hands in defense, still holding his knife and fork. “I’m just telling the truth.”

“Can I ask you a serious question?”

“Shoot.”

She takes a deep breath and tries to still the apprehension in her chest. “When will you have to leave again? Like permanently.”

“Well, I can usually negotiate, but probably two years from now.”

“Do you like it here?” she asks.

“I’ve been in worse places. It’s not somewhere I would have chosen myself.”

She nods, letting his answer bounce around in her head, trying to figure out if it’s what she wanted to hear. It’s what she had expected. It’s what most people would say. She doesn’t know anyone who’s spread out a map of the world, weighed the pros and cons of every city, and chosen to move their life to whichever won. Cities are always in context. People are always moving to someone or something that might make their lives easier or better. Rabbittown tugged Nora home, and that was set in motion by whatever ancestor decided to move here in the first place. She has to assume that Garrett feels a similar tug from Raleigh. Or any other town that stays open past nine.

“If you’re wondering if I’m going anywhere,” Garrett says, “the answer is no. I meant that when I said it.”

She lets out the breath she’d been holding when she recognizes this as the answer she wanted to hear, the one that settles into the alarmed spaces of her brain like a security blanket. “That’s what I was asking. I guess I could have been more direct.”

He reaches across the table and takes her hand. He brings it to his mouth and kisses her palm. “You’re stuck with me.”

Nora thinks they’re finally going to finish that movie on Netflix when they move to the couch after dinner, but she curls into him closer than normal, so that they’re touching in every way possible. Garrett brushes his hand up and down her back and through her hair, and she lets herself relax. She lets the tension fall out of her shoulders and snuggles closer to his chest. He brings her hand to his mouth and kisses her palm again and then the inside of her wrist.

“I don’t think this movie is as good as everyone thinks it is,” he says.

“We’re not paying that much attention to it.” She tips her head back, so she can kiss the soft skin underneath the side of his jaw.

“I’m more interested in what you’re doing right now.”

She sits up, so they’re nose to nose. “I can move to the chair until the movie is over.”

He bands his arms around her waist, holding her in place. “Not happening.”

She leans in to kiss him at the same time something in the movie explodes. Nora and Garrett both jump, sending their foreheads crashing into each other.

“Why is your head so hard?” Nora asks, clutching her head.

“I think I might have a concussion,” Garrett says, head in his hands. “I really hate this movie.”

Nora laughs as Garrett searches the couch for the remote to turn off the television.

“I’m glad you think my concussion is funny.”

“You don’t have a concussion.”

He considers her point. “You are not a doctor.”

“I can make the expert assessment that you are not in need of a casket.”

“I will take your word on that.”

“I would be happy to show you some options if you want to be prepared.”

“Now you’re turning my injury into a business opportunity.” He puts his hand over his heart. “That hurts worse than the concussion, Nora.”

“Let me see it.” She reaches for his head and stares at his pupils, trying to remember how people on TV check for concussions, but his eyes look normal to her. “You’re fine.”

“You didn’t even shine a light in my eyes.”

She laughs. “Oh yeah, I forgot.”

He laughs, too. “You’re not allowed to make any medical decisions for either of us from now on.”

“Stop talking,” she says, pressing her mouth to his. She kisses him for what she hopes is long enough that he’ll forget about his Netflix injury, and she takes it as a sign of success when he grabs her thighs and shifts her to sit on top of him.

When she moves against him, he groans, “Nora, you drive me crazy.”

“Will you take me to bed, please?”

“Remind me where that is. I’m concussed.”

She laughs and climbs off him. “I’m going to take off my clothes in the other room. Maybe you can figure out what to do from there.”

“I’m willing to try.”