The Undertaker's Daughter (Ilka #1)(83)

“I think she realized she’d been living a lie all these years,” Thomas had said. “After Jesse confessed, she called in her son David and told him. Then they contacted the American Funeral Group and initiated the sale. It’s like she’s given up. She’s home. Staring off into space.”

Ilka thought about Douglas’s suicide and the accusations Phyllis had made against him. But in a way, Howard Oldham’s story was even more heartbreaking to her, his suicide on the highway after discussing with his lawyer the sale of the funeral home that had been in the family for several generations. An era was definitively over.

“Why didn’t Jesse just keep quiet?” Artie sat with his head in his hands. “He didn’t need to admit he’d pushed the girl; he could have gotten away with it, easy.”

Thomas thought that over for a while. “He wasn’t a murderer,” he finally said. “Being rejected was what broke him. It wasn’t about getting away with it. I don’t think he thought that way. He wrote at the end of the letter that they were leaving together. Neither one of them would be left alone again.”

Artie had looked sullen. “Yeah. Two little kids and a woman get left behind instead.”

Ilka closed her eyes and took in the deep sense of peace in the room. That morning, when she and Sister Eileen were preparing for the service, they had closed the back part of the chapel off and pushed the plush sofas closer to the coffin, to create a more intimate atmosphere.

Kathy had asked to say a few words up by the coffin, and without thinking Ilka had asked if she needed a microphone. Shelby had said a few of Emma’s friends might show up too, also some of Mike’s old school buddies who had stopped by the evening before. The news about Jesse Oldham had spread through town like wildfire, and most people now knew that Mike had been innocent.

Ilka was unaware of when those attending the services had begun streaming in. At first she thought it must be Emma’s friends and Mike’s classmates she was hearing. But suddenly someone came up and introduced herself as his grade school teacher. Then some of the people he’d worked with at the Italian restaurant on the harbor walked in, then some from the shop where he’d worked afternoons. Finally, Sister Eileen suggested they open the back part of the chapel so there would be room enough for everyone.

It also took a while before Shelby discovered what was happening behind her. She was sitting on the plush sofa, a grandchild on each side of her. When the twins came in the room and saw their father, they called out his name. And they cried when he didn’t answer. Kathy hugged them for a long time, and finally they calmed down. Now they sat on the sofa, staring up at the glittering black coffin.

Finally, when Emma tapped her mother’s shoulder and pointed, Shelby turned and saw the chapel was full. Ilka had already sent the sister out to call the town’s Danish bakers, to hear if they had enough kringles for an emergency delivery. Artie was making coffee and setting out more cups.

A bewildered Shelby stood up and gazed at all the people. She began walking around, greeting everyone who had showed up to pay their respects to her son.

Ilka smiled at her. How could the entire town so quickly find out the time of the funeral service? she wondered. Apart from the family, only the police had known. Maybe this was Officer Thomas’s way of apologizing to Mike. She was a bit upset that they weren’t better prepared; there were no hors d’oeuvres or bouquets of flowers on the round table in the foyer. The fireplace in the chapel wasn’t even lit.

Fortunately, the people attending didn’t notice much other than the elegant coffin. After they greeted the family, they filed past the coffin and took their seats.

From the snatches of conversation Ilka overheard, it seemed Artie had done well. She shut out all thoughts and enjoyed the peace in the room as the voices died down. It was like sitting in a church just before a pastor began the sermon. And it occurred to Ilka that she hadn’t thought much about her father the past few days. Suddenly, though, he was here again, like an almost physical presence.

Quietly she stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind her. Then she walked upstairs and lay down on the bed.

The mood of the funeral service had moved her deeply, and now she felt closer to her father than she had ever before. She tried to imagine the version of him she’d never known. And she realized it was too early for her to go home, with so many facts that didn’t add up, so much left unsaid, so many things still a mystery to her.

Another letter had arrived, at the bottom of the pile of advertisements, bills, and an offer for washing windows. A white envelope with the same feminine handwriting as some of the letters her father had hidden in the desk drawer. Ilka hadn’t read the older letters yet, but she had opened the new one after recognizing the handwriting.

“You have a week to pay, otherwise the truth will come out.”



To be continued…





Acknowledgments




The Undertaker’s Daughter is a work of fiction. Some of the places in this book are real, and certain people have been sources of inspiration. But the story comes from my imagination.

The idea for the book came to me in 2013. My parents died within three days of each other, and six weeks later, my beloved Aunt Kirsten followed them. Throughout my entire life, these three people have been my closest family.

All three funerals were handled by the same undertaker. I’d known nothing about her or her funeral home before then, and it surprised me when a young, smiling, and very sweet woman stood at my door.