The Obituary Society's Last Stand Read online

  The Obituary Society's Last Stand

  an Obituary Society Novel, Volume 3

  Jessica L. Randall

  Published by Jessica Randall, 2017.

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2016Jessica L. Randall

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author with the exception of brief quotations used in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Locales and public names may be used for atmospheric purposes.

  Cover photo and design: Jessica Randall

  Cover model: Katia Randall

  Editing: Laura Kingsley

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1 | The Little Ghost Boy

  Chapter 2 | Scamp’s Secret

  Chapter 3 | Dance with the Dead

  Chapter 4 | The Lost and Un-Found

  Chapter 5 | Wayward Soul

  Chapter 6 | The Auburn After-Life Party

  Chapter 7 | Truce

  Chapter 8 | Throw like a Girl

  Chapter 9 | Matilda and the Motorcycle

  Chapter 10 | The Model Student

  Chapter 11 | Deep-Fried Sardines

  Chapter 12 | David’s Ghost

  Chapter 13 | The Tale-Spinner

  Chapter 14 | Six of Hearts

  Chapter 15 | Broken

  Chapter 16 | Partners

  Chapter 17 | Empty

  Chapter 18 | Out With the Ladies

  Chapter 19 | Bingo Night of the Living Dead

  Chapter 20 | The Unopened Gift

  Chapter 21 | Diggin’ Up Bones

  Chapter 22 | Deep Trouble

  Chapter 23 | Busted

  Chapter 24 | Flight

  Chapter 25 | What’s in a Name?

  Chapter 26 | Opal’s Gift

  Chapter 27 | Friendly Neighbor Days

  Chapter 28 | Ready or Not

  Chapter 29 | Finished Business

  Chapter 30 | Underwater Scuffle

  Chapter 31 | Last Goodbyes

  Chapter 32 | Pink

  Other books by Jessica L. Randall, Newsletter, & Other Fun Stuff

  Recipes | Nutty Fudge Bars

  Wendy’s Pie Crust, Shaken, Not Stirred

  Texas Sheet Cake

  Bierocks

  Morning Glory Murder | Chapter 1

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to my sister, Melissa, who is a champion of the arts, inspirer of imaginations, and all around people builder-upper. She encouraged me to write this book, and gave me some ideas that I couldn’t dismiss. That means if you’re not happy with the book, you can write her a mean letter.

  Thank you to Rebecca Charlton, Michelle Pennington, and Tifani Clark who provided valuable feedback, and my editor Laura Kingsley.

  Thank you to my scream team!

  Chapter 1

  The Little Ghost Boy

  Juniper lay stretched across the limb of a large cottonwood tree, staring down at the pond. She wasn’t supposed to be here. For as far back as she remembered, she’d been warned to keep away. It was a reasonable request. She’d seen someone nearly drown here once, and there were other things. Things she’d heard about when she’d settled quietly into some nook or corner, listening when they’d all forgotten she was there.

  People called them The Obituary Society when they weren’t in close enough range to get a thwack from a spatula, because they liked to clip obituaries from the paper, and cluck and shake their heads as they discussed the most recent tragic demise. Juniper knew they were more than that, though. She liked to think of them as a gang of super sleuth grandmas. They knew everything about everyone. Sometimes it was things like who put their fence two feet into someone else’s property or sprayed their weeds too close to their neighbors begonias, but some of their conversations were far from trivial, and they had gone to great lengths, even having a few brushes with the law, to get information or interfere when a friend was in need.

  When Juniper was younger her grandma had let her come along to the meetings. Later, when she wasn’t supposed to be there, she’d sneak to the top of the stairs to eavesdrop. It was a source of comfort to have all those maternal figures in one room, especially during the time she was sorely lacking in the mother department. She listened to how they talked to each other, even mimicking them at school sometimes to try and make friends. But the kids at school didn’t care about how to bake a cheesecake without a single crack, or make caramel syrup that didn’t crystalize (add a marshmallow or a dollop of corn syrup, by the way). It was her dad that wanted her to have friends, anyway. Juniper always felt more comfortable among the wise and weathered ladies that had always surrounded her like a brood of fierce but feather-soft hens.

  Juniper was almost sixteen now. Her grandma didn’t want her coming to the meetings anymore. She didn’t want her to hear what they were saying. Juniper still listened in at the top of the stairs, though, when they met at Grandma Gladys’s house or when her step-mom, Lila, was hosting. It wasn’t just for comfort or entertainment anymore. The dark undercurrent that had long flowed beneath their conversations, bobbing to the surface in an occasional comment that sent a chill clear up the stairs had become stronger.

  It was like when she’d gone to Betsy’s niece’s wedding with her grandma last June, and at first everyone ignored the light rain pitter-pattering and raised their voices over the thunder, believing they could will the storm to pass. But before long everyone could see that it was coming, wedding or no wedding, and they all threw their programs over their heads and readied themselves for the inevitable disaster. Juniper always believed these women could handle any situation. But she understood now that her group of grandmothers were in trouble. The whole town was in trouble.

  “The Pond” had often come up in their meetings, always in a hushed sort of way. For years they’d been discussing what to do about it. They’d become experts in the field of supernatural events, and tried one thing after another, but it wasn’t working. It was only getting worse.

  So Juniper started coming to the pond, to see for herself what was going on. This was the place it had all started, after all. She’d figured out long ago that her grandma’s best friend Ada’s no-good husband David was unceremoniously laid to rest in the pond’s depths long ago, an event that was more or less repeated with his no-good son Asher years later. They were both spirits that hadn’t taken to resting very well.

  As creepy as the thought was, Juniper had to admit, it was a relief when she finally gave in and sneaked across the yard and through the tangled trees to the quiet pond. There was so much lost-ness here, and Juniper was a finder of the lost. If she could only figure out how to return those wayward spirits.

  There was another reason she was here, too. Her grandmother had lost something. She wouldn’t admit it, but Juniper knew it was true, and could tell that it was important. That tugging sensation inside her insisted it was here, but she couldn’t find it, which didn’t make sense.

  Juniper was distracted from her thoughts by a whisper from the surface of the water. She stiffened, squinting her brown eyes in concentration. Then she waited, keeping perfectly still as she often did when there was information to be gained from being nearly invisible.

  The tip of a head emerged from the water. Then the familiar little face. It was him again. She sighed with relief, even though she hadn’t really expected anyone else. The others never came while she was watching, but she didn’t know what she’d do if they did.

  In a way she felt bad for them. They were troubled, but they were
so darn mean—and getting angrier all the time. She’d heard Lila say that they were only hanging around out of spite. She wasn’t sure. They’d been lost souls even when they were alive. She’d felt it when Asher kidnapped her when she was seven years old. He was more alive at the time, of course. She’d been afraid, but she’d also seen his unhappiness, his search for where he belonged. Even she couldn’t have helped him with that. She’d never figured out how to help confused and lost souls, or maybe she would have been able to help her mother, who now resided in The Nebraska Correctional Center for Women.

  The boy tip-toed onto dry ground. He looked about ten, and he wore loose, grass-stained overalls. His face reminded Juniper of a pale full-moon, and his hair was dark and rich like forest soil. He slipped in easily with his surroundings, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to settle in among the trees. Before leaning his back against a younger cottonwood, he craned his neck and glanced around as if he was looking for someone.

  Juniper smiled as an instrument appeared in his hands. It was made of wood and shaped like a tear, with a long neck and strings. It was worn well beyond his own years, and he held it with as much care as if it had been a delicate shiny beetle or lost puppy; things that were much more likely to be treasured by a young boy. He began to pluck the strings, weaving a lively tune that told the story of laughing children running alongside traveling caravans. The leaves shivered like the zils of tambourines as the notes danced among them. Then the song slowed. It became a haunting, sad melody that made Juniper’s heart feel swollen. She closed her eyes, drinking it in. When the music stopped, she sighed, forgetting herself.

  The boy stirred, and Juniper jerked her eyes open. He’d heard her. What if he disappeared, and she never got to talk to him, or hear his music again?

  He’d stood up, and was backing toward the water, his eyes darting as if searching for the hidden eavesdropper.

  “Wait,” Juniper said.

  He looked up.

  Juniper raised up so she was sitting on the branch. The boy stared at her, his large eyes full of curiosity. But he didn’t disappear.

  “Hi,” Juniper said.

  “Hello.”

  “What’s your name?” she felt more confident every second he didn’t dash away.

  “Bo.”

  “That’s all right for a name, isn’t it?” Juniper asked, smiling.

  “Means settler. My mother gave it to me because we stayed. Who’re you?”

  Juniper tightened her long brown pony tail then slowly clambered down the branches to the ground.

  “I’m Juniper.” She stuck her hand out but the boy didn’t seem to notice, tucking his into his pockets instead as he looked around with suddenly troubled eyes.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He scratched his head. “I keep finding myself here. I like it, the water and all the trees. But every once in a while it hits me, the thing I came here to do. Then it just drifts away like smoke.” He squinted at her, raising his jaw sharply. “You think I’m crazy?”

  She shook her head, fighting off the urge to laugh. That would make him mad for sure. It was just, who was she to call anyone crazy when she was talking to a ghost?

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

  His face softened, as if he was relieved she wasn’t there to challenge him. “I’m looking for something.”

  “What?”

  He stiffened again. “It’s a—” He shook his head, looking frustrated before waving her off. “I have to go.”

  “I’ll see you later,” she called hopefully.

  He splashed into the pond, then paused to look back at her and nod before sinking below the water.

  She stood motionless on the bank, her toes and fingertips tingling. She’d just spoken to a ghost. She couldn’t hold back the smile that stretched across her face. She knew she was breaking her dad’s biggest rule by being here, but she was beginning to feel like the pond was “her” place. True, she shivered when the heavy air carried the scent of Old Spice or Cinnamon. Whispers caressed the leaves at times, and occasionally a young boy emerged from the depths of the pond. She certainly wasn’t the only one laying claim to it, but she could make do with sharing the space. It was just as well. It wasn’t like she fit in all that well among the living.

  Chapter 2

  Scamp’s Secret

  Levi Scamp sat two rows over from Juniper in her third period English class. Juniper, like most of the people in third period English, had gone to school with Levi since kindergarten. But she may have been the only one to notice he wasn’t himself today.

  He was usually messing around with Brady Duncan or smirking at Mrs. Ward while she reprimanded him with a particular tone she reserved only for him. It was strained and impatient, but not really mad, as if deep down she had a soft spot for him. Most people did.

  Levi’s olive skin was a shade paler than usual, and Juniper could see the whites all the way around his large green eyes. He pushed a hand through his straight black hair, making it stand up funny, and stared at the mess of papers on Mrs. Ward’s desk. He shot Juniper a panicked look, one she’d seen before. The huge green eyes were pleading with her.

  Juniper sighed and nodded, almost imperceptibly. Relief flashed across his face.

  Levi took a deep breath and stood, rolling his shoulders and grinning. Juniper could still see the strain underneath it.

  “Mrs. Ward, can I talk to you a minute?”

  Mrs. Ward had a worn copy of Romeo and Juliette in one hand and a dry erase marker in the other as if she was just about to start her lesson. She glanced at him, straightening her glasses, her mouth a little pinched. “What did you do, Scamp?”

  “Why would you assume I did something wrong?” He grinned and the rest of the class tittered.

  Mrs. Ward released an exasperated sigh that ended in a tight smile. “Okay, what is it?”

  “Could we continue this conversation in the hall?” he whispered.

  The class glanced around, giggling.

  “Fine.” She set down her things and hurried him toward the door. “Just for a minute.”

  The door clicked, and the volume in the classroom rose as Juniper stood and rushed to Mrs. Ward’s desk. Mrs. Ward called herself a creative organizer, which meant there were piles of assignments from several different classes covering the surface of her desk. All Juniper had to do was find a pile with one of her classmate’s names across the top. She was a little disappointed as she zeroed in on the right one. It was almost too easy.

  She ignored the eyes on her, and her name grazing against her ears in whispers. The doorknob twisted, and her eyes shot up to the door. Juniper had only got detention once, and it was Levi Scamp’s fault that time too.

  Levi’s voice rose, something about an assignment that he had definitely done, but that might not have been handed in due to its being left at home because of an absolutely unforeseeable emergency. Juniper rolled her eyes. He’d handed the paper in, but for some reason he wanted it back. Badly.

  She ruffled through the pile and pulled Levi’s paper out without even looking. When she had it in her hand, she couldn’t resist glancing at it to see why he’d wanted it so badly. She looked at it, expecting he’d doodled an unflattering drawing of Mrs. Ward or something on it and forgotten about it, but it wasn’t the assignment at all. Her eyes got caught up in the lines, and she turned it over. The graphite words held her and didn’t let go until the last period. Then she remembered where she was, and that she was in a hurry.

  She walked back to her desk, the words from Levi’s paper spinning in her head as she ignored the quirked eyebrows and stares. Moments like this reminded her peers that she was just a little bit different. No one asked. She was just doing one of those weird things she did, and if Levi was involved, it was probably fine.

  Mrs. Ward stepped in, halting when she saw Juniper about to sit back down.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  Juniper
opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She didn’t have Levi’s charm, which was why she’d learned to avoid confrontation when possible. Levi stared at her, fear on his face, but as usual he snapped out of it quickly. He hurried over to her, grabbing the paper from her hand.

  “She was just going to return something to me, right Junie?”

  Juniper nodded and sat down, staring at her desk, her ears burning hot.

  Mrs. Ward returned to the white board as Levi slid into his chair, easy as if nothing had happened. Juniper looked over at him, and his eyes thanked her. This was how most of their conversations went.

  In the third grade, Peter Wilkinson had stolen Brady Duncan’s lunch money. When someone accused him of it, he had stashed the money behind a paper pinned to the “I am special” wall to avoid being caught with it. Levi and Brady had been looking all over for it, while Juniper merely stood there nodding her head toward it until Levi noticed and came to look. After that Peter couldn’t steal anything without Juniper finding it and Levi quietly returning it, with few words ever passing between them. It took a little of the pressure off, having him return some of the things she found. Levi could do it without making it seem like there was anything strange about it. They had sort of a business relationship. She never knew if Levi was in it because deep down he was a really good guy or because when he was in the first grade, Peter used to hang him from the classroom doorknobs by his belt.

  Then there was the time last year when they’d got detention. Brady had stolen the answers to the Nebraska history test. He hadn’t even looked at them, yet when he had a sudden outbreak of conscience, or perhaps fear, and wanted to put them back, he couldn’t find them in his mess of a back pack. So Levi had given Juniper the look and Juniper stuck her hand in and pulled out the stapled sheets of paper just as Mr. Newman walked in the room. They’d figured the only course of action was to tell him the truth. He’d only let them off easy because Juniper was involved, and most of the teachers liked her because she’d bailed them out when they lost keys or assignments, or, in Mr. Newman’s case, an envelope full of checks sent in from parents for the field trip to the state capitol building.