The superstitious fear troubled him for no good reason. I say we call the funeral home and bring Dad here for burial with his ancestors and sell or save the other cemetery lot he purchased for a cousin or someone.”
Carol edged past a coffin to reach the ascending stairs. Melissa hurried to follow. At the bottom step, Melissa abruptly stopped. Could the extra casket contain her mother? A reason had to exist for the new padlock. Father told her Mother ran off in a manic rage triggered by depression a month after Melissa graduated high school. Yet, Melissa heard the ambulance sirens. Twice before, Mother, strapped onto a gurney and hoisted into an awaiting ambulance, would return several days later. The first time Melissa had been but seven years old and totally mortified. The third time occurred almost fourteen years ago and Mother never returned. A maid scrubbed the hallway leading from her parent’s bedroom for days. Father refused to talk about it and waited a year to divorce Mother in absentia.
Carol pivoted halfway up the stairs. “You okay?”
“Just thinking. Father’s missed the unlucky-thirteen curse if all are Malone family members. This metal casket, near the stairs, bears no name or identity inscription. What if down here rests a freeloader whose heirs didn’t want to shell out for a public cemetery plot?”
Carol didn’t offer a response. The sisters in silence ascended to breathe in above ground fresh air. Melissa’s question left unanswered.
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