Disrobed for Death Read Free Page A

was tradition to catch up on gossip at funerals, weddings, or family reunions.
    Nevertheless, Susan hated the idea of them ogling her remains. She could hear them now, expressing their regrets in overdone southern drawls. “My, she looks beautiful, just like she’s sleeping.”
    “Liars! Stiff and waxy never looked good. Dead was dead. Well, before they rub their grimy little fingers over the lining of my casket, I might as well take a look.”
    Gathering as much composure as she could, she tossed her hair, sucked in her gut, and sashayed past the empty pews with as much dignity as a naked person could muster. The bare-ass trek down the aisle proved tortuous. With every step, a cold draft goosed her in places she’d rather not mention, and she cringed at the possibility of a departed one scrutinizing her, especially eying those parts in need of a major overhaul. Then the irony of the situation hit her—even in death, the Grim Reaper took a back seat to vanity.
    She arrived at the foot of the casket with her head held high. Taking a deep breath, she lowered her eyes. To her surprise, she discovered that she looked lovely. Someone had thought to bring her favorite blue outfit, the one she was going to wear to work that day. A smile crossed her lips. The dress and matching accessories had to be A. K.’s doing.
    She didn’t know what to expect, but seeing her body didn’t affect her like she thought it would. Sure, it looked like her, but it wasn’t her. It was only a shell of who she used to be. Was it normal to feel so detached?
    “The real Susan is who I am now,” she said. “I look the same, only I’m not…I exist in some weird, invisible form.”
    She looked with envy at the beautiful blue dress and imagined the silky sheath sliding over her head and down her body. When her hand brushed against her thigh, her breath caught in her throat, and she discovered herself clothed in the same dress.
    “So that’s how it’s done?” she murmured.
    “Exactly, and may I say you look stunning.”
    Startled, Susan turned toward the voice. A tall man strode down the aisle; his black, neatly groomed hair glistened under the lights.
    “You can see me?” Then a picture of her marching naked down the aisle popped into her mind, and she added, “Uh, you saw me?”
    “Every inch, and I thought being dead was going to be dull.”
    If ever a ghost blushed, she did.
    “You must be Susan Griffin. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Jack Evans, Parlor B.”
    She accepted his extended hand.
    “I can touch you.” She pressed her other hand against his chest then reached up and patted his cheek. “You’re real, uh, I mean, it’s like you’re real.”
    “I know what you mean. You must have passed through a solid object.”
    She nodded.
    “First time I did that, it freaked me out, too. Seems we’re real to each other, but not to any living person or surrounding objects. Unless…well, I’ll explain about that later. I don’t know exactly how it works, but we can handle some things.”
    “I’m so glad I can finally talk with someone.” It didn’t bother her that he was dead. Guess that came with being a spirit. Maybe he could supply answers about this afterlife, what she could and couldn’t do, and what was going to happen after the wake.
    She took a good look at her ghostly friend—dark hair and blue eyes, nice build. Someone was definitely going to miss him. Too bad she wasn’t in the market. All she could think of was Wesley. What she wouldn’t give to have one more chance with him. She pictured his sandy hair and hazel eyes that always left her breathless. Why, oh why, did she have to die now?
    “Is there any way we can undo our death?” she asked, doubting they could reverse the process.
    “I wish.”
    “Okay, Mr. Evans, I have a million questions, and I’m counting on you for answers. I know how to dress myself, but what else can I do?”
    “Give me your hand.” In an instant, they were in the kitchen.