The Mortician's Daughter

By Christy Frazier

Loraine, is like any other teenager except...

She drives a black 1925 Buick hearse with red curtains in the windows. She and her family live in a mortuary. Her boyfriend is afraid to come to her house, which drives her dad crazy. And... she sees dead people. Loraine’s dad is the local mortician.

This loosely fact-based story is so fun and crazy...

You will die laughing!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christy Frazier
• Release date: Sep 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301966851

Christy Frazier

Christy Frazier has been in love with words ever since she learned how to write her name with red finger-paint in Kindergarten. She and her husband, Chris (yes they are Chris and Christy) have two kids, one dog and two point five cats. Christy mainly writes young adult urban fantasy novels. Her Untamed Dreams series is no longer a trilogy due to her fans reaction to ending the series. They wanted more, so she wrote more! She has written the fourth novel to the series and is currently editing it (Not her favorite part). She is also writing a self-help book for parents and their children currently titled: “All Kids Are Smart”. She currently has published six novels. About the author Christy Frazier, is an internationally published writer and award winning photographer. She received her degree in “Art Commercial Photography” from Weber State University. She lives in Utah with her husband, two kids, two point five cats, one of which fetches like a dog and a vegetarian yellow lab dog. She has been teaching advanced learning children, grades K-6 for over fourteen years. Her combined passions of writing, photography, and teaching children have inspired her to write and photographically illustrate many stories including her latest novel, Untamed Dreams- A Dangerous Beginning. “Imagination is a powerful tool.” - Christy Frazier

Book preview

THE MORTICIAN’S DAUGHTER

By Christy Frazier

Published by Christy Frazier at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Christy Frazier

Cover Photo and Design Copyright 2013 Christy Frazier

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

To Mema, the real Loraine.

Chapter 1 - Late For A Funeral

Do you think we have enough time? asked Donna. She didn’t own a watch so she was relying on Loraine to know this. I mean, will your dad mind that we didn’t wait outside the church for the funeral to end?

Funerals always drag on. This one has a lot of people attending too, Loraine responded. Sometimes they can go for hours. Trust me, I have driven this hearse for my dad for four years and there has yet to be a short funeral, unless the deceased person is an unknown vagrant. Then the city of Logan pays my dad to prepare their bodies, and they get a quick burial up in the mountains and no funeral. In my opinion, those are the best kinds of funerals, quick and easy. She looked over at Donna and smiled. Quit worrying, we have plenty of time, I promise.

Loraine drove her father’s 1925 Buick hearse into the College Ward Gas Station and parked it up front. Her father was the only mortician in town, which meant business could be very slow at times, and then there could be a steady stream of people dying. It wasn’t a predictable business.

The two sixteen-year-old girls got out of the hearse and walked into the gas station which also served as a small ice cream parlor. College Ward Gas Station was a popular place to get ice cream in Cache Valley, Utah, during the 1920s. There was always a steady stream of customers there.

Loraine walked up to the counter and looked at the hand-written menu. Hmmm, Robert, I would like to have a single scoop of strawberry ice cream, she told the young man wearing a white apron and small white hat covering his dark hair. She handed him five cents.

Make mine vanilla, said Donna as she too handed him five cents.

Robert scooped the ice cream and placed it into two vanilla cones. He handed them over the counter to the two girls. Another funeral, Loraine? he asked.

Yes, third one this week. This one looks like it could be long since a lot of people are attending. When there are a lot of people there are usually quite a few speakers. Some speakers can go on forever.

Robert smiled. I hate long funerals. My aunt’s funeral lasted two-and-a-half-hours. My uncle’s eulogy alone was 40 minutes long. I thought he would never stop talking. My legs became numb from sitting on the hard pew for so long. When I stood up to walk they felt like rubber. I’m glad I wasn’t a pallbearer, because I never would have been able to help carry her casket, and she was a small woman.

I know what you mean, giggled Loraine. The last one I went to I wanted to bring a pillow to sit on for comfort but my mother said it wasn’t proper. Sometimes proper shouldn’t be considered when comfort is what really matters.

Robert laughed and shook his head. I have to agree. The next time I go to a funeral, I’m going to wear my jacket so I can fold it up and sit on it.

Loraine and Donna laughed. Robert was a year older than they were; sometimes he and his friends would meet up with Loraine and her friends and they would go to different school activities together.

Hey, are you girls going up to the stream on Friday?

Donna looked at Loraine, Yes, do you want to meet us there?

If you don’t mind?

No, we don’t mind. See you in a couple of days, Loraine called over her shoulder as she and Donna walked out the door. Robert was used to Loraine stopping in for ice cream, while she waited for the funerals her father was in charge of to end. He couldn’t blame her either; it had to be hot sitting in the hearse, especially since it was July.

Outside, Loraine pushed her shoulder length auburn hair behind her ear and stepped into the hearse. Licking her ice cream, she looked at Donna, her best friend and giggled. We probably should get back to the funeral home.

Donna and Loraine had been best friends since the second grade, and were inseparable. Both girls were slender but Loraine had short auburn hair and hazel eyes, in contrast to Donna’s long dark blond hair and brown eyes.

Donna looked behind the seat at the large empty compartment. It feels strange to eat ice cream in a hearse, I mean, dead people ride back there. She shuddered at the thought.

Loraine started the hearse and put it into reverse then backed out of the parking lot. It doesn’t bother me. I guess I’m used to being around dead people since my dad is a mortician. I have been around the deceased all my life.

Not to mention his mortuary is in your home. There was no way she could live above a mortuary like Loraine did. Knowing that there were dead people in your home would be eerie enough, but night-time would be worse. She was sure that she would always have nightmares. I still can’t believe you drive your dad’s hearse for him when he has funerals to conduct, stated Donna. It’s almost creepy.

It’s a bit strange, but times are tough since the Great Depression began nearly nine months ago. He needs my help. Right now, every penny counts. Loraine shook her head at the memory of hearing the news broadcast on the radio. She was sitting in the parlor with her family listening to the radio when they heard the news about the stock market crashing. October 29, 1929, would forever be called Black Tuesday. The stock market crashed causing most banks to close. This created a domino effect that caused a worldwide panic. Many people lost their life savings, their homes, and much more. It devastated the economy and countless people around the country were without jobs.

Interrupting her thoughts, Donna commented, I still can’t believe that all you had to do was stand in the school’s gym, tell the officials your name, age, address, and pay a quarter and they gave you a paper that said you could drive a car.

I was surprised at how easy it was. They gave me a small card with my name on it and called it a Granddaddy License. It doesn’t ever expire. Loraine pulled the card out of her handbag and showed it to her.

Wow. I asked my parents if I could get one, and they told me no. My dad said that women don’t need to learn how to drive a car, because men can take them where they need to go. He’s of the opinion that women would make bad drivers.

Not my dad, he taught me how to drive the hearse when I was twelve. He needed me to help drive the hearse at the funerals. Since I was tall enough to see over the dash, he said I was old enough to drive. I have been helping him for four years now, but I don’t get paid. Loraine drove the hearse out onto Maine Street and headed towards the funeral home.

You’re lucky, said Donna as she took another lick of her ice cream.

I guess so.

The hearse rolled down the street for a few blocks, then turned around the corner, the funeral home was a block up the road. As they approached the funeral home, Loraine and Donna were surprised to see that the once quiet parking area out front was now full of people. They were waiting out on the front steps while six pallbearers struggled to hold a large casket. Loraine’s father stood in front, his arms were folded over his chest.

I guess it was a short one, cringed Loraine.

Will you be in a lot of trouble? asked Donna. Her eyes were large as she stared at the large group who was staring at them. She lowered her arm to conceal her ice cream cone.

Dad generally says very little but the look on his face tells me he has a lot to say right now. Handing her ice cream to Donna, she quickly drove past the waiting crowd, made a U-turn and pulled up alongside the curb in front of the pallbearers.

Loraine hastily rolled the window down as her father stepped up to the car. His mouth was a straight line. We’ll talk later, he said in a stern voice.

Yes sir, she gulped.

Her father opened the large door on the back of the vehicle and helped the pallbearers load the casket into the back. He shut the door. The pallbearers walked over to the waiting car behind the hearse and slipped into the back seat and shut the door. The other cars began to line up behind the hearse to follow it to the cemetery. Loraine quickly put the hearse into gear, stepped on the gas and began to lead the procession of cars, not realizing that her father had yet to enter the vehicle behind her and ride with the pallbearers, as was customary. The pallbearer car immediately drove off, following the hearse.

The long, black hearse stood out among the smaller cars and trucks as the procession slowly drove down the small road. The