Page 17 of Collect the Pieces

“Oh, so youcanjump lightly,” I whisper, extending my arm and rubbing my fingers together to entice her closer.

She purrs and bops her forehead against me, her silky fur sliding over my skin. Then, like the disrespectful little beast she is, Gretel climbs onto my hip and walks her pokey paws over my ribs. I scoop her up before her sharp claws have a chance topierce my bare skin not covered by the blanket and settle her on the bed in the space between Margot and me. She flops on her side, facing me and purrs louder, kneading her paws against my chest.

Margot’s nose twitches. She reaches for Gretel without opening her eyes. “Furball,” she murmurs, rubbing behind Gretel’s ears. The cat’s purring revs up another few decibels.

“You’re still here.” Margot brushes her knuckles against my chest, then opens her eyes.

“Told you I wasn’t going anywhere.” I wrap my fingers around her wrist, tugging her closer. “You sleep okay?”

“I really did. I had the softest, fuzziest, most pleasant dreams.”

Maybe unburdening herself was a good thing. “You’ve really never told anyone…what you told me last night? Your dad doesn’t know?”

She closes her eyes as if she hadn’t planned on waking up to this conversation. “God, no. I don’t ever want him to know that about me. I think it would break him. He’s very ‘normal moral.’”

“Normal moral? What’s that mean?”

“I mean, I don’t consider whatI’vedone immoral.”

“Agree. But my morality lives in the gray area anyway.”

She chuckles lightly. “They were a clear and imminent threat to innocent lives.” The smile slips off her face. “I have access to so many creepy, sad, and uncomfortable secrets no one thinks about. And when we take someone into our care who’s been violated or abused…I don’t know. I can’t help myself. I want to know everything and then that knowledge makes me feel like I have a duty to protect others.” She winces and shifts her gaze to the cat. “Wow, that sounds like I have some crazy God complex, doesn’t it?”

“No,” I whisper, completely caught up in every word.

“I don’tlikekilling people,” she continues in a harsher tone. “It’s not a crazy itch I need to scratch. My targets come to me. In a manner of speaking.”

“I understand what you’re saying.” If anything, I want to be the Joker to her Harley—without the crazy, just the devotion.

Her phone buzzes.

“Ugh.” She rolls over and grabs her phone, swiping her thumb over the screen and quickly scanning the text. “Yes, Dad, I know,” she mutters, quickly typing out a reply. “Rose-colored light bulbs. I know. He acts like I didn’t spend a semester studying color theory and stage lighting or something.” She sighs and returns the phone to the nightstand.

“What?” I ask, curious. “Color theory?”

Pink spreads over her cheeks. “Well, yeah. Sometimes, it’s grisly business creating that peaceful facial expression families see at the end.” She bites her lip as if she’s afraid to gross me out with her mortician secrets. “But in some circumstances, even after embalming, the skin remains a bit grayish. So, we’ll set them under rose-colored light bulbs during the visitation. He’s just reminding me to add them to an order I need to place today.”

Now I can’t stop thinking about gray skin and pink light bulbs. I don’t want to hurt Margot’s feelings, so I force a tight smile. “Learn something new every day.”

She winces. “You kinda wish you didn’t know that now, don’t you?”

She reads me too easily. “It’s my fault for asking.”

Gretel’s clearly had enough of our lazy morning conversation. She flips and twists her body until she’s on her feet, then uses my legs as a launching pad.

“So violent,” I laugh, turning to watch her streak through the open door.

“Sorry,” Margot says.

“It’s fine. She jumped onto the bed so daintily earlier, I got worried.” Uncomfortable sensations prickle against my neck. I hate letting Margot think I don’t want to learn about her job. “Hey, I like all your little mortuary secrets. I think it’s…nice that you do so much to make sure the last moments people get with their loved ones are as pleasant as they can be.”

Relief or gratitude spreads over her expression. “Thanks.”

“What does today’s schedule look like?”

“A service for a nice man from the neighborhood. His kids have been sweet. They’re just…heartbroken.”

“No one fighting over his stuff yet?”

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