Embrace the Grim Reaper by Judy Clemens Page B

the sound of static. The smell of burning rubber…the sound of wrenching metal…the sting of tears…the ache of her breasts as she gazed into the silent coffin…
    No. Death was not the easy way out.
    But sometimes, God knew, it would’ve been welcome.

Chapter Nine
    “Lillian?” Casey peered around what seemed to be the kitchen door. She’d been drawn downstairs by the smell of food, and it was coming from the other side of that doorway.
    The woman standing over the stove took up about a quarter of the space Rosemary had, and her clothes and hair lacked the shock value. Her smile, however, was just as wide. “Come in, come in. You must be our new guest.”
    “Yes. Casey.”
    “Well, Casey, are you hungry?”
    “Actually, I am.” She had fallen asleep on her floor and awakened an hour later with a kink in her back, and a growling stomach. After a quick face-washing, she’d made her way downstairs.
    “You’re welcome to have lunch with us,” Lillian said. “I know it’s a bit late for it, going on one-thirty, but it’s hard to find time for eating when there are so many other things to do.” She waved her over to the table. “Rosemary will be here in just a minute. She’s at her hapkido class.”
    Casey let go with an involuntary laugh.
    Lillian smiled. “Yes, I know. She doesn’t exactly look like a martial artist, does she? But she’s passionate about it.” She lowered her voice. “I think, however, her classmates try to avoid partnering with her during sparring. Having her step on your toe—let alone falling on you—can be hazardous to your health.”
    “Helloooo!”
    Lillian straightened, the grin still on her face. “She’s home.”
    Rosemary filled the doorway, resplendent in her Dobak, her hapkido uniform. “Ah, there’s our new guest! You should ask her to lunch, Lillian.”
    “I already have.”
    “Of course you have. Come, my darling. Sit!”
    So Casey sat at the little table, barely big enough for three, and ate an egg and cheese sandwich with way too much pepper.
    When they’d finished, and Casey had heard the entire history of the house (part of the Underground Railroad, don’t you know!), their partnership (known each other since grade school!), love lives (“I’m a widow, and Lillian’s a divorcee”), and just how long it took to renovate the room she was staying in (way too long), Casey sat back and tried not to imagine the pepper coming back up her esophagus and making her sneeze.
    “Is there a Laundromat somewhere close I could use?” she asked, when she could get a word in.
    The two women looked at each other, brows furrowed.
    “There’s the one on Wilson,” Lillian said.
    “Or Second Street.” Rosemary tapped her chin with a finger. “If it’s still open.”
    “But really,” Lillian said, “the closest one would be—”
    “—in our back room.” Rosemary smiled, and Lillian crinkled her eyes at Casey.
    “Oh, but I couldn’t—”
    “Oh, but you could.” Lillian patted Casey’s arm. “We insist.”
    Rosemary stood and began clearing dishes. “And we also insist that you use our bicycle while you’re our guest. You’ll need it to get to play rehearsal.”
    “What?” Had she mentioned that?
    Lillian leaned toward her. “It’s a small town, remember?”
    Casey sighed. “Thanks. I’d love to use your bike.”
    Rosemary, at the sink, peered over her shoulder. “You’ll have to get the tires pumped up down at the gas station. No one’s ridden it for a while.”
    “Sure. Thanks. And thanks for lunch.” Casey got up and took her plate over to the sink. When she’d done that, she hesitated. “When’s the next time you go to a hapkido session, Rosemary?”
    Rosemary grinned. “Whenever I want. But probably not today.”
    Casey put her hands in her pockets. “Any chance I could tag along?”
    Rosemary’s smiled broadened. “Of course. Do you know something about it?”
    “Yeah. Something.”
    “I’d love to have you join me. How about