Gifts and Consequences by Daniel Coleman

time. 
    “See you when you get home,” she said, and left. 
    He pulled out of the garage just a few minutes after her, already nauseated.  The first week working at Lake View Memorial Park had been even worse.  He almost sought medical care for the pain in his stomach.  Dru suggested antacids and the problem of the pain was solved, but after five weeks the nausea remained.
    For seventeen years he had conditioned himself to avoid that place and he could only overcome the aversion by observing a short ritual.  First he thought of Tracy, how she had hugged him when he told her they would pay for her to go to whatever college she chose. 
    Tracy had smiled and put her hands on his cheeks, just like she’d done since she was little.  “Thank you, Daddy.  I’ll make you proud.  I promise.”
    Next he thought of the night he had told Dru he was ready to give up.  He was embarrassed to have uttered those words, and so far it had been enough to get him out of the driveway. 
    Lake View Memorial Park was mostly deserted on Sunday afternoon when Dexter pulled in.  There were two cars parked outside the chapel, and a few more spread throughout the grounds.  The first left turn onto the Cypress-lined paths would take Dexter in a straight shot to his equipment shed.  It would also take him directly past little Camille’s gravesite. 
    It had been seventeen years since he’d been down that road. 
    He parked at the memorial house, and sat in his car for a minute before going inside.  The main entry was empty, so he shuffled back to the office.  Freddy Mineaux, the assistant director, sat at his desk with some paperwork.
    Of the seven other employees, only two of them had been in the funeral business seventeen years before when Dexter brought in his family to deal with their own grief.  So far none of them had put the two together.  Dexter wasn’t about to remind anyone. 
    “How’s it goin’, Dexter?” asked Freddy, looking down at his paperwork.
    Dexter didn’t answer, just sat in the padded, hard-backed chair across from Freddy’s desk. 
    “You see the box yet?” asked Freddy.
    Dexter shook his head.
    “It’s in the chapel.  Go take a look.”
    That piqued Dexter’s curiosity, but not in a good way.  The employees of Lake View didn’t see death and dead bodies the same way normal people did.  Dexter often had to ignore their insensitive comments, so he was understandably cautious as he peeked into the funeral chapel.
    What he saw hit him like a shovel to the gut.  At the front of the room was a tiny white casket draped with two small bouquets.  It looked as small as a bread box. 
    There’s no way Camille was that small , he thought, leaning on the back of a pew for support.
    He didn’t know how much time passed, but he looked over to see Freddy standing at his side. 
    “Sad story,” said Freddy.  “There are a few cases that even get to me after all these years.  I don’t get how some parents can be so irresponsible.  Kid’s mom left the upstairs window open right next to the bed.  The kid was jumping on the bed with her brother.  They bumped into each other and she was launched right out.”
    Dexter didn’t answer.  What could he say?
    “It was only the second floor, but she landed wrong on the driveway.”
    “How old?” asked Dexter.
    Freddy glanced at Dexter and seemed surprised to hear him speak.  “Four years old.  Sad stuff.  It happened yesterday and they aren’t wasting any time.  Service is tomorrow just after sunrise.  Section 10, Lot 21-A.”
    Neither spoke for a while, but Freddy finally said, “I don’t know how that mom will live with herself.”
    Dexter couldn’t listen to any more.  He turned and walked outside. 
    Lake View Memorial Park was named for its view of Lake St. Clair.  Dexter stood at the overlook and gazed at the calm water.  He tried to focus on the Sunday afternoon fishers or the dog walkers, to think about anything except dead little