Page 46 of Creed

Alistair? Where did I hear that name lately? It sounded so familiar.

“Yes, that does seem to be the case.” Mr. Rhys answered.

“Then we will do cremation, and I will pay for a plot at the old cemetery on 1600 North. All we will need is a plot and a headstone.” Creed said.

“Nobody has been buried out there since the 1800’s and I would need to get his father’s perm...”

Creed cut him off. “I will take care of the signatures, just make the arrangements. I don’t want his headstone in the same cemetery as Callie.” Creed ordered. “Have the paperwork ready by tomorrow and I will make sure its signed by Mr. Doyle. The only arrangements Miss Rossi will be making is for Callie, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, I will have everything ready by tomorrow morning for Mr. Doyle to sign.” Mr. Rhys answered.

“Morgan, I will see you in a few hours.” Creed said.

“Thanks Creed.”

He hung up and didn’t even reply.

We started planning Callie’s funeral and that was when I learned Creed had ideas of his own, according to Josh. His MC would be escorting Callie to her grave, then there would be a dinner at the VFW for close family and friends only. Creed would take care of those arrangements himself.

When it was time to pick out the casket, Leslie wanted hot pink. That became an argument because of obvious reasons, and I ordered the Cherry wood finish instead. She wanted a picture of Addie printed on the silk lining of the lid, but I chose a beautiful white silk. She wanted roses, but Callie liked lilies, so I ordered the lilies. By the end of the meeting, Leslie chose one song and the remembrance card, but I chose the poem, the guest book, and the rest of the music. Father Meyer would be theofficiant because he was the County Officiant and not because he was Catholic. Leslie wanted a Baptist minister, but none were available. She didn’t understand that Father Meyer would give an appropriate service to meet her nonexistent and fake Baptist beliefs. That woman probably never stepped foot in a Baptist church. Callie wasn’t even Baptist, she had never chosen a denomination. Everything with Leslie was an argument. Even down to how Callie’s hair would be styled and what color eye shadow would be applied. Instead, I called out to LA and made arrangements for Mr. Rhys to work with a well known makeup and hair artist that I worked with on set. She was also employed by several funeral homes in that area. He would make arrangements for her to fly in and take care of Callie. She had a lot of bruising, unfortunately I saw it for myself. That was when I was reminded how she died and the dress I chose for her wouldn’t work. So, I called my stylist and sent her a photo of Callie and she would have something delivered to the funeral home.

I was exhausted when we were done, but I still had errands to run. I had to drop in and see my mom at the nursing home, grab a few things the guys missed at my parent’s house, and run to the drug store for tampons. I could have sworn everything was working against me when I started my period at the funeral home. Who starts their period at a funeral home? My body was saying enough was enough.

We were once again searched at the gates and by the time I arrived at Creed’s I was exhausted and hungry. We stopped at McDonald’s in Clarity, but my stomach wasn’t too happy with a greasy hamburger. I needed something more sustainable and easier to digest. As we pulled up and Josh stopped the truck, Creed pulled up on his bike and parked it in the detached garage. I was slow moving still and by the time I was out of the truck,Creed was approaching. I felt almost too drained to notice those gorgeous eyes, or trail my eyes down that amazing body. He had his hands in his pockets, and he stopped right in front of me.

“Hey.” He gave me a very small soft smile.

“Hi.”

“Did you get everything done that you needed?” He asked as I reached in the truck for my handbag and shopping bag.

“As far as I know. Brett is going to call me as soon as he has a copy of the death certificates. He said he will file the custody paperwork as quickly as he can, but he can’t promise when that will take place. It could be as soon as Monday but could take up to fifteen days.”

Josh walked around the side of the truck and just stood there like he was waiting for something. Creed looked from him to me, then broke the silence. “Morgan, you should change into something more casual. I’d like to show you around and go over a few things with you.”

I gave him a nod then walked inside and straight upstairs. All I really wanted was to go to bed and sleep. That was the only way I knew to escape the pain I was feeling over Callie’s death. But I honestly knew Creed was right to keep me busy. My life was about to change in a big way, and I needed to avoid diving into the dark pit of depression. I couldn’t count how many times I tried to fight my tears or how many times my tears won.

I changed into a pair of white shorts, a brown belt, and an off the shoulder red striped shirt. I slipped into a pair of brown sandals then pulled my hair from its bun as I walked to my room. I had to try and work some magic with my makeup to hide the signs of my earlier tears, then used a flat iron to addwaves to my hair. Instead of packing a new handbag, I put some cash and a credit card into my back pocket and put the lanyard around my neck, then went downstairs. When I walked outside, Creed was talking to Josh, but he turned and locked eyes with me. I didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on mine, then slowly swept down my body and all the way to my feet. Josh punched Creed in the shoulder then shook his head as he laughed and walked away. He said something but I missed it.

“Are we taking your truck or bike?” I asked but Creed looked down to either my shorts or my legs again.

He ran his hand down his face then his beard. He looked very uneasy. “Are you sure that’s what you want to wear?”

I looked down to my outfit then up to him. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

“Well…my men…they umm...Morgan, you are very outnumbered, and they might have some infatuations…you know…the shorts are short.” He looked down at my legs again and lifted his eyebrows. “Very short.”

The sinister smile on my face was the perfect indication that, despite my exhaustion and grief, I could have had some fun with him. “If your little friends won’t like it, it’s their problem. So, what are we taking for this tour? Your truck or bike?”

“Little friends?” His eyes lifted back up to mine. “These little friends are the ones you didn’t like looking at you in a certain way when we were at the general store. If you think that was bad, just wait.”

“Who said I didn’t like the way they looked at me? It wasn’t them that upset me, Creed. It was you. So, what are we driving?” I asked for the third or forth time.

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Let’s take a side by side.” He led me to the attached garage and opened the garage door.

The thing was like a golf cart on steroids. When I was a kid we played around on quads, but that piece of machinery was playing in a whole new game. “We should take this mudding down in Old Finneytown. It would be so much fun!”

He glanced at me as he drove down his driveway. “Old Finneytown?”

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