The Guest House Hauntings Boxset by Hazel Holmes (novel books to read txt) 📕

memories and nasty feelings. The best way to forget was to drown himself in his work. He left his office.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Vincent said, approaching him as soon as he came out. “If I had known, I would’ve gotten you right away. Kyle agreed to cover for you so you can be home with your family.”

“I’m good,” Ezra said. “They don’t need me right now. I’ll go home once service is done.”

“We appreciate your dedication, but you really don’t need to do that. I lost my father a couple of years ago. I had to take three weeks off work and I still didn’t feel ready to return. Losing a parent is so tough to go through, no matter how old you are. We all understand you need time. The kitchen will be fine.”

“Vince,” Ezra stopped and looked him straight in the eyes, “I’m staying. I need to get through this service.”

Vince was speechless for a moment. He’d never seen someone react to the loss of a parent in this way and he felt heartless for not making him leave. Yet there seemed to be something else there. Something he couldn’t quite understand.

“Okay,” he said. “Do you at least want time to talk to your wife about it?”

“I’ll tell her when I get home.”

He went back to the line and became so focused he almost forgot he ever had a father at all.

3

“Would it be bad if I said you look beautiful?” Ezra asked, as Clara stood in front of him in a long black dress covered in lace. She looked like a gothic queen, her black hair falling in waves in front of her green eyes. Tall, pale, and slender. She was a complete contrast to him, something that almost barred them from getting together in the first place.

They were quite the couple though. As they talked more, they found they had a lot in common. They both loved the light and had a dark side. Together was the only time they felt like they found a place to fit.

“Yes,” she said. He stood behind her and moved back her hair, kissed the raven on her shoulder. Evermore was tattooed on his shoulder, a testament to their literary love. “Though you look pretty handsome too in your black suit. Why is it we dress up during the worst and best moments of our lives?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea. To be respectful I suppose. Or to really test people’s strength. I can’t tell you how difficult it was to put on a suit and pull myself together for my mother’s funeral. And it feels like it was simply for other people, because I think she would’ve understood if it was difficult for us to put together a suit, comb our hair, try to be strong.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Clara said. She turned around and hugged him.

Ezra’s father had raised him to always be strong, to never let his emotions show. With Clara it was different though. With her he felt safe enough to be himself. Safe enough to fall apart. She never picked him apart, and he always stood a little strong once he admitted his weakness.

He held onto her tightly. Breathed in her earthy scent. Her warmth reminded him of his mother in a way. She had much more compassion than her husband and was always intuitive about the emotions of those she loved. He knew she would’ve loved Clara.

“Thank you,” he said as they parted. He wiped away a tear.

“I love you,” she reminded him. “I’m a little puzzled though. You don’t seem to have the same reaction towards your father’s loss as you do your mother’s.”

“It’s complicated.”

“We have a decent drive to the funeral,” she said. “I’ll drive. You can explain.”

He tried to string together an explanation as they left their apartment, but it was difficult to put the past into words. She was patient as always though. She didn’t turn any music on, didn’t speak. She gave him time to think and try to come to terms with the feelings he hadn’t yet faced.

“Growing up, Mom was always the more loving one,” he started. “She stayed home, took care of us kids while my father worked long, hard hours as a surgeon. He’d come home stressed after ridiculously long shifts and us kids knew better than to bother him when he did. But Mom would greet him with a hug and a smile. She’d always have dinner ready for him but would spend a little bit of time with him before dinner to help him ease into home life. They carved out time for each other at night too while we were sleeping. They went on weekly dates. She smoothed out his rough edges.

“He was still hard on us then. He had a short temper. In his line of work everything had to be perfect, so he expected us to be perfect too. Mom got on him when he was being too harsh though. She advocated for us when she thought we were being treated unfairly. She brought out his softer side. She’s the reason we lived peacefully for as long as we all did. Then she was diagnosed with leukemia.”

He paused. Even after all these years, it was difficult to talk about. Clara took his hand and kissed it. With her by his side, he felt strong enough to continue.

“My father blamed himself for it. He was convinced that if he’d been around more often, he would’ve been able to spot the signs earlier and get her help. As it was, he did the best he could. He took time off work indefinitely, we lived from a huge chunk of money they’d saved up. He focused his attention on her completely.

“She wasn’t exactly happy about it. She encouraged him to spend time with us too, warned him he might have to take her place one day and he’d have to be a nurturer and provider. She