Bekah didn’t believe in God when she started working at Smith & Sons’ Funeral Home.

“Incoming!” Smitty always announced cheerfully when he got a call from one of the area hospitals. The “sons” in the mortuary’s name were imaginary — there was just Smitty, living a 32 year old’s bizarre dream of opening his own funeral parlor. He always explained the “& Sons” by saying, “It makes us sound more professional.” It was important to project an aura of professionalism, particularly since the funeral director liked to sing Enter Sandman while he embalmed people.

Smitty met Bekah at Bloomingdale’s, when she was working at one of the makeup counters. She hated dealing with the snooty cougars who insisted she make them up like drag queens, so when Smitty sauntered over one day, looking like a lanky cross between Ichabod Crane and the Tenth Doctor, and said, “Want to come work for me?”, she didn’t even ask for details before saying yes.

She never imagined that he would be the one to help her find her faith again.