“As well as we can be.” She squeezed my hand. “All things considered.”
I stood next to the table, unsure of the next phase of conversation, as they exchanged glances and Fred cleared his throat before sipping water from his glass.
At an utter loss for words, I swallowed hard. “Well, I’m having lunch with Mrs. Murdock, so … It was really nice to see you two.”
“You too, hon,” Liz said, in a barely audible voice.
I turned, and the walk back to the table seemed like miles. My insides trembled as I slid back into my seat.
“That was good of you, Corrie. They’re still grieving so deeply,” Sam said, her voice soft and filled with sympathy. “The three of you really should get together.”
“Probably.”
She reached over and covered my hand with hers. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have butted in.”
After I assured her it was okay, we finished our meal but never returned to the lightheartedness of our earlier conversation. I glanced at Jarrod’s folks a couple of times, but they never once looked my way. My heart ached for them in the same way it ached for my own loneliness. But the last thing I wanted to do was spend time with them. Maybe because if I acknowledged their grief, offered and accepted comfort, I’d have to acknowledge Jarrod’s death with a finality I wasn’t ready to accept. Quite simply, I wasn’t ready to let him go.
The clock on my dash said two o’clock by the time I finally returned home. My birthday had been an unexpected day of joy for me, but I was ready to put an end to it and settle in. Maybe I’d take a walk by the bridge.
Eli’s truck wasn’t parked in the driveway, so I walked into an empty house. I went straight to the kitchen to deposit the cupcakes and bags. I’d have to go back outside for the painting. On the middle of the table sat a bouquet of daisies that hadn’t been there when I left this morning. My heart lifted at the sight. They were my favorites. I couldn’t remember if I’d told Eli that or not. Somehow he’d managed to reintroduce me to my artistic side—or at least point me to the start arrow—ordered my favorite flavor of cupcakes, and now this? I walked toward the flowers, but hesitated. I appreciated Eli’s thoughtfulness, but was this a bit much? Had I given off some vibe that I was ready for another relationship? Because God knew I wasn’t. Rather than reaching for the card, I headed back to the Jeep for my painting. By the time I returned, I was ready to read the card.
My worry turned to tears as I looked down at the writing. “Happy birthday from Fred and Liz.”
Jarrod’s parents had remembered. I reached for my bag to retrieve my phone, but again I stopped. After the painful exchange at the café, I couldn’t bring myself to talk to them on the phone, even to thank them for the lovely gesture. A thank-you in the mail would have to do for now.
I grabbed my paint supplies and headed up to the room I had decided would be my studio. I smiled as I walked inside to find my birthday canvas already set up on the easel I had unpacked a few days ago and left on the floor leaning against the wall in my room. I could only assume Eli had brought it in here and set it up. We would have to move it when Eli was ready to work on this room, but until then I could store my paints and brushes here. The double windows on either side of the far corner would bring in a good amount of natural light.
The room was a bit musty, though, and could use some airing out. I walked to one of the windows and raised the sash, looking out at the rough-hewn barn that had been around as long as the house itself.
My heart tapped a double beat as movement by the barn door caught my eye. A man emerged from the barn, stood there for a second, looking up at the house, then walked off, away from the house and barn, into a patch of pine trees that lined a stretch of field. The tall figure reminded me of someone. Fear tightened in my stomach, and I remembered Ray telling me it wasn’t safe to sleep on the porch. Ray! It was a crazy thought. Why would he be in my barn? My body crawled with goose flesh as I remembered his steely eyes and towering form the night of the tornadoes. I would mention this to Eli tomorrow, but in the meantime, I planned to make sure every door and window was locked. Too spooked to leave the second-story windows open, I closed them tightly and headed back downstairs.
A horn began to honk as I approached the kitchen. Eli must have come back. I’d assumed he’d knocked off early, but perhaps he’d simply gone into town for a late lunch or supplies. Another honk drew me to the front door, and I stepped onto the porch. I didn’t recognize the SUV in the driveway. Then the door flung open, and I gasped.
“Happy birthday!”
“Lola!” I rushed down the steps. “What are you doing here?”
My sister held me tight and laughed that infectious, generous laugh of hers. “After hearing your voice this morning, I got so lonesome I cashed in a few vacation days.”
“What about your patients?” It wasn’t like Lola to leave work. I’d seen her pass up trips to Hawaii and cancel concert plans.
“I have them covered. I found a flight into Springfield—you know it’s only an hour or so from Dallas to Springfield by plane—grabbed a bag, and rented a car at the airport. And here I am!”
“But why didn’t you let me know? I could have picked you up.”
She slid her arm around me, and we headed for the house. “I wanted to surprise you. And I can see it worked.”
“Should we get your bag?” I asked just short of stepping on the porch.
She shook her head. “We can get it later,” she said, moving ahead of me.
I watched her open the door, and as glad as I was to see her, I wondered about the real reason my sister had decided to come visit. She was definitely welcome, but I wasn’t buying that I was her only reason for leaving Dallas.
“Coming?” she asked.
As I climbed the steps, my mind wandered back to the barn and the man I’d seen come out of it. Did he know I’d seen him? If so, would he be back? I shuddered, glad to be going inside.
Eli
After three text messages from Ava, I finally agreed to come to dinner at her parents’ home. I left Corrie’s place early to meet the window guys at my house and worked for a couple of hours replacing loose shingles while they installed the new glass. I knocked on the Lancasters’ door at six and was greeted by Ava’s dad. “Eli,” he said, accepting my hand. He’d never much cared for me, despite Ava’s insistence that her parents missed seeing me, but he’d never been deliberately rude.
“Ava!” he called. “Eli’s here.”
She appeared in the doorway almost immediately, as though she’d seen me pull up and just hadn’t gotten here fast enough to open the door for me. “I knew you couldn’t resist an apple-smoked pork roast.” Her face was flushed, and I realized she’d been by the smoker. Probably since she left me this morning. I felt a little guilty.
“You didn’t need to go to the trouble.”
“Well, we have to eat, with or without you.” She grinned and motioned me into the kitchen.
I walked past the statue of some goddess or another and felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I always felt uncomfortable with religious icons that didn’t profess Christianity. A deck of tarot cards sat on the kitchen counter, and charms and herbs were everywhere.
“Don’t worry. Momma’s not going to cast a spell.” Ava laughed. “We’ll eat in a few minutes.”
I took a seat on one of the wooden bar stools while she sliced the meat. My stomach grumbled. I’d wanted to get the boards replaced and sanded before I left to meet the window guys at my house, so I’d worked through lunch.
As though reading my thoughts, Ava asked, “Did the window guys show up?”
“Yeah. Didn’t take them long.”
“That’s good.” She beamed. “I haven’t told Daddy about the firewood yet. I thought you could do that while we eat.”
She was making more of it than it was. After all, the damaged trees had to be chopped into wood anyway, but I nodded. “That’s fine.”
She opened the refrigera
tor and pulled out two salad dressings. She also grabbed a can of Coke and handed it to me.
“Thanks. How’s work going?” There had been many reasons Ava and I didn’t work, but one was her lifelong desire to live in the city. She wasn’t cut out to be a country girl. Funny when compared to Corrie, who had grown up in the city and seemed to prefer the simplicity of Ozarks life.
“Great. I’m working on a new campaign now. If all goes well, I’ll end up with a promotion.”
“Congratulations.” I truly meant it.
“You didn’t ask if I’m dating anyone.” She flushed and smiled a little. Clearly she was.
“Are you?”
“Yes, I am. And I think he might be the real thing.”
“I’m happy for you.” But cautious. Since our breakup, Ava had dated lots of men who were supposed to be the “real thing.” At any rate, it was a relief to know she hadn’t come back to try and reconcile with me. She had tried in the past and left mad. And I always felt like a jerk. This time, we could be friends like we were long before we ever started dating.
After dinner, we went for a drive in Ava’s convertible. Twilight had fallen and the air had cooled, but we were comfortable with the top down and the breeze blowing. As we approached Corrie’s road, I glanced up and could just make out the lights in her windows. Ava stopped the car and followed my gaze. “Aunt Trudy told my mom that Jarrod came back.”
Irritation flashed through me, and I shook my head. “You know that’s nonsense.”
“No, you think it’s nonsense. I’ve seen too much that proves otherwise. And so have you.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t contradict her.
“You’re not going to deny it?” She turned to me. “Remember the time we went upstairs to get something for your grandma and the doors slammed?”
They had slammed like they did the day of the tornado. I’d been trying to make myself believe that had been nothing but wind, but doors slammed a lot in that house.
“I remember the incident.”
She was laughing at the memory now. “We went running down the stairs without whatever it was your grandmother had sent us up for and told her about the door.”
Granny had accepted that there was a presence in the house. She called it her friend and refused to believe there was any malevolence intended toward her or those she loved. As a child, I had decided to believe her and rarely felt anything that scared me. But as an adult, I knew better than to believe it was a friend.
“Have you seen or heard anything since you’ve been working there?” she asked.
“Not really.” I shrugged. “Maybe, but I pray while I’m in the house, so I think it keeps the thing at bay.”
“Do you think Corrie has seen anything? Aunt Trudy seems mighty sure that Jarrod’s back and interacting with Corrie somehow.”
Her words alarmed me. I thought back to the morning after Corrie arrived when she’d asked me about ghosts. She’d thought my footsteps were Jarrod.
I glanced back at the house. Everything in me wanted to charge up the steps and talk with Corrie. Get a sense of what she was seeing, hearing, or feeling and try to give her some spiritual guidance. But she hadn’t asked. She hadn’t even brought the subject up again since that day. I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”
“She hasn’t said anything to you?”
“No. So maybe whatever it was moved on.”
A truck pulled up behind us, and Ava put the car in gear. We moved forward.
I had a feeling it was a demon that slammed the door to scare us when we were kids and it was still lurking in the corners of that house—still slamming doors and now pretending to be Jarrod.
Corrie
The early morning breeze was likely the only cool air we’d find today. Once the sun began to warm up, it would burn off the dew. Forecasters called for ninety degrees and high humidity, which, while unusual for early June, certainly wasn’t unheard of.
We’d be baking in a Missouri oven by noon. But for now, the air was comfortable, just right for a morning walk. Lola and I stood on the wooden bridge, leaning our forearms on the railing, looking out at the still water below us. Lola had been at my house for a week and still didn’t seem to be planning a return to Dallas anytime soon. I had asked her a couple of times but stopped when it became evident that Lola was having either man problems or career problems. I knew my sister couldn’t be pushed, so I let it ride, knowing she’d open up when she was good and ready.
“I can’t believe it’s been seven months since Jarrod’s funeral,” Lola said softly. “I never thought I’d miss the big jerk, but I do.”
“Yeah.” I breathed slowly, gathering in the sights, sounds, and smells of rural Missouri. “I still feel like I ought to be in mourning garb. The world is going on around me and time is passing, but the hole is still big.”
Lola let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I can really see you in widow’s weeds like the old days.”
I shrugged. “Maybe they had a good idea back then. I mean, a woman who lost her husband could take time to heal without pressure. No one expected anything from her.”
“Oh, please. You mean tuck herself away and sleep for a year.”
“Sounds pretty darn good to me.”
“Then why did you take a job?” She turned to me and rested her elbows on the rail behind her. “In a health-food store, yet.”
“Oh, well, excuse me for not being a doctor.”
Lola rolled her eyes. “Give me a break. You don’t have to be a doctor, Corrie. But at least be what you always said you’d be.”
I laughed. “An artist?”
“Why not? Someone has to paint beautiful pictures. Right?”
“I guess.”
“Mimi paid for art school. The least you could do is use your education.”
I groaned. “Don’t even bring up her name. You know Mother still won’t forgive me for missing the anniversary party and trip to New York?”
Lola grinned. “I know. She canceled the New York trip anyway. Why do you think I got to sneak away to see you?”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the teasing glint in her eyes. Lola heard more of Mother’s lectures and “advice” than I did, being the one there in Dallas.
“Well, after all,” Lola said, a smirk playing at her lips, “Mimi DID pay for your education.”
Yes, I’d heard it all. Every time Mother wanted me on a guilt trip, she reminded me that my grandparents paid for the education I had squandered.
“I’m sure it really set her back to do that.” My grandparents were so wealthy they probably didn’t even know their own worth. A little thing like a four-year education wouldn’t make a dent in any of their bank accounts, and I refused to feel guilty over the fact that I chose art instead of law or medicine. My grandparents hated the idea that I wanted to pursue art. That made me a little too much like the former son-in-law they wanted to forget ever existed. But they had promised to pay, and I wouldn’t budge about my major.
“Well, even if they could afford it, you love art. When was the last time you picked up a brush?”
“Forever ago.” I thought about my art room at the top of the steps. I hadn’t shown Lola the room. Somehow I was afraid she would make more out of Eli’s generosity than I wanted verbalized. And it seemed wrong somehow to go back to painting—or anything that had seemed fulfilling before I met Jarrod. I had traded my passion for painting for a new passion: my husband. And I’d never looked back. “Seven years flew by after I married Jarrod. I just forgot to care about painting. There was the military and dealing with his needs.”
“Oh, honey. I know you loved him. But why stay here now that he’s gone? I mean, really. What’s here for you?”
“This house, for one thing. Besides, he’s not really gone, you know.” I could have bitten off my tongue the second I let those words fly. I didn’t feel like he was lost to me, but one person’s comfort was another person’s crazy, and I knew Lola’s thoughts about the afterlife and on
e’s ability to contact the dearly departed. I just hoped Jarrod would behave himself during her visit. But then, Lola would never have guessed I meant literally.
“I know it doesn’t feel like he’s gone for good. You’ve been separated so much the last five years anyway, but he’s not coming back this time. I bet if you spoke to a psychologist, she’d tell you the best thing you could do for yourself right now is to look inside and find something you love, just for yourself.”
“I love to eat.” I grinned. “How about if I just start eating from morning to night and get really fat and sassy like Gramps?”
Lola rolled her eyes. “There goes all hope of ever finding another man.”
“Hey now, you never know.” I tossed out a grin. “Some men like a little something to hang on to.”
Laughter hung in the air between us, then faded. Lola looked at me with her “let’s cut to the chase” eyes.
I frowned. “What?”
“Seriously, what are you doing keeping this place, Corrie?”
“You mean the house?” The question took me aback. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s my house.”
“Is it? I mean, really?” She breathed out and shook her head.
“What are you trying to say, Lola?” I turned to face her, leaned my elbow on the rail, and put my other hand on my hip, as indignation roared through me like a freight train. “I should just run back to Texas and live with Mother?”
“Don’t get defensive.” She let out a short laugh. “No one needs to live with our mother. All I’m saying is, why not let these people have their family land back and get on with your own life? You can live with me. We could be roomies.”
Maybe I was deliberately being defensive, but I stared at her in what I’m sure looked like disbelief. “These people? Do you mean my husband’s family? Or are you referring to the fact that they’re country people and not refined like the blue bloods of Highland Park?”
“Come off it, Corrie. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
The Widow of Saunders Creek Page 11
