As if by magic Aurora’s house suddenly transformed into an ancient stone castle. Twisting vines crept up its sides. The sky overhead roiled with angry, black clouds, blocking out the sun.
Inside the castle resided a queen. Once, she’d been a beautiful maiden, but rage had transformed her into a being of pure evil.
As suddenly as the image had appeared, it disappeared. Emily gasped, her chest rising and falling as adrenaline filled her being.
Had she just seen a—
The scene shimmered behind Emily’s eyes, unformed and out of place, but real all the same. She glanced up at the sky. “Thank you.”
Inspiration. At last. A glimpse of it for sure, but a start. God had heard her and it seemed He’d chosen to listen.
So, why was she still so miserable?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emily drove back to her temporary home with a heavy heart. She wished Julia were home from her honeymoon. She needed her friend’s wise counsel right now. The other alternative was to escape to her little haven above the garage and bury her head under a pillow.
Her goal was thwarted when she pulled into the driveway and came across Grace, weeding the flower beds in front of the house. Emily couldn’t ignore her landlady, so she pasted on a smile and got out of the car.
Grace straightened. “Hello, Emily.”
“Hi, Grace. Lovely day for gardening. For once it’s not sweltering.”
“It is indeed. There’s something therapeutic about working the earth,” Grace replied with a soft chuckle. “Gives me a sense of control and purpose.”
“I’m not sure all the weeds in the world would help me right now,” Emily said, her heart twisting again as she thought about poor little Madalynn Johnston.
Grace paused, eyes narrowing in concern. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just been one of those weeks and I—” Her voice broke as a fresh dose of tears stung her eyes.
Grace stood and took Emily’s hand. “Come inside, dear.”
Emily caught a vague impression of a soft, comfy couch and a fireplace with a beautiful, dark-stained mantle. The kitchen screamed homemade cookies and savory pot roasts. All cozy and warm, with appliances that had been lovingly used to feed a family for decades.
She sank into a chair at the round wooden table. What must a childhood have been like in Grace’s house? A little slice of heaven, no doubt.
“Emily, honey, where did you go?”
Her head snapped up. “Huh?”
Grace took a seat across the table. “What’s troubling you? Something obviously has you upset.”
“Oh, don’t mind me. I may be having a mental breakdown.”
“I’ve been told I’m a good listener. Perhaps I can help sort things out.”
What would be the harm? If Emily didn’t rid herself of these roiling emotions, she’d explode. “What do you think happens to people when they die?”
For a moment, Grace said nothing. Then she rose and walked to the stove to flip on a knob.
Emily watched, puzzled by the reaction. “What are you doing?”
“I think such a heavy conversation calls for a good cup of tea,” Grace said, glancing over her shoulder.
Amusement penetrated Emily’s fog of confusion and misery. “Is the answer so complicated?”
Grace opened a cabinet and extracted a canister. “Oh no, the answer is quite simple. Accepting it is the hard part,” she said, securing the tea leaves. “I assume your question has something to do with Rachel Cooper.”
“How did you know?”
“I saw you watching her at the party the other night,” Grace said as she reached for two china cups. “I know you’ve become close since you started bringing her library books.”
There was something soothing about watching a tea ritual. Knowing women had been performing the same act in fancy drawing rooms and humble kitchens all over the world for centuries meant continuity.
As if by some unspoken agreement, neither of them said anything more. When the kettle began to whistle, Grace poured the water and let the tea leaves seep. Next, she grabbed the sugar canister and placed it on a tray along with the cups.
Emily leaned forward as Grace carried the tray to the table. “Do you actually think there’s a heaven?”
“Of course,” Grace said, passing one of the cups to Emily. “Don’t you?”
“I don’t know.” Emily doctored her tea, listening to the clink of the spoon against the side. “There are so many different versions of the afterlife. How do you know which one to believe?”
Grace took her own cup and sat down again. “Here’s what I believe, Emily. God sent His son to die for our sins so we could be blameless before Him and spend eternity in His presence. All we have to do to earn our place is accept Him into our hearts. Rachel Cooper already has.”
“What about children?” Emily asked. “What if they haven’t had a chance to accept? What happens to little girls who can’t resist jumping into a pool and end up dead?”
Grace frowned. “Whose little girl died?”
“Aurora Johnston’s. She told me today.”
“Oh, my.” Grace leaned back in her chair. “I’d forgotten all about her daughter. I remember when it happened.”
“You do?”
“Oh, yes… what a tragedy. I was a couple years older than Aurora’s daughter, the same age as her son. Madalynn was beautiful. She had the most amazing golden ringlets. I was so jealous of those curls.”
“Were you friends?”
“As friendly as a grownup six–year-old can be with a baby of four,” Grace said, with a wry humor. “Aurora and my mother were close, though. Then one day, my mother came into my room. I could tell she’d been crying. She told me Madalynn had gone to heaven. Then she held me for what seemed like hours. I didn’t fully comprehend what going to heaven meant at the time, of course. I kept expecting Aurora to come calling, with Madalynn in tow, but Aurora never came back.”
“Aurora never went anywhere again,” Emily said. “Do you know she’s spent all these years punishing herself? Pushing everyone away?”
“Poor woman,” Grace said. “I should have tried harder to keep up with her.”
“And her baby?” Emily asked, anger lacing her words. “Who gets Madalynn’s soul?”
“God is quite capable of saving a person before he or she is conscious of Him.”
“Why take a little girl anyway? How can that ever be right? Why would God allow it? If He’s so powerful, He could have stopped the whole tragedy.”
Grace set her cup down. “We often don’t see God’s plan. We only see a tiny portion of the whole. We can’t know the rest. Often it takes years.”
“Sounds so simplistic. Blind trust.”
“I believe it because I’ve seen God’s plan in my own life. My first husband dropped dead of a heart attack at thirty-eight. An undiagnosed congenital defect. I was left to raise Sarah on my own.”
“I’m sorry. You must have been so angry.”
“I won’t lie. I struggled. In my grief, I turned to someone who offered an escape. Julia’s father, which was one of my more disastrous decisions. He broke my heart so completely I didn’t know if I would survive, but our relationship brought Julia into my family. She’d lived with us for two years.”
“Now I know how Julia wound up here,” Emily said. “I wondered. I thought it was odd that you were at her wedding, but not her mother.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “That’s a whole other story. When Julia arrived on my doorstep, she was angry at the world and ready to let everyone know it. She’d been batted back and forth between her parents for years, and it’d left its mark. When her father left, so did Julia. We didn’t see her again until last year.”
Grace’s story was interesting, but Emily still didn’t understand the point. “What does Julia have to do with God’s plan?”
“Why, everything, dear,” Grace said, without showing the least bit of offense. “My dear
Samuel passed, I married Julia’s father, which brought her here. Now, Julia is married to Seth. She helped him finally put his first wife to rest.”
“Are you saying God took your husband so Seth could find love years later?” Emily asked, trying to wrap her mind around so much maneuvering. “Couldn’t He have found a better way?”
Grace placed a gentle hand over Emily’s. “God’s plan is unfolding all the time. I still don’t understand everything. I can’t answer all the questions, just as you can’t know all the reasons God brought you to Covington Falls at this moment. Perhaps you’re here so Rachel can teach you something important. Or maybe you’re here to help her in some way. Or Aurora. She’s locked herself away for years, but you’ve managed to forge a relationship with her when no one else could.”
“How can you be so sure everything fits so neatly together? What if all these things you talk about are random events that happen to collide?”
“I can’t make you see the truth, Emily,” Grace said. “You have to search your heart and open your mind. Only then will you find the peace you seek.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Emily watched sleeping Porky Polly and wondered if she’d finally lost her mind. Guilt and an apparent newfound masochistic tendency had driven her to Aurora’s doorstep again. Masochism and Grace’s words about plans from on high. Emily figured if she was to save Aurora from a prison of her own making, the job couldn’t be done with distance between them.
She’d stayed even when Aurora had refused to come out of her room. Rather than skulk away in defeat, Emily had taken up the dog’s leash and dragged the rotund dachshund out for a walk. For the last fifteen minutes, Emily had been attempting to come up with as many different ways as possible to say fat dog while Polly took her afternoon constitutional in the grass.
So far Emily had twenty-six. Not bad.
“Hey Pol, you had enough?” she asked, nudging the sleeping canine. “Your eyelid moved, and I wouldn’t want you to overdo it.”
Polly lifted her head, but didn’t look at Emily. Instead, the dog sniffed the air. Then she sprang to her feet and tore off down the street like she’d been shot out of a cannon. Emily watched in stunned amazement for a moment, mostly because she couldn’t believe the little sausage with legs could move so fast.
Then Emily bolted after her charge. “Polly! Come back here, you crazy mutt!”
Polly darted across the street, right in front of an oncoming car. Emily screamed, and the combination of four-legged animal and hysterical woman caused the vehicle to swerve.
Right in her direction.
She screamed again, instantly picturing the latest headline.
Failed Author Becomes Hood Ornament While in Pursuit of Obese Pooch.
Another screech of tires, and the car missed her toes by inches.
“Watch where you’re going, lady!” the driver yelled out the window. “And control your dog!”
Meanwhile Polly had continued her great escape without missing a beat. Now she was headed for a two-story Victorian a couple houses down.
“Sorry!” Emily called back as she continued the pursuit. “Polllllyyyy!”
****
Nate heard the saw blade-on-wood screech of tires first. He and the two guys onsite with him cringed in unison, waiting for the climactic thud and grind of metal. No sound came. Instead there was more squealing, followed by an angry shout.
Louis glanced down from his perch on the ladder. “Thought we’d be calling 911 for sure.”
Nate gestured to the second man, who was at the corner of the house. “Carlos, what was that?”
“Some loco lady chasing after a fat dog.”
Shock froze every muscle in Nate’s body. No way. It couldn’t be.
“Pollllyyyy!”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Nate muttered, dropping his paint roller and sprinting for the front of the house.
He was vaguely aware of the other two men following behind him. He rounded the corner only to be met by said fat dog. The impact sent him flying into Carlos. The two men careened backward and tripped over a full paint tray.
Carlos let loose with a string of Spanish-laden curses. Nate was too distracted by the feel of sticky, wet goop seeping into his shirt to decipher the barrage of words. Meanwhile the dog had taken up residence on his chest and was licking his face.
“Oh, sugar cookies!”
He looked up into Emily’s face.
“Nate, are you hurt?” she cried. “You wouldn’t believe what happened! One second Polly was sleeping in the grass, and the next she took off. Ran right out in front of a car and almost got killed. Then she almost got me killed. I saw my life flash before my eyes, and let me tell you it was a depressing story. I don’t even want to think what Aurora would do if Polly got plowed under. Probably sue me for everything I’ve got, which frankly is decreasing by the day.”
Nate forgot all about paint as something shifted in his heart. He wanted to laugh. What an idiot he’d been. How had he ever thought he could go the rest of his life without hearing one of Emily’s rambles?
“Em, get this stupid mutt off me,” he said. “I can’t breathe.”
“Oh, right.” She reached for Polly’s collar and hauled the dog off. “What’s the matter with you, Porky? Do you want me to be arrested for dog slaughter?”
“El perro es loco,” Carlos muttered as he pushed to his feet.
Emily beamed a teeth-gleaming smile. “Lo siento mucho. Yo creo que al perro le gusta Nathan. No sabía que Polly corría tan rápido.”
Nate sat up. “You know Spanish?”
“I lived in Spain for a semester in college.”
Of course she had. “What did you say?”
“I said I think Aurora’s dog has a crush on you. She smelled your scent and bolted. I had no idea she could run so fast.”
Carlos melted like a wax candle under the warm light of Emily’s charm. “Te perdono si me dejas llevarte a comer.”
Nate knew enough Spanish to pick out the words you and dinner. He glowered a clear back off, which was understood in any language. Carlos answered by raising his hands in an okay, didn’t know she was taken gesture of surrender accompanied by a knowing chuckle.
Emily was still too shaken up to catch the silent exchange. Not a bad thing since she wouldn’t appreciate knowing she’d just been claimed in the oldest male mating ritual on earth short of taking up weapons.
She grabbed Nate’s hand and hauled him to his feet. He let momentum bring him flush against her.
“Guys, take a break,” he said, not bothering to glance at the other men.
Emily did notice the crowding. She sent him a puzzled frown and took a step back. “Are you okay?”
He followed. “You’re the one who raced out into traffic.”
“I wasn’t in traffic,” Emily said, bumping into the side of the house. “I was still on the sidewalk.”
He closed the distance. “Only you could have a near death experience while walking the world’s laziest dog.”
“She wasn’t so lazy once she got a whiff of you.” All at once her eyes narrowed. “Are you stalking me or something? Why do I feel like you’re a lion out for a meal, and I’m a gazelle?”
Nate raised a hand and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “You need a keeper, and I’m thinking I’d like to apply for the job.”
“Wait… what?” She stuck a palm against his chest. “Didn’t we go through a whole spiel about how wrong we are for each other a couple days ago?”
Nate ignored the flimsy gesture and hauled her up against his chest. “And I think I’m going to let you change my mind. Or maybe I’ll change yours.”
“Umm… about what?” Emily asked on a shuddering breath.
He lowered his head. “About whether a house painter from a tiny blip on the map town can satisfy you.”
She let out a half laugh and pulled him down the rest of the way. “You can try.”
How had he ever thought he coul
d go the rest of his life without kissing Emily? There might be a million reasons why he and Emily were a bad idea, but Nate sure couldn’t come up with one right now. The reasons disappeared when she looped her arms around his neck and stretched up as close as she could get. One thing about Emily, she wasn’t shy about going on the offensive in the kissing department.
Then she squealed and pushed him away. He realized she had salmon-colored paint all over her hands and partway down one arm.
Dog. Flying through the air. Paint.
With the fog lifting, he became aware of sticky wetness seeping into his skin. He retreated enough to peel off his shirt and toss it to the ground. Her eyes dropped to his chest. Since he was in caveman mode, he flexed enough to give her a show as he bent down to pick up a rag and douse it with turpentine.
He turned back in time to catch her checking out his… pockets. Which made them even. Since she was bracing herself against the house, she had nowhere to go. He reached for her hand and dragged the cloth across her skin and up to her palm. He felt her shiver, and he tightened his hold.
“Here, I’ll do it,” she said, snatching the rag from his hand. “Go stand over there. And put a shirt on.” Her cheeks were bright red as she concentrated on removing all traces of paint.
Nate allowed her to retreat for the moment and went to fetch a clean shirt from his truck. When he came back, she had recovered from the sight of him shirtless and was now looking at him with suspicion in her blue eyes.
Before he could take another step, she thrust out a de-painted hand. “You stay right there.”
“What’s wrong?”
The sound she made was rude and unladylike. “What’s wrong, he asks? What’s wrong is my head is spinning like I just got off a Tilt-A-Whirl. I have no idea what happened here.”
“I thought I made it clear.”
“Yeah, clear as mud. What I don’t understand is how we got from parting-is–such-sweet-sorrow to let’s misbehave.”
He chuckled. Emily’s fancy talk. One more thing he loved about her, even if most of the references left him scratching his head in confusion. “I wish I understood half of what you say.”
Imagine That Page 20
