The Widow of Saunders Creek (14 page)

I waved as I drove away, leaving my two new friends standing outside their shop, arm in arm, waving back. At the stoplight, I glanced at the painting, which was wrapped up to protect the paint. November 12. Billy saw the shadow of something he thought was a ghost in the window the very day Jarrod died.

Was it possible Jarrod had left his body and come back to the home he left me? Hope poured into me like warm liquid, and I could almost feel his love for me. Maybe I had been right after all, that Jarrod was the one leading me back to this place.

Only, if it was true …

“Jarrod,” I whispered. “I came back. So where are you?”

By noon my stomach had reached a new low. I hadn’t put anything in it except coffee this morning, and it wouldn’t stop reminding me. I walked into the café where Sam and I were to meet for my birthday lunch feeling like I could eat my weight in food.

Sam had already arrived and waved at me from the far end of the room. I walked over and slid into a red vinyl booth. “Happy birthday,” she said, her face lit with the same smile I’d seen a hundred times on Eli’s face.

“Thank you. Am I late?”

“Right on time. How’s your day so far?”

I relayed my morning phone calls, Eli’s gift, and the art-store-slash-bakery, leaving out the ghost-in-the-window painting of my home. “Oh,” I said. “And I met Ava.”

“Ava Lancaster?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t get her last name. Are there lots of gorgeous Avas around here?”

Her eyebrows rose, but as the server approached our table, she didn’t comment. I ordered sweet tea and opened my menu. It felt awkward because, as much as I was dying to hear about Ava, I didn’t want to appear interested. Luckily, Sam spared me the conundrum. “I assume she was riding?”

I nodded. “She was looking for Eli, so I sent her up to the house.”

“They’ve been friends forever. She grew up with the boys.”

By “the boys,” I assumed she meant Jarrod and Eli. I wondered if Ava had dated one or both of them through the years. Again, Sam seemed to read my thoughts. Aunt Trudy had nothing on her. “All the little boys had a crush on her, but she set her sights on Eli and never wavered. They were good friends until high school, then started dating in their junior year.”

Something akin to relief washed over me, as I assumed she and Eli were nothing more than friends turned childhood sweethearts turned friends again. The server returned with our drinks and took our order. When she walked away, I met Sam’s gaze. “Did they break up when they went to college?”

“Yes. Then a few years ago, they both moved back to Saunders Creek and took up right where they left off. They dated awhile, then got engaged.”

I hated to sound nosy, but she had opened up the conversation. “What happened?” Then it occurred to me that maybe she was the reason Eli never showed up with a girl. What if they were still engaged and their relationship was confined to weekend visits? I hadn’t noticed a ring on her finger earlier, but then again, I never looked.

“They were a fairly good match. I didn’t object to Ava. After all, I’ve known the girl her whole life and enjoy her very much. I think it came down to a fundamental difference in how the children would be raised.”

“How so?”

“Well, Eli has deep convictions about God as He is portrayed in the Bible. He believes in absolutes and doesn’t have patience for anything that he feels contradicts the Bible.”

“And she doesn’t believe the same way?”

Sam shook her head. “Ava’s mother is a medium and wiccan. You’ll find quite a bit of that around here.”

“I’ve noticed.”

She smiled. “Ava’s mother has a little shop that sells a lot of potions and dream catchers. Supernatural paraphernalia. It’s mainly tourist trinkets and the like without much, if any, power. Aunt Trudy and her kind don’t care much for it. They tolerate each other at best.”

“Ava’s mother isn’t part of Aunt Trudy’s coven, I take it?”

“Heavens, no. Aunt Trudy isn’t in it for profit, and she believes she has much more power than Ava’s mother does.”

“Sounds like a rivalry.”

“It’s more than that. Aunt Trudy believes she has a calling, every bit as much as Eli believes that about himself. She would no more open a booth and read palms than she would start a psychic hotline. She’s the real deal.”

I listened to Sam, intrigued that she seemed to accept the idea of witchcraft so easily. “What about you, Sam? You sell herbs and things that they use in potions and ceremonies. But you’re a Christian, right?”

“Now you sound like Eli.” She shook her head. “He believes I should close up shop since some of my customers are buying the herbs for what he considers ungodly purposes. But as you’ve seen since working with me, I only order the natural things all my customers want. St.-John’s-wort might be used to honor a goddess to the wiccans, but for others it’s a calming agent and has nothing to do with spells and potions. If I closed my doors, as he seems to want me to, I would be depriving the community of a valuable health-food store.”

I could see logic in both arguments, but as much as I’d come to admire Eli’s single-focused mentality, I sided with Sam.

“So back to Eli and Ava,” she said with a short laugh. “They broke off the engagement three years ago, and Ava took a job at an ad agency in St. Louis. They rarely see each other.”

Our food came, and we changed from talk of Eli and Ava to my family. I told Sam about my grandparents and Lola, skirting the issue of my mother as much as possible. “And your father?” she asked.

“He’s a wanderer,” I said. “Lola and I just accept him as he is and enjoy the rare occasions when he visits.”

She seemed to sense my desire to let it drop, and as she looked away, her eyes widened in recognition. Smiling brightly, she sent a hearty wave toward the door. I followed her gaze, and my stomach did a flip-flop as Fred and Liz, Jarrod’s parents, walked to a table in the middle of the room. It would have been rude not to acknowledge them after Sam’s greeting, so I followed her example and gave a polite wave of my own, along with as much smile as I could muster. They nodded and smiled in return. Not a bright “great to see you” kind of smile but cordial enough. The server came up to their table, and their attention turned away from me. I felt sufficiently dismissed.

Feeling Sam’s focus on me, I forced myself to meet her gaze. She studied my face, her eyes full of compassion. I could tell she was refraining from whatever she wanted to say. As she looked from me to Jarrod’s parents, I realized she expected me to go to them. My stomach tightened at the thought, but I knew one of us had to make the first move. Jarrod would expect it to be me. “Excuse me,” I said, sliding from the booth.

My legs felt heavy as I forced my steps toward the table, imagining everyone’s gaze following me. Fred and Liz both turned before I reached the table, watching me with guarded expressions as I approached.

“Hello,” I said and reached out to shake Fred’s hand.

A grunt left him as his work-roughened palm met mine. “We heard you’d come back to town.”

“Yes sir.” My throat tightened around the words. “A couple of weeks ago.”

He turned my hand loose, and I reached out to Liz. “I hope you’re both well,” I said, drawing on my polite upbringing to force out anything that might sound cordial.

“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.