The Widow of Saunders Creek (21 page)

“It was great,” Joe said. “An Australian praise band was playing at the JQH Arena.”

Corrie’s eyebrows went up, and she stared at her sister. “You liked that?”

Lola shrugged. “It wasn’t bad, actually. It felt good.”

Corrie set a glass of tea in front of me. “Hungry?” she asked.

“I could eat again.”

Lola shoved the platter of lobster tails across the table. “Have some.”

“What do you mean it felt good?” Corrie asked, setting two plates
on the table, one for me, one for her. “Like it feels good to get a new dress or have a facial, or you actually ‘felt’ something?”

Lola frowned. “I don’t know. Why?”

“Just wondering.” Corrie sat and reached for a lobster tail. It felt very bohemian, all of us using our hands and eating cold lobster. I liked it, but it had a sensuality to it that unsettled me as I watched Corrie’s slender fingers break the lobster tail and pull out the meat. She tore off a piece and dipped it into the clarified butter.

I looked away before she slid it into her mouth.

“It felt good to me too,” Joe said. “There’s just something about five thousand people praising God that feels good. You can’t explain it. You just have to experience the sensation.”

“When you say you felt a sensation …” Corrie paused. She was clearly not ready to let it go. She glanced at Lola. “Sorry. I just …” Her gaze slid back to Joe. “Did you feel a physical sensation, or are you speaking in terms of something more ambiguous, like ‘I feel loved,’ or ‘I feel joy’?”

“Good grief,” Lola said. “Leave the guy alone. He wasn’t being literal.”

“Yes I was.” Joe put a piece of lobster into his mouth.

I dared to glance at Corrie. “Why do you want to know?”

Her face turned a pretty pink, as though she’d been caught. “I just wondered if people could feel spiritual things in a physical body.”

“How so?” I was beginning to think Corrie had more than a passive interest in the topic. My mind shot back to the years just after Pop died. I stayed with Granny a lot, and she welcomed his “spirit” back into the house. At first I even believed it was him. The feeling was so
comfortable. I could sit on the porch and smell his pipe. That’s how well the demon knew my Pop. It knew exactly how to act and smell to draw us in. I wasn’t ever sure if the “friendly ghost” from mine and Jarrod’s earlier childhood masked itself as Pop later on, or if more demons came—after all, they were clearly welcome. All I knew was that eventually I wised up to spiritual truth and stopped believing they were friendly or “Pop.”

Clearly, Corrie had questions that involved supernatural phenomena. Was she being visited the way Granny and I had been?

I thought it—or they—left when Granny died. But what if I was wrong?

I got up before Lola woke and took my coffee to the deck.

The conversation the night before had tossed me a major curve ball—one I hadn’t anticipated and definitely couldn’t hit. Joe felt a physical, tangible sensation when what he considered the presence of God entered a room. Mostly, according to Joe, this happened when he prayed or worshiped, the way they had at the concert.

But I knew my sister hadn’t prayed or worshiped at the concert. She had the barest understanding of God in the first place and had problems even believing what we’d been raised on in the Baptist church. Besides, her purpose for going to the concert was strictly to spend time with Joe. There were definitely no religious motives. And yet, she’d felt something too.

I sipped my coffee, looking at the horizon, where the sun was peeking over the back hills. I’d need my sunglasses soon. I missed my front porch swing. The bricks were going down today. In a few days, my front porch would be my sanctuary again. I could hardly wait.

By the time the sun made its brilliant presence known, Lola made hers known as well. “Sheesh. That’s an obnoxious sunrise.” She stumbled onto the deck wearing a light blue, midcalf, terry cloth robe and carrying a twenty-ounce coffee mug.

“I know.” I moved my feet from the chair closer to her and motioned
for her to sit. “You have to bring sunglasses in the morning or it’s unbearable.”

She grinned and turned the chair to face me. “Or you could not look at the sun.”

“That defeats the purpose of rising with the sun.” I gave her a rueful smile. “So, you and Joe, last night. Looks like you hit it off.”

She shrugged. “He’s great. A little religious.”

“Oh-h-h.”

“What?”

“You have that pout that says, ‘I didn’t get kissed.’ ”

“I know, right?” She frowned and sipped her coffee. “Must have been all that lobster. My breath was fishy-garlicky.”

“It probably was awful.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Lola wasn’t used to men not giving her what she wanted. I took a great deal of glee in giving her my opinion. “But garlic-fishy or not, he probably wouldn’t have kissed you. Guys like Joe aren’t going to do anything against their religion.”

“Kissing is against his religion?” Lola asked, incredulity in her voice.

I laughed. “Probably not. What I meant,”—I paused to find the right words—“guys like Joe won’t let things go too far. Come on, Lola. You know what I mean. You and I were raised in the same church.” I was beginning to wish I’d never brought it up in the first place.

She nodded. “When you say ‘guys like Joe’ ”—she swallowed another sip and looked up at me—“you mean guys like Eli.”

For some reason, her words struck me like a slap. I think I might
have even jolted a little. “I suppose so, yes. They’re cut from the same cloth.”

“I bet I could change Joe’s mind.” Her eyes blazed with humor.

I knew she was kidding, but something about it irritated me—alarmed me, really. “Leave him alone. You’d hate yourself if he went against his faith and gave in to you.”

A scowl darkened her face. “You’re right. But doggone it. He’s the best-looking guy ever. Can I help it if I’d like to make out with him? We wouldn’t have to go all the way.”

I couldn’t resist a laugh at her junior-high description of sleeping with a guy. “For you, that might be easier than for him.”

“Don’t bet on it,” she mumbled. “Hey, are you okay today?” She reached out and laid her hand over mine. “I heard you crying last night, all the way upstairs.”

My mind scrambled back to the overnight hours. I’d slept like a rock. I shook my head. “I took melatonin. I didn’t wake up at all last night. You probably heard Kitty. He’s been coming around the last couple of days.”

She glanced around, as if looking for the cat. “I don’t see how you can call him your pet when he doesn’t want to be touched.”

“We have a special relationship that works for us. So leave Kitty and me alone. He loves me from a distance.”

“Whatever.” She shook her head. “I could have sworn it was actual crying, though. It didn’t sound catlike.”

“Well, it wasn’t me, so what else could it have been?”

“Beats me. It’s your house.” She sipped her coffee. “So what was all that about last night? Hammering Joe about what he felt or didn’t feel?”

Now that she had brought it up—even jokingly—I wondered if I should just tell Lola that I thought Jarrod might be here.

“Well?” Her eyebrows went up as she waited for my response. “Come on, Corrie. It’s not like you to pursue a topic like that.”

“I don’t know. I just wondered if God’s a spirit and you could feel the essence of His presence, like people can feel something from other types of spirits.”

“Are you kidding? Like ghosts?”

I swallowed a gulp of coffee and nodded, looking at her over the rim of my cup. Her eyes were wide, as though she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “Well, why not?” I asked.

“Okay, seriously, Corrie.” She set her cup down on the table and leaned forward. “You need to come home. I swear I didn’t get it until this second. You came to this godforsaken hole in the world looking for Jarrod’s ghost, didn’t you?”

Anger rose in me, and I felt my defenses rise along with it, creating a wall between us. “Of course not.”

She slung herself back in the chair and folded her arms. “Look, I’ll be the first to admit I find the idea of ghosts fascinating, and you do have a deliciously ghostworthy house. But to come looking for one? Admit it, Corrie. That’s what you’re doing in this town.”

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll admit I came back here because I wanted to be in his world. His childhood home would have more memories than I hold. More of Jarrod.” Tears burned my eyes as I fought to hold them back.

“Corrie, listen to me.” Her tone softened. “Jarrod is gone. Forever. He’s not coming back, and you’re going to have to accept it and move on with your life.”

“I am moving on with my life.” Tears slipped out unbidden and rolled down my cheeks.

“Are you? Then why do you have a studio set up with all the paints still in the bag and an empty canvas on the easel?” So she had been in the art room after all. Normally I wouldn’t have cared at all. But now wasn’t the right time to yell at her for snooping.

“I got those the day you came, and you’re still here.”

I hated the way I sounded. Defensive and hateful. Those weren’t my normal emotions, and they felt foreign to me, especially when directed at Lola, who had always been my closest friend.

She nodded. “Okay, then let’s say I’m not leaving until I see you painting.” She smiled.

“You can’t just force me to sit down with a brush and come up with something.”

“Yes I can. In art school you had to, didn’t you? You had assignments and couldn’t wait for the muse to hit. You just had to put the brush in the paint and the paint on the canvas. That’s all I’m asking, Corrie.”

Fear clutched my stomach. “What if I can’t do it anymore?”

Compassion softened her face. “You are a brilliant artist with more talent in your pinky than most people have all over. Will you try?”

It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the vote of confidence, but I had never been able to quite believe the hype about my work. I saw more flaws than brilliance. But try to convince Lola I was less than uber-talented. I rolled my eyes. “And you’ll go back and do your own brilliant work if I do?”

She made the motion of crossing her heart. “Scout’s honor.”

I laughed. “Those are truly mixed signals.”

Lifting her coffee mug, she shrugged. “Whatever. As long as you promise to try, I promise to try too.”

“Deal.”

She took a sip and then stared at the cup, her eyes reflective and serious all of a sudden.

“What?” I asked. “What’s that look about?”

“I just could have sworn you were crying last night. There was crying, Corrie.” She frowned. “Do you think the house might be haunted?”

A shiver ran up my spine. “Five seconds ago you wanted to snatch me up and deliver me to Mother’s doorstep for suggesting that memories of Jarrod keep him more alive for me, and now you’re the one thinking my house has a ghost? I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.”

“I didn’t say that. This house is the perfect place for a haunting, don’t you think?” She lifted her hand toward the window where I was sure I’d seen a shadow last night. “I mean, look at it. It’s a hundred years old. There’s no telling what kinds of crazy stuff went on in this house through the years. What if the crying I heard was the spirit of someone who had a great tragedy?”

“The house is one hundred and fifty years old,” I said offhandedly. “Eli and Jarrod’s great-grandmother lived here and served as a healer and medium, so there might have been some crazy stuff.”

“Have you asked around? If there’s enough history in a place, people are bound to have heard rumors. I think we should find the oldest person in the family and start asking questions.”

Aunt Trudy would be that person, and I already knew what she thought.

For the tiniest second, I considered telling my sister about my encounters with the elderly lady. I opened my mouth to try, but something else came out, something deep inside me clearly responding to unnamed fears: “Lola, I think there are things we aren’t supposed to understand.” I stood, no longer able to enjoy the coolness of morning. “And it’s stupid to think a howling cat is a crying ghost. I swear, with your imagination you should be a writer, not a doctor.”

“Maybe I will be someday.
The Spirit of Corrie’s House
.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sounds riveting. I’m going for a walk by the bridge. Want to join me?”

“Give me five minutes.”

At ten minutes before nine I walked into the store and breathed a heavy sigh. Poor Eli. The place was like a sauna again. Samantha looked up from the counter and waved toward me. “I know. Don’t say it. I’m not even going to bother Eli about this. I’m ordering a new unit.”

I wasn’t sure how Eli would feel about his mom doing that without his input, but I’d discovered a couple of things about those two. Eli took on way too much responsibility, and Sam was way more capable than he gave her credit for. Like any good mother, she didn’t want him to feel unimportant, so she allowed him to take care of her. Still, I knew that if she could get the best deal on a great unit, it would be a relief for her son.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Her voice trembled, and I peered closer. Her eyes were actually misty.