The Widow of Saunders Creek (25 page)

“But it doesn’t suit him. Plus, people will think he’s a girl cat.”

“You sound like Eli.” My stomach jolted at the sound of his name on my lips. I fought the urge to duck under my covers and cry, although I couldn’t understand why. Eli and I were friends. How could there be more when Jarrod was still part of my life? “What kind of name did you have in mind?”

She shrugged and pursed her lips. “How about Louis after Brad Pitt’s character in
Interview with the Vampire
?”

“Why would you think of that?” I looked down at the cat, now content in my arms for the first time since I claimed him from the barn.

“He’s the mysterious, brooding hero. Just like Kitty here.”

I tilted my head and studied the animal. “I don’t know, Lola. He doesn’t look like a Louis to me.”

“You could call him Louie. That’s kind of cool.”

Lola was clearly taking this renaming thing a little too seriously. I shook my head. “But then I’d always think of the mean dispatcher in
Taxi
. The Danny DeVito character.”

She scowled. “You’re a slave to your classic sitcoms. Louie’s a perfect name for that cat, and you know it.”

Kitty hopped down, leaving a cold spot where his warm body had been. “See,” I said. “Why name something that isn’t going to stick around anyway?”

The expression on Lola’s face gentled. “You mean why love something that isn’t going to stick around. Like Jarrod?”

“I’m not going to talk about the painting,” I said. “So don’t start.”

Releasing a sigh, Lola stood and walked over to me. She sat on the floor in front of the couch and grabbed my hand. I had to admit a human touch felt good. “I love you, Corrie,” she said, pressing our clasped hands against her cheek.

My eyes filled with tears, but I remained silent as Lola continued. “It tears me up to see you hurting so much. Maybe this is the perfect time for me to be without a job. I’ll stay until you don’t need me anymore.”

Part of me wanted to tell her to stay forever. That just knowing someone who would always love me unconditionally was here meant so much. But something else, the part of me that held my secrets, wanted her to go so I could be alone with Jarrod’s presence. Alone without scrutiny, without someone thinking I was losing my mind. Maybe I was.

I don’t know if I would have told her to go or thanked her for staying, because a knock at the back door interrupted our moment.

Lola pressed a kiss to the back of my hand and patted it back to the couch. “I’ll get it,” she said, and hauled herself up. Kitty hightailed it out of the house the instant he realized the back door was open. The rejection might have hit me harder, but I heard Sam’s voice greeting Lola as the two of them walked down the hall from the back door. She walked into the living room carrying a dish in her hand.

Shame washed over me like a cold rain, and though I knew better than to be rude, I wanted to hide. “Hi, Sam,” I said, wishing I could fake a cold but knowing I’d never be able to pull it off.

“What do you have there, Sam?” Lola asked.

Sam handed the dish to her. “Chicken noodle soup,” she said. “Nature’s healer.”

“Wow! Look, Corrie, we eat tonight.” She grinned at Sam. “Thank you. With Corrie out of commission, I was afraid I’d have to cook. Then we’d both be sick. Please sit down,” she said. “I’ll put this in the kitchen.”

Guilt hit me hard. Sam believed I was physically ill. For a millisecond, I again considered faking a cough, but I couldn’t go through with it. Besides, Sam was pretty savvy. I’m sure she would have seen straight through that. I decided I’d better come clean; otherwise I wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come in today, Sam,” I said, sitting up. I grabbed my pillow and pressed it against my stomach.

“Honey, that’s okay. I’m not a slave driver. I appreciate any time you do come in.”

I met her gaze. I know guilt was written all over my face. “I’m not really sick.”

Compassion, rather than the surprise I’d expected, swept across her face. I knew Sam well enough to know she wouldn’t be angry, but the sympathy took me aback. She walked to the couch. “May I?” she asked, nodding to the space next to me.

“Of course.” I pulled my sheet and blanket away from the cushion. “Thanks for not being mad.”

“You’re welcome. You can come and go as you please.”

I knew she couldn’t possibly run a business that way. “You’re such a nice woman. Eli’s lucky to have a mom like you.”

Lola stepped back into the room. “That’s the truth. When we were kids and got sick, our mom barely remembered to check on us in bed.”

“Lola …” Had Mother taught her nothing? I gave her our mother’s famous we-don’t-air-our-dirty-laundry look.

She dropped into the rocking chair with a shrug. “Well, maybe she didn’t totally forget about us, but homemade chicken soup to soothe the pain? You know that never happened.”

Rueful laughter erupted from Sam. “Now’s my turn to be honest. I didn’t make it either.”

She would have been Wonder Woman if she had, considering she worked at the shop today. Often the ladies from her church group brought her a meal to take home. “I hope you didn’t bring us your dinner.”

She shook her head and waved a hand. “Not at all. Liz stopped by for some stevia, and I was ringing her up when Eli called to let me know you weren’t feeling well.”

The words fell upon my stomach like a punch, and I suddenly really did feel nauseated. Perhaps Jarrod’s mom didn’t hate me after all. Confusion swept over me. “She went home and made soup for me?” My emotions had been so raw over the past eighteen hours I teared up again, just as I had a hundred times today.

“She did. And she asked me to drop it off.”

“But why didn’t she just drop it off instead of driving all the way back to town?” They lived just down the road.

“I couldn’t tell you.”

Suddenly I remembered the birthday flowers. My eyes went wide. I gasped, taking in too much air, and then I really did cough.

Lola sat up in the chair, ready to do the Heimlich or something. “Corrie, what’s wrong?”

I recovered from the cough and slapped my forehead. “I never called and thanked them for the daisies.”

Lola’s jaw dropped. “The birthday daisies?”

Feeling about as small as ever, I nodded.

“Yikes,” Lola said.

“It’s okay, Corrie.” Sam patted my forearm. “Liz and Fred probably didn’t think a thing about it. They’re not ones to get offended.”

Not a bit mollified, I groaned. “Jarrod must really be mad at me.” Too late, I realized what I’d said. I jerked my gaze to Sam’s.

“You mean he would be mad at you if he were here?”

I grabbed the pillow on my lap and pulled it tighter against me. “Yes. Of course that’s what I mean.”

Sam’s gaze demanded mine. Her face was no longer soft and filled with compassion. Now she looked determined. “Listen to me, honey. If you are feeling something … otherworldly in this house, I wish you would say something.”

I dropped my gaze to my fingers, still clutching the pillow tight. “I think Jarrod’s here,” I whispered.

Adjusting her position, she shook her head. “No, Jarrod’s dead. And he’s with Jesus.”

The door upstairs slammed and shook the house. We all jumped. Lola jolted to her feet. “What the heck?”

“It’s Jarrod,” I murmured.

“What are you talking about?” Lola said, planting her hands on her hips.

Sam ignored Lola’s outburst. “Corrie, I don’t doubt you’ve been experiencing some encounters with something spiritual, but—”

“Are you kidding me?”

I glanced up and scowled. “Settle down, Lola. You don’t know everything. Remember that talk we had on the deck yesterday morning?”

“About ghosts and this old house being haunted? Corrie, I was mostly joking about that.”

Sam took my hand and held it between both of hers. “Look at me, honey.”

Reluctantly, I did so.

“There are spirits or demons who are familiar with families. They’ve been around so long and have been welcomed by so many, including Jarrod’s great-grandmother and grandmother, that they don’t go unless told to do so.”

As if on cue, the chair began to rock of its own accord. Lola screeched and jumped away from it.

“You see?” Sam said. “I don’t know what you’ve encountered”—the rocking grew more emphatic—“but it wasn’t Jarrod.”

My skin crawled as the hair on the back of my neck rose. “How can you know for sure?”

“Because I believe the Bible. People don’t come back to live in their own homes or to haunt their living loved ones.” She studied my face. “Do you believe in Jesus?”

I nodded. “I was raised to.” Maybe I wasn’t like her or Eli, but something had always told me Jesus was real. People were the problem.

Finally, as the rocking reached a frenzy, Sam jerked her thumb toward the chair. “We have authority in the name of Jesus to stop that and command it to leave.”

The chair stopped rocking.

Lola exhaled as though she had been holding her breath.

Just as the chair stopped rocking, the photo on the table next to it slammed facedown so hard the glass broke. Immediately, the chair began to rock at its former frenzy.

I did want this to stop. But after all the times I’d sensed Jarrod’s presence, I couldn’t convince myself this wasn’t him trying to let me know he was here.

“Corrie, for Pete’s sake,” Lola said. “Let her do it. This is creepy.”

“I don’t want Jarrod to leave until he’s ready to pass on,” I said. “What if this is the only way he can let me know he’s here? He’s not trying to scare anyone.”

The thumping lessened and settled down.

I smiled. “See?”

Sam gave a slight sigh, and I felt bad that she was disappointed. “Do you believe Jarrod loved you?”

I nodded. He still loved me, but I didn’t want to antagonize her by mentioning that out loud.

“Would he want you to grieve for him forever by staying with you, knowing you couldn’t heal with his presence so close?”

It felt like a trick question. If I said yes, I’d paint Jarrod as a narcissist; if I said no, then how could the presence be him at all?

Sam stood, apparently sensing my dilemma. “Call me if you need me. Remember, if Jarrod loved you, he wouldn’t do anything to cause you fear or any kind of uneasy feeling. Fear and depression both come from one source, and that’s the devil. Anything that robs you of peace isn’t right. Like today. Seven months after his death, you’re spending a day in bed hurting and depressed. The Jarrod I know wouldn’t want that. His death was a selfless act. Would he be so selfish afterward?”

She bent and hugged me. I could smell the jasmine from the store clinging to her. Suddenly I wanted to grab on and ask her not to leave. But I refrained. She straightened. “I have to go. But I meant what I said. You can call me. And if you find yourself afraid or sensing that
something isn’t good, I want you to remember something, even if you remember nothing else.”

“What?” I asked.

“If you can find the strength to so much as whisper the name of Jesus against the enemy, he will leave.”

In all my years in church, I’d never heard that. But I didn’t argue. I knew she meant well.

“I’ll remember,” I said.

Jarrod was no enemy. He was a hero and my love, and the reason he had been so forceful just now was because he was frustrated. When Jarrod got frustrated, he slammed things. I recognized his tactic.

Lola walked Sam to the back door and returned a minute later. With tentative movements, she reached for the picture that had fallen and righted it on the table. “That was intense,” she said.

“Very.”

“Do you think she was right? Maybe you should have let her do what she wanted with that thing.”

I frowned. “It’s Jarrod. I’m sure of it.”

Aunt Trudy’s face came to mind. “Where’s my cell phone?”

Lola pointed at the table by the couch. “Who you gonna call?” She was still shaken, I could see, but she rallied and grinned. I rolled my eyes at the
Ghostbusters
reference. I had to hand it to her, she recovered pretty quickly.

I grabbed my phone and found Aunt Trudy’s number in my list of contacts. I dialed her. She answered almost immediately. “It’s Corrie,” I said.

“Hello. I hear you’re not feeling well. What’s ailing you? I can brew you a tea for just about anything.”

“I was faking it,” I admitted. “I’m calling you about something else.”

“Oh?”

“I know you can communicate with spirits.”

“If the spirit is so inclined, yes.”

“Well, I think Jarrod is.”

She paused. “Would you like me to come do a reading?”

I nodded, then realized she couldn’t see me. “Yes.”

“I can be there tomorrow.”

“My front porch is gone, so you’ll have to come to the back. Is that okay?”

She chuckled. “I’m old, but not that feeble, dear.”

We set a time, and I thanked her before saying good-bye.

Lola stared, an incredulous expression on her face. “Were you actually talking about a séance?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what they call it, but Aunt Trudy’s the real deal. If Jarrod has something to say, she’ll be able to get it out of him.”

“After all that slamming and rocking?”

I nodded.

“You’re nuts.”

“You don’t have to be here if it bothers you,” I said, feeling defensive.

She sank onto the sofa next to me. “Well, I’m not leaving you with a bunch of crazies and a ghost. If you’re doing it, I’ll be here.”

Jarrod didn’t come to me again that night. I stayed awake, thinking of what had occurred earlier. Sam’s words,
“Do you believe in Jesus?”
ravaged my already reeling mind. I lay there remembering my childhood, when I truly did believe in Him. In my mind’s eye, I saw little-girl-me, alone at night and falling asleep peacefully, aware that if Jesus
died for me, He must love me. It wasn’t until later that I forgot all about Him.

When I finally fell into a fitful sleep around two, I dreamed I stood in the midst of a crowd looking up at a man on a cross. Blood poured from His head, and His body was so broken and bruised He barely resembled a human being. He raised His tortured head and looked through the people until His gaze settled on me. Beautiful brown eyes stared at me, and I couldn’t breathe. Somehow, without words He spoke.