The Widow of Saunders Creek (24 page)

I turned on the light and stepped inside with no idea what I might brush onto the canvas, but Lola was right. Sometimes art came, not because of inspiration, but through determination. Right now, it was more about desperation—my need to give expression to some of the conflict in my heart.

I sat on the floor and began taking the paints from the bag. I lifted a brush and removed the plastic protector from the bristles. What had once been like an extension of my own hand now felt unfamiliar. I couldn’t remember how to hold it. I set the instrument down and picked up a container of yellow paint. Next, I dabbed red, blue, black, and white paint on the palette, already wishing I had just gone to sleep instead of attempting to be creative.

I held on to a breath as I stood with the palette and brush, then walked to the stool in front of the easel. Slowly releasing the breath, I sat, staring at the white, fear gripping me. What if I couldn’t do this anymore? Jarrod’s face came to mind, and I dabbed the brush in red and reached toward the canvas. Suddenly I was crying, great gut-wrenching sobs, tears blinding me as they poured from my eyes and dropped onto the palette to mix with the paint. “Jarrod!” I called. The bags rattled as though someone walked across them. He was there, encouraging me to do what I’d given up all these years.

Three hours later, when Lola came home, I was still in the studio. I didn’t hear her come inside or climb the steps. I only stopped painting when she tapped on the door. “Come in,” I said, suddenly aware that I hadn’t stopped crying the entire time I’d been painting. My face was a mess, but I didn’t care. For the first time in seven years, I had shared my art with Jarrod.

Lola burst into the room. “You’re painting!” she said, her voice filled with joy. “Oh my gosh, Corrie. What …?”

She looked from my face to the canvas. Her eyes filled with tears as she stared at what I had created. “What have you done?”

“It’s Jarrod.”

“Corrie, no. This isn’t Jarrod.”

I looked back at the painting, red with the blood he had spilled, black from the ashes left behind after the fire burned out. In my abstract way, I painted what I saw. To anyone else’s eye, it didn’t look anything like a human being. But the body they couldn’t ship home hadn’t either. Jarrod had been torn apart by that bomb, and the canvas showed the way my tortured mind imagined him.

“Let’s get out of here,” Lola said, her voice quivery as she reached for the palette and brush.

I relinquished them and stood, allowing Lola to lead me from that room. As she closed the door, the bags rattled again. I wondered what Jarrod thought of the work he had inspired.

I couldn’t help the crazy grin that remained plastered on my face as I went about my morning, removing brush and preparing to mow the campgrounds. Spending yesterday with Corrie had been great, from eating cantaloupe on the floor to racing in the creek and finally eating dinner prepared by yours truly. I couldn’t wait for her to arrive today. I knew she most likely couldn’t come every day, but before driving away last night, she had assured me that she would be here to work today.

Around ten, my phone buzzed in my shirt pocket.

Caller ID said it was my mom’s store. “Good morning, Mom.”

“You sound awfully chipper,” she said.

I laughed. I was not prepared to share the reason for my good mood. “It’s a pretty day, and I’m working on the campground. What’s up?”

“Have you heard from Corrie today?”

Something in her tone stole the smile from my face. “Isn’t she usually at work at this time?”

“Usually. But she hasn’t shown up yet and hasn’t called.”

“That’s not like Corrie. Did you try calling?”

“No. I wanted to talk to you first.” She exhaled a sigh into the phone. “Didn’t she help you yesterday afternoon?”

“Yes, and she stayed for dinner.” I slung a branch into the back of the pickup and leaned against the bed, swiping at my forehead with my sleeve.

“How was she when she left? Did she seem upset at all?”

“Not that I could tell. We actually had a really great time.” All the joy I had felt was gone now, replaced with worry. “I’ll hang up and try to call her. Maybe she just overslept.” Though that seemed unlikely with all the work being done at her place.

“Good idea. Let me know if I should be relieved or worried.”

We hung up and I immediately dialed Corrie. Everything in me wanted to jump in my pickup and drive over. Had I done something to make her uncomfortable yesterday? Did something I fed her last night give her food poisoning? Or had she come down with a virus or something?

Her phone rang three times before she answered. “Corrie’s phone.”

I frowned. It wasn’t Corrie. “Lola? It’s Eli. Is Corrie okay?”

“Yes, Eli,” she said, but her voice seemed strained, and I wasn’t buying it. “I should have called. She’s a little under the weather today. Can you let your mom know?”

How sick was she that she hadn’t been able to make a call? Something was off, but if she wasn’t going to be forthcoming, I didn’t feel I had the right to pry. “I’ll let Mom know. Please tell Corrie I hope she gets better soon.”

“I will, and thanks for calling. Hey, Eli?”

“Yeah?”

She hesitated, and I wanted to ask if she was sure Corrie was okay.

“Don’t worry. I’m taking good care of her.” I had the feeling that wasn’t exactly what she wanted to say.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” I asked.

“I’m sure. Thanks again for calling.”

She said good-bye and hung up. I called Mom to let her know, then went back to work, decidedly less optimistic than when I started off this morning.

Unease grabbed hold and refused to let go.
Lord, help Corrie
was my constant prayer as I moved through my day. By noon, I decided to head into town for lunch. Again, I was tempted to stop by the home place, but Lola hadn’t made it sound like Corrie was up for visitors.

I could always stop by to check the progress of the workers, but the guys would be having lunch. Tim would have gone home to his mom’s to eat, and if I knew Joe, he’d be down at the creek with a fishing pole, a sandwich, and his Bible, spending his lunch hour with God.

Releasing a heavy breath, I rolled on into town and parked in front
of the café. I wasn’t exactly in the mood for company, but I realized I was starving, and they made the best burgers in town. When I stepped inside, I wished I’d gone somewhere else. Ava sat with Jarrod’s sister, Mae.

I tried to get to a table of my own before they noticed me, but Ava looked up almost immediately and waved me over. “Just in time to have lunch with a couple of hot girls. This must be your lucky day.”

I felt trapped, so I slipped into the booth next to her. “What kind of trouble are the two of you up to today?”

Mae smiled. “I’m just trying to get away from kids for an hour so I can hear myself think.”

Amazing how even in a town as small as Saunders Creek, a person could go months without seeing someone else, even if she was your cousin. “You deserve a few minutes to yourself.”

“Thanks, Eli.” She sipped her tea, and Ava took the opportunity to speak. “How are your camp preparations coming along?”

I shrugged. “Moving brush right now. I’ll start fixing a couple of the roofs tomorrow. Shingles blew off in the tornado a few weeks ago. So what are you doing back in town so soon?”

“Momma needed me.” She glanced away quickly, arousing my suspicions. Something was definitely up with her. I wished I could walk away and not care, but we had been friends too long, not to mention we’d been this close to marrying. I figured she would eventually come to me with whatever was bothering her, and I prepared myself for the drama.

“Eli, how is Corrie doing?” Mae asked. “I know you’ve seen a lot of her since she got into town, which is more than I can say for my parents.”

I heard the bitter undertone of her words, but the server approached before I could pursue the matter. I gave her my order, and as she walked away, I turned my attention back to Mae. “Your parents haven’t been to the house at all?”

She scowled and shook her head. “They don’t think Corrie wants them there. And that’s fine if she doesn’t, but you’d think she would have at least called or dropped by.”

As if on cue, Ava spoke up. “Mae said they sent her flowers on her birthday last week and she didn’t even call and thank them.”

I had noticed the daisies. I knew they meant something to Corrie because she had been taking special care of them. Even as the petals began to wilt, she seemed unwilling to toss them out. But something bothered me in the way Ava jumped into the conversation. “I see you two have been gossiping about her. It just so happened her sister showed up on her birthday, so she’s been a little preoccupied.”

Mae glared at me. “You know, Eli, it’s not so easy to watch people you love hurting so much. Corrie is their last link to Jarrod, and they’d like to see her. She was part of our family for seven years.” Her volume rose with every few words, and I was aware of a few curious stares coming from the tables around us, but Mae didn’t seem to notice. “So, yeah, I’ve been talking to my friend about it. Call it gossip if you want. I don’t really care.”

“Not that Jarrod and Corrie ever came around much when he was alive.” Ava punctuated her words with a short laugh that grated on me.

Perhaps it was my uncertainty about how Corrie was really feeling yesterday, but Ava’s criticism annoyed me thoroughly. I turned on her, letting my anger rule me as I hadn’t done in a long time. “Mind
your own business. You don’t know the half of what Corrie has gone through.”

Ava’s brow rose. “Well, I guess it’s easy to see why you spend so much time with Corrie.”

Mae frowned and shook her head at Ava, and I didn’t have to wonder what else they’d been discussing. Clearly, they’d made up their minds that I was after Jarrod’s widow.

“That’s also none of your business.” I stood. “I’m getting my order to go.” I glanced down at Ava. “If you want to talk about why you’re really home again so soon, I’m working at the camp. Feel free to drop by.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“It’s up to you.”

I walked to the counter and asked the server to box up my meal. I slid onto a bar stool to wait and to cool down. Ava knew me too well. She was all too aware of how to poke at my raw places. Barely two minutes passed before Ava brushed against my elbow. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

My eyebrow lifted as I met her eye to eye. “Why would I? Corrie and I are just friends.”

She tilted her head and pursed her lips. “Sure you are.”

“Well, like I said …”

She waved away the rest of my comment. “Yeah, yeah, I should mind my own business.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Actually, you did say it. Twice, thank you very much.” Her voice dipped with hurt, and shame washed over me. Before I could apologize, she went on, “And here’s the thing. Even if we’re not a couple,
we’ve been friends a long time—a lot longer than you’ve known Corrie Saunders.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that.” I forced a grin, hoping to lighten the mood and avoid the lecture.

But Ava saw through the ruse and wouldn’t be silenced until she had said her piece. “I still care about you, and I don’t want you to put your heart out there for a woman who is still madly in love with
and
still grieving the loss of her husband.”

My jaw clenched. “Duly noted.”

The server slid a takeout container in front of me. “Gotta go,” I said. “And I meant what I said. Come over if you want to talk.”

“Eli,” she said, her tone full of the venom that I’d come to know all too often toward the end of our engagement. “Stop setting yourself up for hurt. You’ll never be Jarrod.”

The day passed me by as I lay on the couch, not speaking, not eating. I spent the time thinking about Jarrod, sleeping, and dreaming about him. A cloud had settled over me, and I felt the weight of his death as though it had just happened.

The door opened, bringing a burst of light as the sun made its final appearance before it set. I flung my arm across my eyes. “Geez, Lola, close the door before I go blind.”

She ignored my outburst and breezed in, snuggling Kitty in her arms. “Look who I found meowing outside the door. I think he misses someone.”

“I forgot to put food out for him, that’s all. The cat never comes near me unless I sneak up on him.” I rolled over, facing the back of the couch, and tried to ignore them both. I felt the warm, furry weight on my legs and, for the first time ever, heard purring from the wretched cat that I had been trying to domesticate for weeks.

He walked up my body and curled up beside me.

“See?” Lola said, triumph in her tone. “Told you he misses you.”

I rubbed his orange coat, amazed he didn’t immediately hop off the couch. He had always hated being touched. I wondered if the workers had been giving Kitty attention. “Hey, Kitty,” I crooned. “Did you miss me?”

Lola shut the door and plopped down in the rocking chair next to the door. “Don’t you think it’s time to give him a real name?”

After scooping him into my arms, I rolled back over to face my sister now that the door was closed. “He has a real name.”