The Widow of Saunders Creek (26 page)

“I’ll never leave you.”

As much as I tried to shove away Ava’s comment, it haunted me the rest of the day.
“You’ll never be Jarrod.”

Though I was alone, my defenses went up at the suggestion that I was even trying to be my cousin. I knew Jarrod to be selfish, volatile, full of himself. Of course, in the end, he gave up his life for others, and for that I admired him. It must have taken a lot of strength for him to be willing to make such a sacrifice. He had become the hero he’d pretended to be. And perhaps that was the most bitter pill of all for me to swallow.

I supposed if I was truly honest with myself, I’d have to admit that I was still envious that Corrie had loved him so deeply she gave up her interests to be solely his wife.

My thoughts drifted to Corrie—her smile, laugh, humor. Her beauty was incidental. I’d have been attracted to her even if she were not so pretty. I wanted to pull out my phone and call her and had to force
myself not to. I didn’t want to hover or make her feel like I was stalking her. But I did miss her presence as I went about my day.

“You’ll never be Jarrod.”
The words went round and round in my mind.

Why couldn’t I get that stupid conversation with Ava out of my head? She knew where to poke to get the best response, and she’d gone straight for the jugular. The thing about Ava was that she usually read people pretty well. She read me pretty well. Maybe it was part of her mother’s legacy to her. The passing down of gifting. Or maybe she had just known me so well that my childhood resentment toward Jarrod was still obvious to her.

When Terry Machaelson, my friend and a chaplain in the army, showed up unexpectedly to help with the camp we had both founded, I welcomed the relief from the accusing thoughts. I showed him where I had stored the lumber for the new rock wall and where I wanted to put it up. Then I set aside what I had planned to make the best use of Terry’s skills as a carpenter.

As we worked together, Terry shared about some of the new kids he’d signed up for the camp, and I started to look forward to the first session, which was coming up in just a couple of weeks.

“Looks like you could use more help than just this rock wall,” Terry said as we began to measure two-by-fours and cut them to the right sizes. “Maybe I could get a team together to come out on a Saturday to help with the rest. I know you’ve been trying to deal with storm damage at your house.”

I nodded. “A local woman came and helped get the cabins cleaned out yesterday, but she’s not feeling well today.”

“Every little bit helps,” he said. He grinned. “That was nice of her to give up her time for you. Is she someone special?”

I felt my face warm. “She’s my cousin’s widow. I showed her around the other day, and she wanted to help.”

“Wish there were more people like that,” he said.

I nodded and felt my heart lift as I talked about Corrie. Just the sound of her name on my lips brightened my day. “She mentioned maybe being a counselor.” I marked a line on a board and set it aside to be cut. “I’m not sure she was serious.”

Terry stopped what he was doing and straightened, stretching his back. He frowned. “Do you think her being here might be hard on the kids, though? With her husband dying over there, it might make them worry even more about their own deployed parents.”

Honestly, that hadn’t occurred to me, but I nodded. “She’s still pretty broken up, so I’m sure it would come out, even if inadvertently.”

Though he was easily fifteen years my senior, Terry was the only friend I had confided in about what had actually happened the day Jarrod became the town golden boy for saving my life and leg. “Can I ask your advice?” I said.

“You know you can.” He leaned against my truck, so I followed suit.

I shared with him how my feelings for Corrie had hit hard and grown fast. “And the thing is, yesterday I thought she was feeling something for me too. I mean, something besides the friendship we’ve established over the past few weeks.”

“What’s changed since then to make you think otherwise?”

I shrugged. “I’m not positive anything has. But she didn’t go to
work at my mom’s store today, and she didn’t call. That’s not like her. I can’t help but think I did something that upset her or embarrassed her.”

He offered a sympathetic smile. “Such as misread her feelings? Maybe she picked up on your expectations.”

“And now I’ve scared her off and might never have a chance.”

He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the ground for a second before turning his head to look at me. “Since you can’t possibly know what she’s thinking about yesterday, let’s talk about what we know to be true. Your feelings for her. What is it about this woman that draws you to her?”

That was easy. Corrie was funny, witty, smart, sensitive, wise. Her blue eyes revealed every emotion, and I responded accordingly. If she smiled, I did too. If she cried, I wanted to hold her. I hadn’t seen her angry—not with me—and I could imagine if she ever turned her anger in my direction, I’d want to die.

I didn’t want to be a sap, though, so I took a minute to think about the right words. Finally, I gave a lift of my shoulders. “At the risk of sounding like a lovesick fool, pretty much everything about her draws me. Her looks, of course. She’s got a perfect face and pretty eyes. She’s pretty much the whole package, if you know what I mean.”

“I can guess.” He humored me with a wry smile. “Anything else?”

I nodded, and the words came pouring out. “I want to protect her and make her feel safe. I want to know every detail of her life, even what she’s thinking, which I know doesn’t make me sound very manly.”

A chuckle came from deep in his chest. “It makes you sound like a lovesick fool.” He grinned.

I didn’t stop the return grin I felt stretching my lips.

“How are your feelings about her different than what you’ve felt before?” he asked.

The question struck me, and the first thing that came to my mind was Ava’s face. We were only friends until she decided I would be her boyfriend. Wearing a tight cheerleading uniform and an encouraging smile, she didn’t have to do any more than crook her finger and I came running. “I’ve had one serious relationship and almost got married. I think what’s different is that then I felt like prey drawn into a web. With Corrie, I don’t feel manipulated. She’s not trying to seduce me. Does that make sense?”

“She sounds like a great catch.”

“She is. Or would be if she were available.”

His eyes narrowed. “She’s dating someone else?”

“No.” I felt a little foolish even bringing it up, but I’d already opened the door. “It’s still Jarrod.”

“So you’re competing with a dead man.”

In so many ways, I’d always competed with Jarrod, so I didn’t deny the truth of his words. “You’d think the cousinly rivalry would have ended when he died, but I find myself feeling more resentment toward him now than I have in years.”

Though I fought against revealing my discussion with Ava, I found myself opening up and telling Terry what she said to me that morning.

“I don’t know why I let her get to me like that.”

“Maybe because there’s an element of truth to what she had to say?”

“That I want to be Jarrod?”

“Do you?”

I reflected on the question, though my first instinct was to dismiss
the accusation. But I’d learned a long time ago to do an inward check of my motives. I wished I could say I didn’t, but I wasn’t sure. “Everything came easy to him. Accolades, hero worship, sports, girls. When he took credit for saving me instead of telling the truth about being responsible for the accident in the first place, something inside me started brewing against him. I could handle his accomplishments in the things he did for real. I accepted that to everyone except my grandpa, parents, and Ava, Jarrod was people’s first choice. But that day something changed inside me.”

“Then why didn’t you tell anyone the truth?”

“I don’t know. I suppose because I loved him like a brother. We grew up together, and it was natural for me to let him have the last say. He just always got what he wanted. I didn’t want to drive a wedge between us. But things were never the same for us after that.”

“But in essence, your silence still caused a wedge.”

“I guess so. Pretty much.”

“And now you’ve fallen for someone who loves him, even when he’s not here to love her back. So it’s pretty much a double whammy.”

His words twisted like a steel knife inside me.

“Sometimes I get the feeling she’s afraid that if she accepts her feelings for me, she’s betraying his memory.”

“That’s pretty common.”

I nodded. It had only been seven months since his death. I got that.

He turned toward me, leaning his hip against the truck. “So I guess the real question then is, are you willing to wait until she has healed from the loss?”

The scripture “love is patient” flashed into my mind. “I think I am.”

“Settle that in your heart if you believe she’s the one for you.” He peered more closely, as though studying me. “The next important question has to do with you personally. It has less to do with her.”

I frowned. “What’s that?”

“Can you relinquish your bitterness toward Jarrod? Because until you do, not only will you always compare yourself to him and find yourself coming up short, but you’ll also never be able to truly believe the woman you love—should you be so lucky as to win her heart—hasn’t chosen you by default.”

He was right. As we continued to work side by side, I reflected on the things he’d said. Somehow, the feelings of insecurity that had been festering all these years had come to a head in recent weeks. But Ava was wrong. I realized that now. I didn’t want to be Jarrod. I wanted someone to think I was better than Jarrod.

Put simply, he hadn’t seen that painting was important to Corrie. He’d allowed her to give it up to be his wife. My face burned as I realized my motives in going overboard for her birthday were for me. Not Corrie. So she would see that even though she gave that up for him, I was giving it back to her. I was the better man. Choose me.

I had only presumed that she’d sacrificed by not indulging in her art over the past seven years. I’d just assumed that because everyone seemed to cater to Jarrod, she must have too.

The weight of my own arrogance pressed down on me until I felt ready to break.

Even though I hadn’t slept well the previous night, I awoke before the sun rose on the home Jarrod had given me. I shoved off the covers and sat up. I had to admit I was getting pretty tired of sleeping on the couch, but it was better than the thought of sleeping in the bed without Jarrod—flesh-and-blood Jarrod.

I stretched as I stood up. Drawn to my art room, I climbed the steps, treading lightly so as not to disturb Lola. I opened the door and went to the stool. I didn’t come up here at all yesterday, but as I stared at my painting of Jarrod’s violent death, I was once again overcome with the emotions of that night. Just sitting in the room with that painting, I was more convinced than ever that Aunt Trudy would be able to help me hear what he was trying to say. I shoved aside the tightness in my stomach. Shoved aside everything Sam had said to me. I wanted to believe it was Jarrod. I
needed
to believe.

My gaze fell on the painting I’d bought in town on my birthday, still covered in brown paper. I went to the corner, sat down, and peeled away the paper. I looked at my house, and my eyes shifted immediately to the attic window.

Something didn’t feel quite right, and I couldn’t put my finger on whether it was the artist’s technique or the darkness of the entity that I was so sure was Jarrod. I’m not sure how long I sat there, staring at the
painting, but as the light began to come in from the east window, I rose, gathered up the painting, and started downstairs.

I leaned the canvas against a wall in the living room and went to make coffee. I glanced at the clock and was surprised to see that I had been upstairs for two hours. It had seemed like no more than twenty minutes.

After starting a pot of coffee, I ran back upstairs and walked into my bedroom. Though I hadn’t slept in my bed yet, I kept my clothes in there. I pulled out jeans and a short-sleeved top and tossed them on the bed, then gathered the rest of the things I’d need to get ready for what lay ahead in a couple of hours. In the midst of it all, Eli’s face came to mind, and I was struck by the beauty of my new floor. He had taken the time to stain the wood and add a layer of sheen.

I wanted to call him and explain about yesterday, but I held back. What if Sam had told him about Jarrod showing up? He would most certainly believe it wasn’t my husband, just as Sam did. I didn’t want to give him the chance to scold me.

Lola had risen and padded down to the kitchen in her socks by the time I finished getting ready. She stood by the counter, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Thanks for making this,” she said. “Want some?”

I nodded and dropped to a chair.

“Are the guys going to be working on the porch today?”

I cringed inside. Why hadn’t I thought to ask them not to come? “I guess I can’t ask them to take off work and miss out on income for this. Hopefully it won’t get too weird.” And they’d never suspect anything.