The Widow of Saunders Creek (9 page)

I gathered a deep breath and walked to the door. I reached out, turned the knob, and pulled, but it didn’t budge. It must have slammed too hard and caused the old door to jam in the warped frame.

At least I surely hoped that was all it was. I straightened up and took a deep breath, trying to force myself to stop allowing my imagination to run away with me.

I pulled again, harder. But it still refused to move. The wind behind me was growing stronger, and outside a loud clap of thunder rattled the glass in the old panes.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. I had to get out of this room. I worked my hand, spreading out my fingers, then balling them into a fist. Twice, three times, as though warming up for a sports event. I grabbed the doorknob, determined that this was the time the darned thing would open. I was just about to yank for all I was worth when I heard Corrie calling.

“Eli!”

“In the master bedroom,” I called back. “The door’s stuck.”

“What are you doing in my bedroom?”

My face warmed. “I thought I heard you in here, but it was the wind.”

“The door’s stuck?” Her voice was just on the other side of the door, and I felt ashamed at the relief flowing over me. How could I be such a coward?

“Yeah,” I said. “I might need you to get the hammer and take the outside frame off if we can’t get it to open. The wood probably swelled from the moisture in the air.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty humid. From the looks of the sky, we’re in for a pretty bad storm.”

A sense of urgency welled up in my chest as I stared at the white door. Painting a wooden door probably didn’t help the sticking factor either.

“Hang on,” Corrie said. “Maybe I can open it from this side without taking the trim off. Besides, I only have one hand available now.”

My lips twitched at her words. A warped frame was a warped frame. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’ll see.”

The doorknob twisted. I didn’t even bother to step back. I was that sure she couldn’t open the door. “Okay,” she said. “I’m going to shove my shoulder into it, so be sure to stand back.”

“Okay,” I replied, but stayed planted, grinning like an idiot. The next second I was seeing stars as the door flew open and connected with my face.

“Oh my goodness! Eli!” Corrie gasped. “I told you to stand back. It wasn’t even stuck.”

Blood flowed between my fingers. “Good Lord,” Corrie said. “I’ll be back in a second. Let me get a hand towel to catch that gusher.”

My eyes watered. My nose was broken. It had to be. Corrie was
back in a flash with a wet towel. “Here, put this on your face and come downstairs to the kitchen so you don’t get blood all over the rugs in here. They were your grandmother’s, and I don’t want them ruined.”

“Thanks for your concern,” I said, only it sounded like “Thaksfoyocudcerd.”

“It’s probably not broken. I think it just popped a vessel.”

“What do you have in your hand?” I asked, feeling like a fool for the absurd way my speech sounded.

We reached the bottom of the stairs, and she turned, her face glowing. “Look what I found.”

My head was beginning to pound, and I could feel my face starting to swell. I squinted as I glanced at the creature she held in her arms. “A kitten?”

“Yep. I found him sitting all alone meowing at me as if he was asking me to take care of him.”

“Where?”

“By the barn.”

I nodded. “The barn cats have been part of the family forever. They keep the rats and field mice away from the house.”

She opened the freezer and pulled out the ice bin, then grabbed a plastic storage bag from a drawer and filled it. She took a thin dishtowel from the linen drawer and wrapped it around the bag of ice. “Voilà—instant ice pack! See how good I am—all that with one hand.”

“Thank you.”

“Here,” she said, her voice softened. She set the kitten on the counter and took my arm. “Sit down at the kitchen table.” Finally, a little sympathy. “Tilt your head back, and let me take a look. I had a first-aid course, so I’m well qualified to nurse you back to health.”

I tilted my head back as she instructed, but I followed her with my eyes as she looked over my wound. She wiped away blood. “It might be broken. I can’t tell. Best put the ice on it.” So much for her stellar nursing qualifications.

Outside, a clap of thunder vibrated the air and shook the house. The kitten gave a loud meow. He was too little to jump off the counter. A little moan of sympathy whispered through Corrie’s throat, and she hurried across the room, then gathered the little creature into her arms. She pressed it under her chin and slid her finger over his orange head.

“You know they’re not really domesticated.” Good grief, I sounded like I had a speech impediment.

“Well, this one is staying in the house with me.” She pressed her cheek against the kitten, and it struggled to get down. “You wait and see,” she said. “Within a week, all he’ll want to do is sit on my lap and cuddle.”

I stared at her. Completely bemused—perhaps enchanted—by this woman who had most likely broken my nose, I could well believe she could make any creature love her.

The rain beat down so hard the rest of the day that Eli refused to let me drive him to Springfield to the emergency room. I even Googled “how to set a broken nose” and offered to jerk the cartilage back in place, but I couldn’t blame him for threatening me with bodily harm if I came anywhere near his face.

I opened every window in the house. The curtains danced as the storm blew and blew, perfuming the house with the aroma of fresh rain.

We stayed in the living room. The wood floor felt damp beneath my bare feet, but I couldn’t bring myself to close the window. The kitten lay nestled against me most of the afternoon. I hadn’t named him yet. So far, he hadn’t displayed any personality traits that would give me a hint as to what I should call him, so I called him Kitty. “You know that’s not very manly,” Eli said, raising himself up from the couch cushions to stare at me in disgust. At least I thought it was disgust, but I couldn’t be sure, considering the swelling and bruising.

I gave a stubborn lift of my chin. “He’s a baby. I don’t think it matters at this stage.” I eyed Eli. “Lay your head back.”

As we listened to the rain, I insisted Eli lay on the couch with his head tilted back. It was the least I could do to make sure the damage was minimal until we could get him to the hospital. “Do you think it’ll stop anytime soon?” I don’t know why I asked Eli. He wasn’t a weatherman or psychic, but I was sick of the constant rush of rain and was honestly starting to worry about Eli. I hated the idea of his nose being permanently bent. That straight, beautiful Roman nose must have been a family trait, because Jarrod had it too.

“This is what we call a Missouri gullywasher.” Eli grinned around the ice pack. He’d been taking ibuprofen for the pain and swelling and keeping his nose iced. I didn’t have the heart to tell him he was getting black eyes.

“You hungry yet?” I asked, glancing at the clock and noting it was already after seven. “I’m starving.”

He nodded. “I hate to admit it, but yeah, I’m starving too.” He took the ice pack from his nose. “How’s it looking?”

“Like you’ve had one too many hits in the ring, Rocky.”

He laughed, then moaned. “Ow, don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry.” I headed to the kitchen to see what I could whip up for us, wishing I hadn’t been such a glutton at lunch. I probably ate enough for three people. I opened the fridge and found eggs. It would take too long to thaw out meat. “I hate to be cliché,” I called, “but what are your thoughts on an extremely fancy and well-cooked omelet? I have fresh mushrooms, onions, red bell pepper, and a block of white cheddar.”

“Sounds good,” he called back. “You might want to turn on the radio and check the weather. I’m not really liking the way this is keeping on, and the sky has an odd tint to it. Judging from the new lightning flashing from the west, it looks like another wave is coming.”

He was right, and I realized I was kind of glad Eli was forced to stay with me. Storms didn’t frighten me, but I had a healthy respect for their power. And the house had electric wiring that hadn’t been updated in fifty or so years. According to Eli, the lights could power off at the drop of a hat.

I switched on the radio I had set on top of the refrigerator. I had no idea where the local stations were, but soft music flowed into the room as I grabbed the eggs, vegetables, and cheese. I opened the cabinet and pulled out a nice pan.

I washed the vegetables and cut them small—the way Jarrod had always preferred. I liked them in chunks, but I never remembered that until I already had them minced. I’d been doing things his way for so long it became a habit.

Cooking usually made me happy. Cooking for Jarrod was always nice. He’d come into the kitchen, embrace me from behind, and nuzzle me. Then he’d let his hands roam until I was forced to push him away or turn off the stove and let him lead me to bed.

Jarrod never did anything halfheartedly. He ate with gusto, worked
with gusto, loved with gusto. He amazed me, and there would never be another Jarrod. A sigh left me as I cracked eggs into a bowl and began to beat them to a fluffy, bubbly consistency.

I closed my eyes, fighting tears, as I dreamed of hands that would never again explore my curves and pull me close. Would never pick me up and dance me around the room. “Jarrod,” I whispered.

What had Aunt Trudy said? Jarrod was as close as a whisper. I opened my eyes, knowing I had to pull myself from my grief and finish cooking Eli’s meal. Then I remembered her words, as clearly as if the old woman stood in front of me.
“Jarrod isn’t lost to you. Death’s not the end.”
Longing for him hit me so hard in the gut I lost my breath.

“Are you there, Jarrod?”

The radio went to static, and I switched it off. I jerked my head up as a clap of thunder shook the house and wind flew through the window, sending half my vegetables flying to the floor. “Five-second rule,” I could almost hear Jarrod say as I scooped the veggies back into their bowl.

“No way, buddy,” I said out loud, laughing. I carried the bowl to the sink and gave the veggies a rinse. I was still smiling as I walked back to the stove. Somehow, I understood how people could say they sensed the presence of their departed loved one. Jarrod was so close to me right now that I felt I could see him if I tried hard enough.

I cut two pats of butter and slid them into the pan. I lifted it by the handle and moved it around as the golden squares sizzled and shrank. My heart beat so hard I could count the beats in my ear. My skin tingled, but that could be from the wind. I knew this with my head. But I
wanted Jarrod so badly I couldn’t help myself. “Jarrod?” I whispered. “Are you there?”

I stood perfectly still, and suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Jarrod?”

I whipped around and came face to face with Eli’s bruised and swollen face. I couldn’t help myself. I screamed so loud I’m sure they could hear me all the way in town.

“Whoa! Corrie.” He stepped back. “It’s just me. I’m sorry.”

“What the heck, Eli? You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.” I was so disappointed that the hand on my shoulder had been his and not Jarrod’s I practically growled. I’d been so sure he was there with me. “You should be lying down. I was going to bring dinner to you so you didn’t have to get up.”

“Sorry. I heard something fall.”

“The wind knocked over the vegetables.” I set the pan back on the burner and poured the egg mixture into the butter. The sizzle made me feel a little better for some reason.

“I thought you were going to turn on the radio so we could catch the weather.”

I pushed the egg around and added the vegetables. “I did. But it went all staticky.”

“So you just turned it off?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Static wasn’t going to tell us anything about the weather.” I was embarrassed to admit that I had been preoccupied and forgot all about the storm for a while.

“Maybe I can find another station.” He shook his head and switched it on just as the announcer’s voice broke in. “A tornado warning has just
been issued for Stone County in Missouri. Again, a storm with rotation has been detected by Doppler radar, moving east and north along Highway 65 in Missouri. It has just crossed over into the Branson area.”

“Is that us?” I asked, swallowing hard.

“Not far from us. Can I use your laptop to check out the weather track? There should be a radar showing somewhere.”

“Help yourself.” I motioned toward the table, where I left it open most of the time.

“Thanks.” He nodded toward the stove. “Smells good.”

“Hopefully it’ll taste as good as it smells.”

“Hmm.” Eli clicked the keys on the computer, so I waited for him to elaborate.

I slid our omelet from the pan, slicing off the more generous portion of the five-egg masterpiece onto his plate. I grabbed two forks, carried the plates waitress style, and set his down by the computer before sitting across from him.

“What?” I asked when he didn’t say more. “And eat before it gets cold.”

“Looks like we’re in the path of the tornado.”

“The guy said Branson. That’s forty miles.”

He nodded, but kept his focus on the computer.

Tornadoes, or at least threats of them, were common in the Ozarks. I’d discovered that in the two years Jarrod and I lived at Fort Leonard Wood, which was about one hundred miles or so to the north and east. I had stopped ignoring the threat when the base was hit a couple of years earlier. I was lucky enough to be in a house on the other side of the
base from where it touched down, but plenty of the families I knew were affected.

He exhaled a heavy breath. “You could be right,” he said. “But I’d rather not take a chance. Can I use your cell phone? Mine’s in the truck.”

“Of course,” I said. I even got up and grabbed it off the refrigerator, where it had been sitting since my mother called this morning.

He took it and shook his head. “You have six calls and ten texts.”

I didn’t doubt that. Well-meaning friends and family still “checking on me.”