Imagine That (24 page)

“Polly, I'm starting to think your method of coping has some real merit,” Emily said as she stroked the sleeping dog's ears. They'd gotten a record ten feet before the four-legged porker hit the snooze button. “Rip Van Winkle tried it. Alice had a great adventure. Even Dorothy.”

Polly snorted and rolled over. She obviously didn't care if her companion could have used some comfort.

Emily switched to the dog's rotund belly. “I was supposed to bring books to Rachel today. She'd ordered
Pride
and
Prejudice
again. I think she wanted me to see it so I'd think about Nate. She's sneaky—” Fresh despair washed over her. “
Was
sneaky. How do I even say that? How can Rachel be a
was
?”

Polly's big brown eyes opened. Human and beast stared at each other. Then the dog shuffled to her feet, climbed into Emily's lap, and raised up on hind feet.

Doggy kisses were pretty sweet, Emily decided.

A knot welled in her throat, and tears slid down her cheeks. She cried until her eyes felt as tender as her bruised heart.

“Emily…”

She gasped as she realized Aurora was standing a few feet away, leaning heavily on her cane.

“Come inside now,” Aurora said.

Emily wiped her wet cheeks. “Polly hasn't finished her walk yet.”

Aurora quirked a brow. “She'll live.”

Emily set the dog aside and stood up. Suddenly, Aurora lost her footing in the grass. Emily surged forward and grabbed Aurora's arm.

“I'm not an invalid,” Aurora announced.

Emily raised her hands in surrender. “Fine. Next time I'll let you fall and break a hip.”

“I wasn't going to fall, and my bones are just fine.”

“Whatever you say,” Emily mumbled.

Aurora raised her chin. “I do say. Not all people of a more advanced age have brittle bones, you know.”

“More advanced age, my foot,” Emily said. “You're old, Aurora. A mean old lady. You know what you need?”

Aurora opened the door and swept through with all the dignity of a queen. “I'm sure you'll tell me.”

“Cats. All mean old ladies need cats. Lots of them.”

“I thought spinsters had cats.”

Emily slammed the door shut. “Same difference. Your grass needs to grow a couple feet, too. Make it look scary out there so all the kids in the neighborhood shudder and look away when they ride past on their bikes.”

“Why don't I just lure them in with candy and then serve them for an afternoon snack once they're fat and juicy?”

Emily suddenly stopped and whirled around. “You're deliberately baiting me.”

“It worked, didn't it?” Aurora said, dark eyes gleaming. “Got you up and in the house. Or was I supposed to let you sit out there all day slobbering in the grass? Someone might call the police, thinking a vagrant had taken up residence in my yard.”

“A vagrant with access to your dog?”

“A stolen dog,” Aurora shot back.

Emily's temper sparked. “You're unreal. You're picking a fight when I'm mourning the death of a friend? What is your problem? Or are you so wrapped up in your own cocoon you don't know what's going on outside your house?”

“Of course I heard about Rachel Cooper.”

“Then you know I'm not up for one of your tantrums today.”

“I know, child.” Aurora's voice softened. “But I needed to do something to get through to you. Sympathy is all well and good, but sometimes it only serves to let a person wallow.”

Aurora led the way back to her living room. A silver tray with a tea set and some fancy raspberry-filled cookies sat on the table by her favorite chair.

“Come sit down,” Aurora said, pointing to the opposite seat.

“What is it with Southerners and their tea?” Emily asked. “Is it really supposed to solve all of life's problems?”

“It's not the drink but the conversation surrounding it,” Aurora said. “Making tea takes time. Then you have to serve it and drink it. You can't gulp it down and race off. Tea is the cover we use to get past the façade we put up. The ones we use to mask the fact that we're dying inside.”

Emily watched in amazement as her employer began pouring. She was stunned to hear such a deep statement come out of Aurora's mouth. Who'd have ever thought the cantankerous old bitty could wax philosophical about teatime?

Aurora paused, saw Emily had yet to take her seat, and pointed again. “Sit. How do you take your tea?”

“Sugar only.”

Emily plopped down in the chair, too bewildered to argue. A delicate china cup was placed in one hand, a cookie in the other. She took a sip. “So, you're saying offering tea and non-sympathy is your way of helping me?”

Aurora retrieved her own cup and sat down. “I couldn't very well have a proper conversation sitting in the grass. As you said, I'm old, and the ground is a place I like to avoid.”

“You're not that old,” Emily said, her cheeks flaming with shame. “I shouldn't have said that.”

“My dear I'm ancient in ways that have nothing to do with my years on earth.”

Emily bit into the cookie, savoring the tangy sweetness of raspberry and shortbread. “What ways?”

“I'm old here,” Aurora said, putting a hand over her heart. “Shriveled and warped and dying. I would hate for you to wind up like me, which is why I was harsh with you.”

“Why would I ever be like you?” Emily winced as she rewound the question in her mind. “Sorry.”

“Don't ever be sorry for not wanting to be like me,” Aurora whispered. “I wouldn't wish my fate on my worst enemy, let alone you.”

Emily eyed the other woman over her cup. “You said sympathy only allowed a person to wallow. I'm guessing you weren't talking about me.”

Her lips lifted in a ghost of a smile. “Astute of you.”

“I've been told I'm pretty good at flushing out hidden meanings. Do you think you were given too much sympathy because of your daughter?”

“I was, but somewhere along the way I began to drown in it. My unrelenting grief drove my son away, killed any love between my husband and me. If only someone had decided I'd wallowed long enough and taken me to task, maybe my life would have been different. If someone had cared enough to tell me I needed to find a way to go on living.”

“Tough love?”

“I suppose,” Aurora said. “You're hurting right now, but you must never allow your grief to turn into bitterness like mine did. You have a tender heart, though you hide it behind a quick tongue.”

“If I didn't know better, I'd think you actually liked me,” Emily said in amazement. “When did you start worrying about the state of my heart?”

Aurora took a bite of her cookie before answering. Another moment to wipe away a nonexistent crumb with a napkin. Then… “You came back.”

“What?”

“After our argument. When I threw you out. You showed up on my doorstep right on time.”

“You wouldn't see me,” Emily pointed out.

“You still stayed.”

“I'm pretty stubborn on top of the astuteness. Ask my mother. She'd be happy to point out my flaws, which is probably why I was so drawn to Rachel Cooper. She didn't see the screw-up daughter. She thought I was special.”

“She would. Rachel had a good heart. Despite her scallywag of a husband, she always managed a smile. It's a tribute to her that her sons didn't wind up in prison.”

Emily's stomach churned as she thought about Dale Cooper and Rachel's last request. “What if her husband wasn't quite the villain everyone imagines?”

“He's the lowest form of human, as far as I'm concerned.”

“Perhaps there's more to his story, though. Something people don't know.”

Aurora paused. “You're up to something,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger. “What is going on in your silly little head? What do you know?”

Emily opened her mouth to deny having any insider information, but instead, the whole week's worth of secrets poured out in a torrent of tied-up-in-knots guilt and anxiety over Dale Cooper, his furtive last visit, and Rachel's request. For once, Aurora didn't say a word.

“Well, you have been busy,” she said once Emily had finished. “Maybe next time you'll learn to keep your nose out of other people's business.”

“It was the car,” Emily said. “If he'd chosen anything other than a surveillance vehicle, I never would have noticed him.”

“Oh, you'd have found another way to get yourself in trouble. Misfortune follows you around like a shadow.”

The barb slid in like a warm knife through butter. “You're not helping, you know. Aren't you supposed to offer some kind of advice? Give me the benefit of your wisdom?”

“Who says I'm wise?”

Emily couldn't argue with the statement. She sighed and massaged her forehead.

Aurora set her cup down and sat back in her chair. “I still say Rachel's husband is a scallywag, but given his wretched childhood one can hardly expect anything less. Perhaps he does deserve a chance to tell his side of things. Guilt is a terrible thing to live with. I should know. Sadly, there is no one I can go to for absolution. My son won't speak to me, and I've driven away any friends I ever had. More to the point, Nate deserves a chance to know the real story behind his father's disappearance. Anger and bitterness can tear a person apart. Something else I know plenty about.”

Emily covered her face and groaned. “That is so not the answer I wanted to hear.”

“I'm sure. You wanted someone to tell you to take the easy route. You know what you need to do. You're just worried about how it will affect you.”

“Don't you think I should be?”

“Yes. Nate will be furious, but you know what's right, and if you love him, you'll do what's best.”

Emily's heart thudded to her stomach. “I never said I loved Nate.”

“You didn't have to. Why else would you be going through so much angst?”

A cold sweat broke out across Emily's skin.

“If you could see your face. I finally found something that scares you,” Aurora said, with a pitch-perfect
Hansel
and
Gretel
chuckle. “Didn't you know?”

“No, because it's not true. Of course I care about Nate, but come on, I barely know him.”

“Bury your head in the sand if you like, but I'll tell you right now,” Aurora said with a shrug. “You're going to have to choose. Either you take the easy road for your sake, or the difficult path and do what's right for Nate. Because that's what you do when you love someone.”

****

“The funeral is tomorrow at two,” Emily said.

“I saw the notice in the paper,” Dale's voice sounded rough and a bit hoarse. “Did you see her before—”

“Nate said she went peacefully.”

Silence reigned on the other end of the phone. Emily leaned her head against the window and studied the moon. “Rachel asked me to do something for her.”

“What?”

“Find some way to reunite her family.”

“She always did have faith in miracles.”

“Then you should start praying. If you're serious about making good with your sons, be there tomorrow.”

She clicked off and went to bed.

Rachel Cooper must have requested a stellar day for her funeral. Emily had never seen a sky so blue or clouds so puffy and white. If she stared long enough, and imagined hard enough, Rachel's profile could almost be seen in one of them.

The car came to a stop, and Emily left off her contemplation of the sky. Grace cut off the engine and stepped out. Her husband, John, unfolded himself from the passenger side and then opened Emily's door. She took his offered hand, and he helped her out of the car. She stared at the church, wishing the old building would reveal some answers.

A hand settled on her shoulder, and she turned back. One corner of John's mouth lifted in a kind of half smile, advertising the stroke he'd survived.

“How are… you holding… up?” John asked.

Emily forced down her emotions. She barely knew John Graham, and she doubted having a hysterical woman clinging to him in the parking lot of the church had been included in Grace's offer of a ride.

“I'm fine,” she said.

Grace came around the front of the car. “Just take it one minute at a time,” she said, coming to Emily's other side. “Today is our chance to honor Rachel and remember her in life. To be thankful God placed her in our lives, even if the time was brief.”

Emily wasn't sure thankful would play any part of her feelings toward God today, but she was grateful for Grace's presence all the same. Something about the woman's unflappable calm quieted the turmoil in Emily's heart.

Julia was waiting by the entrance of the church, and she met them on the top step. She kissed her stepmother's cheek and hugged John. Emily tensed as her friend turned, fearing even the slightest contact would cause her to fall to pieces. Julia must have sensed the breaking point because she simply rubbed Emily's back.

Once inside, Emily was startled to see the sanctuary was full. Rachel would have been pleased.

Emily began searching for Nate.

“They're in Seth's office,” Julia said, answering Emily's silent question. “They'll be out soon.”

Emily scanned the rows, wondering if Rachel's ex-husband was among the guests. She didn't see Dale, but then she doubted he would march down the aisle and seat himself in plain sight.

“Are you looking for someone?” Julia asked.

Emily whipped her head around. “No… I was just surprised to see so many people here.”

“If there's one thing I've learned, it's that the good citizens of Covington Falls come together in a crisis.”

Among the good citizens were Julia's bridesmaids. Sarah wrapped her arms around Emily.

“You poor thing,” Sarah said. “I wish you'd called me. I would have had you over so you could hold Mary. Nothing lightens the heart better than looking into a baby's eyes.”

Addison smiled as she brushed a lock of Emily's hair back behind her ear. The woman didn't try to offer hollow condolences, but the gesture said louder than words that she understood and was there.

The organ shifted in tone, and everyone moved to their seats. A door opened at the front of the church, and Seth emerged with Nate, Zach, and Anna. Poor Zach looked utterly shattered, like pictures Emily had seen of children from war torn countries. Remote was the only way to describe Nate. Impassive, distant, a rock of strength.

Until their eyes met. For a second, Nate thawed, and Emily saw a flash of inner turmoil. Then the brothers took their seats, breaking the connection.

Meredith rose from the front row and stepped to the microphone. Emily wept through “It Is Well” and “Amazing Grace.” Then Seth took his place behind the pulpit. She sat up a little, curious to hear what he would say to explain the awful reality of death.

Seth paused a moment, letting his gaze fall on the front row before turning to the pews. “At times like this, it's always a struggle to find the right words. I can tell you Rachel Cooper is in a better place, but that seems too trite. I can tell you time will heal the wound, but you might not believe me right now. I can tell you God had a plan for Rachel's life, but that's probably cold comfort. The truth is that death is terrible. It is not natural. Our minds tell us that it's wrong, and it is, because death is the price we all pay for sin in the world.”

Hmm... So far Emily wasn't finding much comfort in the pastor's words.

Seth smiled at Nate and Zach. “Nothing I say can truly ease your pain. I've heard the phrases before. First when my own mother left us too soon, and again when I lost my wife. What I
can
offer you is hope. A hope that is only found in Jesus Christ. I can remind you that we believe in a God who knows your suffering because He experienced His own. He sacrificed His only son so that our death sentence was not carried out in full. I can promise you that when the emptiness crowds in, our Lord will be there, loving you through every moment. I know because I've lived in the darkness, too, and I've never felt His presence more. And though I don't want to sound trite or cold, I will remind you that today – right this moment – Rachel Cooper is looking into the face of God and worshiping Him in a way we could never imagine. She is whole and her heart is full.”

Emily took a shaky breath. She hadn't realized a sermon could be part poetry. Hadn't ever heard anyone talk about God in terms that didn't include a list of rules. She knew about the God that sent floods and plagues of locusts. Not One who sacrificed a son out of love.

Seth continued speaking directly to Nate and Zach. “And she has left a legacy in two strong, compassionate sons who love the Lord. She was so proud of you both. The two of you were her greatest joy and inspiration. I never had a conversation with Rachel that didn't end with her bragging about something one of you had done. Even in her last days, her thoughts were only of you. And she's there now in heaven, along with my Beth and all those we hold dear who've gone before us. The beloved mothers and fathers, the cherished wives and husbands, the precious children, the brothers and sisters, and the dear friends. She's there with them all, waiting for the day when we join her in Glory. And until that day, we'll remember her for her gentleness, her unselfish giving, and her undying love for those she held dear.”

Emily's heart swelled. A longing to know the kind of peace Seth spoke of. The assurance that everything in life was only leading to something more. Something better.

As the service came to a close, Seth stepped down from the stage. Nate and Zach slipped out of the pew to stand next to him. Several men also came down front. Emily recognized Ethan Thomas from the high school and two other men who must be his brothers. The two painters who'd been with Nate at the house the day Polly had tackled him. An older, balding man was also among the group, but she didn't know him.

The men began to wheel the casket up the aisle with Zach and Nate behind them. Nate paused at the second row and held out an arm to Anna. Her face was wreathed with sadness as she latched onto him. She'd aged ten years since Rachel's death, it seemed. Her shoulders slumped more, and deep lines bracketed her mouth.

As the entourage passed Emily's pew, she tried to summon a smile of encouragement for Nate. Then they moved on. Emily didn't see him again until she emerged from the sanctuary. People surrounded Nate and Zach, so she stayed back, unsure of her place. Girlfriend seemed presumptuous since they'd only had one date, but friend didn't begin to cover their relationship.

“Well, as I live and breathe,” Julia said in astonishment. “Miracles do happen.”

Now it was Emily's turn to gape in surprise. Aurora Johnston had emerged from the church. She made her way over to them, her steps determined despite leaning heavily on her cane. Hortense followed along behind like a baby duckling, clucking and fussing as she brought up the rear.

“Did you know she was coming?” Julia asked.

“No,” Emily said.

Aurora reached them and greeted everyone as if her appearance wasn't in the least surprising.

“Hello, Grace,” she said. “You're looking well.”

Grace didn't even hint that she found the woman's presence out of the ordinary. “So are you, Aurora.”

“I understand congratulations are in order,” Aurora said, nodding at Julia.

Julia blinked. “Thank you.”

“Your husband is a gifted preacher. I hope you'll tell him how much I appreciated his message.”

“Of course,” Julia said.

Aurora offered a brief hello to Sarah before turning to Emily.

“You left the house,” Emily said in astonishment.

“Did you think I would leave you to face today alone?”

“You came for me?”

“I should be offended that you're doing a good imitation of a fish out of water,” Aurora said. “I am capable of being kind.”

“Since when?”

“Emily!” Julia gasped, though there was a thread of laughter in her voice.

Emily rolled her eyes. “Don't worry,” she said in an aside to Julia. “It's a thing Aurora and I do.”

“You insult each other?” Julia asked, eyes dancing with amusement.

“Call it a strange form of bonding,” Emily said. “Thank you for coming, Aurora. It means a lot.”

“You're welcome.” Aurora took another step closer. “Is the scallywag making an appearance anytime soon? I assume you told him.”

Emily's gaze flew to the eager ears around them. She shook her head. “Dale knows. Haven't seen him yet.”

“Don't let the grass grow under your feet there.”

“I'm not,” Emily said, anxiety making her voice sharp.

Sharp enough to make Julia raise a brow. Then her eyes narrowed to curious,
what-are-you-up-to
slits.

Emily tried to ignore the stare. “Later, Aurora,” she said.

Aurora opened her mouth but then closed it again. “Fine. Hortense and I need to be getting home. Her knees bother her, you know.”

“I do.” Emily smiled at Aurora's faithful retainer. “Thank you, Hortense.”

Hortense's chin wobbled as she fought back tears. “A real tragedy, ma'am. You tell her sweet boys I'll be saying an extra prayer for them tonight.”

“I will.”

Aurora and Hortense disappeared through the crowd. Then Emily felt a tap on her shoulder.

“What was that about?” Julia asked.

“Nothing.”

She shook her finger. “Spill.”

“I can't yet—” Emily started when her gaze snagged on the black car parked a ways up the street. She couldn't see inside from so far away, but she knew. He'd come.

“Emily…”

She whipped around again.

“Are you sick?” Julia asked, regarding her with concern. “You're white as a sheet.”

Emily glanced at the street. Still there. “Not sick. More like terrified.”

Julia followed her gaze. “Terrified of what? Emily, what's going on?”

She hugged Julia. “I need to see Nate now.”

“Emily…”