Gerri Hill: The Cottage

tell someone news like this." She took a deep breath. "I'll have to tell them tonight."

Them meant her family and the reality of their situation—of their relationship—hit home.

This was what they had. One hour each day. Even now, during this time of sorrow and angst,

that's all they would have. One hour. Her tears fell anew.

"I know, darling. I know," Carrie murmured. "As much as I want to spend my last hours with

you, we both know I can't. I'll be with my kids instead. But know my thoughts will be of you.

My last thoughts will be of you."

"No, no, no," Jill whispered.

"Please don't be sad. Look at me, Jill." Jill raised her face, ignoring the tears that flowed

freely down her cheeks. "Our souls, they're connected. We'll be together again. Just like

before. Just like now, in this life. There'll be others."

"I so want to believe you."

Carrie wiped at Jill's tears then brought their mouths together.

"Then believe."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

"You want to talk about it?"

Jill turned, startled. She shook her head, putting the swing in motion again, but he walked

closer anyway.

"I ordered a pizza for dinner," he said.

Jill cleared her throat. "I didn't feel like cooking." She knew her voice was still hoarse

from crying but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything right now.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

She sighed. "It's nothing." God, it was everything.

"You've been out here all evening." He walked out of the shadows, the moon casting the

only light. "You've been crying."

She closed her eyes. "Please, Craig. I just want to be alone."

"Is it something I've done? Something I haven't done?"

"Craig, it has nothing to do with you, with us." He stood there with his hands in the pockets

of his shorts, still watching her. "Really. I just want to be alone."

"Okay. Well, I'll let you know when the pizza is here."

"Fine."

She leaned back in the swing, her eyes closed, wishing— hoping—for a different outcome to

the day. She was beyond numb, beyond drained, beyond... empty.

They'd taken the afternoon, after she had called in to Harriet. There were questions but

none that Jill could answer. She'd simply told Harriet to shut down her computer and lock

her office. And then she'd hung up and the tears came again. So they walked to the pier

and sat. Just sat. They didn't talk much. They sat, they touched, they cried.

And at five, Carrie had gathered her close, had told her goodbye. Her eyes had been filled

with pain, pain she'd tried to hide from Jill.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

Carrie nodded. "Sure. Same as always."

Jill had driven away, her eyes glancing again and again into the rearview mirror, seeing

Carrie standing on the driveway, watching her. The feeling that she would never see Carrie

again was like an ominous premonition, one she tried to dispel as she drove away.

But now, sitting here in the dark—alone—that feeling came to her again. Much like all those

months ago when she'd first met Carrie, when she felt their meeting was preordained,

their affair inevitable. Much like that, she knew deep in her soul that she would never see

Carrie again.

And again, the tears came.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

She'd thought... maybe... Carrie's van would be there. But she wasn't really surprised to

find the driveway empty. Because she knew.

She was surprised, however, to see the roses on their table in the sunroom. Roses and a

bottle of wine. Her breath caught and she covered her mouth, trying so hard not to cry at

the sight of the lone wineglass.

"Oh, Carrie."

She stood at the door for the longest time, gathering herself, her eyes moving over the

table, seeing the papers, seeing the note. She finally moved, walking closer, instinctively

bending to smell the flowers.

"Why did you do this?" she whispered.

But the note drew her and she sat down, her eyes glancing at the words, reading them

quickly before her vision became blurry with tears.

I won't make this long. You don't need that and I'm not sure I could manage it. There are

just some things you need to know. First, the cottage. It's as much yours as mine. And it

didn't become a home to me until you came into my life. So I've transferred the title to

your name. All you need to do is sign the paperwork I've left for you. My attorney's card is

there. I've given him all of your information. He'll be in contact with you. Also, there's a

bank account that I opened in your name. It's not a huge sum, Jill, but it was mine and I

wanted you to have it, not James. It was the money from Joshua and from his land.

I know how hard this is for you. I came into your life and turned your world upside down,

and now I'm leaving you. But it doesn't hurt so much, Jill, knowing we'll be together in

another life, another time. As brief as it was, I couldn't have laved you more even if we'd

had twenty years together.

Please don't cry for me. I'll be with you. You just have to look for me. I've asked for my

ashes to be spread at the park, near the pier, where you and I walked and talked, where we

fed the ducks... where we met.

There was another sentence or two, but Jill couldn't go on. She cried out then with one

swing of her arm, she knocked the roses and wine to the floor, glass shattering on the tile

from her fit of grief. There amongst the mess stood the lone wineglass, undisturbed by

her fury.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Present Day

Jill shifted on the bench, her gaze sliding from the old woman back to the countless

headstones that dotted the landscape. "And just like that... she was gone." Jill dabbed at

her eyes, her tissue in shreds and she dug in her purse for another one. "I never saw her

again. And three weeks later, I read the news... in the paper," she said, tears again falling.

"So quick. I'm in shock still, I think. There wasn't time to say good-bye. There wasn't time

to say all the things I wanted to say, needed to say. She was just gone." Jill paused for

breath, just now noticing the lengthening shadows as the sun slipped from the sky. She'd

been talking for hours. "I'm so sorry, I've just been rambling on."

The old woman took her hand and squeezed, her own eyes misting with tears. "Not

rambling, dear. You've been telling me of a great love. Thank you for sharing that with me."

Jill blew her nose then cleared her throat. "Yes. We fell in love. People do that, you know,"

she said, almost apologetically. "And when you're falling in love, you believe in things so

strongly." She paused, tears again welling in her eyes. "And I believe. I truly do. Is that

crazy? Is it crazy to believe—to hope— that there's another lifetime that we'll be

together? Do you think about that with your Eddie?"

She shook her head. "No. The Bible says it's not so. But I believe I'll see Eddie again. In

heaven. Not in another lifetime." She patted her hand. "But I've learned through the years

that everyone has different beliefs." She leaned closer. "That doesn't make it wrong."

Jill was silent for a moment, absently rubbing at her eyes, knowing she must look frightful.

She finally turned. "No one knows. No one. Just you." She touched her heart. "A love so

strong inside of me and no one knows."

"And you crashed the service today just to see them, to put faces to names?"

"Yes. Is that awful of me? I thought maybe I might feel... well, might feel her here."

"From what you've told me, it's not here you'll find her. You have the cottage now. That's