Gerri Hill - The Cottage

where she'll be."

Jill laughed bitterly. "Yes. I have the cottage. A place I can't bear to go to, yet a place I'll

never be able to part with."

"Nonsense. You'll go there because that's where she is. That's where you'll find your

peace." She pointed to the grave. "That's why I come here. To me, this is where Eddie is,

this is where I put him. That's what I was taught to believe." She stared at the grave, her

wrinkled face hinting at a smile. "Oh, I feel his presence in the house, always will I suppose.

But he's here. And I have my bench where I can come and talk to him. It eases the pain

somewhat." She surprised Jill by putting a thin arm around her shoulders and pulling Jill

closer. "Death... it's so hard to be the one left behind," she said quietly. "But we go on.

That's what we do." She pulled away. "Now, you go on home. You've got some decisions to

make."

Jill nodded, then leaned over and kissed the wrinkled face. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Thank you for... well, just thank you."

Jill squeezed her shoulder one last time, then walked away, surprised by the lessening of

the pain in her heart.

"If you ever need to talk, you know where I'll be," she called to Jill.

Jill turned, watching as Bea's glance slid back to the grave, back to her Eddie.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

She gave herself a week. A week to get her emotions under control, a week to make sure

there weren't any complications with the cottage and a week to feel confident about her

decision.

Despite everything that had happened to her in the last year, her decision to leave Craig

really had very little to do with Carrie. She'd been unhappy in her marriage long before

Carrie came into her life. But still, divorce was something she'd never even considered

before.

So she waited for Craig to get home, determined to tell him, determined to get on with her

life. She couldn't continue this any longer. Between his constant questions and her fits of

tears, the last few weeks had been a challenge for both of them. But it was time to give

them both some relief. So she waited, sitting quietly out on the deck, the familiarity of it a

comfort as she put the swing in motion. He would be home soon, she knew. And Angie, with

the new school year barely a month old, had fallen into her old habit of going to Arlene's

afterward until they called her home.

Then she heard it, the garage door opening, the truck door slamming. She closed her eyes

for a moment, trying to gather her courage. She didn't want to hurt Craig but what she

needed to tell him would hurt him deeply. After everything that had transpired between

them—their fights, their silence—Craig still thought they could resurrect their marriage.

"Hey. Thought you'd be out here."

She nodded, waiting for him to join her.

"I thought, when you said you wanted to talk... well, I thought maybe it would be a good

thing," he said. "But it's not, is it?"

"No, Craig." She took a deep breath. "We can't do this any longer."

"But—"

"No, please. Let me finish." She cleared her throat before continuing. "It's been a tough

year for you, I know. But I've got to do this, Craig. I'm going to file for divorce," she said

quietly. "It's best for everyone, Craig."

He walked away, his steps echoing on the deck as he paced back and forth. Then he asked

the question Jill knew he would ask.

"You've always denied it but there's another man, isn't there? Just tell me."

She stared at him, her eyes filling with tears she didn't try to hide. "No, Craig. There was

never another man."

"Then why? Why would you want to divorce?"

"Because I have nothing to offer you anymore. Nothing. And it's not fair to you to go on

like this, Craig. I can't stay and be your wife." She looked away, then back at him, meeting

his eyes. "I'm sorry, but I'm just not in love with you. And you need someone who is. You

need to find someone who loves sports as much as you do. Then she'll go to all your games,

she'll stand up and cheer for you, she'll love you for that part of you. But I can't be that

person. I'm not that person."

"I don't understand." He paced again. "What does that mean? You want me to move out?"

She shook her head. "No. This is your home. This is Angie's home."

"Angie? You want Angie to stay with me?"

"Yes. Your mother is close by." She smiled sadly. "Angie doesn't want to be with me, Craig.

Besides, I wouldn't be very good for her right now. So we'll work out some arrangement. I

just want what's best for her."

He leaned his head back and stared at the sky, then let out his breath. "I guess I shouldn't

be so surprised. It's been so long since it's been normal." He turned and looked at her.

"Where will you go?"

"Actually, I've got my eye on this... this cute little cottage out at the lake." She wiped at

the tears sneaking down her cheek. "I think it'll be perfect for me."

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Despite her initial apprehension about the cottage, she found she actually felt at peace

there. And she came across many pleasant surprises as she sorted through Carrie's things.

Namely, a painting that Carrie had tucked into the bedroom closet, complete with giftwrapping

and a card. The wrapping paper indicated it was to be for Christmas but Jill

couldn't wait.

And when she tore the paper off, she slid to the floor beside it, her tears flowing freely.

The painting, in watercolors, was of her, sitting by the pier on their bench, the greenness

of the trees and the blueness of the water depicting a spectacular early summer day. And

beside the bench was the huge pot they'd bought and stuffed full of blooming red and

yellow flowers.

"Thank you," she whispered.

The painting exemplified their entire summer. Carefree days filled with love, filled with

colors and flowers, filled with gentle conversation and even gentler touches.

She took a deep breath, then looked at the painting again, this time without tears. This

time with wonder as she remembered the woman who had painted it. The woman who

showed her the meaning of true, genuine love.

It was weeks later—with the air hinting at fall and a light rain falling—she was standing in

the sunroom, staring at the lake and the pier, when she felt a pull, a familiar urging to go

outside. She tilted her head, her eyebrows drawn together in a frown. This feeling, this

unexplained inclination, turned into a yearning as her feet finally moved, carrying her

silently to the door. And just as the first time she'd met Carrie, it was like a hunger that

guided her. She didn't question it. She walked out, ignoring the rain, just following the

silent command of her heart.

The water was still, only the tiny droplets of rain disturbing the smooth surface. And she

stood there, looking out over the lake, searching for what, she didn't know. And then she

saw them off in the distance.

Ducks. A dozen or more.

They swam purposefully toward her, their quiet clamors carrying across the water. She

watched, aware that her heart was beating quickly, her breath hissing between her lips.

Then, out of the pack she came, wings flapping strongly, her gray head a dull contrast to

the brightly colored mallards around her.

Jill dropped to her knees as Grandma Duck ran across the water, away from the flock

before settling down again. Her sobs came quickly and her chest ached as she knelt there,

waiting for the duck to swim closer. So overwhelming was the feeling of Carrie's presence,

she stopped breathing, simply staring out over the water, waiting—believing.