Free The Widow of Saunders Creek by Tracey Bateman Page B

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, workedwith 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 Iwanted 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