Must Love Flowers(2)

“I’ll get right on that.” Her sister was full of good ideas, none of which Joan intended to do anytime soon.

“I’m serious. You need to break out of that shell, and the best way, little sister, is to do something for someone else. I promise you’d feel better about life in general if you found a way to give to others. I talked to Charlene when I ordered your gift card; she is taking in a boarder and is excited.”

Joan rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “You’re not serious.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Still, it’s something to think about. By taking in a boarder, you’d be helping someone, and that someone just might help you. Jared has been gone four years. It’s time you lived again.”

Joan didn’t need to be reminded how long it’d been since she’d lost her husband. You don’t spend more than twenty-five years with a man, living together, working together, sharing everything with each other, and then simply get over the loss of him because it’s time.

“In some ways it feels like yesterday.” Even now there were days when she wanted to tell Jared a joke she found on the Internet or something she’d read. She caught herself recently wanting to share an idea she had about painting the kitchen, only to realize he was gone. More than gone. He was dead and buried.

“I know how hard this time has been for you.” Emmie’s voice softened. “I’ve mentioned it before and you’ve always blown me off, but Joan, sweetie, you need to reconsider talking to a counselor.”

Nearly every conversation with her sister landed on the same topic. Each time, Joan had dismissed it out of hand, unwilling to consider discussing the pain in her heart with a stranger. It was hard to talk about Jared to anyone without tears instantly flooding her eyes. She’d be mortified to break down in front of a stranger. It went without saying that she’d become an emotional mess because she wouldn’t be able to stop herself.

“If not a counselor,” Emmie continued, apparently unwilling to drop the subject, “then a grief therapy group. I’ve heard they can be helpful.”

“No thanks.”

“Joan, think about it. What can it hurt? You’d meet others like yourself who have lost someone they loved as much as you loved Jared. You’d get the support you need and find a way to lean in to the future.”

Joan automatically shook her head. “It isn’t that easy.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll cry, and you know how much I would hate that.” She could see herself sitting in a circle, bawling her head off, to the point that she wouldn’t be able to speak. Then she’d need to blow her nose, and when she did, she’d sound like a honking goose. Nope, not happening.

“You’re being silly. So what if you get emotional—don’t you think everyone there would understand? My guess is each person in the group has shed buckets of tears themselves.”

“I’ll think about it,” Joan offered, hoping that would appease her sister.

“Will you?”

Joan briefly closed her eyes. Emmie wasn’t letting up. Her sister refused to leave this subject alone, no matter how uncomfortable it was for Joan. “Why is this so important to you?” she demanded.

“Why?” Emmie repeated. “Because you’re my sister, and I’m concerned about you, which is why I think taking in a boarder would help you get back to living again. You’ve become a recluse.”

“That’s not true. I get out…Okay, not a lot, but I’m not an agoraphobic.”

“That’s something, at least,” Emmie said, and then changed the subject, apparently not wanting to belabor the point. “It was good to catch up with Charlene when I called to order the gift certificate. She bought the Cutting Edge during the pandemic and is doing well.”

Charlene had been styling Joan’s hair for years and had become her friend, too. “I heard that,” Joan said, proud of their friend’s step of faith.

“Tell me, when was the last time that you were in to see Charlene for a cut and style?”

It was a kindness not to mention that Joan needed more than a haircut. In the last four years, her hair had become salt-and-pepper, the gray dominating. Perhaps she should consider coloring it again, as she once had.

“It’s been a while,” Joan reluctantly admitted.

“A while?”

“Okay, two years.”

“As I expected!” Emmie had never been one to hold back on the I told you so’s. “Promise me you’ll make an appointment.”

“Promise.” A haircut would do her good. Her dark hair had grown long and unruly and was badly in need of a cut. Jared had liked her with shorter hair, and she’d grown accustomed to the easy-care style. It took her only a few minutes to fiddle with it to look presentable before leaving for the office each morning. Now her hair grazed the top of her shoulders. Unaccustomed to the length, she fussed with it, tying it back, as it often fell against her face. This length aged her, and not in a flattering way. The only person she saw, most days, was her own reflection in the mirror, so what did it matter?

“After the appointment, I want you to text me a photo so I can see the results,” Emmie said.

“I will.” Joan intended to follow through with the promise. All she needed was the incentive to make the appointment with Charlene.