“It was so real,” she said. She turned her face into Landry’s chest and cried. But it wasn’t very long before she slept.
When she woke the sun was high in the sky; her bedroom was bright. Landry was not beside her. She grabbed her robe and went into the other room and he was sitting on the couch, having his coffee. He looked over the rim of his mug and smiled at her.
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
She sat on the couch beside him. “You know how I slept,” she said. “You must think I’m a lunatic by now.”
“Go look on the porch,” he said, throwing a glance over his shoulder.
She got a wide-eyed and suspicious look and dashed to the front door. She opened the door and looked outside to see a very small decorated tree on the front porch, right in the corner where she’d dreamed it was the night before.
“Did you do that?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. And I didn’t hear a car. And what’s more astonishing, Otis didn’t hear a car. Is it like the one in your dream?”
She stepped out onto the snowy deck, freezing her poor feet. She got a little closer. “I’m not sure. Very similar. But last night I was more focused on my mother. I’m not crazy, I know she’s dead. But Landry, I think she paid me a visit last night. Really.”
“I’ve heard of stranger things,” he said, walking toward her. “All I know for sure is there was no tree there last night, there’s a tree there now, and you had quite a meltdown.”
“I’m sorry about that, but it was overwhelming. It was so good to see her. She wasn’t like the last time I saw her. Her cheeks were plump and rosy and her hair was thick and dark. She looked healthy. Restored. And she had things on her mind. She said, ‘I think we should talk.’ That’s what she always said when she thought I needed advice. And when she was a little unhappy with me or when she thought I’d better get a grip.”
“What did she say?”
She thought for a moment, trying to remember everything. It was pretty clear, not like usually trying to remember a dream, which wasn’t always easy. But yes, she remembered everything her mother had said. “I need a little time to sort it out. Let me get a cup of coffee.”
“By all means. Then when you’re ready, how about some breakfast?”
She filled her cup. “You and Otis didn’t hear a car, huh.”
He shook his head. “Maybe angels don’t drive.”
13
KAYLEE TOOK HER laptop to Jack’s almost out of habit. She’d finished her book, had sent it to her publisher, and the deadline was gone. But she wanted to be there, and Jack had good Wi-Fi so she could at least check and answer her mail. She fully expected her editor to call or write and ask her to do more work on the book. She was convinced it was finished, but not good enough.
“Sorry, Kaylee, the Wi-Fi is out,” Jack said.
“Oh no! How are you getting by?”
“Me?” he asked, then laughed. “I’m just barely off the clipboard. I gotta say, I’m not that crazy about computers. I’m getting along fine as long as I have Preacher to help me out if I get myself in trouble, but I am no geek. To me, it’s a tool, like a hammer. I am not romantically involved with my computer.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” she said, laughing. “What’s going on around here?”
“We’re in full holiday mode,” he said. “We’re doing more food baskets if you’re interested in helping out. There are a few needs a little beyond food—children in need of a visit from Santa, some more than others. The volunteer fire department is taking on some of that. Mel and Paige and a few other women are making a run on the big box stores over in Eureka.”
“Oh, if I’d known, I would have volunteered to help! I finished my book and I’m ready to do more volunteer work.”
“That’s sweet, Kaylee,” he said. “Congratulations on the book. Did you celebrate?”
“I called a couple of friends and drank a toast with Landry, but then I forgot about it and it never occurred to me I could be useful in town. I should have called Mel. She’s probably not calling me to help because she thinks I’m bogged down with work.”
“She’s due back in an hour. Why do you have your computer with you if you’re done?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Because I never go anywhere without it? Because I feel so vulnerable if I’m not writing a book? Because I can always read something on the computer if I have no one to talk to?”