Eventually Nick would discover what she’d done. For now, she’d keep the information to herself. Nick rarely stopped by the house, and if he did happen to drop in when Maggie was present, she’d introduce the two and let the chips fall as they might. As she’d told Maggie earlier, Joan made her own decisions.
* * *
—
After Maggie’s ramshackle car had disappeared around the corner, Joan closed the front door and returned to the kitchen. She had taken a small roast out of the freezer for dinner. It’d been a long time since she’d cooked for someone other than family. She had a recipe Jared had especially liked: Mississippi pot roast. Seeing that it was years since she’d last cooked it, she opened the kitchen drawer where she stored papers she wanted to keep. Everything was neatly filed. It didn’t take her long to find what she wanted.
As she pulled out the typed sheet, a small piece of paper was stuck to the backside. When she went to remove it, she realized it was a name and a phone number.
Not just any name or any phone number, though.
It was the grief counselor Gennie had recommended shortly after Jared had been laid to rest.
If this wasn’t a sign from God, Joan didn’t know what was.
Wow. Talk about getting hit over the head. She set the paper on the kitchen counter and stared at it, her mind abuzz.
Tomorrow. She’d make the call tomorrow. Better yet, she’d wait until Monday, get a fresh start to the week. Her limit for change had been reached. She’d stretched herself as far as she could go for now.
Contacted a lawn maintenance company.
A hair appointment.
Dinner out with Nick.
Taking in a boarder.
That was far and away more activity in the last three days than she’d had in years.
Something she couldn’t name had taken hold of her on her birthday. The emptiness had hit her hard, and Joan realized she needed to make a change. She felt that God had just given her a giant shove in the right direction, and she had followed through. Next was meeting with Phil Harrison regarding her lawn. She looked forward to it, which was silly of her, really. He’d sounded friendly and kind. Human contact was something she’d been missing. Now Maggie was moving in with her, and Joan felt almost giddy, eager to get to know this young woman. Knowing that she was helping Maggie filled her with a certain pride. Which reminded her of something Steve had once mentioned. It had felt like it was coming out of the blue when he suggested she do volunteer work, thinking that might help her. She’d blown off the idea but realized now her son had been right; already she felt better about life, about the future.
Earlier, following the recipe, Joan had put the roast in the Crock-Pot. Now it was time to add the potatoes. She’d just finished dumping the peelings into the garbage when her doorbell chimed. Checking her watch, she saw it was fifteen minutes before her scheduled appointment with Harrison Lawn and Landscaping. She didn’t mind that he was early.
Wiping her hand on a kitchen towel, she headed to the front door. From force of habit, she checked the peephole first. A man stood on the other side. His shirt had his name embroidered on it: Phil Harrison.
Disengaging the deadbolt, Joan opened the door.
“Joan Sample?” he asked.
She nodded, warmed by his smile. “And you must be Phil Harrison.”
He nodded in return. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m a few minutes early.”
“Not at all.” Stepping outside so that she stood on the porch with him, she noticed that the sun had come out after a shower earlier in the day. Wide swings in the weather in the spring weren’t uncommon in the Pacific Northwest.
Joan gestured toward the yard. “As you can see, the yard is in need of a little TLC.”
“That’s what we do,” Phil assured her, as though he looked forward to mowing it into submission. He held a pencil and clipboard.
He was around her age, Joan guessed, early fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair. Average height and looks, but definitely attractive. He wasn’t likely to make any fireman’s calendar, but kindness emanated from him. Even this early in the year, he was deeply tanned, a testament to the time he spent outdoors. What she noticed right away were his eyes, compassionate and gentle, a piercing blue.
“It shouldn’t take us more than a few hours to get this cleaned up. Are you interested in both the front and the backyard?” he asked.
“Yes, please.”
“Would you mind if I took a look at the back?”
“Of course.” Joan started to head through the house when Phil stopped her.
“I’m filthy.” He glanced down at his boots, which were caked with dried mud. “Is there a side gate I can use?”
“Oh heavens, yes, I didn’t think about that.” Joan doubted she’d opened that gate once in all the time she’d lived in this house, and that was more years than she cared to remember.
“I’ll meet you in the back,” he said, and disappeared around the side of the house.
As he suggested, Joan went through the house and joined Phil in the backyard. At one time she’d grown a small garden there. Nothing much. Rhubarb on one side of the fence and tomato plants along the other. The flower beds where she’d once lavished her attention were in front of the house.
Volunteer tomatoes had sprung up last summer without Joan doing anything to care for them. The fruit was small, and the bushes flopped over from the weight of the bounty. Years before, Joan had proudly canned her produce. Perhaps she would again one day.
“We can manage the lawn, no problem.”
“Good.” She stood with her arms across her front, embarrassed that she’d let the maintenance of her yard deteriorate to this point.
“Would you like the beds cleared at the same time?”
“Yes, just for now. I’ll take over after they are cleared and weeded.” As for her garden, perhaps she should think about that, even if it was a little late in the spring. She’d start fresh with healthy plants from the local nursery.
“Front and back flower beds?”
“Yes, please.”
“If you’d like, I can plant some low-maintenance bushes in the beds that would require minimum care and attention.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather plant that area myself.” She adored the calla lilies that sprang up each spring. The tulips had bloomed with her barely noticing. She’d planted the bulbs years earlier after a trip to Skagit County where the scene of fields of blooming tulips had taken her breath away. It depressed her how neglected the flower beds had become with the lawn encroaching.
Phil grinned. “I forgot. Must love flowers.”
Joan’s cheeks reddened with the reminder. “Forgive me for adding that—”
His smile widened. “Nothing to forgive. I found it rather refreshing. As it happens, I’m rather fond of flowers myself.”
Joan appreciated his effort to put her at ease.
* * *
—
Phil made a few additional marks on the clipboard. The woman was a surprise. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected and was pleased to find her younger than he’d imagined. He recognized the very things in her that he’d felt years earlier—the pain, the loneliness. He felt immediate empathy, as he was well aware of what loss could do to a soul.