The Other Side - J. D. Robb [166]
She took a breath and another step toward Jimmy, watched the thoughtful expression on her aunt’s face, then walked up next to the chair and placed the palm of her hand on Jimmy’s chilly cheek to warm him.
“I’m no theologian . . . I don’t know how it works. But I do know that for some things, so many things”—she glanced at Ryan and then down at Jimmy—“and for all the really important things in life, you have to believe and have a little faith and trust. Otherwise, nothing ever changes. You don’t change.” She slipped her hand through the emptiness of the afghan and took hold of Jimmy’s arm. “Let go of Jimmy now. He’s not what you need to ease the anguish in your heart.”
Jimmy must have felt the tension in the ghost’s arms slacken, because he reached up and took M.J.’s other hand, then lowered his feet to the floor and stepped away from the chair. Quickly, she put her body between them and pushed him toward Ryan, but he was reluctant to go. Instead, he peeked around her leg and addressed himself to Imogene.
“When you get to heaven, you can talk to my mom. She’s been there a long time, and she’ll know what you should do.”
She stared at him a moment then gave him a small smile with a smaller nod to go with it.
All the women watched father and son embrace until a queer popping noise finally registered in their minds, and they looked back at one another.
“What is that?”
“Quick, dear, finish telling us what we lost. I believe the house is beginning to falter.” Odelia and Adeline stepped closer to Imogene, silently encouraging her to maintain her hold on the house until M.J. was finished.
She turned to Ryan. “Go!”
“Not without you.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll come as soon as I can, but take Jimmy out of here before one of you gets hurt. Please. They won’t let anything happen to me.” She smiled in the light of her own new-found faith. “I’ll only be a few more minutes. I promise.”
Now it was his turn to have faith—in her—and despite the misgivings in his expression, he picked Jimmy up and headed for the stairs.
Still smiling, she turned back to the spirits of her mother and aunts with tears in her eyes. She was going to miss them.
With plaster dust floating down from the ceiling as the house began to tremble slightly, she shook her head at Odelia. “How long did you wait before you gave up all hope of becoming the second Julia Child . . . of being the world-famous chef, Odelia Hedbo?”
The sweet little woman giggled. “My stage name was going to be Heddy. High Times with Heddy Hedbo. And instead of bon appétit! I’d toast with real wine to my audiences’ health and wealth! More Hs, you see.”
“And when did you realize your dream might not come true? Before or after your father died?”
Some of the joy drained from her face. “I kept getting older and older, and he kept living longer and longer . . . but Julia didn’t appear on The French Chef until she was fifty-one.”
“So you still had a little hope. And when your father died?”
She slipped a cautious glance at each of her sisters. “I was sad and I missed him very much but . . . but I was excited, too.” She spoke rapidly. “I’d waited so long to start the life I wanted. I . . . I decided to start with my cookbook; that’s how Julia did it. Hers was a great success, and then some big television executive saw her demonstrating how to make an omelet during an interview, and the rest was history. My cookbook was going to knock their socks off and—” She stopped abruptly.
“Except you didn’t finish it.”
Odelia shook her head.
“Because you got cancer and died.”
She nodded once.
“And was that when you lost the rest of your hope?”
“I knew I’d die before I saw even one of my dreams come true. I’d wasted my entire life waiting and planning for something that would never be.” She looked up in sudden understanding. “You’re right, dear, I died with no hope at all.”
“I’m sorry, Odelia.” She was hard put to tell which sister