CHAPTER ONE. Jill and Carrie—both married with teenage children—meet one day during Jill’s lunch break at a local park

Jill and Carrie—both married with teenage children—meet one day during Jill’s lunch break at a local park. Soon a friendship is forged. A friendship that deepens with each visit. Jill’s husband still lives and breathes the coach’s life, a life that leaves him little time to spare for Jill. Left on her own more and more, Jill finds herself searching for the indefinable something that has been missing all her life. Married to a successful businessman, Carrie Howell retired early from a career in real estate to spend more time with her teenage boys, and to pursue her lone passion—painting. She, too, has felt for some time that something is missing from her world. The Cottage is the non-traditional, heart-aching story of two women pulled by a force stronger than their marriages, stronger than themselves. The story of Jill and Carrie. Two women. One love.

CHAPTER ONE

She wiped the tears from her eyes, telling herself over and over that it was just a memorial service. They weren't really burying her. Not really.

But the sobs came again and she stumbled, one hand reaching out to steady herself, the other covering her mouth as she tried to keep her emotions in check.

" Miss? Are you all right? "

Jill turned, startled. She hadn't seen anyone else. The others—the family—were all at the grave site. She stared at the elderly woman, embarrassed by her lack of control. She shook her head slowly then fumbled in her purse for another tissue.

" Are you a friend of the family, dear? "

Jill cleared her throat, her voice hoarse from crying. " Excuse me. But what? "

" She was so young. You were close? "

Jill nodded then blew her nose.

" I didn't know the family. They rarely went to church, " the woman said with just a hint of disapproval in her voice. " But my niece works at one of his stores."

" I see." Jill dabbed at her eyes, cursing herself for coming. She knew it would serve no purpose. She'd already said her good-byes. But no, she had to come. She wanted to see them. And it only served to accentuate her breakdown. A breakdown in front of a perfect stranger.

" I come to visit my Eddie nearly every day. He's been gone three years now."

Jill frowned, turned and stared at the monument she was leaning against. Edward Jorkowski.

" Oh my God, " Jill murmured. " I'm so sorry."

" Oh, I doubt Eddie minds. He probably enjoys the company." The woman patted the seat next to her on the bench. " Come, sit with me a bit. Tell me about your friend there. People are always afraid to talk about the dead, as if they didn't exist. My own kids, my grandkids, after Eddie died, they hardly ever mentioned him. As if they thought he wasn't always on my mind anyway."

" You were married a long time? "

" Oh, yes. Sixty-three years. A long time to be with someone. A long time to love someone. People don't realize the huge void in one's life after a death. Oh, people say, I know how you feel but they really don't. Not unless they've lost someone too."

" I suppose you're right."

" Come, sit with me for awhile."

Jill was about to decline. She hadn't told anyone about her. About them. About their life. But the old woman's skin crinkled as she smiled, her brown eyes warm and inviting.

Jill sighed and cleared her throat. " The funeral was private. Family only. The service out here was private too."

" Oh. So you're crashing it? "

Jill smiled sadly, nodding. " Yeah. She was... she was cremated." Jill motioned with her hand. " Who has a service in the cemetery when they're not even burying them? "

The woman shrugged. " I guess they're going to put a headstone down, give her kids someplace to go to." The woman patted the bench again. " Come sit. My name is Beatrice. My Eddie always called me Bea."

Jill smiled. " Bea. I'm Jill."

" I never understood private funerals. I mean, there's more than just the family who wants to say good-bye. Like you, for instance."

Jill sat down heavily on the bench, her eyes sliding back to the family as they stood holding hands. The pastor was speaking, his hands outstretched to the sky. Jill shook her head. God, she would have hated this.

" They didn't know I existed. Still don't. But I loved her so, " Jill whispered. " And she loved me."

" I don't understand."

Jill swallowed and cleared her throat again. " We met by chance less than a year ago." Jill turned, facing Bea. " Do you believe in soul mates? "