CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Despite her initial apprehension about the cottage, she found she actually felt at peace there. And she came across many pleasant surprises as she sorted through Carrie's things. Namely, a painting that Carrie had tucked into the bedroom closet, complete with gift-wrapping and a card. The wrapping paper indicated it was to be for Christmas but Jill couldn't wait.

And when she tore the paper off, she slid to the floor beside it, her tears flowing freely. The painting, in watercolors, was of her, sitting by the pier on their bench, the greenness of the trees and the blueness of the water depicting a spectacular early summer day. And beside the bench was the huge pot they'd bought and stuffed full of blooming red and yellow flowers.

" Thank you, " she whispered.

The painting exemplified their entire summer. Carefree days filled with love, filled with colors and flowers, filled with gentle conversation and even gentler touches.

She took a deep breath, then looked at the painting again, this time without tears. This time with wonder as she remembered the woman who had painted it. The woman who showed her the meaning of true, genuine love.

It was weeks later—with the air hinting at fall and a light rain falling—she was standing in the sunroom, staring at the lake and the pier, when she felt a pull, a familiar urging to go outside. She tilted her head, her eyebrows drawn together in a frown. This feeling, this unexplained inclination, turned into a yearning as her feet finally moved, carrying her silently to the door. And just as the first time she'd met Carrie, it was like a hunger that guided her. She didn't question it. She walked out, ignoring the rain, just following the silent command of her heart.

The water was still, only the tiny droplets of rain disturbing the smooth surface. And she stood there, looking out over the lake, searching for what, she didn't know. And then she saw them off in the distance.

Ducks. A dozen or more.

They swam purposefully toward her, their quiet clamors carrying across the water. She watched, aware that her heart was beating quickly, her breath hissing between her lips. Then, out of the pack she came, wings flapping strongly, her gray head a dull contrast to the brightly colored mallards around her.

Jill dropped to her knees as Grandma Duck ran across the water, away from the flock before settling down again. Her sobs came quickly and her chest ached as she knelt there, waiting for the duck to swim closer. So overwhelming was the feeling of Carrie's presence, she stopped breathing, simply staring out over the water, waiting—believing.

And just as quickly as her sobs came, laughter bubbled out unexpectedly. She sat on her heels, tears still running down her cheeks as she laughed in the rain.

" Oh, God, Carrie... I should have known you'd come back to me as that damn duck."