Chapter Fourteen
I’m home,” I called out when I walked into the trailer.
Scarlett ran down the hall and wrapped me up in a fierce hug. “Thank God. Rosie and I are bored out of our minds. We need someone else to talk to.”
Rosie came out of her room with a big smile on her face. “Welcome back, and it’s good to hear you say that you are home. Did you see Ada Lou? Is she going stir-crazy? How did you get home, anyway? The roads are still closed, aren’t they?”
Scarlett didn’t give Carla time to answer Rosie’s questions, but went on with her own.
“Have you had dinner? We just made sandwiches, but Rosie has a ham in the oven. We figured we could eat it tonight, then slice up what’s left to make sandwiches in case we lose power.
Are you glad to be back? What’s it like living in a trailer with Jackson? And where did you get that sweat suit?”
I could not possibly remember all those questions, so I fired back some at them. “Did you already clean the café? Scarlett, how are you handling not seeing Grady? Rosie, how in the world is the church getting along without you? Did y’all miss me?”
Rosie chuckled. “Looks like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“The past forty-eight hours seem like a month,” Scarlett said with a sigh. “I didn’t realize how much I miss my routine.”
Rosie sat down on one of the recliners and patted the sofa arm beside her.
“We’ll each ask one question and take turns.
First, have you seen Ada Lou? I’ve been praying for her and Nancy, even though Nancy doesn’t come to the Tumbleweed very often.
Poor soul must be lost without her husband, may he rest in peace. ”
“I had lunch with Ada Lou before I came home.” The word home still sounded strange when I said it.
“She is sassy as ever. Yesterday she shoveled a path from her back door to Jackson’s trailer and invited us over for cinnamon rolls.
And . . .” I paused for a breath. “She made them from scratch and baked them herself. Then today she made a pot roast for us to share. Oh, and yesterday, Nancy made her way to the trailer using snowshoes, and all four of us played Scrabble. Now it’s my turn.
Scarlett, how are you holding up without seeing Grady? ”
“Holy smokin’ hell!” Scarlett gasped.
“I know,” I agreed with a nod. “Now, tell me about Grady.”
“I’ve seen him with FaceTime, but that’s not holding him or kissing him good night, or . . .” She blushed. “Did you at least get a few kisses when you were holed up with Jackson?”
“Not a single one,” I answered. “But all three of us—Ada Lou, Jackson, and I—had crazy dreams that first night.”
Scarlett finally sat down in the recliner at the other end of the sofa. “Rosie is good at interpreting visions. Tell us about them.”
I started with Ada Lou’s dream and what she thought it meant.
“She is right about the meaning. I’ve been telling her that same thing for years,” Rosie said. “I guess she just needed to hear it from Robin. Maybe now she can really move on.”
“She says that I’m like the granddaughter she might have had. Did she say that same thing to you, Scarlett?” I asked.
“Nope, but she has helped me get through some really tough times,” she answered. “So, you and Jackson are really just friends?”
The idea of a real house, a yard, and especially children and a kitchen still scared me. After the few role models I’d had, how could I ever be a good—or even decent—mother? “To be honest, I don’t really know what we are.”
“Now, what did Jackson dream about?” Rosie asked.
I couldn’t lie, but repeating what he had shared about his dream still made me sad enough to cry. Did that mean this attraction between us was more than a passing thing? I couldn’t remember a single guy I had known in the past who could make me that emotional.
“Okay, here it is . . .” I sighed and told them the details of his dream.
Rosie made the sign of the cross and then said a prayer before she said anything. “That’s his inner spirit telling him that it would be dangerous, even fatal, for him to go back into the army.”
“I thought that might be the meaning,” I whispered.
“You’ve saved the best for last, haven’t you?” Scarlett asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Your dream must be the one that you really don’t want to talk about, or you would have started with that one,” Rosie replied. “So spit it out.”
When I finished the story, tears rolled down my cheeks.
Cold chills raced up and down my spine. My grandmother used to shiver and then say, “A goose walked over my grave.” As a child, I thought that was so funny, because Granny was not dead.
Retelling the dream made me realize that I had seen my own death.
I didn’t understand what a goose had to do with anything, but reliving that nightmare certainly made me understand Granny’s saying.
Rosie crossed herself again, only this time she kept her head down a little longer before she focused on me. “Okay, here’s what I see. The dreams are not two, but one. They are tied up together, and everything is going to hinge on your decisions in the next few months.”
I braced myself when I felt the next quiver coming on, but I still shuddered.
“Do you want me to go on?” she asked.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“If you go back to your old lifestyle, you might not physically pass away like your mother did, but your spirit will die. You will always wonder if you might have had a fuller, happier life if you gave up gambling,” Rosie said.
“But when I died in the dream, Jackson and I were together, and he was so sad. I like him too much to get into a relationship and break his heart like that.”
“That man could possibly be your soulmate. If you leave him for another poker game, he will go back into the army and die—again, maybe not physically, but mentally. That’s why I said your dreams are not two, but one that’s intertwined together.”
Listen to Rosie, my mother’s voice whispered softly in my ear.
“Are you all right?” Scarlett asked. “You have gone really pale. In my opinion, you should go get whatever test the doctors can do to be sure you don’t have anything wrong. If you do, they can fix it before it becomes a problem.”
“I’m a little bit superstitious, and sometimes I hear voices in my head—not the kind telling me to do evil things, but the ones that advise me,” I admitted. “My mother is the one I’ve been hearing the most often here lately, and Ada Lou’s voice screamed at me this morning.”
Did I really believe in all this hocus-pocus stuff?
Do you shuffle cards every night? Mama’s voice was back.
“I hear God speaking to me,” Rosie said. “And sometimes my mother. She tried to steer me right. I didn’t listen to her, and that’s what got me into trouble. So, in my opinion, we should listen to the voices in our heads. They could be angels, you know.”
Scarlett raised a hand toward the ceiling. “Amen and hallelujah. I’m not as good as Rosie, so I’m not sure I hear God talkin’ to me, but I do hear my grandmother repeating things that she told me when I was a little girl.”
“Okay, then, the consensus is that I need to . . .”
“Follow your heart, not your mind, and don’t ever look back,” Rosie finished my sentence.
“Amen again!” Scarlett agreed.
“Yes!” Rosie’s tone was so excited that I half expected her to start singing gospel music.
“Why does that give you the Holy Ghost?” I asked.
“Because it’s what I did,” Rosie said with conviction, “and I give thanks every day for the help I’ve received. I’ve never had a single regret about my decisions.”
Scarlett nodded in agreement. “I have never looked back and yearned for something different. Now, moving on, do you have boots to wade in the snow?”
“I’ve got a pair of fancy boots that come almost to my hip, but they have four-inch heels,” I answered. “Why do you ask?”
“We’re going to the café tomorrow even if we have to carry a bag of extra clothing with us to change into if we get wet from here to there.
I can’t stand to be cooped up in this trailer another day past that,” Rosie said with a long sigh.
“I can teach you a little about the books, and Scarlett can clean.”
“I love cleaning,” she said. “I wish my name was Monica.”
“Why would you want to have that name?” I asked. “I like Scarlett much better.”
“Did you ever watch Friends on television?”
I got it then. Monica was the character who was obsessed with cleaning. Well, if Scarlett loved that job, I surely would not fight her for it.
Rosie tilted her head and drew down her dark brows. “How did you get home? I don’t see wings on your back, and I know you didn’t walk in those shoes.”
“Didn’t you hear the tractor?” I asked.
“I had my earbuds in, listening to Caylee Hammack sing ‘Small Town Hypocrite,’” Scarlett answered. “I wouldn’t have heard a freight train.”
Rosie stood up and headed for the kitchen. “I heard something and hoped that it was a snowplow so we can hang out the Open sign in the morning. I guess I didn’t get my wish. Did a tractor bring you home, then?”
I covered a yawn with my hand. “I’m sorry.
I’ve slept on a couch for two nights. But back to your question: Henry needed Jackson at the workplace, so he drove a tractor from the rig and picked us up.
Jackson carried me to the trailer so I wouldn’t have to wade in snow up to my hip.
Before that, Henry cleared a path from here to the café, which means if we can get the snow off the porch steps and what’s about two feet in front of the back door of the Tumbleweed, I won’t need wading boots. ”
Scarlett looked like she was about to swoon. “That is so romantic.”
“Romantic, nothing,” Rosie huffed. “Those shoes she’s wearing didn’t cost two bucks at a thrift store.”
Scarlett went over to the door and looked out the window. “You are right. We just need to clear off the porch and a little bit at the café. That was sweet of Henry to do what he did. Next time he comes into the café, his meal is free. If it wasn’t so late, I would go start cleaning this afternoon.”