Page 16 of Your Soul to Keep

She organized the whole shebang years in advance. The only thing I had to do was confirm her identity at the funeral home and sign on the dotted line.

Lying on the table, her tiny body diminished further by the absence of her spirit, I barely recognized her.

Two days later, when I walked into the funeral home for the service, I expected to be the first to arrive. Instead, the hallway teemed with people waiting to say their goodbyes.

Stopping short at the sight of the crowd, I spun on my heel and ducked into the bathroom. I crossed to the sink and braced my hands on the counter, closed my eyes, and breathed deep.

Nan’s image filled my mind, “Stop your blattin, pet. Sure, won’t I see you on the other side?” Her smile dropped; her eyes stern. “Not too soon, mind. You’ve a life to live first.”

“Nan,” I whispered. “I can’t do this.”

I wished for her warm, steady, presence at my back, but she’d left me cold.

Squaring my shoulders, I pushed away from the counter and stepped into the hallway as the sexiest man I’d ever seen walked through the front door and hijacked my brain. He looked like an angel, albeit one who had fallen.

My eyes followed him as he stopped to check the directory before making his way to the hallway where I stood gawking. Even after he nodded at me politely, I could not tear my eyes away and found myself following in his wake like he was the Pied Piper of pussy.

By the time I made it through the throng, he was gone.

The next time I saw him, he was stepping out from behind the curtain decked out in priestly robes.

Oh. My. God.

Pied Piper of pussy?

Only then did I remember Nan telling me to call the priest’s wife if I needed help with any last-minute arrangements. One of the many times she forced me to listen as she went over the arrangements, leaving nothing to chance, ensuring she left me nothing to do but show up.

“Aren’t you Catholic, Nan? I thought priests didn’t get married.”

“They can be called to the priesthood after they’re married. It’s a good thing.” She wagged her eyebrows. “That man would be wasted on celibacy.”

I laughed and teased, “Rudolpho will be heartbroken.”

She pursed her lips and slanted me a disapproving look. “You’re Catholic, too, missy.”

I cocked my head to the side. “I don’t think I am, Nan. Dad didn’t believe in baptizing infants.”

She waved my words away. “Ach, didn’t I baptize you over the sink at six weeks old?”

I barked out a laugh.

“It counts!” she protested.

Ignoring the baptism revelation, I followed my curiosity. “Does he have kids?”

“Six of the little blighters.” Her wrinkled face settled into a smile. “I’m surprised it’s not twelve. Gorgeous wee babies.”

I shook my head then and shook it again now at the memory.

When I approached him to introduce myself, blushing like a virgin bride on her wedding night, I could almost hear Nan laughing on the other side.

God, I wished she were with me. I was so tired, and still had so far to go.

Now, sitting alone in my car, I wished I had told my girls. Wren might not have been able to make it, but Harley, Noelle, and Bridge would have done their level best.

They would have been here for me, a buffer between me and the rest. So far, I’d greeted the staff of Ayana’s, the ladies in Nan’s quilting circle, the proprietors of the neighboring businesses sharing Mistlevale’s Christmas mile, and a whole slew of our regular customers.

Grasping the door handle, I swung my legs out of the car. With my chin tipped down, I crossed the grass, the tips of my high heels sinking into the newly thawed earth with every step.

---