Page 7 of The Widow's Husband's Secret Lie
He is nowhere to be seen. But he was here. I am more certain of that than I have been of anything in my entire life. There was a man standing by that window who looked exactly like Grant. And he was staring straight at me.
6
“You sawGrantin the parking lot of the supermarket?”
Yes, I cracked and told Poppy. I couldn’t help it. It’s bad enough that I can’t tell anyone I’m pregnant, but I couldn’t keep this secret too. So as soon as I got home, I called her to come over. I had to hear what she thought.
So far, she seems to think I’ve gone off the deep end.
“It sounds really wild,” I say, “but I know my husband’s face.”
“Yes…” Poppy shifts on the sofa next to me. “I don’t doubt that. But there are a lot of men out there who resemble Grant. Maybe from far away, you thought…”
“But he was staring at me,” I insist. “I’m sure of it.”
Poppy doesn’t believe me. And I can’t entirely blame her, since I can’t come up with one explanation for how I could be seeing my husband at the grocery store when he is, in fact, buried in the ground.
And we definitely buried him. I distinctly remember standing by his grave, surrounded by friends and relatives, dabbing the tears from my eyes with a lace handkerchief. I remember his coffin being lowered into the ground.
And we buried him in anormalcemetery. We didn’t bury him in some specialpetcemetery where he would come back to life after a week or two, carrying a terrible curse. Grant was buried in a regular cemetery where nobody comes back to life. Which means he’s dead and in the ground.
I’m one hundred percent sure.
Well, okay, I guess not one hundred percent.
While Poppy is trying to figure a nice way to tell me I’ve lost my mind, Willie emerges from the kitchen, carrying a mug brimming with herbal tea. He is still shirtless, his taut muscles rippling under his deeply tanned and glistening skin.
“Here is your tea, Miss Lockwood,” Willie says.
I accept the mug, but the smell of it turns my stomach. I’ve been noticing that smells make me more nauseated than they used to. I wonder how long I’ll be able to conceal my pregnancy.
“Can I do anything else for you?” he asks me. “Anything… at all?”
There’s a glint in his dark eyes that makes me shiver deliciously. Willie is devastatingly handsome, and now that my husband is no longer around, what would be the harm in showing a little interest?
But no. Willie is the last person I would want to get involved with. I know exactly what sort of person he is and what he’s capable of, and while it’s fine for him to clean my home, it would be a dangerous game to allow anything else to happen.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Thank you.”
Poppy follows Willie’s progress with her eyes as he makes his way back into the kitchen. “That houseman of yours,” she says. “He’s really something.”
“That’s for sure.”
She smiles shyly. “Do you think he might be willing to bemyhouseman too?”
I don’t answer her question, partially because I’m fighting back a wave of nausea and partially because despite his appearance, she wouldn’tactuallywant Willie to be her houseman. Not if she knew about his prison record.
Poppy pauses, and I notice she’s staring down at my throat. I shift uncomfortably.
“That’s a lovely necklace, Alice,” she tells me.
My fingers fly to the chain around my neck, which has a snowflake pendant hanging off it. “Thank you.”
“Have you worn that before? I feel like I saw you wear that snowflake necklace on another occasion.”
“Well, yes, I’m sure I’ve worn it before.”
“It’s just strange to me.” She cocks her head to the side. “Thesamesnowflake necklace two different times. On two separate occasions. What does it mean?”
