Page 5 of The Alpha Dire Wolf
Mr. Nevis frowned. “I know, my dear.”
“You do?”
“Of course.”
I stared at him blankly, and he stared back at me, both bushy eyebrows slowly knitting together in confusion. Then dawning overcame him.
“Oh, my dear,” he said, letting himself into the house. “Come, come. Sit down.”
Everything in my stomach was slowly congealing, and it wasn’t because of the fast food I’d gotten on the drive over. This wasn’t good.
“What’s going on, Mr. Nevis?” I asked, wringing my hands together in worry.
In a situation like this, it’s clear what he was working himself up to say, the news he was going to give me. But I didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to acknowledge it. Not until the last inevitable second before it became a reality I had to face.
“I don’t understand how nobody has told you yet,” Mr. Nevis said as we moved into the sitting room next to the foyer, taking seats on opposing couches.
“Told me what?” I asked, the dread inside me rising.
“Oh, my dear Sylvie,” he said gently, reaching across to take my hand. “I am so sorry you have to find out this way and that I must be the one to tell you this, but your grandmother left this mortal plane three days ago to find her place in the heavens above. That’s how I knew she wasn’t at home. I was just coming by to gather a few pictures. For the funeral this afternoon.”
Chapter Three
Sylvie
“Idon’t understand,” I whispered, staring into nothing.
The four-hour drive had allowed plenty of time for the numbness of my failed relationship to begin to spread as reality hit home. Now that numbness was like a blanket of ice, sinking into every inch of my body and robbing me of any remaining warmth until I caved and descended into the black abyss that was reaching out with a welcoming hand.
“It appears to have been peaceful,” Pastor Nevis said, still squeezing my hand. “In her sleep, nothing more. There was no suffering.”
“She can’t be gone.”
That was denial. I knew it well. We were old friends, really, a presence that had never truly faded after my parents …
I chopped the thought off with ruthless precision. If I opened that door now, I would never escape.
“I’m sorry,” the pastor repeated again. He knew I wasn’t overly religious, and did not push his feelings on the matter of death to me, which I appreciated greatly in that moment. I might not fully agree with his beliefs, but Pastor Richard Nevis was absolutely the epitome of a true believer in God. A real believer,who cared about those around him, in public and private, and would give the shirt off his back to anyone who needed it.
“Nobody told me.” It was more of a whine than anything else. I hated it.
“How are you here then? I saw the car, and when I heard your voice, I just assumed you were also back for the funeral,” Pastor Nevis said, squeezing and patting my hand as he talked, a gentle reminder that he was there, that I wasn’t alone.
I shook my head. “No. I got a letter from her.This morning.” I fished it out of my purse, pointing to the top. “Look, it’s dated yesterday. She always dates things. Always. And it’s right there. Yesterday’s date. Now you’re telling me she’s been gone for three days? I don’t understand. That’s impossible.”
Leaning over so he could see the date, Pastor Nevis shook his head. “I don’t know. There is no good reason I can think of for her to write that date.”
“You think she wrote it ahead of time?”
Pastor Nevis smiled, a soothing gesture from an older man who had seen a lot. “Dear Sylvie. While I believe in the afterlife and forgiveness, and that each person has a seat at the table with God, such as it were, I am not sure that even angels would be allowed to return to write a simple letter. Your grandmother moved on three days ago.”
“Yeah.” I reread the date and opening line of the letter for the hundredth time. “I guess.”
He was right. She wrote it before she died, of that I had no doubt. But that did precisely nothing to solve the question ofwhyshe did it that way.
“She says here, her time is running out.” He pointed at the line in question. “If she knew that she didn’t have long, is it possible her memory was beginning to go?”
“No.” There was no hesitation. “Look at this handwriting. It’s impeccable. Not a mistake to be found.”
