The Face of the Earth by Raney Deborah

Author:Raney, Deborah [Raney, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2017-05-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Tuesday, January 11

Shelley worked until eight Tuesday night, and it was well after dark when she got home. She quickly went through the house, turning on lamps. She hated how early the sun went down now that winter was here. She’d always hated the darkness, but it seemed to have taken on a more sinister quality since Jill had gone missing.

It startled her to realize how much time had passed since that awful day. She’d arranged to take the rest of the week off from work, even though her boss was not very happy about the idea. In a show of good faith, she’d stayed after closing tonight, and promised Jaclyn she would work after hours next week taking down the New Year’s displays and putting out the rest of the Valentine’s merchandise.

She pushed away the thoughts of work and let a twinge of excitement rise as she thought about a road trip with Mitch tomorrow. But she quickly checked her thoughts.

She changed clothes and went back to the kitchen and pulled the recipe box from a top cupboard. She’d been planning to make cookies to take to work. Valentine’s cookies, since they were gearing up for the February holidays at the store. She could make the cookies and pack a lunch to take on the road with Mitch tomorrow instead.

But one look at the pink-iced heart-shaped cookies pictured in the recipe book, and she realized how awkward that would be, given the nature of the holiday––let alone given the nature of her feelings for Mitch.

“Okay, oatmeal it is,” she said. Her voice echoed in the empty kitchen.

She had to keep reminding herself that no matter how solemn the purpose for their trip, she couldn’t deny that she was eager to spend time with Mitch. Alone with him.

She felt like a traitor even thinking such thoughts. And even worse, the truth was she had very little hope that Jill was alive after all this time. She had nightmares imagining what might have happened to her friend, and as much as she wished she could muster the kind of hope Mitch had, something––something that seemed beyond simple intuition––seemed to tell her that Jill was gone.

But whether Mitch truly still had hope or simply needed closure, she was glad he’d agreed to let her come along. If she were to play armchair psychologist, she’d say that Mitch had worked through his initial anger and fear, and now the emotions he wrestled with were bewilderment and confusion. No one––least of all her––could, or should, rush him through the grief process before he was ready. And the strange circumstances of Jill’s situation probably complicated the grieving process. He needed to get through this in his own time.

She turned on the oven, then measured sugar and sifted flour, remembering how much she’d enjoyed baking when Audrey had been home to enjoy the fruits of her efforts. As she put the first batch of cookies in the oven, a deep longing for the warm friendship she’d shared with Jill rose inside her.

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