Chapter 23

twenty-three

I sabelle waited until Harper left before sneaking over to the main house. She slipped into Edward's study and retrieved her most valuable possessions from the locked cabinet behind his desk. She carried the leather-bound family photo albums and old wooden cigar box outside to the hammock, hugging them close. Closing her eyes, she recalled last night's dream about Edward.

She smiled at the memory of her dignified husband dressed in white robes with angel wings extending from his shoulders and a golden halo hovering over his head. He'd been guarding the pearly gates of heaven, refusing to let her through until she . . .

Isabelle had woken up before he'd told her the admission price, but she already knew what she had to do to get into heaven. Was this the only way? If she refused, would she go to hell?

During their married life, Edward had often been reduced to begging, pleading, and bribing Isabelle to get his way. He gave her a five-carat sapphire ring when she refused to travel to Egypt with him. When he wanted to build a swimming pool, she'd argued it would spoil the natural beauty of the surroundings. He'd gotten his pool, and Isabelle had gotten a new kitchen. And now he'd backed her into a corner.

Isabelle opened her eyes to find Blossom looming over her, two glasses of sweet tea in her hands and her little dog running circles at her feet. "Why are you always sneaking up on me, Blossom?"

"You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you. But then I got to thinking you might be dead, and I thought I should make sure you were still breathing."

Isabelle struggled to sit up. "Well, it's a good thing I'm not dead. Otherwise, I'd be on an express elevator to hell."

The lines on Blossom's forehead deepened. "What makes you say that?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Blossom. Isn't that why you're here? To help me get into heaven?"

Iced tea sloshed out of the glasses as Blossom roared with laughter. "I wish I had that kind of power." She dipped her head at the photo albums in Isabelle's lap. "What's all that?"

"Memories," Isabelle said, clutching the albums and box to her chest.

Blossom's emerald eyes twinkled. "Ooh. I love family photos. Can I see?"

"I guess. Although you'll probably find them boring." Isabelle rolled out of the hammock, landing on her knees and clambering to her feet. "Gracious, I'm getting old."

They sat down across from each other at a table near the pool. Jolene curled up at their feet and soon fell fast asleep. Isabelle sipped sweet tea while Blossom hemmed and hawed at photographs of Pritchard's and Kate's childhood—birthdays, Christmases, and Easters, memories of simpler times. Isabelle had been a loving mother when her children were little. But Isabelle failed them during their teenage years when their problems became complicated.

Blossom closed the photo album and eyed the cigar box. "What's in there?"

"Stuff," Isabelle snapped.

Blossom chuckled. "I figured that. Can I see?"

Isabelle hunched over the box. "No way! I've never shown anyone what's in here. Not even Edward." She slid the box off the table into her lap. "Keep your X-ray vision off my box. The contents are personal."

"I don't have X-ray vision, Isabelle. And I'm not here to work magic on you. I'm here to support you."

Isabelle gasped. "Support me? What're you talking about? You're here to do Edward's bidding."

"That's what you think, but that's not true." Blossom pointed at her. "You summoned me here, Izzy."

Isabelle's eyes blinked wide. "What on earth for?"

"You tell me. I sense you're at a crossroads. You're awfully concerned with getting into heaven. You seem to have something you need to get off your chest."

Isabelle was not perfect, but she was no stranger to the Lord. She rarely missed church and prayed often. She'd been distraught since Edward so drastically changed her life with his cockamamy will. She might have inadvertently asked for divine intervention.

"I understand if you're not ready to talk about it. I have all the time in the world." Blossom produced a deck of cards from her pocket. "Let's play gin rummy."

Isabelle wasn't in the mood for cards but hoped the distraction would lessen her tension. "Okay."

After dealing each of them ten cards, Blossom placed the remainder of the deck face down on the table and turned over the top card—a seven of spades.

Isabelle arranged her cards into matching sets and runs before drawing a new one from the deck. She discarded the six of diamonds from her hand and nodded for Blossom to take her turn.

As she drew a card from the deck, Blossom said, "I died in a tragic car accident at age fifty."

Isabelle's breath hitched. "You were so young. Your gray-streaked hair confused me."

"I was prematurely gray. But yes, I was too young when I died. I was completely unprepared for death. I had so many things left to do, but only one thing that really mattered." Blossom discarded the card. "My only daughter, my only child, and I had been estranged for years when I passed away."

"Why? What happened to cause the rift?"

Blossom rolled her eyes. "A man, of course."

Isabelle gave a knowing nod. "Of course," she said, drawing and discarding the same card.

"I suspected Melody's boyfriend was abusing her, but when I confronted her, she denied it. We had a nasty argument, and we both said things we regretted. Instead of forgiving her, I let my anger fester. I was the adult. I should've worked harder to mend our relationship. She eventually married a different man and had children. I never met my grandchildren."

"That's so sad," Isabelle said past the lump in her throat.

"After my death, I visited Melody in a dream and apologized. While it wasn't the same as doing it in person, it was my only choice. The next day, she attended my burial and stayed after the other attendees left. She sensed my presence at the graveside, and she also apologized. The moral of this story is?—"

"Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today," Isabelle said, and then abandoned her hand of cards face-down on the table. "I owe someone an apology too. The problem is, I can't bring myself to say the words."

Blossom furrowed her brow. "What words? I'm sorry ?"

"Yes. I haven't said them in over seventy years." Isabelle peeked inside her cigar box and closed it again. "It's a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?"

Blossom glanced down at her sleeping dog. "Jolene and I have nothing but time."

A thought occurred to Isabelle. "Is the dog an angel too?"

"All dogs are angels, Isabelle. I didn't bring her with me, if that's what you're asking. I discovered her along the way."

Isabelle was sorry she asked. She settled back in her chair. "I was an only child of a single mother. I never met my father. I'm not even sure my mother knew who he was," she said and watched for her reaction. If this shocked Blossom, she did an excellent job of hiding it.

Despite the warm day, Isabelle shivered as the memories flooded back to her.

* * *

Isabelle's mama worked as a maid for the Sterns, the wealthiest couple in their tiny Georgia town. Isabelle often helped out on Saturdays and during the summer months. She was eleven years old, helping prepare for the Stern's annual Christmas party, when Lilith Stern accused her of stealing a pearl bracelet.

"I didn't take it, Mrs. Stern. Cross my heart with my hand on the Bible. I saw the bracelet on your dressing table when I was vacuuming your bedroom. Are you sure you didn't put it somewhere?"

Mrs. Stern's face flushed blood red. "Why, you little cretin. Are you calling me a liar?" She grabbed Isabelle's wrist with one hand and snatched the butcher knife Mama had been using to carve a ham with the other. "Give me back my bracelet, or I'll cut off your fingers with this knife."

Isabelle tried to wrench her arm free, but Mrs. Stern was surprisingly strong for a small woman. She pressed Isabelle's hand on the counter with the knife poised to strike. "Say you're sorry."

"But I didn't take it," Isabelle sobbed.

Mrs. Stern lifted the knife higher. "Say you're sorry, or I'll chop off your fingers."

Pee trickled down Isabelle's leg. "I didn't take it."

Mrs. Stern tightened her grip on Isabelle's wrist. "Say you're sorry, you little ingrate."

Anger surged when she noticed Mama watching in horror but not saying a word. "I said. I didn't take. The bracelet."

"I'm counting to ten. Say you're sorry, or off go your fingers."

Isabelle started screaming bloody murder, her cries reverberating throughout the house until the woman finally let go of her hand. Mrs. Stern spun around and brandished the knife at Mama. "I'm docking your pay for a month."

Mama bowed her head. "Yes, ma'am."

Neither Isabelle nor Mama spoke on the drive home. Something seemed off to Isabelle. Why didn't Mama come to her rescue? Did Mama believe Isabelle stole the bracelet? Or did Mama want Mrs. Stern to think Isabelle stole the bracelet?

Isabelle waited until Mama got in the tub for her nightly soak to search her purse. Inside the zippered pocket, she found Mrs. Stern's pearl bracelet.

* * *

Isabelle opened the cigar box and slid it across the table to Blossom. She stared down at the bracelet but didn't remove it from the box. "Did you confront your mama when she got out of the tub?"

"Nope." A smile tugged at the corner of Isabelle's lips. "I wore the bracelet to dinner instead."

Blossom's emerald eyes doubled in size. "I love your style, Isabelle St. Clair. Did you really think Mrs. Stern would cut off your fingers?"

"At the time, I did. I was only eleven years old, and despite her size, she was an imposing figure. I have no doubt that Mama would've let her. Like your daughter, Mama blamed me for everything wrong in her life."

She slid the box back to Isabelle. "Now I understand why saying you're sorry doesn't come easy."

"It doesn't come at all. I simply can't bring myself to say it." Isabelle's expression grew serious as she lifted the bracelet from the box and fastened it onto her wrist. "This little trinket became a bone of contention between Mama and me. I held the theft over her head. We both knew she would lose her job if I ratted her out to Mrs. Stern."

"So you bribed her to get what you wanted instead."

"We were dirt poor, Blossom. There wasn't much to want for. I never caused my mama any trouble. I was a good girl and an excellent student. I worked hard and earned a full-ride scholarship to a small girls' college in Georgia. I left home and never spoke to my mother again." Isabelle expelled the air from her lungs as decades of pent-up tension left her body.

Blossom offered her a soft smile. "Feel better?"

Isabelle fell back in her chair. "Indeed. I can't believe I told a total stranger my deepest secret."

"Because you've never had a close friend to confide in other than your husband." Reaching across the table, Blossom placed her hand over Isabelle's. "I want to be your friend if you'll let me."

Isabelle realized she desperately wanted and needed this heavenly creature in her life. "I'd like that," she said.

"Why didn't you ever tell Edward about the bracelet?"

Isabelle looked away, staring at the sun's rays glistening off the ocean. "That's a story for another day. For now, I want to relish this profound sense of peace. I've never felt anything quite like it. Am I experiencing your celestial aura? Is this what heaven feels like?"

Blossom held her hands out, palms skyward. "Maybe."