“Who?” I belatedly realized he must be talking about Heim.
“Your father.”
His words hit me like a falling building. He must have taken my silence as a tacit invitation to continue.
“I waited for him, gathered his soul. He had questions. Several.”
I swallowed and nodded, a hundred questions of my own crowding out my words.
“What did he ask?”
“That I look after you.”
Okay, forget the shock over him talking about my dad’s death. This was a bigger shock.
“Why? Why would he ask you to do that? Is that why you’re here? Did you agree to do it? Why me? He has two other daughters, you know. Wasn’t he worried about them? Was he worried about us?”
He waited a moment longer, probably to see if I had anything else to say. I did, but I needed a few answers before I tore off into a pile of new questions.
“I assumed it was out of love.”
I waited. He didn’t say anything more. “Which question were you answering?”
“The first.”
“Okay.” I sighed. I hadn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours. I was tired. “Is that why you came to Ordinary?”
“I came for a vacation, Reed Daughter.” He pointed one finger at his T-shirt, as if that made it obvious.
“Which is why you’re telling me about my father’s death?”
He frowned, looking confused. “Is that not what you wished to ask me?”
I opened my mouth to tell him no, but that was a lie. “I did. But I didn’t expect you to talk about it. Not really.”
“Ah, then.” He gave me a stiff nod. “I must be away to secure my business license.”
I had a hundred other questions besides the half a dozen I’d already asked that he hadn’t answered. But he was already walking back to the door, gliding silently in his shiny shoes. “Is he a ghost?” I asked.
Death paused, his hand on the door latch. “Perhaps you should ask him if you see him again.”
And then he pushed out into the daylight, a colorful, unexpected shadow.
Chapter 19
“DON’T BE such a baby.” Myra shoved my shoulder as we walked to the building, rain spattering us with tiny, halfhearted drops. “It won’t kill you.”
“I hate rhubarb.”
“Which should make judging even easier. If you can stand it, it’s a good recipe.”
“Or it’s a terrible recipe because it tastes the least like rhubarb in a rhubarb recipe contest.”
“Just give your honest opinion.”
“I honestly don’t want to do this.”
“A little less honest than that.”
