I know better than to argue or resist, so I cooperate and walk willingly. “Call my brother, Arthur,” I say to LaPierre.
“We’ll do that from the station,” he replies. “And just so you know, the press is out front.”
“Great.” My perp walk will be on the midday news, and my family will see my shame.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Look Up, Sienna
As I enter Jacob’s house, I feel a persistent tug back to my old life, but the sensation retreats when I behold his cozy kitchen. There’s an enormous wood-burning oven on the far wall, and the smell of bread baking fills me with comfort and belonging.
At the same time, I’m conscious that if I’m truly dead, this kitchen is not my final destination. It must be a vestibule, one channel that connects to another, because I feel a presence, just beyond these walls, of divine beings and loved ones. I long to go to them.
Then I hear music. I can’t define it. It sounds like celestial choirs and heavenly instruments in gentle harmony, and it resonates in my soul. I raise my face and look up. “Where’s that coming from?”
Jacob offers no explanation, so I turn my attention to the room before me. Not far from the woodstove, Scooter’s familiar red cushion is laid out for him. It’s crisp and clean, like new. He steps onto it, turns a few circles, lies down, and curls up comfortably.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Jacob asks.
“Yes. Thank you.”
I pull out a chair to sit at the table, and Jacob fills a kettle at the sink. He sets it on a burner, opens the door to the firebox, and inserts a fresh piece of wood. He adjusts the damper and joins me at the table.
“That oven looks like something out of the pioneer days,” I say.
He regards it with fondness. “I enjoy chopping wood for it, and it gives off a nice heat.”
“Scooter seems to like it.”
With affection, we watch our sleeping dog. Then Jacob turns to me. “I’m still surprised to see you.”
“Pleasantlysurprised, I hope? I’m certainly happy to seeyou.”
“Yes, of course, but ... honestly, I’m confused. I didn’t expect you so soon. It feels like a mistake.”
I’m not sure how to take that. Now that I’m here, I’m in a state of perfect tranquility. Time doesn’t exist, and there’s a fulfillment growing in me, as if all the mysteries of the universe will soon become clear. And with every passing second, my old life feels further away.
Jacob leans forward and clasps both my hands. “I know you’ve had some marriage trouble lately.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
He nods. “I also know that you love me, and I love you too. I always will. But, Sienna, we were so young when we were together. We were never tested.”
I’m not sure yet where’s he’s going with this, but I sense that’s one of the gifts of this place: clarity and wisdom.
“Are you suggesting that if you’d lived, we would have run into problems eventually? Or broken up? Would that have been our fate?”
“I don’t know about that,” he replies. “But we definitely would have had disagreements. The honeymoon phase can only last for so long.”
“True,” I reply. “But we were so perfect together.”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “No one is perfect. Some of us get banged up pretty badly in life, and it’s not easy to recover.”
“I understand that, but—”
“It’s how we learn and grow,” he continues. “But growth is in the healing. That’s the whole point of living—to learn how to forgive each other for our trespasses, and how to be kind, and find joy together, even through our differences.”
His words sink into my heart, and I know enough to hold on to them.
