Read Online Return to Harmony by Janette Oke - Free Book Online Page A

still holding hers, the other arm now wrapped about her shoulders to offer both strength and guidance. For it was clear to all who looked their way that Jodie was going nowhere this day on her own.
    Afterward they left the church and waited as the pallbearers brought out the coffin. Together the silent procession walked the short distance to Louise Harland’s final resting place. Bethan’s brother, Dylan, walked strong and straight, the coffin’s front right handle upon his shoulder, setting the pace for the other pallbearers, though it was hard to imagine how he could see to place one foot in front of the other for the tears. Parker Harland made it down the lane and through the gates and up to the open grave site between the pair of great oaks only because he had a strong man on either side, hands gripping his shoulders and keeping him upright.
    Jodie’s gaze remained upon her mother’s coffin, blind to everyone and everything about her. Bethan guided Jodie forward, willing her own life and warmth into her friend. As together they passed between the cemetery’s stone gates, Bethan thought it was uncommonly strange how even the normally joyous church bells could toll the day’s sorrow, how even the overcast sky could draw a veil across the sun’s sweet springtime brightness, as though the whole world were pausing in its steady turning to bid a soft farewell to a fine country woman.

SIX
    THE AFTERNOON AIR felt so thick and heavy with heat that Bethan imagined it tasted salty to her tongue. Maybe it was the perspiration that moistened her skin which made her think of salt. She wasn’t sure. Nor did she really care. It was too hot to even think straight.
    She glanced over to where Jodie sat rocking silently beside her. Almost three months had passed since her mother had died, and still Jodie spoke scarcely a word. Sorrow blanketed her as heavily as the heat. Bethan was left with a feeling of helplessness and frustration that she could not do something for her beloved friend.
    The porch swing squeaked as it rocked back and forth. Bethan listened to the protest of its worn hinges, to the hum of the honey bees in the bougainvillea. Nearby, a pair of hummingbirds disputed the rights to the hollyhocks, darting back and forth to challenge each other, neither gaining much from the sweet nectar.
    Bethan brushed dampened hair back from her forehead. “Would you like to—”
    Jodie shook her head before Bethan could complete the question.
    “Go see Sherman?” Bethan persisted.
    Again Jodie indicated no.
    There was silence as the swing squeaked on. “Would you like some cold lemonade?” Bethan finally ventured.
    Jodie looked about to decline one more time, then nodded her assent.
    “Do you want to come to the kitchen, or shall I bring it out here?”
    “Here,” was the terse reply.
    Lemonade seemed like a trivial thing at such a time of grief and longing, but Bethan was glad for something to do and for the response from Jodie. She hurried in and was soon back with two tall glasses, their sides already frosted from the cold contents. The hummingbirds chose that moment to call a truce and share the hollyhocks, though they stayed some distance apart, each feeding from opposite ends of the patch.
    “Did you know hummingbirds are very… very territorial?” Bethan observed, glad she could use the word and hoping to engage Jodie in something .
    Jodie nodded.
    “I’ve seen them have some real scraps,” Bethan went on. “It seems so strange. They are such little creatures, and so beautiful, you’d expect them to be sweeter—nicer to each other.”
    Jodie stirred restlessly. For the first time her eyes came to life, but not with her usual interest in the world. Rather, the eyes flashed with angry bitterness. “Things are often different than they seem.”
    Bethan glanced uncertainly at her friend over the edge of her lemonade glass.
    “The preacher is always saying that if you are good, God will take care of you. Isn’t