Read Online Then Sings My Soul by Amy K. Sorrells - Free Book Online Page A

settle in. “You know, I probably ought to call Sam,” she said reluctantly.
    â€œSam? Have you married that poor guy yet?”
    Nel laughed and kissed Jakob on the top of his head. “Not yet, Dad.”
    She used the phone upstairs in her old bedroom, and when Sam didn’t answer, she left a message to tell him she’d arrived safely. Then she sat on top of her old bedspread and noticed a faint smell of fabric softener on the faded-yellow Raggedy Ann pillowcase. She was sure Catherine had washed them regularly, even though they were never used, except for when she was in town. The way her mom took great care to remake the bed exactly as she had when Nel was growing up made her smile. She pulled a red-and-blue afghan over her shoulders and watched the tree limbs outside her window move against the wind, and she drifted off to the distant sound of a woodpecker pelting the side of a tree and the chatter of chickadees and nuthatches.
    The doorbell startled her awake, and after reorienting herself to where she was, she ran downstairs to answer the door. “Don’t worry, Dad. Don’t get up. I’ll get it.”
    â€œI made you beef brisket.” Mattie gleamed as she walked through the front door and headed toward the kitchen. “Been cooking in the Crock-Pot all day, so it’ll fall apart just like you like.”
    After setting the load on the counter, Mattie pulled a Tupperware container of mashed potatoes and two french baguettes out of a basket, followed by a blueberry pie and a carton of whipped cream. She turned to Nel. “Did you get a chance to rest?”
    â€œA little. Thanks so much for this—for everything. Will you eat with us?”
    Mattie said yes, of course she’d love to join them for dinner, and together they sat in the dimming evening light and reminisced about Catherine. Nel soaked in memories—many new to her—of church gatherings, July Fourth celebrations with the South Haven Senior Women’s Club, road trips to little towns where Mattie and Catherine perused antique stores while Jakob attended gem-and-mineral club meetings. Mattie filled Nel in on who had passed since she’d been home last—Clara Lieberman (cancer), Harriet and Mortie Czylek (six weeks apart; she from a heart attack, and he from a stroke), Gertrude Downing (in her sleep). They discussed the chronic sad state of Ed and Mary Jane Grabowski, who hadn’t been well since their only son, James, a high school classmate of Nel’s, drowned in a rip current near the lighthouse right after graduation. Sally Medendorp (also from Nel’s class) had twins recently—that spring—her first babies at age forty-three. And the new senior pastor at South Haven Presbyterian Church had arrived that summer.
    â€œCatherine adored him,” Mattie said. “You’ll get to meet him tomorrow, since he’ll be officiating.”

    The next morning, Nel found Jakob standing at the stove making eggs, already dressed in his suit and tie. She leaned against the counter next to him.
    â€œScrambled?” He winked.
    â€œYep.”
    He poured a little water in them. “Makes them fluffier. Just a little smidgen of water.”
    â€œI remember.” She watched the eggs firm up as he stirred and scraped them around the skillet. “You look good, Dad.”
    â€œNo one looks good when they’re my age,” he said, chuckling.
    â€œNo, really. That’s a nice suit. Mom would say you’re handsome.”
    Jakob frowned and stirred. “Yes … I suppose she would.”
    â€œDid you get your paper yet?” Nel scanned the counters for the Herald-Palladium but didn’t see a copy. “I’ll go get it.”
    The sun shone bright that autumn morning, already melting the light frost on the east side of the house facing the street. She stretched and inhaled, the cool air taking the edge off the awkwardness of her mom’s absence