Faithful, ch. 7

The bell over the bookstore door jingled. Hannah stepped across the threshold. “Hello? Mr. Finnley?” Was he not here? The store was unlocked. He hadn’t stayed long after dinner and had forgotten the three slices of pie he’d promised to take.

The smell of Duncan’s pipe still clung to the air, even after these weeks. Or did the young Mr. Finnley take to the pipe as well? “Mr. Finnley?” She hadn’t realized until now she missed the aroma. She closed her eyes and savored the scent that was Duncan. Such a comfort.

This was the first time she had been in Duncan’s store since it had been locked up in the weeks following his death. Her feet took her to the corner where Duncan’s reading chair sat. She ran her hand along the back of the brown leather chair. A floor lamp stood beside the chair with a small table and settee. On the table sat Duncan’s tray with his pipe in it.

She set the plate with the pie wedges on it onto the table and brought the pipe to her nose. “Why did you leave me?” A tear rolled down her cheek.

Putting the pipe down, she picked up the book they had been sharing. Looking Backward, 2000-1887 by Edward Bellamy, a highly popular Utopian fantasy. She sat on the settee. How many hours had she sat there listening to Duncan read or she reading to him? She opened the book to the spot they had left off, found their place, and began reading aloud. The words blurred, and she clutched the book to her chest. What good was a story without someone to share it with? The ache inside her increased until tears began to fall.

Jesus, my ache is so deep. Will it ever be soothed? In one way, I just want this terrible pain to be gone. But yet, I want to hold onto it and always remember Duncan.

When Papa died, I had Mama to comfort me. When Mama died, I had Duncan. I have no one to comfort me now except You, but I cannot feel Your arms of comfort or hear Your soothing words.

She let the tears come and come they did in a steady stream. This was the most she’d cried since Duncan died. She’d held it all in, afraid to let him go. The crying felt good, cleansing in a way.

As the tears slowed, she took several deep breaths. She should go but was reluctant to leave just yet.

She laid her head upon the arm of the settee and pulled up her feet as she’d done many time and conjured up Duncan’s voice from the past and listened to his soothing voice as he read.