The Will (The Magdalene Series) (Volume 1)(21)

I no longer felt uneasy.

I felt unwell.

Something wasn’t right.

No, everything wasn’t right.

Then again, there was no right to a world without Lydia Josephine Malone in it.

And I only knew one way to make it right.

I folded the bags and tucked them in the pantry then moved directly to the phone.

Gran kept her address book there.

I opened it and flipped through the pages, finding the M’s. There were sheets of M’s and sheets of names written amongst the pages.

But I wasn’t there.

I moved back to J.

My brain cooled when I saw it in her looping script.

Josie.

She didn’t write in the lines. She scrawled all over the page however she wanted to do it and I felt my lips tip up slightly even as I felt the backs of my eyes tingle.

On the page was my mobile number, several before it crossed out when I’d changed them over the decades. Henry’s mobile number(s). Henry’s address in LA with a big looped Pool House scribbled beside it—this meager information taking up the entire page.

I drew in a calming breath and closed my eyes.

I opened them and flipped close to the back of the book. I found the number and grabbed the old phone from its cradle on the wall. So old, it had long twirly cord. A cord, I knew, that was long enough that you could talk on it and get to the sink, the butcher block, but not the stove. I knew this because I’d seen Gran talking on it as she moved about the room.

I punched in the number from Gran’s book in the keypad and put it to my ear.

It rang three times before I heard a man answer, “Hello?”

“Mr. Weaver?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Josephine Malone.”

A pause then, “Josephine. My dear. How lovely it is to hear from you.”

I swallowed and said softly, “And it’s lovely to speak to you, Mr. Weaver. But, just to say, I’m calling because Ms. Baginski shared about Mrs. Weaver.”

Another pause before, “Of course. Yes, I should have called and explained. That was why we weren’t at the funeral.”

“That’s entirely understandable,” I murmured then went on to say, “But I’m phoning to share I was distressed to hear this news.”

“Yes, dear, it’s distressing,” he agreed in a kindly way, pointing out the obvious without making me feel foolish that I’d done the same.

Even mucking this up, I still carried on.

“Is Mrs. Weaver well enough to receive visitors?” I asked quietly.

This was met with yet another pause before, softly, “I think she’d like that, Josephine. She always enjoyed seeing you. She’s best in the mornings, however. Could you come by tomorrow, say about ten?”

I didn’t want to go by the Weavers tomorrow at about ten. I didn’t want to visit a kind woman in the throes of a grave illness or spend time with a kind man who was in the throes of possibly watching his wife die.

But Gran would go.

And I would detest knowing what I knew about Eliza Weaver and not taking the time to visit at about ten tomorrow to find some way to communicate that I thought she was kind and she’d touched my life in a way I appreciated.

“I would…yes. I could. Absolutely,” I accepted.

“She can’t have flowers or—”

“I’ll just bring me,” I assured him.

“Eliza will look forward to that, as will I.”

“Lovely,” I replied. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“See you then, Josephine.”

“Take care, Mr. Weaver.”

“You as well, my dear. Good-bye.”

I gave him my farewell and put the phone back in its receiver. Then I moved back to Gran’s book and flipped the pages until I found it. I grabbed the phone and punched in the digits.

There were five rings before I heard, “You’ve reached the Fletcher residence. We’re unable to get to the phone right now, but please leave a message.”

I waited for the beep then said, “Reverend Fletcher? This is Josephine Malone. It seems I’ll be in Magdalene for some time and…well, you mentioned dinner. And I would enjoy having dinner with you and Mrs. Fletcher. Or you can come to Lavender House and I can cook for you to express my gratitude for all the thoughtful things you did for Gran. Whenever you have time, I’d be happy to hear from you. You can call me at the house or use my mobile.”

I gave him my number, said my good-byes and I hung up.

Once I did, I took in another, deeper breath and flipped to the S’s.

There was no listing and I found that unsurprising.

Then it occurred to me and I flipped back to the J’s.

One page from mine, there it was. Jake and a number.

I stared at the number for some time before I made my decision.

I moved to the butcher block to get my phone from my purse. I went back to the address book and programmed his number into my phone.

But I didn’t use it.

What had to be said, and done, needed to be face-to-face.

Therefore, I moved to the drawer where Gran kept the phonebook.

I flipped through the pages at the back that were printed on thin yellow paper, not knowing what I was looking for.

Then I found what I was looking for.