would have been my turn to sleep in the room with her. This isn’t your fault.”
Noah slipped his phone from his hip pocket. “I should call the coroner and the funeral people, but I can’t bear to see them take her away.”
Kayla reached up for the box of tissues on the nightstand, took out a fistful, and passed them around. “Miss Janie is the spirit that makes this house a home. How will we survive without her?”
Teresa dried Noah’s wet cheeks before she took care of her own tears. “She looks so peaceful, like she’s sleeping, but that’s only the body that housed her sweet spirit. We have to remember that when they take her out of the house. Her spirit will stay in our hearts to help us when we need it.”
“Promise?” Noah needed something to hang on to as much as the two girls did.
“Hey, where is everyone?” Sam’s voice floated down the hallway from the front door.
“We’re in here,” Noah called out.
Sam eased down into the rocking chair and sighed. “When did she leave us?”
“Sometime after three this morning,” Noah answered.
“She went peacefully,” Sam said. “I hope that when it’s my time, I go like that.”
“How do you know?” Noah asked.
“She was having a wonderful dream when she stepped out of this world and into eternity. She’s got a smile on her face,” Sam answered. “My Delia fought death so hard that she had a horrible expression on her face when she went. Miss Janie accepted things, and she knew she was leaving her little family right here where you all belong.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Noah managed a weak smile.
“Losin’ her will be hard on all of us here in Birthright, but even tougher on you kids. Folks didn’t come around much this past summer because a lot of the time she didn’t know them, but they’ll be here for y’all.” Sam reached for the tissues and pulled out a couple. “We’ve lost a pillar of our community.” He wiped his eyes and laid a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “I’m here to help. Want me to call the funeral home?”
“Yes, please,” Noah whispered.
Sam pulled his phone from the bib pocket of his overalls and made the call. Then they all sat in silence for a few minutes. Noah felt like he should have said something, but there were no words—just a gaping black abyss.
“She’d hate this,” Kayla finally said. “She didn’t like people staring at her.”
“You’re right, but . . . ,” Noah agreed. “I can’t leave her alone. If y’all want to go, it’s fine, but I have to stay until they take her away.”
“Her last words to me were that the best years of her life were when we lived here with her.” Teresa sniffled.
“She told me that pretty often,” Sam said as he put his phone back in his pocket. “The funeral home will be here in twenty minutes. I’m glad for the times when her mind was lucid and we could talk about old times.”
“I’m glad for all the times she talked about when she was younger because we got to know her better. She would never have opened up to us if she hadn’t been able to flip back and forth from past to present.” Kayla tossed her tissues into the trash can and pulled more from the box.
“Thank you, Noah, for finding me and Kayla and making it possible for us to come back to spend some time with her.” Teresa wiped her face with the back of her hand.
“Past and present, she’s been a counselor to all of us, and you don’t have to thank me, Teresa. I would have done anything for her. She’d want us to get past this grief and get on with our lives, though.”
“You are so right about that. She even said those same words to me when I lost Delia.” Sam’s voice cracked. “Y’all are going to make her proud by paying forward the love and kindness that she’s shown you. That’s the way to honor her memory.”
“Amen,” Teresa, Kayla, and Noah said in unison.
Teresa appreciated the two men who came to take Miss Janie away for respecting her modesty as they lifted her onto the gurney with the sheet still covering her body. Miss Janie would have been mortified if her nightgown had slid up and shown her underpants. She and Noah walked on one side of the gurney, with Sam and Kayla on the other, as they carried her out to the hearse.