Dying Echo A Grim Reaper Mystery - By Judy Clemens Page 0,56
may have been on the run for years. So she wouldn’t even have—”
“—a home phone number in Texas.”
“Exactly. But we had to call around to all of these Elizabeths to make sure.”
“So you’re just going to start calling. That will take forever.”
“What else am I going to do with my time? I’ll see you later.”
“Eric…”
But he’d hung up. Casey sat there for several seconds, then stepped out of the office. The black belts were in the workout room, preparing for the next class, which was apparently for kids. One had already arrived, and was fitted out in a helmet. More were coming up the stairs. Casey escaped to the roof.
The master was standing in the same place as when she’d left. He said nothing.
“I’m sorry,” Casey finally said.
He didn’t respond.
“I should have called. I should have written. Something.”
He looked out at the mountains. “You mistake my silence for criticism. Or anger. I feel the need for neither one.”
Casey waited, and her teacher finally turned toward her and studied her face. “I feel nothing but sadness for what you have been through. Nothing but concern, and the desire to help. But I believe what you need must come from inside you.”
It was Casey’s turn to gaze at the mountains. “I don’t recognize what’s in there anymore. Who I even am. Who I’m supposed to be.”
“I know. It is a journey, and you alone are able to find your destination. Your way may twist and turn, but eventually you will find what you are looking for.”
The same thing she’d been told by a sensei in Florida only days before. These centered, disciplined, wise people were all the same.
“I’ve been trying to follow the path,” she said. “But I have no idea if I’ve made any progress. It’s all so pointless.”
“I understand,” he said. “Life has changed your course, and it’s hard to find your way.”
They were quiet again, while Casey stewed about her teacher’s idealistic philosophy. Easy to say “follow the path” when you weren’t the one trying to beat back the brush to find it.
“You say you have been following the path, and I believe you,” the master said. “But there is one thing I learned long ago that helped me find peace along my own journey.”
“Oh, did you lose your entire family in an explosion, too?”
“There are other journeys, Casey. Other ways pain forces itself into a life. Yours is not the only story. Your brother is living in a rather sordid story of his own right now.”
Casey’s face burned. “Of course. I’m sorry, Master.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to hear what I say.”
He waited for Casey to tear her eyes from the mountains and fix them on his face.
“You must make this journey, and you alone can discover exactly what it is you need. But that doesn’t mean you must be alone.”
Casey heard his words, but they didn’t sink in. Not until he said it again.
“Casey, my friend. There comes a time when you need to realize that a journey is not a solitary experience. You must allow others to aid you along the way. The grief is yours, and the heartache, but it is something that only lessens when you share it.” He smiled gently. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“That I need to let someone else travel with me.” She gave a little laugh. “But who else wants to spend life on the road?”
He shook his head so subtly Casey almost missed it.
“What?”
“You’re listening to my words, Casey, but you’re not hearing what I’m saying.”
“I am. I hear you. You’re saying I need to let someone else travel with me.”
He watched her for a few more moments with his piercing blue eyes, then went down the stairs to join his class.
Chapter Twenty-three
“Any progress?”
Eric was still in the kitchen when Casey returned. Papers with scribbled notes lay scattered on the kitchen table, and his eyes were bloodshot and watery.
“My ear is numb, and I’ve lost the ability to explain who I’m looking for, and I think I might have forgotten why I’m making all these calls in the first place.”
“Maybe you’re confused because you’re hungry.”
His jaw dropped. “I forgot all about lunch.”
“Which is why I got some.”
“You?”
“Yes, me. I do have the ability to walk and carry a bag at the same time.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant.” She pushed some of Eric’s papers aside and distributed two large salads, two carry-out containers of chicken noodle soup, and a loaf of French