Jillian Chantal

This week the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt Song. I am still in my paranormal story but am close to being done with it. YAY!

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“Lula Mae, I know what you are mulling over. I can see it all over your countenance. You think the detective has been leading you in a song and dance and is not ready for the two of you to be courting. I hope to set your mind at ease with what I am going to say,” Jackson stopped walking at the passenger side door. “I shall ride with you as I tell you. I do not want to wait until we return to your home as I think I know you well enough by now that you will fret over that last conversation with the detective until you convince yourself he will never care for you in the way you desire.”

Lu looked over the top of the car at him. “You’re right. I’m already thinking it.” She opened her door and got in.

Inside, Jackson smiled a sad smile. “Listen to me carefully. The man has two children with the lady who has passed away. They have a deep abiding love that encompasses those children. My Rachel and I did not have any of our own but we adopted several. Those young people, as well as others we took into our home, strengthened the love and admiration we already had for each other when we wed. Nothing can break that. Not even death. But I am convinced—because I have seen him with you and how he looks at you—he is ready to be part of a twosome again and with you. He is a man who is from a family that is loving and he wants that for himself again.”

“How do you know that? Besides, he’s been pushing away from me all week.” She sighed as she turned onto the road. “And you saw him just now. He was extremely upset.”

“Yes, he was. Imagine this for a moment, Lula Mae. Pretend you had a husband you loved very much. A father to your children. You watched him become ill and fight a terrible disease and eventually succumb to it. Leaving you to raise those children alone.” He held his hand up to stop her reply. “I am not finished.”

She nodded at him to go on.

“Now imagine a couple of years later, you meet a man and think you could start over. And then you learn, as a result of your line of work, that a woman has killed her husband and you are tasked with investigating that death. Now, imagine the man you have begun to admire asks you to feel sorry for the woman who chose to end her husband’s life. A lady who didn’t treasure what she had, but voluntarily chose to end that person’s existence.”