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It looked like Jo, she suddenly realized, because it was Jo.
Unbidden, she felt another memory float free, from the first
morning that Jo had come over.
My friends call me Jo, she had said by way of introduction.
Oh, my God.
Katie paled.
…Jo…
She hadn’t imagined Jo, she suddenly knew. She hadn’t made her
up.
Jo had been here, and she felt her throat begin to tighten. Not
because she didn’t believe it, but because she suddenly
understood that her friend Jo—her only real friend, her wise
adviser, her supporter and confidante—would never come back.
They would never have coffee, they would never share another
bottle of wine, they would never visit on the porch out front.
She’d never hear the sound of Jo’s laughter or watch the way she
arched her eyebrow. She would never hear Jo complain about
having to do manual labor, and she began to cry, mourning the
wonderful friend she’d never had the chance to meet in life.
She wasn’t sure how much time passed before she was able to
begin reading again. It was getting dark, and with a sigh, she
stood and unlocked the front door. Inside, she took a seat at the
kitchen table. Jo, she remembered, had once sat in the opposite
chair, and for a reason she couldn’t explain, Katie felt herself begin
to relax.
Okay, she thought to herself. I’m ready to hear what you have to
say.