If Catfish Had Nine Lives(64)

            I held back a myriad of protests, including incredulous noises and doubtful commentary.

            “Oh, Miz, you’re so sweet,” Opie said. And then she actually took the next half second to send me a disgusted and disappointed look before turning her gleeful aura back to Gram.

            “It’s true, my dear,” Gram said.

            I looked at Gram. Okay, maybe this wasn’t too hard on her. Maybe she was being sincere to Opie. I sure hoped I was more like her when I grew up.

            “Oh my, oh my, oh my, this is such a wonderfully tragic story,” Opie said.

            “Yes, it is, but it is also the distant past,” Gram said, bringing at least a little present-time reality back to the moment. “This happened a long time ago, Ophelia, and there’s nothing to be done to change it. It’s good that you know though, I think.” Gram looked quickly at Joe, who’d moved to a spot beside the lamp in between me and Gram.

            I looked at him, too, and there was something different about him, but again I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Was he more solid? No, not really. But I could still somehow see him better even with all the bright light. Was that it? I couldn’t be sure.

            “Oh, yes, Miz, it’s very good that I know. I think I shall have to do something to honor the memory. No, that doesn’t sound right. Murder was involved. I think I shall have to do something to document . . . yes, that’s the word, document, the entire tragedy of the situation. Perhaps a statue or something. Maybe something right in the middle of town. I could stand next to it for a couple hours every day during the summer and let the tourists take pictures. I’m sure Jake can help me figure it out.”

            “I’m sure he can,” Gram said.

            Suddenly, whatever it was about Joe that had seemed momentarily different was gone. I couldn’t distinguish what had disappeared, making me think I’d imagined it. Maybe I was just trying too hard to see something, see apparent changes with the reading of the letters. Maybe I had also just hoped that I could feel Jerome’s touch in bright daylight.

            “Oh, Miz”—Opie looked at me again, this time with less disdain—“and Betts, you two have brightened one of my darkest times. I’m ever so grateful. Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome,” Gram said.

            “Ya, uhm, yes, you’re welcome, Opie,” I added.

            Gram stood, and I followed suit.

            “We’ll be on our way, then,” Gram said as she stepped around me and exited the library. She was done.

            “Betts,” Opie said as she grabbed my arm.

            “Yes?” I looked at her hand on my arm.

            “How’s Teddy?” she asked.

            “I think he’s okay.” I squinted as I tried to read her pretty blue eyes. Did I see sincerity there? Did she really care about him? Would she be upset if she heard about the fight and the condition he was genuinely in? My hard heart softened a little, and even though I thought I’d probably regret it, I said, “Actually, Opie, he was in a fight and, well, he’s fine, and he’s going to be fine, but he got a little beat up.”

            “What happened?”

            “He’s still sorting out the details.”

            “Oh, dear, should I . . . Oh, Betts, I want to see him, I miss him. Should I?”

            I shrugged. “I don’t know, Opie. Teddy doesn’t share his personal goings-on with me. I don’t know what happened between the two of you.”

            “I’m too old for him, Betts. I knew he wouldn’t remain interested in me long-term. I thought it was best to break us up before I got too deep.”