<br><br> <center>*Let them judge you.
Let them misunderstand you.
Let them gossip about you.
Their opinions aren’t your problem.
You stay kind, committed to love,
and free in your authenticity.
No matter what they do or say,
don’t you dare doubt your worth
or the beauty of your truth.
Just keep on shining.
― Scott Stabile*
</center>

<br><br><center>![Creature Comfort.png](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmTKPUV9v3Yw2TsqSMoiri5HBsD3fW28K3DrAX8HQs9sNz/Creature%20Comfort.png)
*Creature Comfort*</center>


<br><br>As I'm driving back home from my meeting with Malachi and Sara I feel hopeful that at last I'm getting some support. It's stressful doubting yourself, especially the evidence of your senses.

It's only common sense to check yourself because grief can play tricks with the mind and emotions. Even Shakespeare was aware of this and had Horatio warn Hamlet that the Ghost might be a familiar spirit bent on his destruction. So, it's prudent to be cautious because the line between reality and illusion is ill defined.

In my case, however, I do think Mollie is trying to contact me but it doesn't hurt to get another opinion, especially from experts who have experience working with spirits.

<br><br>I pull into my driveway to see Jill, my neighbour, knocking on my door. I'm disheartened because I'm wondering if Jim wasn't right that Jill is seeking more from me than I'm willing to give.

To add to my fear, I notice she's carrying a freshly baked pie.

She gives a cheery wave and waits on the porch while I exit my car.

"I felt bad about misjudging you the other day, so I made this for you by way of apology." She hands me the pie.

"I hope you like apple."

"It's my favourite," I smile. "Do you want to come in for coffee and share a slice?"

"Sure, that would be nice, Ned. Thank you." 

<br><br>I know I felt guilted into asking her in but what else could I do? She's a nice lady and I don't want to hurt her feelings.

Star gravitates to her instantly and when she sits on the sofa, he ends up lying at her feet with his jaw resting on her foot. It's the way he used to be with Mollie and now it just adds to my angst.

"Is he always this friendly?" she asks, rubbing his ears.

"He likes women," I admit.

"He's a smart boy," she smiles.

<br><br>I don't want to read too much into her words but I sense there's a deeper meaning there.

"Actually," she continues, "I was hoping to get the chance to speak with you. One of the women on the block overheard Jim bragging to one of the guys the won a wager he placed on you. It seems Jim saw me bring you a beer the other day when you were cutting down the tree and now we're the talk of the neighbourhood."

I groaned. "I'm so sorry, Jill―what can I say? Jim is an ass. He saw me in the mall and bought me a drink and told me the same dumb ass story. I got up and walked out. Sorry he has to be the town crier and you have to be the victim."

<br><br>"Well, you're the victim too," she said giving me a sad look. "Guess I'm the wicked city woman now that Matt has left and even my being here now will probably add to that."

I shook my head. "Neither of us has done anything wrong, but that doesn't matter when it comes to gossip."

"I just want you to know all the women on the street think you're a really decent guy. They see Natalie Brinkman fawning all over you but you're polite and keep your distance. Ed, her husband, is a detective and knows Jim. They talk all the time. I think it galls them to realize you're not like them. I just wanted to tell you in case you heard if from them, because it would definitely come out wrong."

"It's hard being Superman," I said, biting my lip.  There was a momentary pause until she caught my meaning and then we both convulsed with laughter and that broke the ice between us. It was out in the open now and we could joke about it and I knew that after this we'd be comfortable with each other regardless of where things went.

<br><br>After Jill left, I still felt the afterglow of the warmth that flowed between us. It's funny sometimes how things people say for ill can turn around and work for good.

I always hated second-guessing people and now there'd be none of that going forward between Jill and me. I'll gladly clear her walk in winter and she can bake me pies until the rumour mill runs dry.

I was left with such a good feeling that I went to work on my manuscript and wrote until late into the evening.

<br><br> I realized I had been so busy writing I didn't eat dinner and now was famished.

I lit a fire and put on a pot of coffee. I figured I'd have another piece of Jill's homemade apple pie. I thought I put it in the fridge but when I looked it wasn't there, and my stomach was grumbling.

Maybe Jill took back the part we didn't eat. That seemed strange. While I was debating this, the oven bell gave  a soft ring.

I went over to check and saw the pie all heated up and fragrant and warm―just the way I like it. It was Mollie for sure, no doubt about it. One slice of the pie had a small bite taken out of it―that was her signature trademark when packing me a lunch―she'd take one bite out of my sandwich. 

It was like a kiss...

 and there was a faint smudge of pink from her lipstick.



 
<br><br> <center>To be continued…</center>

<br><center>© 2021, John J Geddes. All rights reserved</center>

<br><center>[Photo](https://images.app.goo.gl/WT8KCrYxRZ7yfpAc7)</center>
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