She leaned her head against mine. “Thanks, I’m taking you up on it. You’re in charge of the flowers.”

I started to say something, then stopped. I could pick out flowers. How hard could that be?

We decided the funeral would be on Wednesday. That gave the coroner time to perform the autopsy and ship Momma’s body back from Little Rock. In the parking lot, Violet tried to convince me to go home with her. “Rose, you went back to the house already. You proved you could do it. Now come spend the night with us.”

I was frightened, but I just couldn't let myself go with her. Sometime over the last day and a half, a revolt had sprung up inside me and there was no beating it down into submission. I needed to do this even if it killed me, which it very well might. I slowly shook my head and opened my car door.

“Rose, this is ridiculous. Do you even have electricity yet?”

“No, but Joe called the electric company and they said they’d be out today.”

Violet grabbed my door as I got into the car. “But…”

“Violet, you need to get back to the kids. I’ll talk to you later.”

Mike dragged her away and I drove home eager to be alone. As I pulled into the gravel driveway, I discovered Joe crouched down at the side door of the house.

“What are you doin’?” I asked when I got out, wondering if I had just caught him in the middle of being up to something.

“Puttin’ a new lock on your door.” He didn’t look at me, just kept fiddling at the doorknob with a screwdriver.

“Why are you doin’ that?”

“To make it harder for someone to break in.”

The unspoken to kill you hung in the air like a jumbo jet waiting to land. “Why would you do that? Especially if you think I murdered my own mother.”

He turned his head and raised his eyebrows. “I never said I thought you murdered your mother. I said it wasn’t for me to decide. And I’m doin’ it in case you didn’t and the person who did comes back, especially since you think it was supposed to be you in the first place.”

I sucked in my breath. How much had he heard? “Well, thank you. I’ll pay you for the lock and for your time, too.”

“No need for the time, and the lock wasn’t much.” He gave the knob a jiggle then stood up. “I have a little sister. I only hope someone would do the same for her.” He handed me a set of keys on a ring but didn’t let go, his fingers and the keys in the palm of my hand. “I fixed the doorjamb too, so it’ll hold better. But, Rose,” he paused and looked into my eyes, “if someone wants in, they’ll get in.”

I suddenly questioned the sensibility of my plan.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” he asked.

I blinked, trying to look confused. “Tell you what?”

He sighed and removed his hand, leaving the keys behind. “I'm next door if you need me, just give me a call. I left my number on your kitchen counter.”

“You were in my kitchen?”

“Yeah, the door was broken. I had to go inside to remove the old lock.”

“Oh.” I felt like an idiot.

“Okay, I’m headin’ home now. If you have trouble sleepin’ drink a glass of wine or somethin’ to help, but not too much. You need to be somewhat alert if someone tries to break in.”

I hadn’t thought about terror-induced insomnia. “I don’t drink.”

He looked surprised. “You mean usually?”

“No, I mean at all. I’ve never had alcohol.”

“Oh,” he said, twisting his lips as he pondered the fact I was a teetotaler. “Well, if you need anythin’ let me know.” He folded up a towel on the ground, covered with a few tools and parts, and walked to his house.

When I turned to the door, I realized not only had he replaced the doorknob but installed a deadbolt too. Why would he do such a thing? I glanced over my shoulder at his front porch, but he was already out of sight. Sighing, I went inside and locked the door behind me. Joe was definitely a conundrum.

I slept fitfully, sitting up with every creak in the house. I got up multiple times and peeked out the windows for lurkers in the bushes. I checked the locks at least five times. When I got up at nine o’clock the next morning, I was tired but eager to busy myself with the day.

Momma’s curtains seemed like a good place to start. I stood on the arm of the sofa to take them down. The old, tattered fabric fell, dust flying everywhere as it pooled on top of the sofa back. I needed new curtains; these would never survive the washing machine.

But first, I needed to get all the blood off the wall.

After getting a big bowl of hot soapy water, I scrubbed the dried splatters, which proved difficult to remove. I scrubbed harder and paint came off on the sponge, leaving bare spots on the wall. I sat on the arm of the chair and surveyed the damage. There was no way around it; I had to repaint. Suddenly, I had a new plan for the day, something to take my mind of my worries. I would repaint the living room and buy new curtains. And get a cell phone too.

I wanted to stand out in the yard and shout to the world. Look at me! I’m making my own decisions!

Instead I grabbed my purse and locked the side door with my new keys, glancing over at Joe’s house as I got into my car. His car sat parked in his driveway and I reprimanded myself for even looking. What did I care if Joe McAllister was home?

I went to the cell phone store first, overwhelmed with all my choices. I felt very grown up when I picked out a phone and signed a contract. A legally binding contract. Something deep inside prickled at my joy, saying I was twenty-four years old, this was not that amazing, but I shushed it. I was gonna let myself enjoy it.