Scarlet Oaks and the Serial Caller

by Michaela James

  Scarlet almost choked on her coffee from laughter, and Joe shook his head, a wide grin spreading across his face.

  “So, you see,” Rose concluded, “Violet has always danced to her own beat. Who’s to say where she is and what she’s doing, is not the better way to live.”

  Looking from his mother to his daughter, Joe said, “Thank you both for making me feel better.” Lost in thought for a moment, he asked, “Do you think Lisa will give me the time of day?”

  Scarlet narrowed her eyes. “I’m not letting you do this alone. I’ll come with you.”

  Joe crinkled his brow. “I confess I was hoping you would.”

  Relishing her newfound freedom, and wanting to share the news in person, Scarlet arranged to meet Niles and Tom in the Golden Gate Park. Concluding enough hugging to draw attention, they began their usual walk towards the Japanese Tea Gardens.

  Unlike Joe and Rose, Scarlet’s good friends chose not to practice composure when Scarlet informed them of her choice to stay with Mending Men.

  “Are you crazy?” Tom asked dramatically. “You’ve been stalked and kidnapped and … forced to wear ill-fitting clothes.”

  Giggling, Scarlet said, “Who’s to say that couldn’t have happened with the top forty show?”

  Smiling, as a passing girl struggled to keep from being hogtied by her four dogs, Niles volunteered,

  “Scar has a valid point there.”

  Managing to pull all his facial features into one central location, Tom reasoned, “But the whole sports thing and the sleazy guys with their disgusting dating advice?”

  Rubbing Tom’s shoulder, Scarlet said, “I can reel them in a little, but they are amusing. Why do people listen to the radio? To be entertained, right?”

  Niles and Tom nodded, and Scarlet continued, “I believe there’s an audience out there who want to hear great music and relate to or laugh at, other people’s problems. Look at all these daytime television shows, where people lay out their train wreck of a life for all to see.”

  Three friends moved collectively to their right, allowing a family of cyclists’ ease of passage.

  “You’re right,” Niles agreed. “They’re hugely popular, but I think they get paid to be on those shows.”

  Scarlet pulled a face. “I have no desire to emulate that kind of dysfunction. I certainly don’t want Mending Men to be a circus. But if people like Barry bring a little comic relief, so be it. Primarily, I’d like to help these men if they’re genuinely seeking advice. I want to steer away from the sports metaphors and give them a female perspective on their problems. In time, I’d like to add a men’s health section with a visiting expert. Perhaps a legal section for men facing divorce with custody and alimony issues.”

  Coming to a halt, Tom declared, “Damn, Scarlet. That sounds really good.”

  When Tom started walking again, Niles enquired, “Do you think you’ll lose your true sports guys, though?”

  Scarlet frowned before asking, “What do you think about having a time allocated sports section, where my die-hards can still call in and talk about the Niners, giants, warriors, etc.?”

  Niles lifted his chin. “Perfect. You’ll just contain it, so it doesn’t consume the whole show.”

  “Exactly,” Scarlet said cheerily. “I’ll study up on the results of the games, and then a certain caller can dissect the play, or inform other listeners of how it should have gone down.”

  Following a brief discussion about James, Scarlet had little to tell them, as they’d barely had any alone time since the New Year’s Eve party, the conversation turned serious.

  “Tomorrow?” Scarlet repeated with dismay.

  “Yep,” Tom confirmed, “got my shots yesterday.”

  Sensing a tension between Niles and Tom, Scarlet, in as happy a tone as she could muster, said, “Well, I’m sure you’ll do your magic and be home in no time.”

  “That’s the plan,” Tom replied.

  Niles gave a halfhearted smile. “His flight leaves early. SF to Miami and then from there to Port-au-Prince.”

  Hugging Tom as they walked, Scarlet confessed how much she’d miss him while making a mental note to check on Niles the following day.

  Standing by their cars in the underground parking lot, Scarlet and Tom held each other and cried. Niles, all the while, informing them how ridiculous they were being.

  Returning to Pacific Heights, Scarlet discovered her grandmother nonchalantly sweeping the steep front stairs and her father staring out of a third-floor window beneath a cone-shaped turret.

  Reaching the top stair, Scarlet only needed to raise her eyebrows before Rose caved. “It’s your first time out alone since, well since New Years. Your father and I were just …”

  “Being foolish,” Joe finished for Rose, having arrived at the open front door.

  Rose pulled a face. “We even calculated how long the drive was to and from the park. Then allowed for the walk and perhaps a stop at a café. Around the time we imagined you’d be back, Abbot and Costello couldn’t help but start looking for your little car.”

  Giving them each a hug, Scarlet said, “You could have called me.”

  Kissing his daughter on the cheek, Joe responded, “Then you’d have known we were worried. The staring and sweeping made much more sense.”

  Scarlet laughed. “And so clandestine.”

  Over a chicken salad lunch, three generations discussed how the New Year would begin its future normalcy the following day. Joe would return to his job with the airport authority and Scarlet with Mending Men.

  Upon declaring her need for an afternoon nap, Scarlet enquired, “Gran, do you mind if James and I steal some of your four o’clock tea today?”

  Smiling fondly at her granddaughter, Rose replied, “I’d be delighted to share. Where would you like it?”

  Scarlet raised her chin. “Seeing Dad up there today, reminded me it’s been forever since I went up to the third floor. Would you be okay with me taking a tray to our old den?”

  “I think that’s an excellent idea,” Rose replied. “Apologies for the dust you may encounter.”

  Clearing the plates from the dining room table, Joe tried to conceal a grin. “Remember the rules. If there’s a boy in there, the door stays open.”

  Scarlet’s eyes widened with indignation. “I had one boyfriend that summer and always kept the door open. It was Violet who closed and LOCKED it!”

  Returning condiments to the fridge, Scarlet continued, “Oh sure, go ahead and laugh. Do you know what it was like having a sister who pushed the limits so far, she ruined any chance of freedom this teenager,” Scarlet added while comically pointing to herself, “ever had.”

  Trying to curtail her laughing, Rose said, “To this day, I don’t know how she found that old key.” Looking to her son, Rose asked, “We never shared the story with Marilyn, did we?”

  Joe shook his head. “Goodness no. You and Dad had offered to take the children for a good chunk of the summer vacation because Marilyn was feeling overwrought. The Den adventure may have thrown her over the edge.”

  Closing the dishwasher door and leaning against it, Scarlet reminisced, “Violet and I met these cute brothers at your company picnic, Dad. They were nice boys, and I saw Violet happily hanging with the red-haired brother one time. Then in the blink of an eye, he was replaced by at least four other boys. When I asked her where she met them, she looked at me as if I were a simpleton and said, through the red-haired geek we met at Dad’s picnic. When I stared at her blankly, and no doubt more simpleton like, she said, you didn’t really think I was interested in him, did you? He was just my ticket to meet other, cooler boys.”

  Determined to be sympathetic to Scarlet’s remembered teenage pain, Rose and Joe refrained from additional laughter.

  Leaving her father and grandmother to solve the mystery of how Violet found the key, Scarlet let all thoughts of teenage angst leave her body as she sank into her soft bed. Having left the lavender colored drapes open, she watched
dark foreboding clouds float in from the bay, darkening the room as if someone was dimming the lights.

  What felt to be minutes later, Scarlet was awoken by her cell phone.

  “Hello,” Scarlet mumbled groggily.

  “OMG,” came a young girl’s voice.

  Lifting her head from the pillow and blinking her eyes, Scarlet said,

  “Who …?”

  “Unbelievable, Oaks,” the girl’s voice continued.

  “Sylvia,” Scarlet declared with a smile.

  As if her identity had never been in question, her friend continued, “Friggin’ unbelievable.”

  Scarlet swung her legs out of bed. “What’s unbelievable?”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the news or the front page of every single paper in the city, Oaks?”

  Beginning to understand, Scarlet asked, “Stewart Steele?”

  “Uh yeah,” Sylvia said, “and you and Mending Men and Bay Radio and even me.”

  While Scarlet’s, still foggy brain, processed this information, Sylvia chatted on about this and that, only catching Scarlet’s attention again when she finished with, “You and me, tomorrow girl. According to the paper, there’s an adventure every day at Bay Radio.”

  Finding this declaration a lot less appealing than her young friend, Scarlet told Sylvia how much she was looking forward to seeing her and hung up the phone.

  Not too thrilled with her reflection in the mirror, Scarlet decided a shower was required before James’ arrival.

  An hour later, Scarlet observed James, wearing relaxed fit, faded jeans, paired with a blue and white striped rugby shirt, to look casually perfect.

  Tray in hand, James followed Scarlet up two flights of stairs. Opening the arched wooden door, Scarlet inhaled familiar musty scent and was instantly fourteen years old again.

  Not having this powerful memory trigger, James’ focus was carefully placing the tray on a little oval table, while admiring the slanted ceiling and round windows. “This is an incredible room. Since meeting you, I’ve been in the most beautiful homes with endless character and history. The Tudor Niles and Tom share is off the charts, but this house is right up there too.”

  Chuckling as she poured their tea, Scarlet conceded, “Niles and Tom’s home is amazing, but … this house survived the earthquake and fire of nineteen hundred and six.”

  James gave an appreciative whistle. “When was it built?”

  Handing him a mug of tea, Scarlet replied, “Eighteen eighty-nine. It’s been in the family for five generations.”

  James looked around the room again. “Wow!”

  Gesturing for him to sit on the cream colored, linen sofa, Scarlet joined him and continued, “The story is, my great, great, great, great, grandfather came from somewhere on the east coast in a covered wagon.”

  Eyes wide, James enquired, “For the Gold Rush?”

  “Yes. He was one of the original forty-niners,” Scarlet replied proudly.

  As James shook his head, smiling, Scarlet said, “Now, back to your first childhood memory. What happened after the tattoo incident?”

  James put his cup down and stretched his long legs in front of him. “Ironically, my first childhood memory was also my last memory of Dad. He left that day and never came back. Every time I asked my sisters where he was, they’d tell me he’d gone to get more cigarettes.”

  Eyes softening, Scarlet touched James’ knee. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be asking you about this stuff.”

  Placing his own hand gently atop Scarlet’s, James responded, “It actually feels good to talk about it. My family members are experts at suppressing difficult or uncomfortable emotions.” Looking down at their hands, he continued, “Mom remarried about a year later. He was an army officer, and we moved around a lot. My sisters and I got used to continually being the new kid in class.”

  Nodding, as she swallowed her last gulp of tea, Scarlet asked, “And they’re still together and happy?”

  A sadness clouded James’ eyes. “Mom died of ovarian cancer two years ago.”

  Scarlet placed her empty mug on the threadbare rug and slid towards James. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her narrow waist and laid his head on her shoulder. Scarlet gently stroked his blond wavy hair. When the embrace loosened, his eyes found hers.

  Neither one daring to blink, James placed his hand on the right side of Scarlet’s face. Breathing heavily, as his thumb traced the outline of her full lips, Scarlet jumped when a voice called out,

  “Do you two need some hot water?”

  Giggling as James, with a mischievous grin, mumbled, “Cold may be needed more.” Scarlet called out towards the stairs,

  “We’re good, thanks, Gran.”

  “The kettle just boiled, if you do run out,” the voice returned. “Your dad and I are off to the grocery store. Prudence is taking a nap.”

  Standing up and coming to the top of the third-floor stairs, Scarlet, still unable to see her grandmother, said, “Good to know, thanks, Gran. See you in a bit.”

  Pouring James and herself a second cup of tea, Scarlet enquired, “What about your sisters, tell me about them.”

  James leaned back into the well-stuffed sofa. “Charlotte lives this side of Napa. She and her husband, Greg, own a small winery. They have two beautiful little girls. My other sister, Amy, lives in Oregon. She’s in a, well, I guess the correct term, is facility.”

  Scarlet’s brow furrowed. “She’s not well?”

  James sighed. “Amy always felt things deeply. Apparently too deeply to function peacefully in this world. Don, our stepfather, was routinely posted in Central American countries. We were in Guatemala for the last two years of their civil war. Then a year in Venezuela. I don’t believe she saw fighting or violence as such, but human suffering did feel a little too close, too real. We finally returned to the states in my final year of high school. Amy would have been twenty-one. But even at that age and here in San Fran, I remember how incidents, seemingly minor to us, would upset her terribly. For example, a young child being shouted at by a parent in a store. Amy would panic about how that child was treated in their home. If the Dad was prepared to shout so horribly in front of strangers, how would he treat the little boy behind closed doors? There was a news article in the paper about a high school student committing suicide after relentless bullying. Amy cried for days on end, then she began walking the perimeter of the high school, hoping to prevent another young person from such a fate.”

  James took a much-needed gulp from his refilled teacup.

  “Your sister is a sensitive, caring, wonderful woman,” Scarlet responded with feeling.

  James smiled. “I agree, but sadly that level of sensitivity cripples her emotionally. She’s unable to cope with life’s harsh realities.”

  Scarlet tentatively enquired, “So this place in Oregon, is it, I mean … do they take good care of her?”

  Tilting his handsome head slightly to one side, James replied, “Most definitely. It’s a big country estate on acres of lush land. They don’t dose Amy up on countless pills, but more shield her from the outside world.”

  Eyebrows raised, Scarlet enquired, “Forgive me for asking, but does it cost a small fortune?”

  James frowned. “It’s funny you mention it because something odd occurred just days ago. Amy has been at Cedar Acres for three years now. Charlotte and I divide the cost between us and yes, it’s a pretty penny. On New Year’s Eve, I received a very large check in the mail. It was from Cedar Acres and the letter attached stated they were returning my thirty-six months of payments. They also informed me Amy’s costs are now being taken care of by an anonymous donor. This mystery person will continue to do so, for as long as he or she is able. My sister, Charlotte, also received a check and the same letter.”

  Scarlet sat a little straighter. “That is odd. Your stepdad perhaps? Or your Dad, sorry, I should have asked, is your real dad still alive?”

  “As far as I know,” James replied. “Charlo
tte’s almost certain she spotted him at Mom’s funeral. As kids, Don would never allow us to talk about our Dad. The years went by, and we got used to not mentioning him and then in time, we stopped thinking about him. I and I believe my sisters too, have no animosity, just indifference. As to your question of who this mysterious donor is, Charlotte and I are quite perplexed.”

  Pulling her feet up onto the couch, Scarlet eagerly enquired, “You don’t believe it’s Don or your Dad?”

  James placed a hand on one of Scarlet’s socked feet. “If it were Dad, I think he’d want us to know. Want us to be aware he cared and was, for all intents and purposes, back. Don remarried within a year of Mom’s death. A lady from Russia, three years younger than me. The last we heard, he was none too happy about her large family eating into his retirement account. Him parting with thousands a month for Amy, no I just can’t see it.”

  Blushing as James started massaging her foot, Scarlet said, “I hope you don’t think I strategically placed my foot here with this in mind.” Giggling, she added, “That being said, please don’t stop.”

  James laughed. “The thought never occurred to me. But, if in five minutes, it’s replaced by the other foot, I may need to rethink your motives.”

  Exhaling as James expertly manipulated the ball of her foot, Scarlet asked, “So no wealthy grandparents or long-lost uncles?”

  Gently squeezing her toes, James replied, “Nope, none that I know of.”

  “No other relatives at all?” Scarlet pushed.