Crispens Point - Book 1 of the Blackberry County Chronicles

by JoHannah Reardon

  Charlotte looked at her mom and saw that look that refused defiance. “When would we leave?” she asked with a smile.

  Margaret smiled back with a look of relief. “Next Monday.”

  Lyla looked at first one then the other. “Holy moly, I’m going to London!”

  Fortunately, Margaret had planned this as soon as she found out she had cancer, so she’d already gotten her passport. Charlotte already had one, as did Lyla, who had taken a trip to South America a few years ago to stay with a relative. The week flew by as they made their final preparations, and Monday afternoon they drove to the airport.

  The flight took all night, and they arrived in London at 7:00 a.m. England was already in the full bloom of spring, so they delighted in the many daffodils surrounding the airport and the green grass awaiting them. At home it was still brown and only a few crocuses had forced their way through the frozen earth. The tour company arranged for them to be picked up and taken to their hotel. By the time they got there, Margaret was in desperate need of a nap. “You go to sleep, Mom, and we’ll bring you back some lunch.”

  Charlotte and Lyla roamed around the general vicinity of the hotel, taking in the centuries-old architecture. Their hotel was on Russell Square, so they spent some time sitting in the park. Although overcast, it wasn’t raining, and the temperature was at least in the fifties. It was quite pleasant. Finally they found a little pub down a side street and looked at a menu. They decided to start their journey with authentic English food: Lyla ordered fish and chips and Charlotte a ploughman’s lunch.

  “So what’s it like living with Mom?” Charlotte asked.

  “She’s great. If my mom had been like her, I’d be a different person. You’re one lucky woman.”

  “I know it. I thank God all the time for that.”

  “I mean, how many women diagnosed with cancer would take a trip overseas? She’s crazy in a really cool way.”

  “Yes, she is.” Charlotte laughed and looked around the pub. “Maybe I’ll set my next book in London.”

  “I read one of your books.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah.” She didn’t say anything else, so Charlotte was afraid to ask.

  “And?”

  “It was okay.”

  Charlotte smiled. “I can tell you really loved it.”

  “Oh, I think you’re a good writer and all. It’s just not the kind of book I like.”

  “That’s fair enough; we all have different tastes.”

  “Good. I’m glad I got that off my chest. It’s been bothering me. You’re not mad?”

  “Not a bit. It takes a lot more than that to make me mad.” They fell silent and ate awhile, but Charlotte had to admit that it did bother her. She would very much like to have Lyla’s respect.

  After eating they took a lunch up to Margaret. She was just waking up from a nap and looked refreshed. “Our cruise down the Thames starts in just an hour. We need to get on the subway and go.”

  “Eat a bite first, Mom. We’ve got plenty of time.”

  Charlotte was surprised when her mom actually sat down and ate. After polishing off a good bit, she got up and said, “Let’s go.”

  Fortunately the station was close to the hotel, so they got on a train and made it to the boat just as boarding began. They settled into their seats as Margaret let out a deep sigh. “I can’t believe I’m going down the Thames. I’ve read English novels my entire life and now I’m finally here. This is the life.” Charlotte marveled at her mother’s spirit.

  The next day they toured the Tower of London. It took most of the morning, and although Charlotte pushed Margaret in a wheelchair, the excitement still wore her out—but in a happy way. They had a colorful Beefeater tour guide who made England’s history seem like a bloody mess. All of them marveled at seeing a structure that was almost a thousand years old.

  In the afternoon while Margaret napped, Charlotte and Lyla shopped. They enjoyed the street performers and stopped often to listen or to watch a mime do something clever. Neither of them bought anything because Lyla had no money and Charlotte didn’t see anything she couldn’t live without.

  That evening Charlotte managed to get tickets to Ninety Minute Shakespeare, a hilarious comedy in which three young men act out all of Shakespeare’s plays in ninety minutes. They all laughed until their sides hurt. The day took a toll on Margaret, so Charlotte and Lyla spent the following day at the British Museum while Margaret read and rested in the park.

  Friday they went to Westminster Abbey, and Charlotte was delighted that while they were there a woman came on the loudspeaker and prayed for all writers. That afternoon they visited Kew Gardens. It rained, but not enough to stop them. She thought her mother liked it best of all.

  Saturday, after Les Miserables, they began to pack to go home since their flight left early the next day. As they sat talking about their week, Margaret said, “This was the greatest. I’ve seen all the things I’ve heard about my whole life, even Drury Lane and Buckingham Palace. Charlotte got ideas for her next novel, and Lyla can tell her baby that she’s been to London.” She got up, gave them each a hug, and said, “Thanks, girls.”

  “Thank you!” they both chimed in at once.

  Charlotte sat on the plane ride home thinking about all the wonderful things they’d done in one short week. She was startled when the thought went through her mind that she wanted to tell Pastor Gordon all about the trip. She’d thought of him often this week. He was quite a history buff and she knew he’d love it there. “What’s wrong with you?” she thought. “He’s practically married.” Then she remembered something her mother told her years ago: “You can’t keep a bird from flying over your head, but you can keep him from building a nest in your hair.” She decided then and there that she’d chase that bird to kingdom come if it came close again.

  CHAPTER twenty four

  A week or two after Charlotte came back she noticed that things were dark at Mrs. Bartholomew’s house. Worried about her, she walked over to check things out. After Charlotte rang the doorbell twice, Mrs. Bartholomew swung the door open. She looked awful. Her hair hadn’t been combed and she still had her robe on, even though it was late afternoon. “Mrs. Bartholomew, are you feeling all right?”

  The elderly woman blinked at Charlotte as if trying to make out who she was. Finally she said, “I’m fine.” Then she turned her back and walked away from the door, leaving it wide open. Charlotte followed her in, which Mrs. Bartholomew didn’t seem to notice at first. When she sat down in her easy chair, Charlotte sat down across from her. “Do you need to see a doctor?”

  “I told you I was fine,” she snapped. Then, as if realizing for the first time that Charlotte was sitting in her living room, she added, “What are you doing here anyway?”

  “I thought I’d come visit.”

  Mrs. Bartholomew looked at her through squinted eyes as if trying to figure her out, but she said nothing and the silence grew between them the way kudzu takes over a tree. Charlotte felt as though something was out of place. She looked around the room trying to put her finger on it when it hit her. “Where’s Custer?”

  No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the old woman put her head in her hands and wailed so loudly that for a moment Charlotte thought she was in physical pain. But then she heard her voice as she rocked back and forth: “Dead, dead, dead. Everyone dies and leaves me alone.”

  The gut-wrenching sobs that tore from her throat caused Charlotte to fight tears as well. She jumped up and wrapped her arms around the frail little woman, rocking with her as a mother would comfort a child. “Not everyone,” she whispered. “I won’t leave you. I’ll stay.” Mrs. Bartholomew clutched her as if she were hanging off a cliff and would fall if Charlotte let go, and perhaps that was the case.

  For a long time the two women stayed there in each other’s embrace. Charlotte stroked Mrs. Bartholomew’s hair and muttered, “It’s going to be all right, it’s going to be all right.” Neither of them kn
ew if that was true, but it helped them both for Charlotte to say it. After a while Charlotte asked, “Can you tell me what happened to Custer?” She almost regretted asking because the tears began to flow in earnest again.

  “I don’t know. I just found him lying out in the bushes. I tried to pump his little heart the way they do on those doctor shows on TV, but it was too late. Too late.”

  Charlotte decided that something had to be done. “I’ll tell you what. We’re going out to breakfast tomorrow to celebrate Custer’s life. He had a long, full one and we’re going to order omelets and reminisce. I’ll come get you at eight o’clock.”

  “You must think me a silly old fool.”

  “I do not! I think you are a woman who loves deeply. A companion of fifteen years is nothing to sneeze about. But I don’t think it’s good for you to mope around like this. I want you to get up tomorrow and fix your hair, and put on that pastel flowered dress you look so nice in. Okay?”

  Mrs. Bartholomew nodded. Charlotte rose to leave. “How about if we order pizza and watch a movie tonight? I know you like The African Queen, so I’ll bring it over and we’ll chum around like old school girls. What do you say?”

  The elderly woman seemed to be herself again. “I’d like that.” She paused a moment, then added, “Thank you, Charlotte.”

  “You bet. You’d do the same for me.” And Charlotte knew she would.

  Breakfast was a lot of fun. Mrs. Bartholomew came out of her house looking like she was going to high tea. Even though they only went to the Junction, she enjoyed every minute of it. She hadn’t been out to eat in years. They ordered more than they could possibly eat but it gave them an excuse to sit there for a long time. She told Charlotte stories about Custer that made her laugh so hard that they both had trouble eating. When a waitress said, “You two are having way too much fun over here,” they both giggled as if sharing a secret.

  When they finished eating, Charlotte announced that they had one more stop to make. As she headed into the country, Mrs. Bartholomew asked, “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see.”

  They drove quite a way until they came to a farmhouse with a large barn. There were several dogs in a fenced in yard and a woman in overalls who looked as if she’d been doing chores. Charlotte walked up to her and said, “I’m the one who called about the kittens.”

  “Oh yes, they’re out in the barn. Come with me.”

  “Now wait a minute.” Mrs. Bartholomew looked as if she’d hit Charlotte if she were given a chance. She started to complain. “No one can take Custer’s place. I can’t just get another one, and that is that. I thought you understood.” Charlotte ignored her as they both followed the woman to the barn. “Unless you’ve had a pet, you can’t possibly know what it’s like to lose one. You don’t just go out and get one the next day. Why I . . .” Her prattle of words stopped abruptly as the woman placed a little gold bundle of fur in Charlotte’s hands.

  “Look at this face. This poor baby needs a home. You wouldn’t let him grow up to be a wild barn cat, would you?” The kitten was squirming and mewing pitifully in Charlotte’s grasp.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake. You don’t even know how to hold a kitten.” She grabbed it out of Charlotte’s hand and cradled it in her arms. The tiny thing immediately began to purr. “They’re like babies. You have to know how to comfort them.” She started petting it and looking it over. “It’s kind of a scruffy looking thing. Needs some fresh meat and a good brushing too. Custer kind of looked like this when he was a kitten. I had to fatten him up too.”

  Charlotte smiled. “Well, what do you think?”

  Mrs. Bartholomew sighed as if she were doing a great deed. “I guess I can’t just leave it here. The poor little thing needs a home.”

  “We’ll take him,” Charlotte said to the woman with a smile.

  “That’s good. It’s always hard to find a home for the kittens. It looks like Mustard there will get a good one.”

  “Mustard, is that what he’s called?” Mrs. Bartholomew narrowed her eyes.

  “That’s what we call him, but you can name him whatever you want.”

  “I like that. Mustard’s a good name. Kind of tangy, a little bit of spice. A cat should have a name to live up to. Yes, I like it very much.”

  On the way home, Mustard fell asleep, curled in a tiny ball on Mrs. Bartholomew’s lap. “How did you know to go there?”

  “I looked in the paper for kittens, and then called the three places that advertised them and found one that had a tiger kitty. I just knew it was going to work out.”

  “You took a big chance, you know. I could have flatly refused the kitten.”

  Charlotte smiled. “I don’t think it was such a big chance.”

  Mrs. Bartholomew smiled back.

  CHAPTER twenty five

  On April Fool’s Day, Gloria broke her engagement to Pastor Gordon. He announced it from the pulpit the next Sunday. “Many of you have come to love and appreciate Gloria as she has spent many weekends here, often in your homes. I hope that we can continue to care for her as she follows the call that God has placed on her life to go into the mission field. At a conference we both attended, she went to a seminar about a need for teachers at a school in Zambia. She knew immediately that this was for her. As you know, Gloria doesn’t do anything rashly, but she has never wanted to go anywhere more clearly than she wants to go to Zambia. Therefore, we thought it best to break our engagement.” It had been so quiet in the congregation that you could hear a mouse squeak, but now there were murmurings all around.

  “I don’t want you to pity me in any way. I’m in complete agreement with Gloria, and I hope we can encourage her in this endeavor. I wanted to announce this to you myself so that rumors would not swirl around, so please put this information aside and we’ll continue with our worship service.”

  People talked for weeks about how brave their young pastor was as he made this announcement, but only he knew the relief he felt in his heart. He’d come to believe that he would have had a good life with Gloria, and that she’d be a great asset to his ministry, but somehow he knew it wasn’t enough. The defining moment had been when he saw Charlotte walking down the aisle at Janice’s wedding. What he felt for Gloria could not compare to what he felt for Charlotte. Although he thought it unlikely that he’d end up with Charlotte, he knew he could never marry until he felt that kind of passion for a woman. When Gloria told him about her desire to go to Zambia, he felt like doing cartwheels, but of course he couldn’t show it. It bothered his conscience when he heard the reassurances about how nobly he acted under the circumstances.

  He also thought that after letting a decent interval go by, he should ask Charlotte out. She didn’t seem to care for him, but he’d never know until he tried. For the time being, he’d wait.

  Charlotte had mixed feelings about Pastor Gordon’s announcement. She felt sad for him because she knew what it was like to be rejected. It also brought her turmoil because when he was engaged, it acted as a buffer for her emotions. Now that he was free again, it would be harder to discipline her mind, especially since she saw him twice a week every week.

  To make matters worse, they were thrown together on a youth group outing. The Donahues planned a three-hour canoe trip down the river. When everyone arrived, students were assigned to different canoes. As it turned out, Gordon and Charlotte were put in the same canoe. Charlotte would have declined if there had been any way to get out of it, but there seemed to be no gracious way. So the two of them strapped on their life jackets and climbed into each other’s company for the next three hours. Pastor Gordon was delighted, but he noticed that Charlotte looked like a scared rabbit ready to bolt, so his heart sank. It was clear she didn’t want to be with him.

  They made small talk as they dipped their paddles into the water. Every now and then a canoe of students would come alongside theirs to splash water at them or threaten to tip them over, but otherwise it was just the two of them. After they�
��d been paddling for about an hour, Gordon got up his courage. “I’ve heard that Frank has gone back to Shari.” Since he was behind her, he couldn’t see her face, which she was thankful for. “Yes,” she said a little too abruptly, “I guess neither you nor I are very lucky at love.”

  Her tone was sad, making him feel miserable. “She was really hurt by him,” he thought. “I’d like to wring his neck.” But aloud he said, “Not necessarily. Maybe we just haven’t found the right person yet.”

  Charlotte laughed harshly. “Or maybe we need to accept that being single is the state we are to stay in.”

  Her words hurt him because they sounded so final. He thought it best to change the subject. “You know, I am continually amazed at your talents. You are a fine writer, you can assemble a very good Bible study, and you are an excellent actress. Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “Why is he doing this to me?” she thought, then said, “Apparently I’m not very good with the opposite sex.”

  Gordon grimaced as he realized that the subject change hadn’t been complete. He tried again. “How is Janice doing?”

  This question perked Charlotte up. “She’s doing very well. Being an instant mom is quite a challenge and she has her frustrations, but I’m proud of her. She’s doing great.”

  They continued on with small talk the rest of the journey. By the time they pulled their canoe out of the water, Pastor Gordon was certain that Charlotte wanted nothing to do with him.

  Charlotte, on the other hand, wondered if Gordon had more than just a spiritual interest in her, but the thought scared her to death. She’d spent so much energy ignoring her feelings for him that she didn’t dare entertain them for a moment. Her feelings were like a young bull that’s been in a pen all spring and is suddenly released. It may be nice to let him out, but who knows what kind of damage he would cause. No, it was too dangerous. She must keep her emotions at bay at all costs.