“That’s funny. She’s probably just acting that way because she’s not used to having money.”
“I suppose,” said Cynthia with a sigh. “I’m just glad my stepsister, Maria, doesn’t have her personality.
“Maria does seem to be pretty cool.”
“So, how do you like working for Miss Green?”
“It’s okay,” said Ethan. He wanted to tell her about the bees, but it didn’t seem like the right time. It was too incredible an event to be brought up lightly. “It’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be. Miss Green is pretty interesting, I guess. She’s nice to me. I’m not too crazy about her secretary, though. I think her face would break apart if she ever smiled.”
Cynthia laughed.
“Yeah,” continued Ethan. “I feel bad about her sister, but other than that, I’m kind of glad she’s gone this week, even if I do have to spend the night. At least I’m getting paid more, so that helps.”
“I just can’t figure out why you’d want to read a scary book,” said Cynthia. “I’d have to read something light like The Wind in the Willows, or something, if I was staying in that house.”
“I guess I can’t get enough punishment. It just seems like the perfect setting to read a good classic scary book. Do you have any suggestions? You seem to be an expert on books.”
“Let me think,” she said, straightening up her glasses. “How about Frankenstein?”
“That’s a good book, but I’ve read it twice.
“What about The Invisible Man?”
“A great book also, but I’ve read it too.”
“Phantom of the Opera?”
“Read it.”
“Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”
“Read it.”
“Dracula?”
“Barely got through that one, but I’ve read it.”
“Wow, I’m impressed,” said Cynthia. “I’m going to have trouble picking out something you haven’t read. It’s nice to know I’m not the only bookworm in town.”
“I’ve always liked to read,” said Ethan. “I guess it’s because my grandmother used to read books to me when I was a little kid.”
“Well, let me think about this for a moment,” she said, placing her right hand to her temple. “How about Edgar Allen Poe? Have you read any of his work?”
“I like the Edgar Allen Poe movies that Vincent Price plays in, but I haven’t really read the stories.”
“I love those movies too,” said Cynthia. “It seems we’ve got a lot in common.”
“Yes, I think we do,” said Ethan, smiling. “I’m glad we met. I didn’t think I was ever going to meet anyone in this town who liked me.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Cynthia laughing.
“It’s true,” said Ethan.
“Anyway, you need to read Edgar Allen Poe. You’ll have nightmares for sure. It’ll be the perfect thing to read in a gothic house.”
“I’ll do that,” said Ethan. “Which of his books do you suggest?”
“Most of what he wrote is short stories. I can’t believe you haven’t read them yet. I’ll help you find a book of his short stories.”
Ethan followed Cynthia around as she enthusiastically showed him how to locate a book in the library. She picked out a thick book titled The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe. The book’s cover was black with gold lettering. She assured him it would be just the perfect choice to read for a good scare.
Ethan road his bike home that day happier than he had been in a while. He really liked Cynthia and hoped to have many more opportunities to see her. His joy deflated like a popped balloon when he got home. There was a man sitting at the kitchen table talking to his mom. The man had green eyes and dark-brown curly hair, his physique indicating that he was athletic and likely lifted weights. He appeared to be in his thirties.
“This is Mike,” said Sandy. “You wouldn’t believe it, or maybe you would, but I had a flat tire on the way to work this morning. Mike happened to see me on the side of the road and stopped and helped. We met once years ago at Betty’s house. I’m surprised Mike still recognized me.”
“It’s simple,” said Mike, smiling broadly, “you haven’t changed a bit.”
“Oh, quit. Anyway, he changed my tire and saw to it I got to work okay. We hit it off right away, seems we’ve got a lot in common. I hope you don’t mind, but I invited him to eat supper with us tonight. It’s the least I could do.”
“That’s nice,” said Ethan, barely looking at the stranger. He went to his room and shut the door a little more forcefully than necessary. He kicked his shoes off and lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
His mom talked through the door. “Come out here and say hello a minute. I didn’t raise you to be rude.”
He didn’t respond.
“Ethan?”
“What?” he answered forcefully.
“Come out here and introduce yourself like a civilized human being.”
Saying nothing further, Ethan walked out of his bedroom into the kitchen with his head down.
“I’m Mike Kinsley,” said the man, extending his hand to Ethan.
Ethan reluctantly shook his hand. “Can I go now, Mom?” he asked, desperate to get away.
“I suppose, but your rudeness disappoints me.”
Ethan went back to his room and resumed lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. There’s no end to the misery, he thought. Now his mom was trying to find someone to replace his dad. The guy was probably a loser who spent all his time at the gym instead of doing an actual job. What working adult had time to stay in that kind of shape? He rolled over and placed his head in his pillow, a tear escaping his eye.
Sandy prepared a supper of roast beef with potatoes and carrots, a meal Ethan would have enjoyed if it weren’t for the man sitting across the table from him. As the three ate, Mike Kinsley talked loudly, boasting of numerous accomplishments, Sandy giggling at his every word, Ethan becoming more annoyed by the minute. As the evening mealtime unfolded, he learned that Mike actually did have a job, in fact owning a large body shop in town. Ethan wanted to throw up as he listened to him brag about how successful the body shop had become over the last few years, warranting a major addition and the hiring of three new mechanics. He thought surely his mom would soon catch on to what a jerk the guy is, even if he did have looks and money.
But what if Mike actually was a nice guy and not a jerk? Ethan almost slapped himself for having such a stupid thought. He wasn’t going to like any guy who tried to replace his dad, ever. That just wasn’t about to happen. How could his mom be so disloyal to his Dad? Dad would punch this guy in the mouth, for sure, if he were still around. He had an impulse to do the job for him but immediately thought better of it.
As Mike talked, Ethan became more and more annoyed with him. What on earth did his mom see in this guy? He looked decent, but he tried too hard to be liked and didn’t seem genuine. Ethan considered the matter, tried to think positively for moment, but again decided that he wouldn’t like any man his mom showed any kind of romantic interest in. The man could be a really great guy, for all he knew. He’d just have to try and tolerate him for a while, and hopefully his mom would tell the guy to get lost at some point.
To Ethan’s relief, Mike left soon after supper was finished and the table cleared. He knew what adults liked to do sometimes when kids weren’t around. He’d punch that guy in the jaw if he ever caught him even so much as trying to kiss his mom.
“So what did you think of him?” asked Sandy as Ethan was washing dishes.
“Not much,” said Ethan.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I don’t like him a bit, brags too much for me.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” said Sandy, drying off a plate and placing it in the cabinet above the coffee pot. “He was just telling us about how successful his business is. I don’t think that’s unreasonable. Besides, I thought he was very nice to you.”
“You asked for
my opinion, and I gave it to you,” said Ethan, rinsing out a glass.
Sandy dried off the glass and said, “I understand why you don’t like him, but you’re just going to have to accept that at some point I’m going to have to start dating again. We’ll need another man around the house at some point. I barely make enough money to keep a roof over our head.”
“So you just like him because he’s got money,” said Ethan finishing up the last dish and placing it in the strainer. “That explains everything.”
“What’s gotten into you here lately?” said Sandy throwing the drying towel on the counter and walking into the small living room. She sat down on the couch and cried.
Feeling like he’d overreached, Ethan sat down beside her and said, “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“Do you think this is easy for me?” she said. “I miss your dad just as much as you do. I thought we’d be together until we lived to a ripe old age. I never wanted to be with anyone else. Now I feel like a fish out of water, just struggling to put our life back together.”
“I’m sorry,” said Ethan, reaching his hand around her and hugging her tight. “If you end up liking this guy, I’ll try to get used to him. Maybe he won’t be too bad.”
“That’s all I ask of you. Just give him a chance. Besides, it’s not like we’re engaged. But I got a feeling that eventually you’re going to like Mike.”
“That may be stretching it a bit, but I’ll try to at least be polite and tolerate him as best I can.”
“Good,” said Sandy. “Now, you better get on over to the crazy house before you’re late.”
They both laughed, and Ethan felt a little better.
Chapter 6
That night Ethan sat across from Zelma Green at the small kitchen table eating a piece of strawberry shortcake. “This is really good,” he said.
“Thank you. I grow my own strawberries and make the cake and whipped topping from scratch. A lot of people these days buy those prepackaged sponges they sell at Piggly Wiggly.”
“Well, it sure is good, but I figured someone as rich as you would have the housekeeper do all the cooking.”
“Don’t let Clara hear you say that. Oh, she does her share of the cooking, but I’ve always enjoyed doing it myself as much as I can, thanks to Ester who pretty much raised me. She taught me everything I know. I’ve still got her handwritten cookbook, wouldn’t trade it for a million dollars. There are recipes in that cookbook that can be traced all the way back to Africa. Okra was brought over by the slaves, you know, who hid it in their hair when they were unfortunately torn from their native country. Ester passed away right here in this very kitchen. I can’t express enough how devastated I was. She was more of a mother to me than my stepmother ever was. I depended on her more than I ever realized while she was living. She came with me when I left home, though she was getting on in years by the time I moved into this house.
“Clara Satterfield showed up at my doorstep shortly after Ester passed. She was just a girl, really, but I was still fairly young myself. I was depressed and lonely, and Clara badly needed a job. Besides, she looked too pitiful to turn down, kind of like the ugly stray cat that you can’t help but feed.” With that she gasped and said, “Oh, I shouldn’t have said it that way. It sounded much more awful than I intended. Please don’t repeat it.”
“Oh, I won’t, of course,” said Ethan, “But what happened to Ester? Why did she die?”
“Heart gave out, I imagine. I knew something was going to happen that morning. I was helping her prepare breakfast when a dove landed on the opened window seal and made sounds as though mourning. That’s an omen, you know. I chased the bird away but was left with a bad feeling that nearly made me nauseous. Ester gave me a knowing look that has haunted me ever since. Uneasy as I was, I drove to town to pick up a few things and pay bills. When I returned home, I found Ester sitting with her head down on the table. She had slipped quietly into eternity.”
“I’ve never heard about doves being an omen before.”
“People don’t know much about these things anymore,” said Zelma. “There is a whole amazing world around us that people don’t see. God gives us many forewarnings from nature that people are too busy to notice. I grew up in a world where people knew the signs of the stars and the moon. These signs let them know when to plant their crops and offered direction in making many other important decisions.” She reached across the table, touched Ethan’s left hand lightly, and looked in his eyes. Ethan looked down at his remaining shortcake and uncomfortably took another small bite. “Don’t live in a black and white world,” she said. “You’re smarter than that; I can see it in your eyes, though you look away. There is a whole world out there that most people will never see. Life is a mystery that science will never explain.”
He looked up at Zelma, into her eyes, and said, “I think I do see it now. Ever since you showed me the bees, I’ve been able to see it. It kind of opened my eyes, I think.”
“Yes, yes, I knew you would. I’m so glad you came here. I believe it was meant to be.”
“When did you learn about the bees?” asked Ethan.
“I grew up on a huge farm close to Adairville called Flintridge. Some people would refer to it as a plantation; I’ve always called it The Farm. My family lived in a large Italianate brick home that had been passed down for many generations by the time I was born in 1880.”
“Wow, that was a long time ago,” said Ethan.
“Guess I shouldn’t have given away my great age,” she said with a short laugh. “Anyway, my family nearly went broke after the Civil War, as some would call it, when Lincoln emancipated the slaves.”
“Did your family own slaves?”
“Sadly it’s true, but my family was never so crude as to refer to them by such a term. Everyone was treated well, given the circumstances of a far different time. But at any rate, most of our servants left during the war, leaving the Green’s in a financial bind. My father did, however, find enough money to pay some of them to stay. After a few years, given the resourcefulness of my father and the work ethic of the servants who had remained, Flintridge became a profitable working farm again. By the time I was born, the Greens were once again one of the richest families in this part of the country, if not the richest. I grew up very comfortably.”
“So how did you learn about the bees?”
“I suppose I did get off topic a bit, though I did want to fill you in on some of my background. There was an old man named Albert Green who had worked for my family since before the war. It was he who taught me about the bees and about many other great mysteries of the universe. He recognized in me the same things that I see in you now.”
“Was he related to you? I noticed he shared the same last name.”
“Heavens no. His family had worked for our family for many years and at some point took on the Green surname.”
“It’s strange that people who worked for you would pick up your name too.”
“Yes, maybe it was, but as I said before, it was a different world back then.”
“So what happened when he told you about the bees?”
“Being a curious little girl, I was exploring a far corner of the farm one day and found the bee hives within a small orchard of apple, peach, and pear trees. Not knowing any better, I approached the bees without any protection. I laughed as the bees began to swarm me but was startled out of my laughter when Albert approached. He yelled for me to not make a sound or movement. His fear infected me, and I had horrible thoughts of being stung to death suddenly. Within minutes Albert had all the bees returned to the hive, and he chastised me for being so foolish.
“Now over my fear, I begged him to tell me more about the bees. I wanted to learn everything. Albert finally did admit to being impressed by how well the bees had taken to me. Reluctantly, he agreed to let me assist him with the bee keeping, as long as it was okay with Father, who I had little trouble convincing. It was Albert who told me about
the mysteries of the bees, just as I told you the other day. It’s funny how things get passed down from one person to the next. Now all these years later I’m passing down what I learned from Albert to you.
“What did you help him do with bees?” asked Ethan.
“When a new Queen takes over an old hive, the old queen takes half the bees with her, and they swarm someplace, often in a tree, looking for a new place to build a hive. It’s important to catch them before they fly away. My job was to ring a cowbell to attract these homeless bees. Hearing the bell, the bees would fly around and around in a circle, and Albert would collect them up and place them into another wooden hive. That’s how bees spread out.”
“Have you ever been stung?”
“Only once when I accidently squeezed one between my fingers, but I deserved it in that case. The bees are calm around me, and they calm my nerves too. It’s like we understand each other on some deep level.”
“That’s amazing,” said Ethan. “I kind of feel the same way now about the bees, ever since the other day. I don’t believe I’ll ever be afraid of them again.”
“I wanted you to have that experience,” said Zelma. “It’s why I introduced you to the bees in such a frightening way. Just remember the bees the next time you feel afraid. Close your eyes and think of how they swarmed you, how they could have stung you multiple times but didn’t. Many people spend a lot of time worrying that something bad is going to happen, but most of the time it never does. If hard times hit, deal with it then, but don’t let the apprehension of bad things happening rob you of enjoying the moment. I hope you understand the point I’m trying to make.”
“I understand exactly what you’re saying,” said Ethan. “No one could have said it better, I think.”
“Wonderful! Now, to move on, would you like to visit Flintridge?”
“Flintridge is still there?” asked Ethan, raising his eyebrows and unconsciously leaning forward.
“Of course,” said Zelma. “Houses like Flintridge were built to withstand centuries. No one lives there now, but I still own it and pay for its upkeep.”
A Million Doorways Page 6