The Plan

by Kim Pritekel

  Finally, she lifted her head, chest still heaving as she tried to get herself under control. She met Eleanor’s flushed face, smiling at the look of wonder she found there. She left a lingering kiss on slightly opened lips.

  “I love you, Ellie,” she whispered against them. “I really do.”

  Eleanor hugged her tightly. “I love you, too.”

  ****

  Exhausted—and surprisingly sore—Lysette climbed out of her father’s car at the curb in front of the school. “Thanks, Daddy.”

  “No problem, Princess,” he called out. “Don’t forget we’ve got Michael’s school project to work on tonight. You promised,” he added, pointing a finger at her.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said, playfully rolling her eyes at him. “Love you.”

  Slamming the car door shut, she looked around for the only face she’d wanted to see all morning. Eleanor wasn’t standing by the huge cottonwood tree where she often was, so she looked to the flagpole. Nothing.

  “Hey, Lysette.”

  She turned to see a boy she thought was named Jethro Howell. She knew he was a neighbor of the Landry family. “Hi.”

  “Um,” he said, fidgeting slightly. “Um, I was told to give this to you.” He handed her a folded note, then scurried off, face pink from a hot blush.

  She smiled at the freshman before turning her attention to the note. Little did she know, the moment she read the hurriedly scrawled words, a clock began to run, ticking down the hours, minutes, and seconds that would change her life forever.

  She turned, frantic to see if her father was still there.

  “Oh, god,” she gasped as he pulled away from the curb.

  Running over to his car, the very car she’d taken Eleanor driving in the night before, she pounded on the first window she could reach, which was the back passenger one. He screeched to a stop.

  “Good lord, Lysette!” he bellowed when she yanked open the front passenger door. “Scared the bejesus out of—” He stopped when she shoved the note into his hands, getting herself settled into the seat she’d vacated moments before.

  Without a word, he squealed the car away from the curb and roared into traffic.

  ****

  “Only pack what you think you’re going to need!” Adalyn called out from the bedroom she shared with Davis. “We can replace whatever you forget in New York or France.”

  Heart racing, Lysette didn’t hear her mother. Instead, she saw Eleanor’s face again and again in her mind’s eyes. She saw her smiling, saw her laughing, and she saw her in sensual bliss. The tears wouldn’t stop falling as she packed the single suitcase she said she could take. They had no time for more.

  Her father had dropped her off at the house, then had taken off again, to “arrange things.” Now an hour later, she heard his voice on the first floor talking to another man whose voice she recognized as Alan Manning, one his many business associates.

  “Landon family!” he bellowed. “Five minutes! Let’s go!”

  ****

  Almost two hours later, Lysette sat on a bench between her mother and little brother Teddy. They sat in the depot of the train station, passengers coming and going as the mighty beasts eased in or chugged their way out, howling their retreat into the Denver morning.

  Lysette’s leg bobbed nervously as she chewed on her lower lip. Her father was pacing while Adalyn sketched an elderly couple sitting across the way. “Daddy?”

  Davis stopped pacing just long enough to glance at her. “What?”

  “When do we board?”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. “Train is scheduled to leave in thirty minutes, so anytime, I’d wager.” He let out a heavy sigh as he pocketed the gold piece.

  As if on cue, the boarding of the ten a.m. passenger train to New York would commence forthwith.

  “Okay, everyone,” he said, clapping his hands together to get his family’s attention. “Let’s go.”

  Lysette looked around frantically, silently praying, begging to see them running through the train station, running late. There was nobody, just an endless sea of strangers. That is, until she saw Mr. Manning.

  “Daddy,” she said, tapping his arm to get his attention.

  As Davis was gathering luggage to take over to the men to load, he glanced over to where Lysette was indicating. “Here,” he said, handing her their tickets. “Be right back.”

  She held the papers in her hand, looking down at them, all seven of them, before glancing back to the two men. Alan had yanked his fedora off and ran a hand through his greased blond hair as he gesticulated wildly, her father listening, fingers stroking his chin. Finally, Davis placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and said something to him, Alan nodding.

  The two men walked over to the family, Lysette almost feeling as though she would cry. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. It was written all over her father’s face.

  “My love,” he said softly to Adalyn, who stood not far from Lysette. “Alan is going to escort you and the kids to New York. I’ll meet you there.” He gave her a tight hug and kiss.

  “Daddy, wait,” Lysette said, reaching for his arm to stop him. “What is it?” she asked, words soft yet serious. “Let me go with you.”

  He gave her a sad smile and briefly cupped her cheek. “Help your maman,” he said. “See you in a few days.”

  She watched him go, wanting to scream and cry, throw a fit like a child, and demand he take her with him and tell her what was happening.

  “Come, ma fille chérie,” Adalyn said, touching Lysette’s shoulder. “We have to go now.”

  Tears in her eyes, Lysette felt like she’d fallen down a rabbit hole, as though reality weren’t really reality but a giant mass of confusion.

  “Come,” Adalyn said again, taking Lysette’s hand and tugging her away from the darkness she felt nipping at her heels.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “You know, I have to say…” Lysette grinned as she tossed her empty popcorn bag into the trash on the way out of the theater. “I really enjoyed that movie. I haven’t seen it since it first came out, what, four or so years ago?”

  Eleanor nodded, hands tucked into the pockets of her capris. “Yeah, I think it came out in fifty-two, so about that, yeah.”

  Lysette glanced up at the marquee above the sign. “Singin’ in the Rain,” she read. “I’ll be singing those damn songs for the next week, though.”

  Eleanor grinned. “Well, June at the box office told me they’re bringing back some of the older movies. I think An American in Paris is coming soon, too.”

  “I missed that one.” Lysette glanced at Eleanor before looking out into the street, Saturday afternoon traffic light. “Well,” she said finally, once again sparing a glance at the woman who stood a few feet away. “I suppose I should go.” The truth was, she didn’t want to, even if she was hesitant to admit that to herself.

  “Okay. I’m glad we ‘bumped’ into each other in there again,” Eleanor said, using air quotes, grinning.

  Lysette gave her a devilish grin. “You should be so lucky.” With a dramatic flick of her head, she turned and headed toward her car, smiling to herself. It felt good to be a bit casual for a moment.

  “Hey, Lysette.”

  Standing at the driver’s door of her car, Lysette glanced back to Eleanor, who still stood on the sidewalk. “Yes?”

  “Same time next week?”

  “I’ll be here.” Her smile grew at Eleanor’s laughter as she climbed in behind the wheel. She glanced into her side mirror, noting that Eleanor had walked away in the opposite direction, seeming to be doing a bit of window shopping. Eleanor stopped and stepped closer to a business that Lysette couldn’t quite make out before she entered the shop. For a moment, just one moment, she considered following. She could claim a coincidence or that she simply needed something within the same shop. It wouldn’t be hard to find something inside to buy, no doubt.

  “Stop it,” she whispered, inserting the key int
o the ignition of her car. She got it started and, checking to see if it was clear, pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic.

  She considered the last two hours she’d spent sitting in a dark movie theater munching on a bag of incredibly fattening buttered popcorn and chatting with Eleanor about the picture they were watching and the gossip about some of the actors in it. The theater had been barren, only a handful of people in there with them.

  The truth was, the first time she’d shown up three weeks before had been to offer silent comfort as the situation with the shooting of Scott O’Shea and Ronnie Washington had affected Eleanor deeply. How could it not? Scott was a close friend and colleague and, she suspected, the two used each other as very convenient “significant others” to stave off unwanted questions and assumptions.

  Wasn’t that essentially what Jim represented? The glorified version?

  She reached to turn the radio on, hoping music would help clear her head. She rolled her eyes when Don’t Be Cruel blared through the speaker. Turning the volume down, she made her way through town.

  Three weeks earlier, she’d been in the office working on the books, as she had been for weeks now and had once again spotted Eleanor walking up to the box office. She was alone, that blonde who Lysette had seen her with before the holidays not with her. She’d watched her buy her ticket, she’d watched her stand outside for a moment and lean against the building, almost as though Eleanor had been trying to get her emotions under control. For a few moments, Lysette thought she’d been crying.

  Once Eleanor disappeared inside the theater, Lysette had packed it up and decided to go in. Almost as though on autopilot, her mind turned off and her compassion turned on. No, they were not friends anymore, no they were not connected anymore. But yes, Lysette could care and could try to be there for her, even if it was with a bag of popcorn.

  It was a beautiful day as spring was making its presence known. Trees were beginning to blossom and flowers to bloom. It was a favorite time of the year for her, enjoying time outdoors in her garden and flowerbeds. She and Aunt Josie would work side by side for hours in spring and summer.

  Pulling up to the house, she saw that Jim hadn’t returned from his afternoon with the kids. He tried once a month to spend time with them, be it with ice cream and roller skating or lunch and horseback riding, as it had been that afternoon.

  Parking her car where she always did, Lysette shut it off and climbed out, heading into the house. “Aunt Josie, I’m home,” she called out, not sure if she was back from her own Saturday outings.

  Hearing nothing, she assumed she was alone in the house, so she headed to the bedroom to change her clothes. It was then she noticed a note resting on her side of the bed. Unbuttoning her blouse as she walked over to it, she picked it up and read.

  “Horse-riding ribbons it is,” she murmured, crumbling the note and taking it with her to the master bathroom to toss it into the trash there.

  She studied her reflection as she brushed her hair out, noting the small crinkle that appeared between her eyes when she was troubled by something. She raised her eyebrows and made ridiculous faces to try to get rid of that crinkle, but it remained, as her internal troubles remained.

  Feeling annoyed, frustrated, and generally discontent with so many things in her life, she pushed it all aside and went back to what made sense: being a mother and doing for her children.

  ****

  Heading up to the attic, Lysette tugged on the chain that would switch on the naked light bulb. She easily spotted her hope chest where she knew Bronte’s ribbons had been stowed for the move. Her daughter was a lover of all things horse and pretty much all things nature and animal in general. They’d had her in a riding program in California but had yet to find a decent one in Woodland.

  She lowered herself to her knees and took hold of the underlip of the cedar chest that her parents had given her when she’d returned from Europe. It had once been something that held all her deepest, darkest secrets, hopes, and desires, those that had yet to be fulfilled and those that had been shattered, leaving a trail of tears and confusion in their wake.

  Over time, after agreeing to marry Jim and becoming a mother, the hope chest had taken on a new purpose, new meaning. It became that which kept the proof of expectation: baby pictures, wedding album, the veil Jim insisted she keep, and the bronzed shoe that each of her children took their first steps in. It had become a hope chest for others’ hopes, for others’ dreams.

  “Okay,” she breathed, moving things aside to find the specific box she remembered placing the ribbons in so they’d remain together and undamaged.

  She’d dug through the chest the previous fall to find the pictures Jimmy needed for his family tree project. The photo album she’d hastily stuffed the pictures back into after he’d removed them from the sugar board lay on top. She moved to sit on the dusty floor, placing the photo album on her lap to place the photos back properly so they didn’t fall out and get lost or damaged.

  Flipping through the stiff pages looking for the correct ones to replace the pictures, she smiled, amused or touched all over again by various shots of the kids over the years, a wonderful photo of her and her father and, her heart hurting, her mother.

  “Oh, Maman,” she whispered, running a fingertip over the smiling face. The picture had been taken four or so years before, but her mother had already been diagnosed with cancer. She could see it in her eyes. “I miss you. Send some help this way, will you?” she asked softly. She brought the album up and left a kiss to the frozen image, then continued with her task.

  Old clothing—some she tossed aside to discard, no idea why it was in her hope chest to begin with—old toys, award plaques from Jim’s career highs, and basketball trophies for Jimmy. Finally, she found the small jewelry box and opened it to ensure the ribbons were inside. Satisfied they were, she set the wooden box aside to place everything back where it went.

  She was about to close the lid when something caught her eye. It was a small lead crystal jewelry box that her father gave to her one random day when they’d been in Paris for little more than a week. She remembered the look on his face: pensive, sad, and deeply troubled.

  “She wants you to have this.”

  With a simple sentence, he’d managed to break her heart and confuse her all the more.

  The ring box-sized jewelry box held a single item that she’d never removed. Lifting it out of the small space it was wedged into, Lysette held it in her hand. She used her other hand to gently pull open the beveled lid.

  Reaching a hand up, Lysette scooped out the tiny gold cross Eleanor wore on a simple chain around her neck. She brought it out into the light of the bedside lamp.

  “This is beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed it before.”

  “It belonged to my grandmother,” Eleanor explained. “I didn’t really know her, but Mama says I’m a lot like her so,” she added with a shrug, “I guess I wear it to feel close to her somehow.”

  Lysette stared down at that gold cross, partially buried in the nest of chain. Her attention was grabbed when she heard the explosion of noise down below as her family arrived home.

  Pocketing the glass ring box, she cradled the box Bronte’s ribbons were in, then got to her feet, closing the lid of the hope chest before leaving the attic.

  ****

  Lysette hummed softly to herself as she gathered everything she’d need to make lunches for the kids for the following day at school. It had been a pleasant evening after everyone had returned home. The kids had gone on and on about their day with Jim, the horses, and how Jimmy had accidentally stepped into a large pile of droppings. Though it was completely inappropriate dinner conversation, it had been amusing nonetheless.

  With bags of carrots and celery lying on the cutting board with a knife, Lysette decided to start on their sandwiches.

  “There you are,” Jim said, wandering into the room, folded newspaper under his arm. “I need to talk to you about something.�
��

  She glanced at him. “Yes, that’s what your note said. Figured you’d come find me when you wanted to talk.” She pushed the cutting board in his direction. “Make yourself useful.”

  He walked over to the counter and looked down at it and the bagged veggies before glancing at her. “Why do I have to do menial labor in order to talk to you all the time?”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “You find it menial labor to prepare vegetables for your daughter’s lunch?” She faced him, hand on hip. “Am I so low on the food chain that it’s fine for me to do while you’re too good?”

  He tossed the folded newspaper to the counter and put his hands up in supplication. “Sorry, I stepped right into that one.”

  “Yes, you did, and it smelled a hell of a lot worse than what Jimmy stepped into earlier today at the ranch but pretty much came from the same place.” She eyed him. “A horse’s ass.”

  He stared down at the cutting board and contents atop it for a moment, jaw muscle clenching and unclenching before he seemed to let whatever he was thinking go. “What do you need with these?”

  “Rinse them and cut them into sticks, about a third of the length of the whole thing.”

  She watched as he nodded again and did her bidding as she got sandwich makings out. “So what’s on your mind?”

  “I spoke to an old friend of mine last week,” Jim began, using his thumb to rub the surface of the carrots and celery he was rinsing. “He led me to some information.”

  “Oh?” she said, mildly curious as she spread mayonnaise on the bread slices. “About what?”

  “About your friend,” he said easily, though the look in his eyes was anything but casual.