by Bonnie Tharp
Setting down the cup, Annabelle leaned forward. “Is that the only reason you don’t want to marry Sam?”
Regina’s cup hit the table with a thud, coffee sloshing over the edge. “I don’t know.”
“This is quite a switch. I’m used to you having all the answers and me all the questions.”
She stared at Annabelle for a moment then lowered her head. “Me, too.”
“Want a muffin?” Annabelle got up and placed a square plastic container in the center of the table.
“Yours or Tillie’s?” Not waiting for an answer, Regina took a big bite of one.
“Mine.”
“Okay. Mmm. Good.”
Why is food always such a comfort? We should all be as big as the park by now with all the sweets we consume around here. Oh, well. You can’t live without food.
“You must be upset if you’re willing to take a chance on my baking skills. Don’t worry, they’re banana walnut and almost healthy.”
Smiling, Regina accepted another one.
“The only thing better than muffins for breakfast is . . . cake.” Annabelle gave her a wide grin in return.
Leaning back in her chair, Regina relaxed. “You know, I was never allowed to eat anything but eggs or oatmeal for breakfast. Mother had to die before I could buy a box of Raisin Bran.”
Shaking her head, Annabelle took a muffin. “When did you start expanding your menu for breakfast?”
“After mother and father died. When Devlin and I got married, he corrupted me. His favorite food was a mixing bowl full of Frosted Flakes during the ten o’clock news.” Regina saluted the air with a laugh.
“My mom’s favorite breakfast food was oatmeal raisin cookies. She’d make the dough the night before, roll it up in a long round cylinder, wrap it in wax paper. Then before I got up, she’d bake a dozen for us to eat, still warm from the oven.” Closing her eyes on the memory, Annabelle sighed.
“That sounds nice. Aunt Rose was very sweet.”
Not like my mother, the Wicked Witch of Wichita.
With an animation Regina hadn’t seen in some time, Annabelle continued, “We learned to grow vegetables and harvest them together, too. I loved to sit on the porch with her, snapping beans. We’d talk about music and books and she’d tell me stories about fairies and magical kingdoms.”
What a delightful experience.
“My mom used to call her ‘fey.’” Feeling her smile fall from her face, sadness enveloped Regina. “Did you know when you were little that your dad beat your mother?”
Annabelle struggled to swallow, her former enthusiasm now gone.
“Not for a long time. She’d tell me the bruises were from clumsiness. But she was so graceful.”
“How did you find out?” Regina sipped her coffee, watching her cousin over the rim.
“I heard them shouting one night. I woke up and wanted a drink, but even though I couldn’t hear the words they said, I heard a slap and then she cried out. I hid under the covers and eventually fell asleep. The next morning, she had a bruise on her cheek. I knew then, my daddy hit her.” Both of Annabelle’s hands gripped the cup.
Afraid of the answer, Regina asked in a whisper. “Did he ever hurt you?”
“Only with his words. He called me fat and lazy. He said I’d grow up to be just like my mama, which I thought would be wonderful, but he didn’t mean it that way.”
Regina reached over and squeezed her cousin’s quivering hands. “No, I don’t suppose he did.”
Finding starch in her spine, Annabelle sat back. “I don’t imagine your dad ever hit Aunt Victoria. He wouldn’t dare.”
Regina stared at the bottom of her cup. “No. There was never that much emotion in our house. At least you knew your mother loved you.”
“Yes, she did.” Annabelle looked at her cousin and smiled. “She let me get dirty, too.”
Laughing, Regina leaned forward, but checked over her shoulder before she spoke. “Growing up, I envied your dirty bare feet and ratty hair.”
Annabelle’s eyes widened. “Really? I wanted to be like you. I thought you were beautiful, like your china dolls.” She tried to smooth her pillow-smashed hair again without success.
“It’s difficult to enjoy a porcelain doll. They’re fragile and never allowed to get mussed. I used to dream about running through the rain until drenched then splashing in the mud puddles. I even painted it once.”
The painting had hung in a gallery in Kansas City until Sam purchased it several years ago. It now hung on the wall in front of his recliner.
“And you never ran through the puddles, ever?” Surprise etched Annabelle’s soft features.
“With my mother around? Not a chance. It was not done. Only poor ragamuffins could find entertainment in the filth of the gutter.” To punctuate her sentence, Regina lifted her nose in the air just like her mother used to do.
Annabelle cocked her head. “Is that a quote?”
“Word for word.”
“If you couldn’t go outside and play, what did you do all day?”
“I studied piano, read and when I got older, I painted. She allowed me one old shirt of my father’s to paint in so I wouldn’t smudge my clothes. I painted in my stockings for fear of ruining my Mary Jane’s.”
“It would’ve been easier to take the socks off, too.”
“I know that now, but back then I felt almost undressed—decadent, in fact.”
“Lord, that’s sad.” Annabelle helped herself to another muffin.
“I only had to burn a couple of pairs of stockings. Mother never knew.”
Annabelle laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Have you heard any more from the children’s father?”
“Not lately.” Annabelle traced her finger along the rim of her empty cup. “Could he get them back?”
“Good grief. I would hope not, but I’m not the one to ask. Give Sam a call. If he doesn’t know, he’ll find out for you.”
Fisting her hand on the worn tabletop, Annabelle said, “I don’t have anything I love more than those kids and Grandma Morgan’s pearls. I’ll never part with either if I can help it.”
“Enough sweets. It’s making you all feisty.” Regina put the lid on the container and placed it back on the counter top. “Have you ever had a yard sale, Annabelle?”
“Of course. Why?”
“We never had them when I was growing up. Perhaps we should check the cellar and clean out the brick-a-bract to raise the tax money?”
As she said the words, her heart felt lighter.
Shaking her head, Annabelle said, “Your mother would turn over in her grave.”
“She would, but we could have it on the drive instead of the lawn. I can help you sort it all out and you can price it.”
“You’d do that for me? For us?”
She looks shocked, but I think it’s a brilliant idea.
“We’re family, patchwork though it may be. We’ll call it the house fund.”
Transfixed, Annabelle’s eyes shone. “That’s a great idea. Thanks.”
Splashing an inch of dark liquid in both their cups, Regina gulped hers down and faced her cousin.
“Now, do you think I should marry Sam or not?”
Placing her hand on Regina’s shoulder, Annabelle smiled. “Yes, I think you should. True love is hard to come by.”
“You’re right about that. It took me almost sixty years to find it.”
“You never loved Devlin?”
I don’t know why she looks so surprised.
“We were friends. He married me when I needed a husband. Then he slept around and embarrassed us both. No, Sam is the one. What about you? You’ve been dressing nice lately and your hair isn’t quite as . . . frizzy. Do yo
u have your eye on someone?”
Annabelle crossed her arms over her chest. “I do not, Miss Nosey.”
Although I couldn’t laugh, I had to smile.
“It’s about time. Are you being discreet?”
“Excuse me?” Annabelle coughed. “You’d better wash your mind out with soap, Regina Louise.”
Tucking her dirty cup in the dishwasher, Regina gave her cousin a sly grin. “I’ll ask Tillie, she knows everything that goes on around here.”
Annabelle shook her index finger in her cousin’s face. “You will not! It’s none of anyone’s business.”
Regina turned her back with a smile and dumped the cool contents from Annabelle’s cup before placing it beside her own. “Perhaps not, but you can’t stop me from wondering.”
“You’ve been reading too many romances. I don’t have time for love.”
In response to Annabelle’s sigh of exasperation, Regina lightly touched her cousin’s hand. “Oh, honey, I highly recommend you make time. It’s well worth it.”
“Hi, Regina,” Megan said from the doorway, the kitten cuddled in the crook of her arm. “Did you have muffins for breakfast, Gram? Can I?”
“Yes and yes. They’re banana walnut.”
“Good, that means they’re healthy.”
The two women laughed.
The little girl put the kitten down on her way to wash her hands. Megan filled a glass with milk then put two muffins on a napkin before she sat down at the table. She took a bite and closed her eyes. “I don’t remember the last time we had homemade muffins for breakfast. How are you, Regina?”
“I’m fine, sweetheart.” She ruffled the girl’s tangled brown locks. “How are you?”
“Better now.”
“From breakfast?”
“Ahuh. I . . . I have something I have to tell Gram, and I don’t know how.” Megan cast her eyes down, oblivious to the milk mustache on her upper lip.
Regina and Annabelle exchanged a subtle smile.
“Do you want to talk with your Gram alone?”
“No. I don’t want to talk about it at all, but I have to.” Taking another swallow of her milk, Megan straightened her shoulders and looked her grandmother in the face.
“I lost something.”
“What is it, sweetheart? Maybe we can help you find it.” Regina sat down across from the little girl.
Echoing her cousin’s concern, Annabelle touched Megan’s hand. “What did you lose?”
“Can I tell you why first?”
“If you want to,” her grandmother said.
“After the window got broken and Turbo got cut I got scared . . .”
“Oh, honey.” Annabelle put her hand on the small shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze.
“I thought someone was trying to take our things, so I hid your pearl necklace.”
“Oh.” Annabelle’s face fell.
“I put it in a very good hiding place, but now I can’t remember . . .”
Feeling the heat rise inside her, Regina struggled to keep it down. “You forgot where you put it?”
“Ahuh.”
Fat tears fell from Megan’s big brown eyes.
“I . . . I hid Gram’s pearls, but now I can’t remember where . . .”
“Oh.” Annabelle stared at Regina. “We’ll find them, don’t worry. We’ll go over the whole house until we do.”
With an eruption, Regina slammed her hand on the tabletop making them all jump. “You’re damn right we will.” Displeasure froze the grim set of her mouth. “Don’t you know better than to touch things that don’t belong to you?”
“I do, but . . .”
“Annabelle, how could you be so careless? And with Grandmere’s pearls? I don’t know what I was thinking when I left this house to you. The place is a mess, and now Grandmere’s pearls are gone . . .” Ms. Pickles scurried under the table to join Tang between Megan’s feet.
Annabelle stood. “Stop it. You’re out of line. She’s trying to protect them, Regina. She didn’t mean any harm.”
Megan burst into tears and ran from the room, the cats on her heels. But Regina couldn’t control the unreasonable anger she felt.
“You may not value the things you’ve been given, but I do. I can’t stand by and watch . . .” Grabbing her purse off of the back of the chair, she headed for the door, Annabelle shouting after her, “Those were my pearls, not yours. What are you so mad about?”
Turning, Regina spat. “She gave them to you, but I wanted them. She gave the house to me and now you have it. The kids . . . our daughters . . . it just doesn’t seem right . . .” Regina grabbed the back door handle.
“Well.” Annabelle said before Regina reached the bottom of the back steps.
Chapter 28
“UNGRATEFUL . . .” Regina muttered and jerked the car door open. Her shallow breathing made her head ache.
Why am I so angry? Megan would never do anything mean, she’s the sweetest kid alive. And it wasn’t Annabelle’s fault either. What in the world am I really pissed about? Sam? Why? He loves me and wants to marry me. He’s made a home for me. Is it Tom’s interference with the kids? The house? Oh, nothing makes any sense. I’m not jealous, surely. I have a man who loves me, enough money and the time to paint, so basically everything I’ve ever wanted. I even have a dog. What is my problem?
She backed out of the drive and headed toward Riverside Park. Maybe she could sit by the water and sort things out. It had been a long time since she’d been alone with her thoughts. Maybe she needed a vacation from everything? A weekend to herself or with friends in Chicago or Sun City might do her good. Regina pulled over to the curb and locked her purse in the trunk. Walking along the edge of the river would soothe her, especially when the only sounds were the water, squirrel chatter and the occasional car driving by.
A Salerno wood sculpture depicting a girl reading atop a tree stump used to keep sentinel on this particular patch of green grass. She missed it. Sighing, Regina continued walking to the bridge and stopped. Grabbing gravel off of the road, she dropped one stone at a time into the water and watched the ripples flow out, one after another, just like life. A jumble.
Her best friend’s voice came from behind her. “What are you up to?”
“Just looking at the water.”
Tillie stepped beside her and leaned on the railing.
“You look like a lost puppy. What’s on your mind, Regina Louise?”
“I do not. What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I was walking and saw you drive by. I could tell by the set of your jaw you were mad. Want to talk about it?”
She tossed in another stone. “Not particularly.”
“Okay, have it your way.” Tillie stood beside her in silence.
A row of baby ducklings followed their mother near the shoreline.
“Are you ever sorry?” Regina asked.
“About what?”
“About getting married?”
“Nope.” Tillie picked up some gravel and dropped a pebble near Regina’s last plop, the circles intersecting.
“Do you ever wish you’d had kids?”
The ducks waddled onto the grass, still in formation behind their mother.
“Nope. I’ve got Annabelle’s grandkids whenever I get the urge.”
“Do you miss living with me?”
“Sometimes.” Touching her friend’s arm, Regina turned toward her. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?”
“Sam wants to marry me. He wants me to sign the house over to Annabelle, but she can’t afford it. Tom wants to be in the kids’ life again. And, the straw that snapped this particular camel’s serenity . . . Megan lost Grandmere’s pearls.”
“Wow. That’s quite a load you’re ca
rrying around. Let’s take it one thing at a time, okay? I think it’s been too long since we had one of our therapy sessions over coffee.” Tillie linked their arms and pulled. Regina reluctantly followed her. “Let’s start with Sam and marriage. Why aren’t you comfortable with him asking to marry you? It’s not like you’re too young.”
“Gee, thanks.” Regina stomped her well shod foot. “You’re only six months younger than I am!”
Tillie rolled her eyes. “That is beside the point. Answer the question.”
“I’ve already been married, look how it turned out. Devlin screwed around then he died.” Anger had Regina stretching out her steps so Tillie had to double-time it to keep up.
“Bad news, we all die.” She touched her friends arm, giving it a slight squeeze. “You didn’t really love Devlin anyway, not like you do Sam. It’s not the same thing.”
“I know. I don’t understand why I’m hesitating,” Regina wrung her hands. “Maybe I just don’t want to share.”
“But you are sharing. A helluva lot more than you ever have. Is that it?”
“No. I love Sam to distraction. I can’t imagine living one single day without him.” Sunlight glistened off the tears that filled her eyes.
“Okay, then there really isn’t a good reason not to marry that cuddly bear. You’re living with him, so it’s not like you’re strangers. You know you’re compatible in every way that counts.” Tillie laughed and bumped her friend with her hip.
“Very funny. I imagine you and Joe enjoyed some sheet time before you two got married.”
Tillie smiled and swung her arms wide. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Regina chuckled. “I guess I just needed you to put it all into perspective. And maybe kick my butt a bit.”
“Now, what’s the problem with the house? I thought you gave it to Annabelle and the kids.”
The two friends walked side-by-side, oblivious to anything around them.
“I did, but on paper it’s still mine. I’m paying the taxes because she can’t afford them, but I think I’ve figured out how to handle that. I’ll put money in a trust to manage the house.”
Reaching over their linked arms, Tillie gave Regina’s hand a squeeze.