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Blossom (The Blossom Trilogy Book 1)

Page 20

by Christopher Lentz


  Mrs. Donohue began slowly, but soon the words came easy and swift.

  “You’ve known since you were a child how your father and I met, so this isn’t going to sound like a fairy-tale romance, because it wasn’t. Really, it wasn’t! As a young married couple, we were out among the prospectors, as dirty and covered with God’s good earth as you please. Back then, we weren’t quite as tidy as we are today. I tended a vegetable garden and washed clothes to earn extra money. We were happy enough, or at least we thought we were. Our whole future was out in front of us.”

  Clarissa asked, “Had he just hit it big? Is that when you knew you loved him?”

  “No, it was quite the opposite. He was about to give up and never prospect again. I knew it was his dream, maybe even his destiny, to be successful in a big way at something. It might as well have been mining silver. I looked at him, and at that moment, when he needed me the most to encourage him to keep on trying, I wiped off my hands and pulled his face close to mine…one hand on each cheek. I told him I wasn’t about to stay married to a quitter. I knew that would get his attention. And it did,” she said and winked.

  “A few days later, he hit the silver deposit that paid for the house we’re sitting in right now. He needed me. I needed him. It’s as simple as that. That’s when I really knew we were meant for each other. We’ve been together ever since.”

  Clarissa looked at her mother, admiring her in a way that she hadn’t before. She also realized she didn’t have a story she could someday tell her daughter before her wedding day about the moment she knew she loved Brock. She looked at the wall and then out the window. These actions did not escape her mother’s knowing eyes.

  “Brock is a good man and he loves you. I can see it. You know it in your heart. So why the long face and distant look in your eyes?”

  “I know brides and grooms usually have doubts before their weddings. I don’t, at least I don’t think I do. But, I also don’t have a story to tell about the moment when we shared the spark or whatever it is. To be truly honest, our love is comfortable, even reassuring most of the time. We didn’t have to face the challenges you and Daddy faced. Do you think our kind of love will stand up over time too?”

  “That’s up to you two. Our love was literally forged out in the wilderness. Our gift to you was a better life, the niceties in life. Love doesn’t have to come from adversity.”

  “But what if it’s been too easy for us?”

  Zelda, who had been leaning on the door to hear more clearly, made the door creak loudly. For a moment, Clarissa and her mother looked at the door. Zelda scurried down the hallway as quietly as she possibly could.

  Figuring it was nothing, Mrs. Donohue responded to Clarissa’s question. “Listen to your heart and follow what it tells you. Don’t think about it so much. Besides, the ladies are coming to lunch today to celebrate with you, and we can’t have you looking unsure or uneasy, now can we?”

  Clarissa sat up straight. “No, we mustn’t!” She rose to her feet and left the room with her mother’s hopes trailing behind her like a loose thread from the hem of her skirt.

  Chapter 37

  Trouble In Paradise

  Tuesday, April 17, 1906, 10:27 a.m.

  One day before the earthquake and firestorm

  “You’ll never believe what I just heard!” Zelda exclaimed as she entered the kitchen. She gasped to catch her breath.

  “Don’t you mean overheard?” fired back Katie. “Have you been eavesdropping again? What did you hear this time? Ain’t, I mean isn’t this place gossipy enough without you adding more carrots to the stew?”

  “Stew! Schmoo! Here’s the tasty morsel. Mrs. Donohue told Miss Clarissa about being surrounded by prospectors and how she fell in love. And, she talked about being covered with God’s good earth. I know what she’s talking about—”

  Katie broke in, “This is not about you and your time in the mining camps. What did you learn about the Donohues?”

  Zelda got herself back on track. “I have to admit I’ve been too hard on them. It sounds like they’ve had their share of rough times. But, here’s where it gets even better. The princess sounds like she’s having doubts about her prince.”

  Katie added, “So there’s trouble in paradise, eh? What did Mrs. Donohue say to encourage the bride-to-be?”

  Zelda looked out the kitchen window. “Um, I didn’t quite hear that part.”

  “Why in heavens not?”

  “I leaned on the door to hear better and it creaked. I ran down here as quietly as I could before their talk was over.”

  Katie put her hands on her hips.

  “I know. I know. I’ll do better next time,” said Zelda reassuringly. “But whether or not Mrs. Donohue turned Clarissa’s frown upside down, like you said, there’s trouble in paradise.”

  Chapter 38

  Making A Whopper Of A Decision Lickety-Split

  Tuesday, April 17, 1906, 10:32 a.m.

  One day before the earthquake and firestorm

  The smell of hay was particularly strong in the damp morning air at Twin Peaks. But Brock didn’t notice.

  “What’s bother’n yuh, Pork Chop?” asked Gubbs without his usual ornery seediness. “Yuh been as quiet as a hangin’ tree on Sunday.”

  Brock turned toward the plain-spoken cuss with leathery skin who was inside the horse barn. “I guess I have…been quiet, that is. I’ve been thinking a lot.”

  “Where’s yuh’re gumption? A man who’s gettin’ hitched in a few days outta be thinkin’ a lot…thinkin’ and not regrettin’—”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” replied the younger man in a slow and drawn-out way, on the heels of a sigh. For as long as Brock could remember, Gubbs had called him Pork Chop. It was an odd term of endearment, but Brock never considered it disrespectful or inappropriately playful.

  “Does tha ‘a lot’ yuh been thinkin’ about include that purty gurl China doll yuh been sneakin’ up here? Didn’t think I’d missed that, did yuh, Pork Chop?”

  Brock wasn’t surprised. He assumed Gubbs observed the couple’s visits to Twin Peaks.

  “She’s not a China doll. Her name’s Blossom. She works in her family’s bakery making cookies during the day and in their restaurant at dinnertime. And, yes, I’ve been thinking about her. What do you think?”

  “About what?”

  “Blossom and me.”

  “Tain’t what I think that counts much right about now.”

  Brock sat on a bale of hay and rubbed his palm across the back of his neck. “You know me in a way that most other people don’t. I’m at my best when I’m here. What keeps you here, Gubbs? You never talk about your family or a wife.”

  “Tain’t much to tell.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “If yuh’re askin’ if I been in love before—like yuh’re with that Blossom of yers, not with some dame who’s no smarter than a box of rocks—then tha answer is yes. But it didn’t work out fer me. Actually, I didn’t do what it takes to make it work out. That’s somethin’ I reckon I’ll regret until I drag in my last breath. At my age, I ain’t sure there’s a whole lotta regrettin’ left to do. These days, I’m just a rusty chunk of barbed wire. Prickly and long past my prime.”

  “I had no idea,” said Brock.

  “I ain’t so much of an open book as I could be. So what are yuh fixin’ to do? Yuh can’t be marryin’ two women, at least not here in California.”

  “What do you mean, Gubbs?”

  “Lemme point something out fer yuh. Blossom comes here. Miss Clarissa don’t. Are yuh lovin’ the one yuh can’t have?”

  Brock stopped to consider that while Gubbs didn’t usually talk much, he excelled at dispensing white-haired nuggets of wisdom.

  Gubbs quickly added, “I hope I ain’t overstepped myself, but if yuh’re asking me—and I think yuh are—who likes tha things that make yuh happier, I think yuh already know, Pork Chop. It’s long past time to make a choice. Seein’s that yuh haven’t, yuh hafta make o
ne whopper of a choice lickety-split. What I’m seein’ now is what I walked away from years ago. This oughta be clear and not hit yuh like a sack of hammers. Yuh could do some learnin’ from my mistake or yuh gonna end up smack-dab where I am today.”

  “Why did you walk away?”

  “Myrtle Elaina Stae, that’s her name, was perfect in my eyes. First off, she would have none of me! But, over time, she saw things in me that I didn’t see. She was from Norway and was still learnin’ to speak English. Tha way she spoke in her old-country ways was like music to my ears. I can still hear how she’d say my name. She didn’t call me Gubbs. No siree! She called me my God-given name, Gilbert.”

  He paused.

  “My family, my pa and ma in particular, didn’t take a shine to her. When tha day came fer me to tell ’em about my feelings fer Myrtle, I’m pretty damned sure that Pa’s ass clenched up tight enough to snap tha handle off a shovel!” Grubbs smiled, but the lightness faded quickly from his face.

  “Over time, they planted doubt in my mind, and I guess yuh could say I listened to my head and not my heart. Looks and sounds kinda familiar, eh?”

  Brock neither agreed nor disagreed.

  “Son, I didn’t have yer choice between two women, but I walked away from tha one I could’ve had,” he said as he rubbed his grizzled beard and then scratched his scalp.

  Brock rubbed his rough hands together and looked carefully at Gubbs, whose face now looked like a skull shethed in callus.

  He broke his own heart and chose not to put it back together again, thought Brock. Listen to me…God…I sound like a love-sick girl…broken hearts…back together…I have got to sort this out!

  “Yuh know, that’s more than I’ve told anyone about that part of my life. But yuh need to hear it and think on it. Like my Myrtle told me once, ‘If yuh want tha fruit in life, yuh have to go out on a limb sometimes.’ Got it?” He made a giddy-up sound with his mouth.

  Gubbs turned to walk away. Brock called out, and Gubbs swung back around. “Got it, and thanks,” said Brock with the awkwardness appropriate for two men talking about things more personal than men typically talk about.

  Gubbs smiled. Brock returned the smile, even though he felt more like frowning in frustration.

  Chapter 39

  Windows Have Eyes

  Tuesday, April 17, 1906, 10:46 a.m.

  One day before the earthquake and firestorm

  Dulcie Chow requested this morning’s game of mahjong. She didn’t know it at the time of the telephone-called invitation, but Grand Ma Maw would not like what she was about to hear. Nor would she like the game that was about to be played.

  Berty and Grand Auntie Lim Kee arrived at Dulcie’s apartment soon after Grand Ma Maw had begun to make herself comfortable. The mahjong table was set and a pot of boiling-hot tea was ready to be poured.

  The women took their places, dispensed the tea and waited for Dulcie to unleash what was expected to be a prized jewel of gossip.

  Berty turned to Dulcie and gently said, “Shay shay. I am grateful for your most generous hospitality. What news will you share today?”

  Dulcie raised her hand to signal that Berty should end her questioning.

  Grand Ma Maw didn’t win the role of first dealer, and consequently she didn’t have the honor of being the East Wind as the game began. That omen, and a quick glance at the tiles she had in front of her, told the old woman this was not going to go well.

  “About Blossom,” said Dulcie abruptly with a look of great concern. “We must talk.”

  “Ah, you heard that Butch ask for her hand in marriage last night? Already such good news being talked about?” replied Grand Ma Maw.

  “There is talk about the engagement of the butcher and Blossom. But also talk—troubling talk—about Blossom only,” added Dulcie.

  With a wispy wave of her hand, Grand Ma Maw tried to redirect the conversation. “Must we? Activities of other people far more interesting, I believe.”

  “I believe not,” responded Dulcie with a subtle, yet upset smile.

  Grand Ma Maw looked down at her tiles.

  “Years ago, yes, years ago we agree never to speak of our families at this table,” Grand Ma Maw reminded the other three players, even if it was unlikely that they might have forgotten this cardinal rule.

  Despite the history lesson, Dulcie went on. “It pains me to say this. Yesterday afternoon, near my loving husband’s very successful tea store, Blossom enter carriage of white man. Fancy carriage with big, very big black horses. She have package on lap,” reported Dulcie.

  Grand Ma Maw listened intently and watched the shopkeeper’s wife for facial expressions of emphasis that might tell more than her words.

  “Blossom return at end of day in carriage, says my dear husband. He see with his own eyes. No package on lap this time. What you say about this?” she asked.

  All eyes were on Grand Ma Maw. Everyone looked uncomfortable and tense. Grand Ma Maw focused downward on her tiles again.

  Dulcie observed aloud, “You not saying anything about as loudly as a person can.”

  “I look at my tiles. I must plan two or three moves ahead, not dwell on tiles already played,” Grand Ma Maw replied. She said no more. Her tears fought for room in her eyes.

  Despite many tales of tragedies and triumphs these four women had shared over the years, they had never seen Grand Ma Maw shed tears. Now, she was.

  Tears of pain. Tears of joy. Only in private. That my mother taught me. What she think of me, hot tears on my cheeks?

  “My Blossom make choices we never had,” Grand Ma Maw squeezed the words out of her tightened throat. “In future, I guide her best I can.”

  Dulcie put her hand on Grand Ma Maw’s hand in a way that only a caring friend can. Grand Auntie Lim Kee, to Grand Ma Maw’s right, put her hand on Grand Ma Maw’s other hand. She patted it in a slow, soothing rhythm with a very strained smile of encouragement on her face.

  As much as Grand Ma Maw knew she was among friends, Blossom’s actions would soon—if not already—be the topic of gossip and innuendo in the alleys of Chinatown.

  “Our buildings have eyes. Our buildings have mouths. How loud will they speak this time?” Grand Ma Maw asked the group. What has begun cannot be undone.

  Chapter 40

  Confusion

  Tuesday, April 17, 1906, 11:47 a.m.

  One day before the earthquake and firestorm

  “Hello,” announced Brock as he entered the front door with a bouquet of daisies. He firmly planted a lingering kiss on Clarissa’s lips as he moved her to the point of being backed up against the foyer wall’s flocked rose-patterned wallpaper. Whoa, now that’s a kiss. Where’s he been hiding them?

  “Hello to you too,” said Clarissa as he handed her the bouquet.

  Brock didn’t often visit Clarissa for lunch on weekdays, since he was usually out at Twin Peaks. So today’s visit was especially important to her considering Brock’s uneasiness during their recent times together. Wedding jitters aside, Clarissa thought, he just hasn’t been himself lately. But this…this I’m liking!

  Brock kissed her even more passionately again and then again. Clarissa felt her back against the wall more solidly with each kiss. She dropped the flowers on the floor with a rustling thud.

  Clarissa’s mother entered the foyer and silently stepped backward, retracing her footsteps, hoping not to be noticed or to interrupt what she hadn’t seen between the couple before: unbridled passion.

  ***

  The passion, however was only one-sided and it was bridled.

  Moments earlier, Brock stood outside the Donohues’ front door for about five minutes mustering up his courage. Compared to kissing Blossom recently, this encounter with Clarissa was nice, but not earth-moving.

  “So, what’s for lunch?” he asked matter-of-factly as he pulled away from her and looked at the sideboard in the dining room. Clarissa scooped up the daisies.

  “Eureka! That’s more like it! I saw the whole
thing!” blurted out Faye from the staircase landing. “Bravo!” Unlike Clarissa’s mother, Faye had no problem pushing herself into this private moment. “You’re a real tiger! Grrrrrrr!”

  Clarissa pulled herself together, took a cleansing breath and glared at Faye. She took Brock by the arm, walked him to the kitchen and pointed out the wicker hamper.

  “Surprise! We’re going on a picnic. Well, not exactly a picnic. We’re going to have our first meal together at our new house. I already checked with my mother about any superstitions that might apply, and I think we’re fine. It’s not like seeing me in my wedding gown before the ceremony or anything like that.”

  “That’s a surprise, a wonderful surprise.”

  Knowing his favorites, Clarissa made sure the hamper included fried chicken and biscuits.

  He stopped and objectively asked himself, How could I not love her? She’s kind, thoughtful and now even spontaneous. I do love her. Or do I like her a lot? And, if I do, is that enough? He decided it was too much to think about right now.

  As if hollering from the staircase wasn’t rude enough, Faye barged into the kitchen just as the couple was about to leave.

  “Oh, you two lovebirds make my heart sing! Just a few more days and you’ll be eternally united.”

  The two shook their heads, gathered up the hamper and the blanket that was set out, and headed for the front door.

  Brock stopped at the entryway to the dining room. “Sure we shouldn’t just eat here? Faye could join us then.”

  Clarissa took Brock firmly by the arm and proceeded to the front door as Faye followed in quick pursuit. She waved goodbye to them from the stoop as if she was a resident of the Donohue home.

  She walked back into the house to the dining room archway and passed under it. On the sideboard she saw the fortune cookie that she had refused to open during Clarissa’s bridal dinner on Saturday night. She picked it up, looked it over carefully and set it back down precisely where she found it, as if disturbing it might disturb something else.

 

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