Harbinger in the Mist (Arms of Serendipity)

by Anabell Martin

  They entered the bedroom in the far right corner of the landing. It was massive. Mr. Jones made a point to show them the large radius head window that framed a perfect view of the ACE Basin. (As if they needed it pointed out.) The 12-foot ceilings he’d mentioned in passing earlier were much more impressive up here. Lindsey left them in the room and went into its twin. It, too, was massive and has its own curved window and view. This would be her room. It called to her. She already knew where she’d put her bed – near the window so that she could see the sun set each day – as well as her dresser, Gramma’s old hope chest, the TV, and whatnots.

  There were two doors along the inside wall. One was a closet, the other a bathroom.

  Oh, the bathroom! It would be a haven all its own. On the left, a large claw foot tub with brushed nickel feet and fixtures sat in the corner under another large, rounded window. The tub looked antique on the outside, but whirlpool jets were visible inside it. The window ledge was large enough to hold candles and bubble bath. She smiled at the thought of what her mom would think when she saw hers. A shower stall, the only modern looking piece, took up the other corner. On the right sat a large vanity, sink, and toilet. Like the tub, the lights and fixtures were all brushed nickel.

  “Lindsey? Linds? Mr. Jones and I are going to wrap things up. You ready to go check out the hospital and the school?” asked her mom from the bedroom, breaking her reflection.

  “Yeah, Mom. I’m coming!”

  Aimee poked her head into the room. “Amazing isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Oh mom. This is right out of romance novel! What do you think? I know I wasn’t enthusiastic before and I know it’s a little big for us, but I love it!”

  “I was thinking the same thing. I think this is what we need – to get away from Indiana, to be in a place where we have room to breathe and move… a place where we can think things through. Come on down when you’re ready. We’ll be out on the front porch. With a little luck, we’ll be living here by month’s end. It all hinges on me being able to seal the deal today at the hospital.”

  Lindsey walked around the room, imagining it full of her stuff. She walked over to the window and thought about whether or not to leave the windows as they were or to hang curtains. As she watched the gently flowing waters of the Basin, a snowy egret swooped down over the water and landed in the reed bank. There were no street lights that she’d seen anywhere near the property, so she anticipated the view of the night sky and the reflection of the moon and stars on the estuary waters.

  “So, what do you think?” She took Serendipity, the little pony from her lunch, out of her purse. She made sure the tail was still intact and then set it on the ledge of the window. “You think this would be a good home for us?”

  She was so lost in thought that she was startled when she heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway again. Muffled steps clomped to the door to her room and stopped. Then she heard a second, lighter set of feet echoing on the landing. They, too, stopped just outside her door. After a moment, the second person headed back downstairs.

  Lindsey sighed. She must’ve been up here lost in thought way too long and the lawyer and her mom had come to get her. But why didn’t they say anything? Why did her mom just turn and go back downstairs. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to interrupt her reverie. She hadn’t heard the lawyer retreat so, reluctantly, she turned, fully expecting to see Mr. Jones standing in the doorway. He wasn’t. That’s odd, she thought. He was probably in one of the other rooms.

  She figured it was time to go and headed toward the door. Before she stepped out of the room, she looked at Serendipity and said, “Watch out for my room, girl. I’ll see you soon.” She turned and left the little pony sitting on the windowsill.

  “Sorry, Mom,” she said as she walked out on the front porch moments later. She was surprised that both her mother and the lawyer were there; she could’ve sworn that she’d left him upstairs somewhere since she hadn’t heard him retreat back down the stairs behind her mom. Then she remembered that Catherine the cleaning lady was probably still roaming about the house, so she didn’t say anything.

  “It’s alright, honey. We’re just finishing up,”Aimee said as she signed a paper, flipped several papers back on top of it, and handed the stack back to Mr. Jones. “How do we get to the hospital from here? We’d like to see the college as well.”

  “Oh, it’s a short drive. Walterboro’s a cozy little town, hard to get lost in once you know the main roads. I highly recommend you also go over to the Artisans Center and introduce yourself to Ms. Darby Boone. She’s lived here forever, since she was born, I believe. We kind of think of her as the unofficial welcoming committee. She can tell you anything you need to know and help you get settled here in this great town of ours. Tell her I sent you.”

  Mr. Jones drew them a map on the back of their copy of the papers that he and Aimee had been signing. He nonchalantly passed the map to Aimee and bid her farewell. Aimee turned and locked the heavy wood door before they headed down to their car.

  After Lindsey and her mom were buckled in, Lindsey asked, “What were y’all signing, Mom? Are we for sure keeping the house? What if you don’t like the hospital? What if you don’t get the job?”

  “Well, I’m 99.9% sure that I have the job, honey. I’ve been talking to and emailing Ms. Radke about the position. She’s already checked my references and seems really excited that we’re down here this weekend. I think that this meeting later today is just a formality so that we can hash out some minor details.”

  “Mo – om! How could you not tell me something like that? I’m so happy for you!”

  “Well, I wanted to wait to see if you like the area and such. But while we are on the topic of things that have been kept secret, I want to talk to you about a habit you’ve apparently picked up. Now I know that you’re 18 and out of high school. And I know that this situation has to be stressful on you. You may legally be an adult, but while you’re living in the house with me, there will be no smoking.”

  As they headed back down the dusty drive, Lindsey furrowed her brow, laughed once, and said, “Um, OK Mom. I don’t smoke but I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Lindsey, I smelled smoke when I came up to get you. I didn’t say anything then, but I can’t not say anything now. I’m your mother and I love you. I don’t want to see you addicted to cigarettes. As a nurse, I’ve seen what those things can do to your lungs and heart. Those things kill, Lindsey.”

  “Mom, I wasn’t smoking! I swear! It was probably that wheezing lawyer.”

  After a few moments of silence, Aimee finally apologized for jumping to conclusions. She agreed that it was probably the lawyer, that he probably had a light before they arrived and that the cigarette smoke had simply lingered in the hallway.

  Five minutes later they were talking excitedly about the potential of the new house as they wove their way into the heart of Walterboro searching for a hospital, a college, and a woman named Darby Boone.

  Back in Retreat house, a certain pony toy had been lifted from the windowsill and was dancing about the floor in the second master bedroom under the power of hands unseen.

  Three

  “Lindsey, darling, I thought your momma would like this. It’s a Lorrie Gunn original that I managed to snag at a bargain price. Where do you think she’d want it? Over the fireplace or over the sofa?”

  Darby stood in the living room holding a framed painting of a house very much like the one in which they were standing. A skeletal tree stood in the forefront of the canvas, its branches hung ominously over the house and the path leading up to its front door. The artwork was dark but utterly intriguing.

  Lindsey looked from the painting to Darby face, acutely aware of the woman’s questioning gaze. “It’s beautiful. Who was the artist again? Lorrie, who?”

  “Lorrie Gunn. She’s one of the Southeast’s most promising talents. She did a tour of places around here about a year ago and was quite taken with Retreat House. She painted this after
her visit. She recently bought a house over on Edisto Island and offered a few of her pieces to the Artisans Center. I managed to cut a deal with her and bought it for y’all as your welcoming present. It only seemed fittin’ that it should hang here after all.”

  “That was sweet,” Lindsey smiled. “How about over there where Mom told the movers to put the sofa? If she doesn’t want it there she can move it later.”

  “Well alrighty then,” Darby said in her old South drawl, an accent which was not one of ignorance, but of an affluent era gone by. She certainly matched this house.

  Lindsey sighed. The move had taken two days and she was honestly too tired to think about where she thought artwork should be hung at the moment, but she couldn’t bring herself to be mean to the elderly lady. Darby had been a God-send to her and her mom. From the first moment they met her, she took them under her wing and guided them through the preparations for the move.

  As they packed back in Bremen, Darby went through the pain of getting both the power and water turned on, brought over her own little TV so the satellite guy could wire the house, and stocked their fridge with some much-needed basics. She even started the paperwork for the address change, license and tags at the DMV, and helped enroll Lindsey at USC-Salkehatchie – the local satellite campus for the University of South Carolina. Talk about Southern hospitality!

  Darby had been standing on the porch with the twin girls from next door when Lindsey and her mom drove up behind the moving truck this morning. She didn’t seem to have any family around, so the town had become her life. At only 5-foot-tall, and weighing no more than 100 pounds, she had incredibly smooth skin and thick, straight, cotton white hair that just brushed the top of her shoulders before curling under. Lindsey didn’t know what her secret was, but she had seen women half Darby’s age in much worse shape.

  Maddie and Michelle were the opposite of Darby. Both girls towered over her by at least six inches. And while not identical, both girls had long, black hair, tanned complexions, and large brown eyes.

  Lindsey went back to unpacking her box of wires and electronics – DVD player, VCR, cables, and such.

  Darby pulled a step stool over to the wall and proceeded to climb it with the framed print in one hand, hammer in the other, and a nail between her teeth. She hammered the nail in the wall, each of her five heavy swings echoed around the large, mostly empty room. She hung the print, walked to the middle of the room and looked at it, then adjusted it so that it hung straight. She moved to the box marked “lamps/candles” and ripped the tape from the lid. In the kitchen, Lindsey could hear the twins stacking plates and whispering incoherently to each other.

  The doorbell rang about an hour later, causing Lindsey to jump. She heard the door open, her mother greet the unknown person warmly, and another female voice welcoming her to the neighborhood.

  “Well hi, there! I'm Barbara Robbins,” the woman drawled nasally. “Maddie and Michelle, my daughters you see, said that you were just moving in and I thought that you might be too tired to make lunch. So I took the liberty of fixin’ y’all a little somethin.’ I hope you like meatloaf because this one is hot outta the oven. I got some fixin's to go with it and an apple pie, too, for you and your girl.”

  Darby seemed unsurprised by this latest visitor and went back to screwing the shade on a lamp. Lindsey was looking around curiously and the twins were peering up from the boxes they were unpacking in the kitchen. Aimee appeared a few moments later with a short, plump woman. Her thick black hair spiraled halfway down her back.

  “Why, you must be Lindsey,” she cooed. Her accent was slower and less refined than Darby's. “Look what a purdy thang you are. You look just like your mama. Anyhoo, I brought y’all some lunch you see,” she sat a basket on the counter and began pulling out covered plates. “Y’all been working so hard, you need to eat. And girls,” she turned to the twins, “Daddy wants to know if y’all have the Nolvasan ready in the barn. Wind Dancer is starting to wax so he thinks she might drop that foal anytime now. It’s early, but you never know. You also need to get her some fresh hay and feed in there so don't be too much longer.”

  The girls nodded and waved as their mother left.

  “What was she talking about?” Lindsey asked.

  “My horse is getting ready to have a baby. According to the vet, Wind Dancer isn’t due for a few more weeks, but if she’s already waxing… Anyway, you clean its umbilical stump with this solution, Nolvasan, after it's born. Michelle was supposed to get it ready,” Maddie said.

  “It is ready, but we do need to clean her stall,” Michelle answered.

  “Girls, you have been a great help,” Aimee said, taking a pack of paper plates out of a grocery bag on the counter and some silverware out of a box on the stove. She handed them each a set.

  “You should eat some lunch and then head over to take care of your horse so that your parents don't get upset.”

  Lindsey was still curious; she could understand wanting to clean the horse and its stall up before birth, but what was all this talk about wax? “What did your mom mean about wax? Why would you wax a horse?”

  Both girls looked at her then at each other before succumbing to a fit of giggles. Lindsey didn't understand what was so funny.

  “When a mare's a close to giving birth, their teats will secrete this sticky, waxy stuff. It's called ‘waxing.’ It’s a sign that birth is imminent.”

  “Humans do that, too. We secrete a pre-milk called colostrum. It's probably the same substance in horses. We’re all mammals, after all,” Aimee added.

  They ate in silence, drinking soda from the can. The food was good, but way too filling. Lindsey was sure that she wouldn't be able to get much done until she'd digested the heavy meal. The girls left when they finished eating and cleaned up their plates. They were funny and very friendly, and Lindsey was disappointed when they had to leave. Aimee ventured out to the little houses out back while Lindsey put away the leftovers and started unpacking pots and pans.

  “Barry said that the cleaning company stored a bunch of furniture in those buildings out back, but he neglected to say that they were all antiques!” Her mom rushed into the room holding a sun catcher in one hand and a lamp in the other. She held the sun catcher up for Lindsey to see. It was oval with a large, red rose painted in the middle of the palest pink glass. Once Lindsey took her offering, Aimee began to slowly turn the wrought iron table lamp in her hands, marveling at the frosted glass shade with its beaded fringe and colorful, hand-painted hummingbirds.

  “I thought you’d like that. It’d look nice hanging in your bedroom window. And look at this lamp! There are all kinds of things out there!”

  “That must be one of Miss Richard's – God rest her soul – Tiffany lamps. She had a nice Pulaski credenza in the foyer that she put that lamp on. She inherited it all with the house when Mr. Grayson sold it all those years ago,” Darby said. “I had wondered what had happened to her stuff. When I came in here the other day and the house was empty I feared it had gone to the Goodwill or something.”

  “Was there anything that you wanted? There’s no way we’re going to be able to fit all of that stuff back in here.”

  “Well, there was an old Singer sewing machine that I’d be interested in buying.”

  “I wouldn’t even think of taking your money, Darby. I don’t know if anything’s missing, but that one house out back is full of stuff. If the sewing machine is in there, it’s yours. It’s the least we could do. I assume they moved all of that stuff in there when the floors were being refinished. Is the credenza the big, wood cabinet with the gold leafing on it?”

  With the women deep in conversation about the antiques that had been left behind, Lindsey slipped away and headed up to her room to unpack her own stuff. She’d been waiting until Maddie and Michelle had left before she went upstairs to put her own room together. She wanted to grab a shower and a nap, but her room was a mess of boxes. Her bed frame sat in the middle of the room. The boxed springs and
mattress were propped against the wall. Lindsey put the old sun catcher on the dresser and pulled the bed frame near the window so that she’d be able to see the estuary from bed.

  She managed to get the bed set on the frame without making too much noise. Next she located and unpacked her stereo, CDs, and a set of bed linens.

  Within the hour her room was in pretty good order. She pulled a pair of jean shorts, a tank top, and some underwear out of the dresser and laid them on her bed. She then collapsed the used boxes that she’d emptied and piled them by the door. She found towels in a box in the laundry room. She put the extras away and trudged back to her room with two thick but mismatched towels. She was dead tired, but a shower was long overdue. She hadn’t had one since the movers packed up their old house two days ago. Her mom took one in the motel back in Knoxville yesterday, but the bathroom had looked sketchy to Lindsey, so she’d opted to wait. And it showed. Her brown hair was oily and clung to her head. Her pale face was sweaty and she felt like she had an odor.

  Once she was locked away in her bathroom, Lindsey hung the towels on the rack on the wall, put her toiletries in the shower, and placed her contact lens case and solution on the vanity. She had slept with the lenses in last night and her eyes were sore, but she’d take them out after her shower because her hands were filthy. She stood there for a moment and marveled at the size and luxury of the room. She went back and forth between a hot shower and a bubble bath. Which one to take? Fearing falling asleep in a tub of water, she finally opted for a shower.

  The water heated quickly and pelted down like a heavy rain. At first she just stood under the running water, letting the heat penetrate into her sore muscles. The water pressure was perfect – not so hard that it beat your skin off and not so slack that you felt like you still had a film of soap on you. She lathered her hair and scrubbed her face. She rinsed her hair, pushing the soap back and down her head with her hands. She was getting sleepier, so she hurriedly scrubbed her body and hung the pouf on the water knob. Just as she was squeezing water from her hair, preparing to get out, she heard the bathroom door creak open. It was probably her mom, but it could also be Darby. Or maybe even one of the twins from next door come back to tell her something. Maybe even one of the movers bringing in a final box or two.