Secrets and Revelations (Bellingwood #4)

by Diane Greenwood Muir

  Polly couldn’t stand it. "What did you make her cancel?" she asked.

  "It was just a stupid date with Len. She can go out with him any time. She's partying with us Sunday night." Beryl turned to Lydia. "So you'll tell Sylvie?"

  "I think Polly should tell Sylvie. They're together all the time."

  "So you'll tell Sylvie?" Beryl asked Polly.

  "Sure. I'll take care of it."

  They watched Jason and Andrew fly across the road and head for the front door of Sycamore House, towels flapping in the breeze, wet heads and red eyes telling the tale of their trip to the pool.

  Polly stood up. "I'd better get inside and make sure they've showered. Thank you for stopping by." She hugged both Lydia and Beryl. "I've missed you."

  They walked back to the parking lot and the women got into Lydia's Jeep. Polly went inside and up the steps to her apartment to deal with two very happy boys.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Nothing was going to stop Polly from attacking the stack of books to be read on her coffee table. The animals were curled up on the sofa beside her and Polly was ready for a quiet evening. She didn’t get many of those and almost felt a little decadent.

  Insistent knocking at her front door had her cursing under her breath and she mumbled all the way across the living room floor. Jeff was standing there, looking at her in amazement.

  "Aren't you ready?" he asked.

  Polly's eyes grew huge and then she frowned. "I forgot. I don't suppose you'd let me skip tonight."

  "Nope. There is only one more rehearsal and besides, you'd feel guilty."

  She frowned. "You're right, but I had other plans."

  "It doesn’t look as if they include you leaving your apartment."

  "No, they didn't. Just a minute, I need to change and grab my things."

  She grumped and muttered all the way into her bedroom to change into jeans and a t-shirt, then sighed as she scooped up the folder and her flute case.

  "I'm ready now. Sorry about that," she said, meeting him at the entry way.

  Jeff laughed at her. "Get rid of that pouty face. We're making good music and you enjoy it."

  He had talked her into joining the community band. There were many rehearsals and only a couple of performances - the first at Bellingwood Days, but as far as she could tell, they sounded pretty good as a group. She hadn't played her flute since high school, but figured that fourteen years couldn't have erased all her knowledge. She still had her high school instrument and after having the keys re-padded it was ready to play again.

  Jeff had given her two weeks to prepare for the first rehearsal. The first night she curled her lower lip over the mouthpiece, she'd whimpered. The second night she realized how much air it took to make a decent tone and felt a little dizzy. She didn't remember being that out of breath when she was younger. A few more nights and she was fine with the tone, and had been quite relieved to find an old fingering chart tucked into the flute case..

  On the other hand, Jeff had obviously never stopped playing. He surprised her with the news that he was playing the clarinet solo in one of the pieces. He was good! When she pressed him about it, she discovered he had played in the Columbus, Ohio, symphony orchestra. He was very good! It was fun to watch him play and even more fun to watch others in the group be impressed with him. It made her feel a little proud. The director had chosen a fun piece for the Bellingwood Days concert that would allow Jeff to shine. He not only played beautifully, but got into it and added quite a flourish to the music. The first night he played the solo, the band erupted in applause as soon as they could get their instruments into their laps. Jeff bowed gracefully and quietly sat back down.

  They took his car over to the elementary school. Others were still arriving, so she knew she hadn't made them late. They entered to the sounds of instruments playing scales and tones as musicians warmed up their instruments and their lips. She nodded to the conductor, Bruce Jones, a high school band instructor who had also brought in a few of his players to ensure the band could pull off the pieces he'd chosen. She found her seat, opened the case and put the pieces of the flute together. After aligning them, she blew some warmth into the instrument. Setting her music on the stand in front of her, she smiled as the girl who led the section arrived and sat down beside her.

  "Did you practice this week?" Jeanie Dykstra asked.

  "No," Polly said, and hung her head. "I feel awful. I think I have everything, but I should have gone over it one more time."

  "I didn't either and I just know he's going to call me out if I make a mistake."

  Polly was horrified. They hadn't been practicing together that long, but she’d never heard the conductor call any individual out. He scowled at sections when they made obvious mistakes, but she was certain he wouldn't harangue volunteers in a city band.

  "Why do you think he'd do that?" she asked Jeanie.

  "Well, wouldn't you?" Jeanie responded. "Especially when we only have two rehearsals left?"

  "No!" Polly exclaimed. "And I don't think Bruce will either. He'd end up with half of the band whimpering on the floor in tears and the other half angry enough to never return. You'll be fine. Stop worrying about it."

  The young woman was a good musician. She taught piano lessons after work and played for one of the services at the Lutheran Church in town, but she had a terrible problem with self-confidence.

  Polly looked up as she heard a stick tapping on the stand. He held up the cover of the score to "Beautiful Savior" and everyone shuffled to bring it out of their folders. The chattering and tuning stopped as people realized he was ready to go. He brought his arms up and they began to play. She shuddered a little as she realized how far out of tune she was, stopped and readjusted, then re-entered the piece.

  He finally stopped the song and said, "Good evening!"

  The group seemed to smile as a whole and responded with their weekly response, "Good evening, Maestro!"

  She liked the guy. He didn't live in Bellingwood, but came over every summer to rehearse the band for the Bellingwood Days concert as well as a second concert on Labor Day weekend. She had met people from the area who wanted an opportunity to dig out their instruments every year and make music. There was a sense of camaraderie and accomplishment as squeaking and squealing gave way to marches, polkas and other songs. When they finished the evening's rehearsal with the "Star Spangled Banner," she got emotional every time. Polly was glad Jeff had talked her into this.

  After rehearsal, some of the musicians invited everyone to head uptown for drinks and Jeff intended to go with them, so Polly offered to walk home. He protested a little, telling her that it would only take a minute to drop her off, but she insisted. It was a beautiful evening and the walk was less than four blocks. While everyone else walked the two blocks west to the Jefferson Street Alehouse, Polly turned south and crossed the highway. The solar lights in the garden were glowing. She opened her phone, dialed in and switched on the street lamps lining her driveway and smiled at the sight. This was home now and she loved it.

  Polly crossed the road in front of Sycamore House and walked up the driveway. Cars went past, honking their horns. She turned and waved, surprised to see one pull in behind her. Polly peered into the dark of the car. The window came down and she recognized the woman who delivered their mail.

  "Hi," Polly said. "What are you doing here?"

  "I'm so sorry," the woman said. "I had a package in my truck for you today and it slid under things in the back. It looked like it was important and since tomorrow is the beginning of my vacation, I wanted to make sure you had it."

  "Wow," Polly replied. "You didn't have to do that."

  "I tried to catch you after rehearsal tonight, but I got swept up with the crew heading to the Alehouse. I ran back and got this. They can wait for me."

  “Won’t you be in trouble for delivering it after hours?" Polly asked.

  The woman stage-whispered, "If you don't tell, I won't tell. I scanned it, knowing I'd see
you tonight. So, shhh."

  "Thank you so much. I'm sorry I don't know your name. I just say hi during the day."

  "I know," she smiled. "I'm Lisa Bradford."

  "Well, have a good vacation! Are you going away?"

  "Oh no. I'm staying in town and getting ready for Bellingwood Days. My husband owns the hardware store uptown and we always do something a little extra. This year he's setting up over at the Elevator and will help people make birdhouses. I run the store while he's gone, but we have a lot of work to do to get things together. I'm also going to have a quilt in the show here at Sycamore House."

  "You are! Will I see you here?"

  "Not much until Sunday afternoon. The woman who runs it doesn't like me, so I just submit my entry and run away."

  Polly nodded in agreement. "I get that," she said. "Maybe I'll see you on Sunday."

  "Oh, that's right! I need to make a couple of pies. We had the pie tins at the store and my dear husband brought two of them home, so I guess I'm also entering that."

  Polly laughed. "It's going to be a great time, isn't it!"

  "We always have fun." She began to drive away, then stopped and said, "You're never going to get this package if I keep forgetting it."

  She handed the large padded envelope to Polly and said, "I'm so sorry! Who knew I was so forgetful?"

  "Thank you," Polly called as the woman drove away.

  She looked at the return address. Ruth Ann Marshall from Arkansas. The woman must have mailed it before emailing Polly. Great.

  Polly went inside and upstairs, setting her flute, music and the package on her coffee table. Obiwan did a full-body wag as he followed her from the entryway to the sofa and both cats walked out of the bedroom to greet her.

  "Hi guys," she said to the animals in general. "Obiwan, are you ready for a quick run tonight?" They went through the apartment and down her back stairs. She grabbed the leash from the hook as she opened the door.

  She found herself distractedly walking between the fence and the road that went past the Sycamore House barn, thinking about the package in her apartment. They walked to the creek and she had turned Obiwan around again to walk back when her phone rang.

  "Hello?" she answered.

  "Hi Polly," Henry said. "I hadn't heard anything from you tonight. What's up?"

  "I completely forgot about band rehearsal," she said. "It's a good thing Jeff came up to get me. I'd have felt awful!"

  "So you're just getting home?"

  "Obiwan and I are out taking a walk. I'm sorry. I should have texted you."

  "No, it’s fine," he said. "I wanted to check in with you. Ya know, like I do."

  She heard him chuckle in the background.

  "Are you going to sleep well tonight?" he asked.

  "I don't know, we'll see," she said, her voice betraying her emotions.

  "What happened? Was someone mean to you at rehearsal tonight? You know I'll beat them up if you ask," he teased

  Polly laughed. "No, you nut. It was great. I'm having a blast." She took a breath. "My mail person, who by the way now has a name, caught me and gave me a package she didn't get delivered today. It's from that Ruth Ann Marshall."

  "Have you opened it yet?"

  "No, I'm outside with Obiwan. He seemed more important at the time. It can wait until I get back upstairs."

  "I wouldn't be able to do that," he said. "I'm much too curious."

  "I am curious, but I don't know what to expect."

  "Do you want me to come over?"

  She thought about his question. If she was honest, yes, she wanted him there. But, it wasn't fair. He had a long day of work tomorrow and needed to get some sleep. It was enough that she might end up tossing and turning all night.

  "No, I'm fine. It's probably no big deal."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm pretty sure. Don't worry about me."

  "You sound like I should worry."

  "It's really no problem. We're back home now," she said. "I'll talk to you in the morning. Good night."

  Before he could say anything else, Polly ended the call and unlocked the back door. She and Obiwan went up to her apartment and after she let him off the leash, he dashed for the kitchen, slurping up water and dribbling it on the floor.

  She had followed him so she could get something to drink and looked down, "You're a sloppy drinker, you know that?" she smiled.

  Obiwan wagged his tail and went back into the living room. He dropped on the floor in front of the couch and watched as she opened cupboards and the refrigerator.

  "I want something, I just don't know what," she said to no one in particular. Finally she landed on a bottle of flavored hard lemonade. Walking past the peninsula, she grabbed a bowl filled with peanuts and M&Ms.

  "This will do," she said and then chuckled. She was always talking to her animals, even if their eyes were shut and they were sound asleep. When she lived alone in Boston, talking to herself was natural, but she always worried that someone might hear her. With the animals in the apartment, at least there was potential for a response, even if it was just a sloppy lick on the face.

  Obiwan waited until she settled on the couch, then jumped up and snuggled in beside her. His tongue snaked out and licked the condensation on the bottle, then he eyed the bowl of candy.

  "You know better than that," she scolded. He seemed to look up at her and smile, and then rested his head on her thigh.

  Polly opened her laptop, deliberately ignoring the package on the table. There was nothing terribly important in her email. She smiled at the reminder from Doug about dinner the next evening. There was a notice from Daisy Blake, the local organizer of the community band, about final rehearsals, dress requirements and the schedule for the evening of the concert. She sent that one to be captured in her note program and then scrolled through her social media networks just to make sure she hadn't missed anything interesting. She opened the first news website to check headlines when she heard Henry's voice from her back steps.

  "Polly, can I come up? Are you decent?" he called.

  She jumped off the sofa, dislodging Obiwan. She set her laptop on the coffee table and ran into the bedroom and looked down the steps. He was standing there with a plastic grocery bag.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked. "And yes, come on up!"

  "I thought you might have lied about wanting me to come over." He walked up the stairs and stopped in front of her.

  "I totally did," she admitted. "But I didn't think it was fair. I can deal with this."

  Henry leaned in and kissed her, "Then none of this will be necessary, right?" He opened up the handles of the plastic bag.

  Inside were ice cream sandwiches and chocolate bars, cold bottles of Diet Mountain Dew and a root beer.

  She laughed and hugged him around the bag. "Oh, I love you!" she said, then stopped and backed up, waiting for him to say something.

  "I know," was his response as he walked past her toward the kitchen. She smiled at his back. He'd watched the Star Wars movies with her quite a few times this last year because she insisted that he catch up on her favorite movies. Every time Han Solo said "I know" to Leia just before being lowered into the carbonite, he chuckled and mouthed the words along with Harrison Ford. Polly thought he enjoyed it much too much.

  "Have you opened the package yet or have you been avoiding it?" he asked over his shoulder.

  "Avoiding as best I could," she said, following him.

  He put the ice cream in the freezer and made room in the refrigerator for the drinks and candy bars.

  "Would you put the candy bars in the freezer?" she asked. "They're so much better when frozen."

  Henry did so and then wadded up the bag and opened the cupboard where she kept them, stuffing it in with the rest.

  "So, what would you like to start with tonight? Ice cream? Candy? Dew?"

  "I have a drink," she said, nodding back to the table, "But I'd love an ice cream sandwich, or maybe two," she smiled. He opened the f
reezer once more and pulled out two ice cream sandwiches, handing one to her, then re-opened the refrigerator and took out the root beer for himself.

  "If you want another one, all you have to do is ask," he said and gave her a push toward the living room. "Let's get settled and see what's in this package. Go on. Move."

  She moved and waited for him to sit down so she could plant herself beside him. He sat and put his arm on the back of the sofa as she tucked in close to him.

  Polly pulled the wrapping off her ice cream sandwich, handed it to him and took his, unwrapped it and then sat in silence. Nestling her head against his chest, she heard his heart beating steadily as she licked and ate the treat.

  He took the empty wrapper out of her hand and set it on the table in front of them, then asked, "Are you ready?"

  "Nope. I like this just fine," she replied. "Would you let me ignore the rest of the world and stay like this forever?"

  Henry pushed her up and said, "Polly, I don't understand why this is upsetting you so much. So she knew your parents when you were a baby. So she left town for some reason. So she wants to get to know you as a person now. What is the big deal?"

  Polly turned to face him. "I thought I knew everything about my childhood. I thought I knew everything about my mom and dad. Last spring I discovered that Dad traveled to Europe and never told me about those trips. I only know about them because of his passport. I was ready to deal with that sometime, but then this showed up and all of a sudden there's another woman who was in our lives and it is one more thing Dad never told me. I had a nice, safe, normal childhood and I don't want to find out that he lied to me or was hiding things from me."

  "Polly, parents don't tell their children everything. Especially if there were things that those kids don't need to know. Maybe stupid things happened to your parents and your Dad did everything possible to set those aside so he could raise you as well as he did."

  He paused, then went on. "Are you going to tell the kids in your life about Joey and all the terror he caused you? Will you tell them about the partying you did while you were in college or the other bad dates you experienced? Aren't there some things about your past that would be better left exactly where they are ... in the past?"