“I’m the beneficiary of Mr. Good’s will,” Anna said.
“Do you have proof of ownership?” The clerk cocked her head and raised her eyebrows.
“Yes. I have a letter.” She opened her purse and passed it to J. Kipfer.
“Strange. I don’t remember anyone named Jenkins in the Good family. You must be way down the list or something.” The woman’s nostrils flared as she handed the paper back.
Anna could have explained, but she kept repeating her mantra—self-care—in her mind. Instead, she smiled.
“Just the water? Have you made arrangements for the power and telephone?”
“No. I’m new at all this. I should have done more research, but sometimes you’ve just got to jump in and start. Can you understand that?”
“Of course. That’s why I’m here.” J. Kipfer dialed her phone. “Nick, are you busy?”
A deep, rolling voice thundered over the speakerphone. “Yes, sweet thing. What can I do for you?”
“Nick, stop fooling around.”
“Your wish is my command. What’s up?”
“I have a woman in my office who would like the water turned on at the old Good place. Can you fit it into your schedule today?”
Engine sounds throbbed through the room. “Sure. I’m driving over to that side of town in about five minutes to check a water sample. Can she be there by then?”
Anna smiled and nodded. It felt good to be on the periphery of such a teasing voice.
“She says yes. Have you seen Hank around with the power truck?”
“He’ll be in later today to locate gas lines.”
Is that a bark in the background? Of course, Nick is probably a very common name.
“Great. We’ll take care of the power, too. Good bye.”
“Whoa there, boss.”
J. Kipfer straightened, pen poised. “Yes, what is it?”
“Tell the lady not to hurry. I’ll look in on Herman and make sure he’s not doing too much after his surgery.”
“When Jim worked here, there was a lot less jabbering,” she commented.
“Not to worry, I’m sure you will find someone just like him and then everything will run the same as before.”
“From your lips.”
“Later,” he replied, and Anna heard a click from the speaker.
Without bothering to look up another number, J. Kipfer dialed quickly. While she waited, Anna caught sight of a town map with all of the street names. She ran her finger along Center, the main street, until she found Green Avenue and followed it to the block with her address.
There it was. She would occupy property permanently marked on a map. Regina Beach wasn’t very large. Its dimensions were a mile on either side of Center Street and only one-half mile from the highway where she came into town, to the edge of the lake. She would be part of a community that made up a small dot on a long lake.
Anna turned back to the clerk when she heard the receiver placed back into the cradle. “Everything seems to be in order, Ms. Jenkins.”
“Call me Anna, please. Thank you for all of your help.”
“Welcome to Regina Beach. If we can do anything, please call or drop in during business hours.”
“Thank you, Ms. Kipfer.”
Anna allowed the little skip in her step on the way to her car, and drove the posted speed limit. Yet it felt as if she was crawling along the streets. She returned a wave from a man in a plaid shirt digging in his garden. Slower moving got things accomplished. In Toronto, she would still be caught up with inboxes and forms for another week. Hmm, maybe breakfast at her door every morning for a week and sitting on a porch and listening to birds and golfers having a good time could have had benefits.
Since it wasn’t far from one part of town to the other, she’d probably see the temporary B&B host around. No, she wouldn’t think about what caused his amputation or what he did. If questions about her life before she moved here were off limits, then she didn’t have a right to ask about his. Besides, conversations always turned back to the questioner, and Anna wasn’t going to answer for a while.
With the morning sun dappled through the trees, the house looked welcoming. She opened her hatchback and pulled the largest piece of luggage to the ground, then extended the handle and bounced it up the steps to the back door.
Anna dropped the key when booming, contagious laughter rumbled over the hedge. Mrs. Lamb’s giggle followed. The catching, vicarious fun rippled through the air.
Nick’s white teeth flashed against his tanned complexion as he strolled confidently toward her. His black hair revealed indigo streaks from the morning sun. He wore blue bib overalls, a T-shirt and black work boots. The calluses on his palm flashed as he thumbed at the tears that pooled in the laugh lines of his face.
Mrs. Lamb was on his heels. “I told Herman I’m checking with the doctor. Some of the most outrageous things have been coming out of his mouth since his surgery and the new medication.”
Nick’s merriment gave one last shudder as he stepped forward, extended his hand, and introduced himself to her once again. “Nick Donnelly, temporary town foreman.”
Anna reached for his hand and held the firm grip, basking in the feeling of transferred mirth. Her smile spread widely. “Anna Jenkins, permanent resident.”
She felt a tiny affinity with this man who appeared whole, no missing limbs apparent, his challenge hidden. He loosened his grip. “I have a work order to turn on the water.”
“Yes, please.” She released his hand. “What do I have to do?”
“I’ll check for split lines or a cracked hot water heater first. John, the previous owner, was thorough. The water pipes should be fine.”
“This is valuable information. Thank you.” Anna bit her lip. Murray had been thorough, too. All of her life she’d been forthright, but Murray’s death did strange things to her personality, or so the grief counselors explained. Maybe this really was her. Secretive. She’d learned to keep confidential information while she worked at the hospital. Just once when she was new to the profession, she gave out information to someone who wasn’t on the family list. She’d worried for weeks if the hospital would be sued because of her blunder.
“Coming?” he called as he turned his back.
She trailed behind the black T-shirt down some steps and watched it ripple and pull as Nick stretched and turned. Her mind wondered where this man’s ability to share rolling, rocking, wide, open-mouth mirth came from. His loss wasn’t any laughing matter.
“Ms. Jenkins, we’re ready to go.”
“Huh?”
“Go upstairs and open all of the taps. When they stop spitting and sputtering, turn them off.”
Anna retreated up the stairs before he turned and caught her staring at his back like someone who had been awoken in the middle of a dream. The pipes in the kitchen and bathroom pulsed when the valve was opened. She rushed from the kitchen to the bathroom and with her hand on the taps, felt the vibration stop. She pushed her wet hand over her heated cheeks and through her hair. When she looked up, his brown eyes were scrutinizing her actions.
She found herself shouting, “Everything’s under control.” Her tongue searched her dry mouth for a drop of saliva.
He stepped back and allowed her to pass. When she turned and looked around over his left shoulder, the stripped bed caught her attention. She stumbled against the wall. Nick reached out and touched her shoulder. They both jumped when static electricity arced between their bodies.
“I need a drink of that water. The air is so dry here.” Anna sank into a chair.
“I know dry. Without water, everything shrivels up and dies,” he said quietly as he handed her a glass. She drank deeply as if she’d been running a marathon and suddenly someone passed her a much-needed dr
ink.
“Thank you.” Her thoughts froze when his calloused thumb gently lifted a drop of water as it trickled from the corner of her lip.
His palm seemed to caress her cheek. “You must have been close to John.”
She grasped his interpretation and shrugged. Keep your counsel. Just button your lip. It would be so easy to retreat back into the black hole and tell all. She needed this house rooted in the community to provide her with sustenance to go on and extend her branches into a new life.
Anna focused on his black boots planted firmly on the white tile. They were like stepping stones in snow. The longer she looked down, the more his feet shuffled.
His phone rang and broke her stare. “Nick here.”
She was drawn to the large windows that revealed small waves washing onto the shore while his voice rose and fell in the background. She jumped when he spoke from behind her. “Looks like you’ve got a big job to make this old man’s house a place you’d want to live.” He had picked up a ship in a bottle and held it to the light.
She stood with determined confidence. “They say work is good therapy.” She felt a pang of intuitive kinship with him again, and smiled. “Do you ever wonder if they really know what they are talking about?”
Nick raised his hand and gently touched the side of her face, turning it toward him. He looked deep into her eyes as if searching for recognition. “Yeah, they’re probably just a bunch of clowns who think up Pollyanna sayings to make us feel better about our lives.”
She would have returned that gentle touch in a moment of shared intimacy, if his stance hadn’t changed. He shifted away from her as if he sensed danger. Nick pivoted on his rubber-soled boots and almost leapt through the door. The moment was thick with uncertainty.
She caught a chuckle that ended up more of a snort. They were like two wounded animals who suddenly found themselves in the same pen, wondering who was stronger and would survive. Surely she wasn’t attracted to Nick Donnelly just because they were both grieving their severed pasts.
Anna had been put on probation during her nurse’s training because she couldn’t control her empathy. She was not going to sacrifice the dike she’d built just because of a handsome man. She was moving on. She hoped he had, as well. If he could be positive and productive in this town, then there might be hope for her, too.
She hung her black pants, gray jacket and blouse in the closet. In her jeans and T-shirt she felt as if the very tight restraints she had lived with were loosening. Going through the linen closet, Anna found everything she needed. She bundled the sheets, pillows, and blankets on the deck and headed through the hedge to ask about the nearest laundromat.
Herman was filling his hummingbird feeders and looked up with a smile. “So, what did you think of our Nick?”
“He seems to know his work for being temporary foreman and temporary B and B host.”
“Now that’s something you can take to the bank—a man who works with his hands and has brains too,” Herman said.
Anna remembered his calloused fingers framing her face, holding her hand. She shivered. “I came to ask you if there was a laundromat in town.”
“Top of the hill, girlie. Need any help?”
“No thanks. I’m stronger than I look.” She flexed her arms like a body builder showing off her biceps. “Oh, I forgot,” she added. “I have to wait for the power person to come.”
Herman sat heavily in the chair in the shade. “I’ll keep an eye out for Hank. He’s been on the job for years and if there’s a problem, he’ll find you. Can’t get too lost in this town, especially a new woman and pretty to boot! You should have heard the tongues clattering on coffee row this morning.”
“People talked about me?” She reached for the railing.
“They more or less speculated. You’re news. Some of the fellows were commenting about your packing. I didn’t get that one.”
Her cheeks burned when she remembered her butt pointed to Center Street for all to see. Bile burned in her belly. “I’ll have to watch my Ps and Qs.”
“You’re probably okay.” He nodded even though her T-shirt stretched across her chest and her jeans fitted her bottom. “If your hair was blue and yellow and you had more face-piercing than a six-pack of beer pull tabs or even if tattoos showed out of your jeans when you bent over, we’d be watching you more closely. But the way you look, they’ll probably go easy on you and let the details come out in your own time.”
“Why does anyone care? My details are not that interesting.”
He turned to watch a fishing boat troll along the shore. “You know, with only one road into town and that same road ends at the lake, you came here either on purpose or by mistake.”
Anna filled her lungs with the scent of lilacs and warm earth. “It’s definitely a destination for me. I chose to come here. I’m staying if the town will have me.”
“Time will tell.” His hand moved to scrub at his moustache and, with a twinkle in his eye he said, “And girlie, why didn’t you tell me I forgot my teeth again?”
“‘Cause you look so cute without them!” She laughed. “Ah, Herman.”
He sat down onto a deck chair. “I know that tone of voice, what do you need?”
“I’m curious. There aren’t any personal papers in the house. It seems as if he knew he wouldn’t be back.”
“That was our John. Always prepared. He left instructions for his lawyer to hire a firm and take out all the personal papers. I met the foreman on the day the obituary appeared in the newspaper. I assume the lawyer disposed of them.”
“Makes sense, I guess. I wonder why . . .” She caught herself before she mentioned Murray’s name. “I’ve got work to do, talk later.” She pushed through the gate and clutched the laundry bundle to her chest on her way down the stone walk.
During her slow drive to the top of the hill, she returned the wave of a mother and a toddler, a man on a motorized scooter and a senior on a bicycle.
Anna meandered through the grocery store and bakery attached to the laundromat. Inhaling the delicious essence of fresh bread and cinnamon buns, her mouth watered. It had been hours since her muffin. With a bun and coffee in hand, she sat on the bench on Center Street and watched the traffic flow down toward the lake. She felt like a truant kid skipping class. Her laundry was being washed and she was sitting in the spring sun watching the world go by.
When Nick drove by and gave her a quick salute she waved back, then brought her fingers to her mouth and licked the residue of sticky bun. Again, her mind raised the image of his calloused thumb brushing at a stray water drop. She shook her head at her memory of his lips skimming across her fingertips. Nick Donnelly’s lips seemed to provide a temporary balm for her healing process.
She gulped the dregs of her coffee cup, thinking her dreams were supposed to be about the basics of life, like food and water and a warm, dry place to sleep.
It was time to get back to work, remembering busy hands created busy minds with little time for dreams. She transferred the laundry from the washing machines to dryers, fed more quarters into the coin slot. Then she wandered down the grocery store aisles with a basket. Anna purchased bread, cheese, milk, eggs, fruits, vegetables, and coffee. She wished she had someone to call, but her parents were away on a trip. She’d email them as soon as she had an Internet connection.
As if thinking about them was a signal, her cell phone chimed a text message. ‘How’s the cottage?’
She texted back, ‘Has potential.’
Her parents were her support but she was glad they were away. She needed to stand on her own two feet.
Another chime. ‘Don’t work too hard.’
’I’ll try. Enjoy your holiday.’
’Love you.’
’Back at you.’
She flipped her phone clos
ed and put her groceries in the car. Amazed no one else was here this time of day, she pulled pillowslips and sheets from the dryer and folded them. Perhaps the permanent residents had laundry facilities and these were for the cottage owners.
Back at her cottage, she began with the basics—scrubbing the walls and floor in her bedroom. She pushed and pulled the metal-frame bed so when she woke in the morning, the sun would stream through the window and wake her. She could then turn on her side and see the lake.
Anna wiped the closets and hung the few clothes she had brought. She’d buy a whole new wardrobe of casual clothes. No more uniforms, no more button-down collars and definitely no more short, tight curls.
The room smelled clean. She thought about the lilacs budding in deep purple abundance around town. Later she would walk along the lakeshore and choose a bouquet to brighten the refreshed and renewed room. The scent would be more natural than candles.
Anna sporadically sang and danced or swayed to the country rock on the old-fashioned radio while she worked. Nursing had taught her the need for cleanliness. In the kitchen, the old white enamel sink gleamed, the windows were invisible and the floor squeaked. She almost didn’t want to mess it up again, but her stomach was rumbling.
She made and savored a cheddar cheese sandwich. If she hurried, she could get in a walk before the sun went down.
Nick glanced up at the old Good place as his legs pumped the pedals on his bicycle and his arms kept the handlebars straight along the path that separated the residential lots and the rocky lakeshore. The cloaked sorrow he associated with Anna pulled at his memory. There was courage in her actions but the sadness and fear reflected in her brown eyes curled his stomach. He had witnessed the emotion of loss on hundreds of faces in the refugee camps.
Moving On Page 3