Dearest Dorothy, Help! I've Lost Myself!

by Charlene Baumbich

  “Where did you get such a lovely candle, Dorothy?”

  By this time, Jessica had ripped the paper off of her booby prize, hoping above hope that it, too, was a candle. Jessica loved fragrance and occasionally stopped in at La Feminique Hair Salon & Day Spa just to sniff Maggie’s small (one short rack) but impressive offering of aromatherapy oils. They were quite out of Jessica’s budget—in fact they were out of many budgets in Partonville—but Maggie mostly stocked them for herself and the shop’s image as much as for sales possibilities, which were slim to none. Although Jessica’s prize wasn’t a candle, it was a key ring with a sparkling bauble on it. “Isn’t that adorable,” she said, twirling it around and around. “This might even entertain Sarah Sue, when all else fails.”

  Jessie received the prize for most wins: a bookmark that looked to be crocheted. She was more the practical, athletic type and not much of a reader, finding she couldn’t sit still long enough to engage in lengthy strings of words, but she was grateful it wasn’t a candle or sparkly bauble.

  Jessica set her key ring on the table and asked if she could see Jessie’s bookmark. She fingered it, counted stitches across the top row, then down the side, then turned it this way and that. “Those would sure be easy to make,” she said, “and wouldn’t they be beautiful with multicolored yarn? Dorothy, where on earth did you find such cute prizes?”

  “Well, I have to admit that when I was packing up for my move, I unearthed several gifts I’d received from students over the years, and that bookmark was among them. The candle and the key chain I picked up in a peachy little boutique the last time The Tank and I went gadding about over to Hethrow.” The Tank had been the nickname of Dorothy’s beloved car, designated as such because of all the battle scars on the hard-run 1976 Lincoln Continental.

  The room went still. This was the first time that most of them had heard Dorothy mention The Tank since she’d quit driving and The Tank had gone out in a puff of glory at the demolition derby. They glanced at one another, wondering how or if to respond to Dorothy’s ongoing loss. Dorothy felt the mood in the room begin to darken so she busted out laughing to snap it back toward festive. “Okay! I reckon we’ve had our appropriate, respectful silent moment for The Tank.” A soft chuckle rippled through the room. “I do miss gadding about, though, that is for sure. And it’s been a hard nut to swallow to learn to ask for rides here and there. But everyone has been so gracious, inviting me along when you’re running errands and such. No, it’s nothing like driving my own car when I want, where I want, as fast as I want, but I have never second-guessed my decision.”

  “Neither has anyone else in town,” Gladys said. The ladies let out a riotous laugh, knowing full well this time Gladys told the truth. No doubt about it, Dorothy’s lead foot and waning lack of depth perception had caused them all, including Dorothy, more than a few gasps. Dorothy still had trouble getting over the time she had pulled out in front of Katie’s SUV—had not even seen her—which had caused Katie to have to veer right off the road and into the ditch. She knew God and Katie had forgiven her, but the thought of what might have happened still occasionally haunted her. She made herself recall that incident whenever she pined to drive again. In fact, it was often the topic of discussion during her Moment With the Big Guy in her bedtime prayer-chair.

  “You know,” Dorothy said, “it would sure add a hint of liveliness to this town if Partonville were to get its own boutique. Since I can’t just head down to the creek and listen to nature or pluck a few crawdads to pass my time, I’ve been strolling the square when I’m at loose ends. I find we’re definitely lacking imagination here. Round and round we go, passing a drug store, the grill, the bank. . . . Yes, we can still get our business done here, for the most part. But there are no places for women to lollygag shop in Partonville, especially not when you’re stuck without a car. There’s no reason for folks to come here who don’t live here. The closest thing we have for browsing is Swappin’ Sam’s, and it’s too far out of town for an old lady like me to walk to.”

  “We have Wal-Mart,” Gladys said in defense of her fine town. “Wal-Mart carries candles and just about everything else. People drive from several small towns around here to go to our Wal-Mart rather than driving all the way to Hethrow. Why, you could browse for hours in there, Dorothy Jean Wetstra, and it’s only a good healthy walk away.” More than a few in the room had to bite their tongues, never having seen Gladys walk much of anywhere, since she so enjoyed driving her car with the “Partonville Mayor” decal on the sides of it, the decals she’d had made. (She had also somehow convinced Mac, otherwise knows as Sergeant Phillip McKenzie, that such a post deserved special parking privileges, which, according to chatter at Harry’s Grill, ought to be stopped.) “Why on earth would we need a boutique when we have Wal-Mart?” Gladys asked in a huff-and-puff of words.

  It rose in Katie’s throat to say, “Maybe all of us do not enjoy pushing a shopping cart around in a discount store to buy the exact same thing that everyone else has,” but she stifled herself; after all, Dorothy was hosting and she didn’t want to become unnecessarily combative in her home. That, and she was too tired and distracted to enter into verbal sparring, which she otherwise might have found entertaining. But as though Gladys had heard Katie’s very thoughts, she went on to say, “Not everyone can afford to pay for overpriced wardrobes, gee-gaws and automobiles.” She eyed Katie’s silk blouse and ever-present diamond tennis bracelet, then shifted her head toward the front window through which Katie’s big Lexus SUV could be seen parked at the curb. “Some folks are working and working darn hard for what little they do have.” It was a hard-to-miss insinuation, if not a direct attack, on Katie’s wealth and apparent lack of a need to work, no doubt about it. “It’s nice to have a place where we can all afford to shop.” Still, rather than respond, Katie just stared blankly at Gladys, as though she had been speaking in a foreign language. In fact, she’d remained unusually quiet all evening, preoccupied at best, and bordering on sullen at worst.

  “Boy, what I wouldn’t give to be able to buy more exotic herbal teas at Your Store or a local boutique to serve in my shop,” Maggie said, “rather than having to drive to Hethrow or send away for them the way I do. What I spend for gas, time and shipping alone could be added to the price of the product and I’d be happy to pay. The more we all do mail order or go to Hethrow, or for that matter, pick up everything we need at Wal-Mart rather than supporting our independents with our dollars—not,” she had to admit, “that they have that much to offer anymore, but isn’t Wal-Mart part of the reason why?—the fewer merchants can afford to stay in business, and the less folks want to remain in this town.” They all sat in silence for a moment, considering her statements.

  “You know, Gladys,” Maggie continued, lifting her foot and twirling it, admiring the inexpensive new brown clogs she’d purchased from Wal-Mart just that afternoon, just because they went with her burnt-orange outfit and her haystack earrings, “you’re right: it is wonderful to have a big store so nearby. But Wal-Mart doesn’t sell anything unique, exotic, unusual or homemade. I wonder if we did bring an upscale boutique to town if there might be some folks from surrounding towns who might even come to downtown Partonville to do a little shopping!” Visions of a salon expansion and high-end clientele danced in her head. Ladies who did want to try the latest rage in hairstyles Maggie so adored rather than the same “do’s” they’d been wearing for fifty years, like the majority of ladies in this house. Maggie pondered how much she’d be worth if she had just five dollars for every bottle of Brunette Brown she’d spread through Gladys’s wiry hair over the decades.

  “And what about homemade goodies,” Dorothy added. “Why, can you imagine how much ladies might pay for May Belle’s prize-winning double chocolate brownies all wrapped up in cellophane and adorned with those clever curly ribbons she’s so good at making?”

  “What do you think, Katie?” Nellie Ruth asked. “You know all about development and what makes towns and
commercial establishments work. What kind of boutique do you think would attract people to Partonville?” All eyes turned toward Katie, who was staring off into an upper corner of the living room. They followed her gaze, even squinted, but nothing out of the ordinary could be seen, not even by Gladys, who had immediately supposed there must be a giant cobweb dangling thereabouts—but who especially did not like others asking Katie what they thought about Gladys’s town! It soon became clear that Katie hadn’t been paying attention to their conversation. She seemed, for all purposes, lost in space.

  “Katie, dear,” Dorothy said rather loudly, “are you feeling okay?”

  Katie turned her head and looked at Dorothy. It seemed to take a few seconds for her to bring Dorothy into focus. “Yes. I feel fine.” She looked at her wristwatch and feigned a yawn. “Just tired.” She pushed back, then up and out of her chair. “Time for me to head out to the farm.” Jessica started to get up, since she’d ridden with Katie.

  “But we haven’t had dessert yet,” Dorothy said. Jessica plopped herself back down; like Dorothy, she was never one to miss dessert, and she was also in no hurry to get home to the possibility of a baby still cranking her head off.

  “I’m going on home,” Katie said. Jessica started to get up again, then changed her mind. “You go ahead, Katie. I’ll just walk back to the hotel. It’s only a few blocks. My backside doesn’t need dessert either, but I think my mouth does, especially since we’ve been talking about May Belle’s brownies and I spied some in the kitchen on her beautiful Imperial candlewick cake plate in there. If I walk home the few blocks, then I won’t feel so guilty.”

  “May Belle, would you do us the honors, please,” Dorothy said more than asked. “I’m going to walk Katie to her car.”

  “Good night, everyone,” Katie called over her shoulder as she opened the front door, Dorothy at her heels.

  When they got out on the sidewalk, Dorothy looped her arm through Katie’s elbow and slowed her pace. “Is everything okay, Katie? You just don’t seem yourself tonight.”

  “Oh, I’ll be fine. Please don’t leave your guests.”

  “Don’t be silly. I want to say good-bye to you; we simply haven’t seen enough of each other here lately. They’ll all be busied up ooing and aahing over the brownies for a spell anyway. And if I eat any more chocolate tonight, I won’t sleep a wink. I nearly emptied one entire bowl of bridge mix all by myself.

  “Tell me, dear, what’s bothering you? I can see it’s something important.”

  Katie had long ago figured out that Dorothy was highly intuitive, not to mention persistent. “I’ll get over it,” she said, hoping that would end the conversation, but knowing it probably wouldn’t.

  “Some things we need to plow through and pray over before we can get over them,” Dorothy said. “I’m highly aware of that right now, still trying to get over leaving the farm and moving into town.”

  Not the prayer thing, Dorothy. Not tonight. Katie decided if she at least came clean, she could make this brief and get off the hook. “I had a somewhat lonesome moment last night, that’s all. Then I started going through the first of Aunt Tess’s boxes of papers we’ve stuffed in the Chaos Room.”

  “The chaos room?”

  “Oh, that’s the smallest room upstairs, you know, the one you used as a guest room. It’s where Joshua and I have crammed everything we either didn’t know what to do with or didn’t have a space for, or. . . . Aunt Tess’s boxes of papers ended up right in the middle. That room is making me crazy, but just the same, it kind of overwhelms me to go in there. I’ve used every excuse in the book to not deal with it, but it’s time.”

  “You said you had a lonesome moment. What brought that on, dear?”

  Katie started fidgeting with her keys, then pushed the unlock button on her remote, pressed it again, then one more time, firmly holding it down this time until the windows, programmed to do so on this command, started to automatically go down. She didn’t really want to get into this topic. Not yet, anyway.

  Dorothy moved to the passenger door and opened it. “Let’s sit a spell and chat. The ladies are in good hands with May Belle. Better hands than me, when it comes to desserts.”

  Katie slumped when she watched Dorothy get into the vehicle, resigning herself to the fact she was either going to have to chat or end up taking Dorothy home with her, which on some level didn’t seem like a bad idea. No, not at all, given her growing sense of isolation. Soon they were each settled into the SUV, having scooted themselves at angles to at least somewhat be facing each other. Dorothy remained still, praying in silence for wisdom, waiting for Katie to open up.

  What the heck; just tell it like it is. “Dorothy, the reality of living way out in the country is hitting me hard. For my entire life, I’ve lived in the hum of the city. Dwelling in the fast pace of commercial real estate for so many years, I’m beginning to believe my very countenance became addicted to the adrenaline rushes. But now, now there are no sounds of the city, no important meetings to make me feel that way.” Ouch. True confessions. “No corner deli with ethnic food, no boutiques.” She gave Dorothy a lame smile, letting her know she had heard at least portions of this evening’s conversation. “Aside from you and Jessica, I have no real friends here.” She looked away from Dorothy and began tracing with her finger the Lexus logo in the middle of her steering wheel. “It’s not that I had any real friends in Chicago, but at least I was around people who understood and accepted my financial security and competitive nature since that’s the world we all lived in.

  “I don’t fit in here, Dorothy.” She turned her face toward the woman who had the mysterious ability to draw words, a deep well of words, out of her.

  “Don’t let Gladys’s barbs speak for all of us, Katie. You’d be surprised to find out how few people agree with anything that woman ever says or does.” Dorothy let out a couple chuckles, then she furrowed her brows. “She just seems to have a mean spirit when it comes to you, dear. I’m convinced she’s just jealous, poor thing. Jealousy is a hard nut to crack. No, don’t let her get to you. She’s really harmless, even though she gets a little puffed up. I know for a fact nearly every other woman at bunco tonight has the potential to become your good friend, just like Jessica. And you know, since God is a God of constant surprises, maybe even one day Gladys and you will be good buddies!” Katie raised an eyebrow. “And land sakes, there are plenty of folks in town you haven’t even met yet who you might end up having more in common with than you think. What about Josh’s new friends’ folks? Have you met any of them yet? Maybe even some from Hethrow?”

  “He’s so busy going to school, talking on the phone, signing up for this and that, running here and there, that I hardly have time to spend with him! Don’t get me wrong; I’m happy he’s making such a good adjustment. You know how I fretted about that. But now that I’m around rather than working day in and day out . . . just when I thought we’d finally have time to get to know one another again, he’s got a new life, his driver’s license, and he’s out the door.”

  Dorothy tried to remember how long it had been since she’d seen or heard from Josh. He used to stop by, give her a call or at least e-mail her often, but come to think about it, he’d been pretty silent lately. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him.

  “All new beginnings and chapters take time, Katie. Just give it some time.” Dorothy wrapped her fingers around Katie’s arm. “I’ll move this issue right up to the top of my prayer list. You know, the Big Guy has interesting ways of giving us just what we need right when we need it. It’s our job to be paying close enough attention so we don’t miss it.” Dorothy silently challenged herself to stay awake to God’s blessings, feeling a little asleep at the spiritual wheel herself lately.

  “Goodness! Here you are wishing for the noise and hustle-bustle of the city, and here I am missing the quiet beauty and familiar sounds of the country! Aren’t we a fine pair of wishers?” A few moments of silence passed. “Sometimes, we’ve just got to stop
wishing and activate. One step at a time. You know, once you get started going through Aunt Tess’s boxes, it might be a quicker task than you think,” Dorothy said with renewed vigor. “They’re probably filled with junk mail anyway. I do declare, it seems like sale flyers are taking over the world!”

  Katie peered around Dorothy, checking to see if the women were readying to leave yet. She didn’t want to have them surrounding her vehicle and either casting a cruel eye her way or engaging her in conversation. She didn’t have it left in her this evening to deal with either of those possibilities. She was also feeling selfish and guilty for keeping Dorothy from her guests this long.

  But mostly, she was feeling the last thing she ever wanted to feel: needy. Snap out of it!

  “You should probably be getting in there, Dorothy, before the women leave and you don’t even get to say goodbye.” Now it was Dorothy’s turn to survey the situation. From what she could see through her front living room window, however, nobody was making a move for the door yet; they all still looked pretty settled in.

  Dorothy turned to look at Katie’s face, which was once again washed over with the same look she’d had when she’d been staring into the corner of the living room. Dorothy reached out and patted Katie’s cheek. “What is it, Katie? What are you not telling me?” Dorothy’s warm palm, her very presence, massaged Katie’s vulnerabilities.

  Katie began pushing the cuticles back on her right hand with the thumbnail on her left, noting her need for a manicure. Then she traced the Lexus logo again. Then she looked out her driver’s window across the street. Then she turned to face Dorothy. “Letters. I’ve found letters between Mom and Aunt Tess. Mom must have saved the letters from Aunt Tess, and obviously Aunt Tess saved all of her letters from Mom. How Aunt Tess ended up with all of them is a mystery to me, but nonetheless, she had them. Just looking at Mom’s handwriting made me so lonesome for her. . . . I can’t believe she’s been gone over a decade now.” Tears flashed in her eyes as headlights from a passing car moved by.