by ANN HYMES
“In the days after Emily’s accident, your grandmother did stand on her balcony for hours, hoping against the odds. Fixed as stone, staring. But I prefer to remember the years of waving and smiling and throwin’ kisses.”
“And the colors?”
“You’re not a sailor, Theresa! The towers were painted for me—by the Queen of Whimsy. ‘Red right return’ is the nautical expression. In a harbor the buoy lights are green and red; they guide the captain in. Can you picture which color the right tower is from the water?”
“The red one,” answered Theresa, repeating the nautical words to herself.
“Yup. It was your grandmother’s way of bringing me back to her, of leading me home. ‘Red right return.’ Her welcome mat from the water side! When those two towers were lit up on a clear night, I could almost feel her arms reachin’ out to me in the beams.”
He laughed. “The Coast Guard tried a couple of times to shut her down, but she persisted that she was not manning lighthouses, that they were colored lights on her house for safety. It was not easy to argue with Theodosia! Several times lost sailors did find their way to shore because of her lights, and she’d feed them and let them stay in the boathouse.”
“Would you like to live here now, Stormy?” Theresa asked gently.
He closed his eyes but did not speak.
She continued, “You lived here for so long, and I don’t know what my plans will be. I think you belong at Whimsy Towers, no matter what happens. I’d like to keep Theodosia’s family together.”
“She would like that.” He smiled, reaching over to put a rough brown hand on her arm. “I’d love to come around when you are here, Theresa. I’d like to meet your husband and see your children run through these rooms, but I could not stay here alone. It’s easier to be alone with memories when the walls don’t share them.”
She did not press him. They finished their dinner in the abandoned garden room and finally said a tearful good night that gathered all the lost years into their embrace.
Before going to bed, Theresa dialed a familiar number. She struggled to speak when the voice answered.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” came the reply.
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“I’ve been expecting this call. I’m trying to understand all this, Theresa, and I didn’t want to influence you. I want you to be happy, to live happy. You’ve reawakened that for me, but I know I cannot hold on to you.” He paused. “Good intentions can breed regrettable actions.”
“Do you regret our being together?”
“Can I plead the Fifth Amendment? Let’s just say I wouldn’t change it. But we’ll have to leave our behavior on the crowded altar of conscience. Emotions do not always survive, but you’ve stirred something in me that doesn’t want to retreat.”
“The right relationship will come,” she said, hoping she meant for both of them.
“I … ” he hesitated. “I’ve taken off my wedding ring. It’s the first step in acknowledging the future, that I do have a future. I can still value the past without guilt for feelings I have now, or may have. I thank you for that, Theresa.”
“Rick, there is only good in store for you. You’re a wonderful man.”
The phone was quiet. There was nothing more to be said.
“Will you still look after things for me at the house?” she asked.
“It’ll be my pleasure. You know I love it there.”
“Thanks, Rick.”
“Goodbye.”
Theresa settled back into the pillows on her grandmother’s bed, but sleep would not come. She tried to see the shapes of furniture and paintings, to find the outlines of her now-familiar surroundings, but the room was too dark on the moonless night. The rain had stopped. Nature was still, but she was restless, struggling with shadows of her own making.
“Hey, Gypsy,” she called to the dog as she got up and reached for her robe, flipping the switch near her bed. “Let’s take a walk.”
The startled dog roused quickly, obediently following her mistress down the stairs.
Theresa grabbed a bag of lemon cookies and a rawhide chew toy and headed out the door. The grass was slippery and cold on her bare feet, but the air was warm and moist, clinging to her with the same insistence that opened tiny buds and made spider webs glisten. Water could draw life slowly into view as well as snatch it cruelly away.
Whimsy Towers had stood its guard, a safe haven for Theodosia, a challenge to the wild for Emily. It brought hope to Theresa and a deep breath of new beginnings. She thought of Stormy and his devotion, of Ana with her gentleness and dedicated caring. And sweet Claude, with his curly hair and flair for poetry. She realized that her father, too, had been tempted in this place by the passion of a lonely moment. New life sprang from weakness as well as love. A silent voice told her she had a brother, a secret locked in the history of a shattered family.
For a long while, the two companions sat on the dock munching their snacks. Without a hint of stars or the trickery of moonlight, the thick gray sky wrapped them in hushed belonging. They lingered in the night until the brightness of two colored beams drew them back to the porch, where they slept a deep and peaceful sleep.
About the Author
ANN HYMES is a retired real estate broker and mother of two grown daughters. She has a B.A. in English from Mills College and an M.A. in English from Washington College. Her published work includes creative non-fiction. An active international volunteer, including service in the Peace Corps in the 1960s, Ann lives in St. Michaels, Maryland. Write her at [email protected].