Angel Song

by Sheila Walsh

  Ann chanced a look inside. The room was mostly dark, her childhood curtains with the black-out lining still doing their job this many years later. She stood waiting for a few seconds, then reached inside and flipped the switch.

  The old dresser lamp came to life, flickered for a moment or two, then went black. Well, changing a bulb was easy enough. She went to the linen cabinet where she’d seen spare bulbs, retrieved a seventy-five-watt compact fluorescent, and walked back to the room. Leaving the door wide open and hallway light on, she crossed the bedroom and raised the balloon shades on the windows. The morning light slanted across the room, creating a rectangle on the floor beside the dresser. She changed the bulb, repeating beneath her breath, “It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.”

  The lamp blinked to life and Ann looked around. See? Nothing here. She breathed easier. The bedspread was different than when Ann had lived here. Back then it had been white and pink eyelet. Now it was a lacy floral combo in shades of purple and pink that made her think of elderly women in white gloves and hats. What had ever possessed Sarah to purchase such a busy piece of fabric?

  Ann walked over and opened the closet, just to see what might be inside. A small canister vacuum, a dust mop, and a large clear plastic bag holding bed linens—one item so large it appeared to be a blanket or a comforter. Ann opened it. Sure enough, it was a dark blue cotton comforter, almost denim but not quite, and a set of white sheets. They looked almost new.

  Well, here was the first order of business, changing the bedding. Not only would these bedcovers look better for future showings, but they also were something that she might actually be able to sleep under. After several nights on the couch, that was becoming a real possibility. She couldn’t picture her psyche ever shutting down under that neon floral design, and she doubted a future buyer could either. Neutral colors allowed buyers to imagine themselves in the house.

  The white linens smelled perfectly clean, but she didn’t know how long they’d been stored. Better safe than sorry. She tossed the sheets into the washer just off the kitchen and set the comforter beside the front door. She’d have to find a Laundromat with a washing machine big enough to hold it. That would be part of her mission today.

  Now she’d get busy on other ways to prepare the house. Item one on today’s agenda was window measurements. She might as well get started in this room.

  As she measured the double-hung windows, her thoughts drifted back to last night’s dinner with Ethan. He’d seemed perfectly at ease and in control, unlike the Ethan she’d encountered before. This side of him was in charge. She had to admit it was comforting, although his bumbling side was not without its charm. Definitely refreshing after spending far too much time with the far too polished phonies she knew in New York.

  It didn’t matter, though. Ethan was the settle-down, raise-a-couple-of-kids, white-picket-fence type. Definitely no future in that kind of matchup. Time to quit thinking about it and measure the next set of windows. She walked to Nana’s room.

  Sarah’s clothes still hung in the closet, and her books were piled on the dresser as if waiting for her return. Even her digital clock announced the time in its red numbers as though nothing had changed. Ann took a deep breath, willing herself to push through this. The room smelled a bit dusty, but underneath that, even after all these years, there was another scent. It smelled like . . . Nana. A hint of sachet, Jergen’s lotion, and biscuits, all rolled into one nostalgic fragrance that was almost too much to bear. She turned and walked out, without ever measuring the windows.

  The knock at the kitchen door could mean only one thing. Ann opened it to find Tammy, with Keith peering from behind her as usual. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?” Tammy was already walking inside as she asked the question.

  “Not bad.” It was less the sleeping and more the waking part that was a problem for Ann. She wouldn’t mention that, though.

  “Here, Annie, I made this for you.” Keith held out a drawing of the usual Ann stickfigure, completely surrounded by golden sky. However, this time there weren’t discernable octopuslike limbs, just bright light all around. “They’re all around you, see?”

  The picture reminded Ann of the warm sea dream. A lot. “Yes, I see. Thank you.” She went to hang it on the refrigerator, while the memory of the peacefulness she’d felt washed over her.

  “You know, if you’re having trouble staying here by yourself, you’re more than welcome to come stay at our place.” Tammy was staring toward the blanket and pillow on the living room sofa. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. “I know I’ve told you that before, but I really do mean it. I want to make sure you understand that.”

  “Yes, I understand. I really am fine on my own. I’m just not ready to sleep in my old room yet. The sofa’s just what I need.

  It’s plenty soft.”

  “If maybe a couple of feet too short.” Tammy continued to stare at the bedding on the couch, but she pulled up the large bag she was carrying in her right hand and set it on the counter. “I made something for you. I made it during your last visit, but the time just never seemed right to give it to you.” Her voice broke.

  “Made something?”

  Tammy sniffed and nodded her head. “Yes.” She reached into the bag and removed some decorative pillows, covered in the same bright fabric that currently covered the bed in her old room. “I made the bedspread in time for your visit, but I got busy on some rush projects and didn’t finish the pillows in time. After the accident . . . well, I just wanted to do something special for you, so I finished these.”

  Ann’s throat seemed to close. “You . . . made the bedspread in the guest room?”

  Tammy beamed with pride. “Guilty. Sarah was always doing things to help me, I was so happy to be able to do something nice for her for a change. She mentioned that she thought the room was too dark with the navy comforter, and she was afraid you would find it depressing. So I surprised her by making something a little more colorful.”

  It occurred to Ann that the blue comforter in question lay piled by the front door, preparing for a trip to the laundry. She could only imagine how hurt Tammy would be if she saw it there. Ann could say she was getting rid of the comforter, but that would require a white lie—one that would be easily caught after she changed the bedding. So she instead put her arm around Tammy’s shoulder to steer her away from its view. “Thanks for bringing the pillows over. I’ll just go put them on the bed. You have a nice day, okay?” She pointed Tammy toward the kitchen door as she made this pronouncement.

  “I’ll come with you. I’d love a chance to see the whole ensemble together.”

  By now, this shouldn’t have surprised Ann. She made a quick calculation about how she could get Tammy to and from the bedroom without giving her a clear view of the front door. “Sure.

  Right this way.” Ann purposely positioned herself between Tammy and the door as they walked. “Let’s just see how they look, shall we?”

  “They’ll be pretty.” Keith’s voice from directly behind them caught Ann off guard. She hadn’t thought about what he might see, or what he might say.

  Only when they were safely inside the bedroom did Ann fully relax. Mission accomplished.

  Tammy arranged the pillows on the bed, then tilted her head to the side and tapped her index finger against her chin. “You know what? I think there might be a little too much pattern in here. Maybe I should have made the pillows solid purple. Or solid pink.” She looked at Ann. “You’re the interior decorator. What do you think?”

  Ann paused before answering. If she confirmed that Tammy was correct, it would likely lead to more pillows being made and brought over. Things could only get worse from there. “I’m not really sure. It’s been awhile since I did anything with florals.”

  “Really? What do you use, then?” Tammy sounded perfectly scandalized.

  “Well, I mostly do white, black, and chrome. It’s kind of my trademark.”

  Tammy sucked both her lips inside her mouth,
and Ann knew it was only her ingrained southern manners that were keeping her from making a face. Something about this fact made Ann want to giggle. But then the lamp flickered, went dark for just a split second, and lit the room again. “Hmm. I just replaced that bulb.”

  Tammy said, “Must be a short in the lamp itself. That just happened to my favorite lamp—Ethan rewired it for me, though. He’s such a sweetheart.” Tammy was walking toward the bedroom door before Ann realized it.

  She quickly caught up and positioned herself between Tammy and the front door for the walk back. This proved to be unnecessary, because Keith began to mumble behind them, sounding agitated but forming no words that Ann could understand. Tammy turned around as they walked. “What’s the matter, darlin’?”

  “I don’t know why . . . Why would they do that?”

  “Do what?” Tammy asked.

  “The light blinks.”

  Ann supposed the blinking light must have scared him. The poor kid probably needed to get back home. She looked at Tammy. “Thanks again for bringing the pillows over. You’ve done so much for me it makes me feel guilty. I wish I could do something for you.”

  Tammy tilted her head to the side and studied Ann for a moment. “Well, if you really mean it, there is something you could do for me.”

  It had never occurred to Ann that Tammy might accept that offer. What had she gotten herself into now? “Of course. What can I do for you?”

  Tammy’s slow smile should have been the first clue for Ann to run. Fast.

  But half an hour later, Ann found herself in Tammy’s house, standing on a small stool, drowning in yards of blue satin jutting out from her waist in a bell shape. The bodice was several sizes too large, which made the scoop neck hang loosely around her shoulders, revealing the black T-shirt she was wearing underneath. All this she could put up with, but the thing that just about put her over the edge was the hoop skirt she was wearing beneath the dress. Tammy had failed to mention that this was part of the bargain.

  Tammy chatted nonchalantly as she circled around Ann, mouth full of pins. “I can’t remember if you knew that I make the garments for several of the historical plantation tours around here.”

  “No, you didn’t tell me that.” Definitely not.

  Ann looked around the interior of Tammy’s house. It was probably a little smaller than Sarah’s, and the furniture was old and worn, but the word dreary could in no way be applied here.

  Brightly covered pillows festooned every possible stick of furniture, and the curtains were frilly and colorful. Ann thought maybe now she understood Tammy’s taste, or absence of it, a little better. She obviously lacked much in the way of physical comforts, so she aimed to make it as cheery and bright as possible. Ann sort of admired her for that.

  Keith sat happily at a kitchen table with a fake-wood Formica top, drawing on a piece of white paper with crayons. Ann had to admit, there was something about his simple sweetness that was beginning to grow on her. She watched his concentration, and once again thought he looked a little pale. No. She wasn’t going there. Time to remain firmly planted in reality.

  “There now, all done. Thank you so much.” Tammy still had at least a half dozen pins in her mouth.

  “Glad I could help.” There was more than a little truth in those words. It felt good. “Isn’t it dangerous to talk with all those pins in your mouth?”

  Tammy reached up and pulled them out. “Yeah, I’m sure it is. It’s just a lot more convenient, you know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, I guess I do.” Ann slipped the dress over her head, careful to avoid the pinned hem. “Well, I’d better get back.”

  “Thanks again.”

  “Here, Annie.” Keith stayed in his seat but held up a crayon drawing as Ann walked past.

  She stopped and took it from his hand. “Thanks, Keith. This is great.” It looked like a table, but she couldn’t be sure, and a lamp, casting a bright glow on the wall.

  He pointed. “See, it’s your room. Right?”

  Ann nodded. “It looks just like my room. I really like the way the lamp is shining on the wall.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Are you sure? It looks really bright to me.”

  “That’s the angel.” He pointed at the glow on the wall. “There, the angel’s beside the lamp.”

  Ann smiled at his innocence. “It wasn’t an angel, Keith. And that’s just an old lamp. That’s all.”

  “No! It was an angel!” Angry tears filled his eyes. “He was there. I heard him.”

  “What did you hear, Keith?” Tammy came and knelt beside his chair.

  “Music. Angel music.”

  “In the lamp?” Tammy asked.

  “No. In the wall. The music’s in the wall. I bet Annie hears it too.”

  Ann hurried toward the door, picture in hand. “You know what? I’m expecting Ethan to show up any minute with floor sanders. I’d better get back to the house.” She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  Chapter 16

  Several hours later Ann leaned a weary arm on the electric sander. “I’m really thinking about putting tile floors in the kitchen.”

  Ethan shook his head and smiled. “Nothing doing. I know what you’re up to, and nothing’s going to get you out of sanding these floors—all the floors.” They had spent the last few hours sanding the bedrooms, Ethan working in Ann’s old room, Ann working in Nana’s. “Besides, tile’s too expensive for your budget, you know that, and it would take away some of the down-home integrity of the original house.”

  Ann felt the grit on her face, in her hair, and even between her teeth. “Well, you might be right about the trying-to-get-out of-work part, but I’m not a big fan of the down-home integrity of this house. So if I could modern that up a little, I’d love to do it.”

  He put his hands over his ears. “Never let me hear such hateful words spoken near my delicate ears ever again. Modern up this beautiful old home?” Then he squatted down and put his right hand over his heart and his left hand on the floor. “Please forgive her, she knows not what she says.”

  Ann tried to scowl at him, but somewhere along the way, it erupted into laughter. He began to laugh too, then slowly stood and walked toward her, looking her full in the face as he did. He came to a stop when they were only inches apart. “It’s good to see you laugh, even if you are covered in wood dust.” His finger brushed lightly across her cheek, sending tan-colored specks floating to the ground. Ann’s heart started to race, then stopped beating altogether when he took a step closer. His hand moved toward her right shoulder, and she waited for the feel of his embrace.

  A deafening roar filled the room. He had reached past her and flipped the switch on the sander. “Now back to work.” The smile on his face was just a little too smug.

  Ann watched him walk away. It was a good thing, really, that nothing had happened. Who needed complications down here, when New York was plenty complicated? Patrick Stinson might not be a poster boy for long-term relationships, but they at least shared some of the same interests.

  The next break was early afternoon. Ann fixed turkey and cheese sandwiches while Ethan changed the sandpaper on the machines from 80 grit to 150. “We’re making progress now.”

  “On two rooms.” Ann groaned the words, only half teasing. This was hard work.

  “Patience, patience. Good things come to those who wait. Or, in our particular case, we could say that good floors . . . come from bad floors . . . to those who work hard for several days.”

  “Hmm, I never knew you were a philosopher.”

  “One of my many hidden talents.” He picked up his sandwich and came to sit beside her at the kitchen table. “You have to admit it was a stroke of genius to get two sanders so that we can do twice the work.”

  “Mr. McKinney, I concede to your geniusness, and I am happy for it. I’ll be glad to get this part done.”

  “Even after we’re done sanding, we’ll be far from finished. We’ll have to put on stain, then t
hree coats of polyurethane. You’ll have to sleep in the living room for the rest of your stay.”

  Ann shrugged. “Not a problem.”

  “And when do you think you’ll be back?”

  “After you’ve agreed to let me hire you. I’ll come back when the house is ready to list.”

  “Un-uh. There you go again. If you want me to do some work while you’re gone, no problem, but I am not now, nor will I ever be, your employee, Miss Fletcher.”

  “That is so unfair. You know I’m not going to let you do all that work for free without me returning the favor in kind.”

  “That’s too bad.” He didn’t sound at all sorry. “So when did you say you might be coming back?”

  Ann took a bite of her sandwich, simply because she wanted the time chewing to think of an answer. Finally, she shrugged, resigned to the fact that—for now, at least—he’d won this battle.

  “I’m not sure. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t really planning to come back this weekend, but things just kind of happened. I would like to get this finished as soon as I can, though.”

  After they finished lunch, Ethan stood and said, “Okay, now we change rooms. You take the one on the right; I take the one of the left.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, sometimes it’s easier to see something that someone else has missed rather than seeing your own mistakes.”

  “Are you saying that I’ve missed some places?” Ann wasn’t sure whether she was teasing or offended.

  “Absolutely not. I’m saying I’ve probably missed some places. I’m the worst. My mind goes on autopilot; I start to daydream, and soon enough I’ve messed up an entire section of floor—or whatever it is I’m working on.”

  “Yeah, right.” Ann was pretty sure Ethan just wanted an excuse to double-check her work; he was the contractor, after all. But she wanted this work done right too, even though this trade would also mean that she would have to go back into her old room. Well, perhaps that was a good thing. In the full daylight, nothing seemed quite as ghostly as it did in the early morning, and as loud as the sanders were, there wasn’t much chance of hearing music.