The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters

by C. A. Newsome

  Chapter Two: Uncovered

  September, 2003

  The door creaked as it opened, the hinges rebelling against the movement, the stale air forcing a weak cough from the home’s new owner. It was evident it had been unoccupied for many years. The long hallway was covered with a fine layer of dust and cobwebs hung from the center light. She looked around for a switch to see if it even worked. Fortunately the midday light was enough, as the first switch she tried returned an empty click. Nothing. That single touch told her what she needed to know, the place hadn’t been updated in likely fifty years.

  Even with that, she smiled. It was home, a home she could afford. Vicki Sumter stepped fully into the hallway, jumping back quickly as the webs she hadn’t seen clung to her hair. The eerie shake started at her neck and slid all the way down to her toes. She hated spiders! With a deep breath and a new resolve she stepped again into the hallway opening the door so the day would penetrate as deeply as possible.

  The flood of light illuminated the musty hall with a soft glow, the polish of the old wood hinting at what once had been. She didn’t know much about the property but she didn’t need to. It was a roof over her head, a roof she desperately needed. She was alone, at least for now, and she had a week to clean and get the place ready before the kids would join her from their grandmother’s. She dropped the one bag she had on the floor and heard the thud of solid wood beneath her feet. Perhaps the place had promise after all.

  The next week was a flurry of activity as she worked to bring her musty old house back to life, a life she intended to live to the fullest. She was a young captain’s wife and she had a husband to be proud of. He was a stickler for order and precision and he liked a house that matched. Each step she swept, each window she cleaned, felt as it was one step closer to bringing him back from the Middle East. He was in his third tour of duty and he promised it would be his last, at least in that part of the world if he could help it. She stepped back from the window, the sill now clean and shiny as the old wood came back to life. “This sure beats the housing on a base,” she thought.

  As the week wound down she began to look forward to her kids coming home. She had been so busy cleaning and looking for a part time job, she nearly forgot about them. But they would be here soon, the day after tomorrow. Their rooms were ready and what little they had was put in its proper place. Her own bedroom would be the last thing she tackled. It had no urgency. There were more important things to do.

  The next two days passed quickly and one last sweep of the main hallway was finished with a quick step. The door to the closet was opened and she stepped inside. Such a large space, but she was happy for it. The closet was obviously a throwback to a time where homes needed a large storage area for coats and shoes, boxes and bags and the other necessities of life. The other rooms had little storage, and in times past, their walls were lined with furniture for that reason. Closets in a bedroom were tiny if they were there at all. It would be nice to have a newer house, but that was out of the question.

  She looked around, spying the boxes she had carefully stored. Each now had its place and the size of the closet made for easy organization. Hats and coats there, a vacuum and cleaning rags there and plenty of extra shelves and cubby holes for boxes and bags. She stood with her hands on her hips and smiled. “And a good place for Christmas presents,” she thought. She looked up at the light; “one thing I forgot to dust,” she smirked. She slid the simple chair at the back of the closet beneath the light, grabbed hold of a thick wooden shelf and pulled herself up. A quick dusting now finished, her hand again reached for the shelf, but this time, she drew back quickly, startled. What had she touched? The thought of a spider unsettled her, made her shiver, but her curiosity was more than she could tame.

  Lifting herself up on her toes, she craned her neck to see what she touched, reaching out gently. Her fingers gingerly nudged a small package; a wrapped one, she could now tell. Vicki pulled it forward and stepped off the chair. The blue wrapping was faded and the bow thin from years of neglect, yet with a look to the tag on the side, it was obvious what it was; a Christmas present. She stepped into the light of the hall and closed the door behind. The light of day fully revealed the neglect this little package had endured. She turned the tag over to read the name; Willy.

  *

  The day dawned to a soft rain coming in from the sea on a gentle breeze. She could feel the change in the air as day by day, the month began to slip away. Autumn would quickly be upon them, and here in New England, that meant cold. She stamped her feet to keep them warm, her slippers offering little protection against the wet breeze. She looked up and down the street, the ocean providing a perfect backdrop for the coming season. She had grown up in the South, away from the harsh realities of winter and this would be a new experience. “Nope, no kids yet.”

  The morning gave way to noon and as she sipped warm coffee from her ceramic cup she heard the distinctive sound of the forties-style doorbell. With the cup quickly returned to the saucer she headed out of the kitchen and down the main hall. The door swung open as the first of her children burst into their new home.

  “Sarah.” Her face lit with a broad smile. She bent her knee to the hardwood floor as her youngest daughter crashed into her at a dead run.

  “Momma, you’re hurting me,” she giggled as she squirmed in her mother’s arms.

  Vicki was slow to release her child, the pangs of heartache giving way to sheer joy as she embraced her ‘baby’. She unwrapped Sarah and extended her arms toward her eldest. Her smile was returned with muted silence.

  “Natalie, come give me a hug.” Vicki stayed where she was, still as a statue waiting for her daughter. “Come oooon.” Her smile was more than Natalie could refuse and a gentle smile lit her eyes. It was only moments later that she was enveloped in her mother’s embrace. “I love you so much,” she whispered. “I know it has been hard these last few months, but we’ll get by.”

  Natalie pulled back and cradled her mother’s face in her hands. Her smile was tenuous; she didn’t believe it, and Vicki could see it in her eyes. They had struggled through some tough times and she knew there were more to come. The harder she tried to mask her fears the more her mother saw through her front. Vicki looked up as Patrick’s mother stepped through the door. She dropped her grandchildren’s bags and immediately looked around.

  “Nice place you have here.” Holly’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

  “It’s clean, and it’s ours.” Vicki rose and walked toward her mother-in-law, who stood rigidly in the doorway. “Here, let me take those.” She reached down and took the two bags from the floor, turned and placed them against the wall supporting the staircase. At that instant the sun broke through the round window high on the staircase wall and flooded the entryway. It made Vicki smile.

  “I suppose if you insist.” Holly smiled wide and broke her stoic look. Vicki stepped up quickly and wrapped her arms around her. She was the only mother she had left. “Now, where’s my room?”

  *

  The weather started downhill quickly as September faded and October took hold. The rains in the final weeks of the month continued into the first week of the next. Vicki opened the back door and looked out into the quagmire that had become her yard. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as her hand ran up the wood door fame. A splinter made her jerk her hand away suddenly. She eyed the slit in her finger and leaned her shoulder against the frame. Winter was coming on quickly.

  She turned as the whistle from the teapot caught her ear. She casually walked to the stove, poured the steaming water into her cup and returned to the table. The smell of the green tea eased her nerves as she rested her head in her hands. The check from the government was late and the expense of moving had added unexpected bills which demanded to be paid. Another heavy sigh escaped her lips. She picked up the cup and lifted it, blowing softly across its surface as her eyes stared at the other end of the table. Holly stood across from her, a letter in hand.


  “What’s that?”

  “A letter.” Holly’s reply seemed vacant while her eyes scanned the page. She laid the envelope on the table as she lowered herself into the chair opposite her daughter-in-law. Finished, she dropped the paper on the wood, leaned back and took a deep breath.

  “Well?”

  Holly did not answer immediately and the short pause seemed interminable.

  “Pat’s not coming home for Christmas.” The emptiness in her voice was unmistakable.

  “What do you mean he’s not coming home?” Vicki’s eyes widened with her own shock. “He, he promised.”

  “He has new orders.”

  “I don’t give a damn about new orders.” Vicki’s voice nearly raised the roof. “He’s got a family, a wife and children.”

  “And a mother....”

  Vicki closed her eyes tight, fighting back a scream. The tea cup in her hands began to shake as her grip tightened about the porcelain. She set it quickly into the saucer and took a deep breath.

  “And a mother, of course.”

  “We’ll get by. I have my own income to help out with.”

  “But Christmas is coming.” Vicki let her forehead fall into her hands, her elbows resting on the table. “I wanted a nice one this year for the girls. They’re getting so much older now.”

  “We’ll do what we need.” Holly stared straight ahead not hearing her own words or believing them. “Gifts are for little children, not young ladies.”

  “I would hardly call either of them young ladies. They are children and they deserve a proper Christmas.” Vicki’s voice trailed off. “It’s been so long since they had one.” With those words the sky opened and the rains that had been held back by the morning clouds released their measure upon the grounds as a single drop added its chorus down her cheek.

  *

  The weeks passed slowly as the house began to take shape. It was the only thing that she could hold onto. It kept her mind busy, busy not thinking about her husband, a husband kept away by circumstances beyond his control. That was the life of a soldier and the life of a soldier’s wife. She stepped back to admire her handiwork, her hands on her hips as the light from the setting sun flooded the painted upper windows, letting the rich colors float toward the floor.

  “Beautiful.” Holly stepped into the hallway from the kitchen, a cup of tea in her hand. “Want some?”

  “No, not in the mood.”

  “I’ll bet those windows haven’t been cleaned in fifty years.”

  “I wonder how many families have come through this door over the years?”

  “A few I’ll bet. Here, let me get you a cup.”

  Vicki relented as she wiped the dirt from her hands, the wet cloth nearly black from the grime. Holly nodded and with a quick turn of the head, slipped back into the kitchen, her daughter-in-law in tow. They each sat down in their familiar chairs, looking across the table at each other.

  “Now, what’s on your mind?” Holly leaned back in the chair, her back coming to rest against the spindles, and brought the steaming cup to her lips.

  “It’s surprising how well you know me. My own mother never knew me that well.”

  “Your mother only knew you as a child. I know you as an adult. That makes for a very different person.”

  “I’m not sure how you will react.” Vicki set her cup down on the saucer and leaned back. “I have a job offer.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Mind? Of course not.” Holly leaned forward with a gracious smile. “Besides, we can use the money.”

  “But that means you’ll be watching the kids more often.”

  “I think I can handle it, Vicki.” A turn of the head downward with raised eyes was a knowing gesture to her new daughter. “I’ve raised kids before, you know. Who’s offering?”

  “It doesn’t pay much. It’s the county office down on Walker Street. I would be the receptionist for them.”

  “Why, that’s wonderful.”

  “You haven’t heard the pay yet.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s more than we have coming in now. We’ll manage.”

  Chapter Three: A Lost Past

  The rain stopped just long enough for her to dash from her parking place to the drab, stocky building two blocks away. Like many buildings constructed along the coast, it was built to withstand the harsh realities of New England weather in all seasons. It made a suitable government office, drab and dreary. But it was a job, a paying job.

  “May I help you?”

  Vicki turned back to the small office after she closed the door, the rains erupting just as she stepped inside. She dropped her umbrella into the can, slipped off her coat and hung it directly on the hook above the radiator heater.

  “Oh, hi Vicki. Glad you could make it.”

  “Hi George. I’m just not used to so much rain.”

  “That’s what comes from living in these parts.” George laid the papers he had been scanning back down on the tall counter and slid around its side, out into the small room. He pushed through the two-way panel-door holding both a big smile and a welcoming handshake. “Welcome to government work.”

  “Thanks,” Vicki replied with a big smile of her own. “My husband is a captain stationed overseas. I’m used to government work.” Her hand met George’s and she felt like she was home.

  “I’m going to give you some quick, hands-on experience. Where do you live?”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll show you.” George put up his hand and motioned with his finger. “Come.”

  They walked behind the counter and stood over a wide, square table covered with all manner of drawings and permits for buildings around the town. George tidied up the pile, stacking the drawings in an organized manner.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Over on Front Street, number 45.”

  George moved over to a series of gray steel cabinets lined up against the rear wall. As he rifled through the drawers, she let her eyes explore her new office. The walls were painted a stark government white but they were clean. The heating ducts were large and exposed and kept the room comfortable, at least for now. She was sure a heady New England winter would change that. George was back at the table within minutes, a fistful of documents in his hands.

  “What’s all this?”

  “This is the history of your current home.” He spread the papers out and sorted them. “These tell who owned it and when, if there were any permits taken out for significant structural changes or repairs made, such as electrical upgrades or things like that.”

  “And you’re telling me this, why?”

  “Because this is some of what you will be doing for others who may have questions about their home. Look these over and you can get a sense of what some people may be looking for.” He stepped back and motioned with the wave of a hand. “I hate to throw you into the deep end on your first day, but I need to step out for a few minutes.”

  “What?” Vicki’s face went pale as she stood staring at George, her mouth hanging slightly open.

  “Oh, now don’t be alarmed. I won’t be gone but for an hour or so. If anyone has any questions, which I don’t think they will, just tell them I’ll be back shortly.”

  “Whatever you say.” Vicki looked at him, her eyes as wide as pie plates.

  “I’ll be back soon.” George was quickly at the front wall and lifted his coat off the hook that was nailed to the old slat-wall. She sighed as her new boss slipped on a slicker that looked every bit of twenty years old, then turned and nodded with a gentle smile. His face was full, but aged as that of an old sea captain. He looked like a true New Englander, almost an old salt if there ever was one.

  The hour passed quickly as she dug into the paperwork. To her, it was like looking back into an hourglass of time. She walked back through each owner, the deeds taking her back over fifty years. There were a few gaps, a noticeable one during the war years. She was started as the bells
above the door tinkled, the steel top pushing past. She hadn’t even noticed them when she came in to start the day.

  “That didn’t take long.”

  “I told you it wouldn’t.” George turned and replaced his coat on the same hook he took it from. She immediately sized him up as a creature of habit. “Any visitors?”

  “None.”

  The next few weeks went quickly at work as she learned the ins and outs of a new job. Her schedule varied little other than the days of the week. Some weeks she worked three days, some four and others, all five. She was relieved that offices were closed on the weekends. It wasn’t long before she felt as if she had been there for years. It was comfortable, one of the few things in her life that was.

  *

  The weeks dragged by as she went about her days, the routines of life taking hold. Having a degree in history, this job had a special calling for her. This place held the history of the town and what happened within, and that got her to thinking about the little package she had found.

  The next few weeks became nearly a cloak and dagger mystery. She had kept the package unopened, the faded paper and bow resting on her nightstand. She looked at it every day. It called to her, the one word written on the tag; Willy. She had made up her mind, she would find its owner.

  During her lunch times or when it was just generally slow, she delved into the drawings and paperwork that told the story of 45 Front Street. She was impressed at how much paperwork a little old house brought to life. Then, the Monday after Thanksgiving, she pulled a roll of paper from a file drawer in the basement of the building. She could smell the must folded into the paper. Several large drawings were rolled together and tied with string, the words ‘45 Front’ written in grease pencil on the outside.