I rolled my eyes at her. "I know, I know. When life throws you lemons, make lemonade."
"Naw, child. You need to think bigger! When life throws you lemons, plant the seeds an' grow an orchard."
I wrapped my arms around my knees smiled sadly as I remembered her simple philosophy. I tried, Gammy. I really did, but I messed up and stepped in some deep shit.
Trees take time, child. They don't grow overnight. And sometimes a little manure helps them grow.
Her voice was so loud in my head I looked around as if she was there in the room with me. I shook my head to clear it and glanced again at the television. It was a commercial, oddly enough advertising a lemon juice, so fresh it was as if it was plucked straight from the lemon trees themselves.
I shivered. A sign? Divine intervention? Whatever, it was a good reminder that it was up to me what happened from now on. I was in charge of planning what happened in my life. And I knew I could only count on me. Trusting others was setting myself up for a let-down.
I reread Mr. M's letter and thumbed through the stack of ten dollar bills the firm had generously advanced me to help me get started until I earned my first paycheck. Two hundred dollars; a paltry amount to some, but a windfall to me. I'd never seen that much money at one time, much less been in charge of it. However, I was realistic enough to know I needed to be careful about how I spent it.
Included in my packet were a bus schedule and a fare card. Mr. M had been very thorough in thinking through my needs. However, unlike my earlier adventure outside, the idea of being in crowds of people left a pit in my stomach. Too many things could hide in crowds: bullies, weapons...judgments. But, this wasn't my hometown or prison. This was a new city with people who didn't know me, so it was time to embrace my new opportunity.
Self pep-talk over, I scooped up a few of the bills, the bus pass, my keys, and a fresh outlook and headed out.
I hit the jackpot when I discovered a thrift store at the second bus stop, and I was now the proud owner of a few more pants and blouses I thought would be suitable for work, as well as two more pairs of jeans and a couple of pairs of flats that I could wear to work and look nice but be comfortable. I'd even found an umbrella and a nice coat that I knew I'd need as the fall days grew colder.
Next to the thrift store was a dollar store where I purchased some toiletries, a paperback novel and a few other odds and ends. I even splurged on a couple of chocolate candy bars to celebrate my release. It wasn't the way most people celebrated, but I didn't drink, and candy was cheaper than alcohol anyway. I was proud of my purchases, and my frugalness had only put a small dent into the allowance I'd been provided.
Earlier I'd studied the maps and bus routes and decided to familiarize myself with the offices of McCloskey, Barnes, and Wilson. I had even convinced myself to enter the impressive granite building that housed the law firm, but as the bus pulled along the curb, I noticed a familiar face exit through the glass doors. Holten Andrews had his arm around the back of a dark-haired woman.
I stayed put in my seat as I watched him pop up an umbrella to shield her from the drizzle that had begun to fall again. She smiled up at him. She was gorgeous; even through the thick bus window, I could see her perfectly applied makeup. Her dark brown hair fell in soft waves around her face and over a colorful scarf wrapped fashionably around her neck. Her clothes were hidden beneath a smart-looking red coat, but I'm sure they were as classy as the rest of her appearance. Suddenly, my purchases I'd been so excited over moments ago seemed frumpy and bland.
His returned smile lit up his face as he said something before guiding her down the street, his arm still around her back. If I'd thought him handsome before, he was devastatingly gorgeous when he smiled. Not that fake smile he gave me, but one that lit up his face as he gazed down upon his beautiful companion. I slumped down in my seat as my fingers reached up and twirled a lock of my hair, trying to smooth its frizziness.
I was irritated at the pangs of envy I felt. Even as I reminded myself that I didn't need someone else to be happy, I wondered what it would be like to see such devotion gazing back at me. But that was probably no longer in my future. Who would want someone with my past? Besides, men like Holten Andrews never gave a second look at girls like me. I sighed and waited for the bus to pull away and complete its route. I had to focus on finding what I was going to do with my life.
Back at home, I took out one of the pads of paper I’d just bought and began a list.
1. Look at classifieds for nighttime job
2. Get catalog for classes from community college
3. Open a bank account
4. Make a budget
Before I could question my motivation, I quickly scribbled another note.
5. Get a haircut, buy some makeup
As I chewed on the eraser end of my pencil, there was a knock on the door. I couldn't imagine who would visit me. I swallowed hard and hesitated. Not knowing who was on the other side of that door, or what they wanted, made me nervous.
Relax. No one here knows your past. No one you don't want to see knows where you live.
I briefly thought it might be Mr. Andrews coming back to check on me, but he was probably still out with his gorgeous companion. Besides, he seemed anxious to get away from me earlier. Maybe it was one of my new neighbors.
Not giving myself any more time to think more about it, I crossed the short distance and peered through the peephole. I saw two heads of graying hair and quickly unlocked the door and flung it open.
"Oh, Madelyn, sweetheart! I'm so glad to see you." I was engulfed in the arms of a pint-sized woman with a gallon-sized heart.
"Now, Emma, don't squeeze her to death before she's had a chance to really breathe for the first time in ages," a deep male voice teased.
The arms released, and I was able to look into one of the kindest sets of blue eyes I'd known in my life. Mrs. McCloskey made me believe I was more than just a poor girl. She was the one who opened up my small world through the eyes of Henry Ford, Teddy Roosevelt, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Rosa Parks; all people who'd been told 'no' or 'you can't' and ignored it. Between her and my grandmother, I believed I could conquer the world, or at least, claim a small piece of it for myself.
Mrs. M , who’d been Mrs. Kissinger when I had her as my third-grade teacher, had been widowed young and had dedicated her life to her students. She'd become such a permanent fixture at Fairchild Elementary School it came as a shock when she announced that she was getting married again and moving away to Richmond, about three hours away. I had cried myself to sleep that night. Why did everyone I care about leave me?
"How are you, sweetheart?" Mrs. M held my face between her hands and ran her eyes over me as if performing a diagnostic scan.
"I'm fine," I assured her, "and doing better than expected thanks to you and your husband." I grinned and tipped my head in the direction of the handsome man who stared at the pair of us with tenderness, much like I thought a doting grandfather might.
Mrs. M's eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry I didn't know about your circumstances sooner," she whispered. "I can't believe all you've gone through since I left. I'd give anything if I could go back in time and be there for you. You shouldn't have had to go through all that alone.”
"It's okay." I pulled her into a hug. "You couldn't have known. It wouldn't have changed anything." I couldn't stop the crack in my voice; it had been so long since anyone had shown me compassion.
"But I could have --"
"No." I shook my head. "I'm not letting you do that. As it is, as soon as you found out, you sent your amazing husband to my rescue, and now I have a chance to start over sooner than I expected." I glanced up at the man smiling at us. "I don't know how to thank you both." I waved my hand at our surroundings. "All of this is too much."
John McCloskey gently pulled me from his wife's arms into his own. "I wish we could do more. But it had to be in keeping with what my firm will do for others in the future. But I know without any doubt tha
t you deserve this opportunity, my dear. What you didn't deserve is what happened six years ago. But as much as we might wish we could," he slid a glance over at his wife, "we can't change what's happened. So let's look forward. I know you'll make the best of it."
I nodded vigorously.
Mrs. M snapped her fingers. "I almost forgot." She reached down by the still open door and picked up a blue ceramic bowl containing a plant with shiny, smooth green leaves on a stalk. "This is for you. It's commonly called a jade plant. It's small because it's a new cutting that I started for you once John took your case a couple of months ago. I knew he'd get you out." She beamed at her husband and then grabbed hold of my hand. "It's from a plant which has been passed down in my family for several generations as well as shared with many friends. I chose it because I want you to remember that it's never too late to start over. These plants regularly break apart and put down new roots. I want you to remember that, Madelyn. You are more than where you came from, and I know you'll thrive with this new start."
Damn it! I couldn't prevent the tears that filled my eyes and ran down my cheeks... "Th...thank you," I sniffled. "You always did know the right thing to say." I dashed my hand across my face and offered what I hoped came across as a smile.
Mr. M cleared his throat and put an arm around his wife's shoulders. "Okay. I think we should let Madelyn settle in and get some rest." He turned to me. "Enjoy your weekend, my dear. If you need anything, let us know, and we'll try to help. Mrs. Holmes is ready to get you started on Monday morning."
"I'll be there."
More hugs and sniffles later, Mr. and Mrs. McCloskey left. Even as I shut the door behind them, I breathed a little more easily. I stared at my new plant and was filled with hope.
5
Holt
"Holt! What's up, man?" Callum called as he stepped out of his car.
My older brother had pulled in the driveway a moment ahead of me. Both of my siblings were coming for a Sunday gathering followed by a family dinner. My mother understood her children lead their own lives, but she planned these dinners at least twice a month and expected us to attend. If any of us couldn't make it, we'd better have a damn good excuse.
My father had always been the breadwinner, but it was my mother who ruled over hearth and home. She could be as soft and fuzzy as the thistle flower of her native Scotland, but if anyone crossed her or someone she loved, she was just as sharp and prickly as the briars that lay hidden beneath the bloom. She loved her family fiercely, and anyone who chose to become part of it had to accept Sunday dinners as part of the package. Growing up, there had been a lot of grumbling from my brother, sister and me when we wanted to do something else, but our mother's persistence to create a close family had paid off. There was nothing we wouldn't do for each other. I knew that firsthand since I'd been the one who ended up putting them to the test.
I fist-bumped my brother, then bypassed him for his wife, Sara. "Hey, beautiful! How are you feeling?" I helped her out of the car and pulled her into a hug and swung her around. She squealed until I set her down and kissed her cheek. Cal had managed to find a wonderful girl who I considered just as much a sister as I did my real one.
"Tired, but happy." She returned the affection and leaned her head on my chest, beaming at the car carrier her husband pulled from the backseat. I peaked at Cara, my two-month old niece who was snuggled to the point of almost hidden beneath a pink blanket. Undisturbed by my gentle kiss, she slept soundly through the commotion.
My brother and his wife had tried for three years to have a baby and had about given up hope when they found out Sara was pregnant. Now they were ecstatic about all the baby paraphernalia they toted with them everywhere they went.
A 'woof' and excited panting alerted me that I was about to be ambushed. I turned in time to be greeted with giant paws on my shoulders and a wet tongue slobbering across my face before I could call out the command to sit. Buddy, my loyal black lab, immediately responded to my voice, but his tail continued to swipe side to side, flicking up loose leaves and dirt.
"Hey, boy! Did you miss me?" I knelt down and scratched his ears until one of his back legs thumped by his side. I sure missed him. He'd been a gift from my sister, Carol, after I’d been injured in Afghanistan. At the time, I hadn’t felt like there was much to come home to, so I wasn’t doing much to pick myself up and live. I was healing physically, but not emotionally.
Carol had the idea that he might be something like a therapy dog. Although not trained as one, she thought I needed something to be responsible for. At first, I was furious with her. Initially, I cared for Buddy out of obligation since I couldn't allow him to starve and no one else would lift a finger to do it. Even his name was a random pick with little thought.
But it wasn't long before waking up to a cold, wet nose in my neck and a warm tongue lavishing puppy kisses on my face became something I looked forward to. His constant playful mood drove me to take him outside, first in my parent's yard, then eventually for longer and longer walks and hikes as I felt more like getting dressed and leaving home. During those solitude moments, my thoughts became less about the all my lost hopes and dreams and more about what I was going to do next. And at night, when memories became overwhelming, Buddy would curl up by my side and rest his head on my knees, keeping my silent tears his secret.
Cal stood next to me and held his hand toward Buddy. My dog took one sniff and gave a polite lick, then shoved his head under my hand, demanding more attention. Cal laughed at the snub. "Damn, I don't think I've ever seen a dog so devoted before."
"We've been through a lot together." As if he agreed, Buddy lifted his paw to my hand resting on my knee, like a doggy high five.
"What are you doing standing out there? Bring that baby inside. It's too chilly outside for her!" My mom's voice with her soft accent called from the doorway. Sure, she used the weather as an excuse, but we knew the truth; she couldn't wait to get her hands on her newest grandbaby.
Cal winked at me. "Notice the complete lack of concern for our comfort? We've ceased to exist since her newest granddaughter was born."
"But you wouldn't trade it, would you?" I slapped him on the back as he grinned and shook his head.
Buddy bounded ahead of us. I followed Cal and Sara into the house, watching as Cal's hand automatically grabbed his wife's. The ever-present ache in my heart flared, and I had to swallow the acidic taste of envy as I watched my mom fuss over Cara as she pulled the baby from her car seat and bounced and cooed at her.
My father emerged from the den and greeted us with backslapping hugs for his sons and a kiss for Sara. Then he hovered behind his wife and unabashedly admired and babbled some nonsense about being a princess to his youngest granddaughter. My sister, Carol, the eldest, waved to us from the dining room where she sat next to her fourteen-year-old son, Ethan. Judging by the fat book, calculator and frustrated looks on their faces, I guessed she was attempting to help him with his math homework again.
"Where are the rest of the kids?" I asked as I leaned down and kissed her cheek and ruffled Ethan's hair. She and her husband, Rick, also had nine-year-old twins, Jamie and Brittany, as well as four-year-old Andrew, named in honor of our family name.
"They're visiting the other grandparents this weekend. Ethan had a soccer game yesterday, so he stayed behind with me."
"Have you heard from Rick?" Carol's husband was a naval officer, currently deployed near the Persian Gulf on an amphibious ship. She lived in the Hampton Roads area, a little over an hour away, so she was still able to enjoy the warmth and support of her family.
"He's fine. He sends his love to everyone," she responded before being distracted by Ethan, who threw his pencil on the table.
"Why do I have to learn this stuff anyway? I'll never use it!" he grumbled. I grimaced and quickly backed away, lest they try to recruit me into helping. I'd sooner defend a known serial killer than try to figure out the always mysterious 'x.'
I settled on the couch in the l
iving room and pretended to watch the Steelers play against the Browns while I rubbed Buddy's head as he rested it on my knee. Someday I'd have a place where he could live with me, but for now, he remained at my parents' home, as he had since I left for law school. I loved my dog, but I still longed for a different companion. I could get through most days with only a slight nostalgia that I could push aside. But surrounded by all the happy chaos of familial chatter and laughter, especially this time of year, the pain of loss became almost overwhelming.
Claire should be here with me. My mom and dad should be fawning over our children, asking her questions about her work. Instead, fate had grasped my happiness in its palm, crushed it then sprinkled the shattered remnants into the dark abyss of unfulfilled dreams, a darkness from which I never fully emerged.
Cal flopped down next to me. As if he could read my mind, he bent his head and whispered in my ear, "You can still have that, you know." He pointed toward the stairs where my mom and sister-in-law were chatting animatedly as they walked up toward the bedrooms, probably to change the baby. My dad had retreated to his den where he was probably finishing up the household accounting he liked to look over on weekends.
I shook my head.
"Holt," he began, but I held up my hand. I knew he meant well, but the sympathy I saw in his eyes only enhanced the sorrow in my heart.
"It's okay, man. I'm happy for you. I'm just glad I got to be an uncle again." I forced myself to swallow the lump of bleakness in my throat and grinned at him. "Besides, you're going to need all the backup you can get in a few years when that little beauty has all the boys panting after her."
Yesterday's Tomorrows Page 4