Autumn Dreams

by Gayle Roper

  Cass grinned, not believing a word from this man she’d known since forever. Clooney was a Seaside celebrity of sorts, a decorated and disillusioned Vietnam vet who refused to use his keen mind in any pattern that could be perceived as conformity to the system. He searched the beaches all year long with his metal detector, and there wasn’t a Seaside kid who hadn’t trailed after him, fascinated. There also wasn’t a kid who hadn’t gotten one of the treasures he dug up. Cass still had the key ring with the silver butterfly medallion and five keys Clooney had given her the year she was fourteen, all legs, bosom, broad shoulders, and self-consciousness.

  She had gone with the brothers and their friends to the Twelfth Street beach one July Saturday. She was there because her mother made the boys bring her. She was the price for them to have use of the car. Unfortunately, the brothers weren’t happy they’d been forced to bring her, so she sat on her beach towel slightly apart from the rowdy guys.

  Clooney saw her, huddled over a book, constantly trying to pull her bathing suit neckline up to her collarbone. She still remembered making believe she didn’t feel conspicuous and failing spectacularly. Then Clooney knelt beside her and held out the key chain and medallion.

  “This is for you, Cassandra,” he said loudly enough for the brothers to hear. “One of these days you’ll be that beautiful butterfly.” He tapped the embossed wings, ignoring the brothers when they began to hoot. To them, beautiful and Cass were not analogous, and sadly she agreed with them. Clooney rattled the dangling pieces of metal. “And these are magic keys.”

  She looked at the butterfly medallion, so pretty and shiny, so perfect. She would emerge from a chrysalis and become like that? She knew an impossible dream when she heard one, yet a little prickle of hope made her heart jump.

  “What do the keys open?” she asked, her voice breathy.

  “Ah.” Clooney closed her hand over the treasure. “That’s for you to find out.” And he walked off, swinging his detector in arcs over the sand, stopping every so often to use a child’s red plastic spade to dig a hole.

  “Let me see,” Tommy demanded, and the others echoed him as they gathered around her.

  Cass dangled the keys for the boys to see but kept her fist clamped around the butterfly medallion. She knew the brothers too well to put her new treasure in their grubby hands. They’d probably use it to play keep-away or some such game and lose it.

  “That opens a Honda,” Tommy said, pointing.

  “And that’s a front door key,” Bud said. “No magic there.”

  Cass had turned from the brothers and walked to the water’s edge, holding the medallion so tightly it hurt, listening to the melodic jingling of her magic keys. She looked skyward as the wavelets washed around her ankles and her feet sank into the soft sand.

  God, can You make me a butterfly? Oh, please God, if You can, do it! Please!

  Even today Cass could taste the desperation in the young Cassandra’s prayer.

  Well, she might not have become the butterfly, but thankfully she hadn’t remained the caterpillar either. Maybe she was a moth, solid and self-sufficient, if not butterfly beautiful.

  Whatever, that day had made Clooney special and every time she saw him a delight. Remembering her manners, Cass said, “Dan, this guy with hair longer than mine is Clooney. He’s Seaside’s resident historian and beachcomber.”

  “And since neither pays anything, I drive the garbage truck to pay my rent,” Clooney added amiably.

  “Dan’s a CEO from New York City,” she said, “and he’s staying at SeaSong.”

  Dan reached up to take Clooney’s hand. “Retired CEO.”

  “Obviously early retirement. Lucky you,” Clooney said. “How long are you here?”

  Dan shrugged. “Life’s up in the air right now.”

  Clooney nodded. “I’m with you. Finding yourself is hard work. I know. I’m still looking.”

  Dan’s mouth quirked. “That’s an encouraging piece of information.”

  Clooney looked from Dan to Cass and back to Dan, his thoughts obvious enough to make her blush and hold her breath over what he would say. He surprised her when he merely nodded at Dan.

  Dan met his gaze and smiled noncommittally.

  Cass, mortified, scowled at Clooney. He grinned and with a wave drove away, the guys clinging to the handrails looking so sleepy it’s a wonder they could hold on. Cass and Dan walked the remaining half block to SeaSong. With a reminiscent smile Cass found herself telling Dan the medallion story.

  “Do you still have it?” he asked after he’d listened carefully.

  “I do, somewhere in my stored stuff in the back of the closet in Jenn’s room.” Suddenly finding that butterfly was of the utmost importance on this day when she felt so full of gloom. She would look for it as soon as Jenn left for school.

  Which she did, finally finding the medallion and key chain in a box of souvenirs trapped beneath her high school yearbook. Clasping the medallion tightly and whispering her butterfly prayer as ardently as she had at fourteen, she ran to Dan’s room and knocked on his door, though not before she had taken care to brush her hair and add a little color to her cheeks.

  “Come in,” he called, and she entered. She held out her hand. The silver medallion was smaller than she remembered. In her mind it had assumed the proportions of a large doughnut. In reality it favored a silver dollar.

  Dan studied it, his finger tracing the butterfly. “Well, you certainly fulfilled Clooney’s prophecy. In fact, you surpassed it. You are more beautiful than any butterfly could hope to be.” He raised his eyes and smiled at her.

  Cass couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. People didn’t say things like that to her, didn’t smile like that at her, especially men. She felt a great wave of heat move up her throat, over her face, and into her hairline. For several seconds she just stared at him. Finally, with a clearing of throat and a licking of lips, she managed, “You don’t have to say things like that.”

  His expression as he studied her face was part puzzlement, part sincerity. “Of course I do.” He gave a mischievous grin. “It’s my Christian duty to speak the truth.”

  The truth? Surely not. It was just empty flattery to make her feel good on her birthday. Wasn’t it? She dropped her gaze back to the medallion, feeling a flicker of the hope she’d felt that long-ago July day.

  “And, Cass, when someone compliments you, you’re supposed to say, ‘Thank you, kind sir.’ ” The gentleness in his voice took away any quality of reprimand.

  “Thank you, kind sir. I’ve got to go.” Before I make a bigger fool of myself. She turned to run as Dan’s cell phone rang.

  When he said, “Hi, Lew,” she paused.

  Her father. But she didn’t actually listen to the conversation. It was just an excuse to linger and look at Dan out of the corner of her eye. As she did, she felt both absolute terror and intense longing. He said the most wonderful, outlandish things to her. How could she not respond to him emotionally? When he told her she was pretty, she could almost think she was. How she longed to believe he meant it, that he truly thought her special, that he wasn’t just being gracious and kind.

  The truth was that he would go back to New York and his regular life sometime soon. When that happened, she’d be alone again and forever, an old maid of forty with no prospects and no hope, for she knew that no other man would ever interest her the way Dan did. She knew it deep in her soul.

  No, when he left, she wouldn’t just be alone, as in being by herself. Alone and its companion solitude were good, giving you a chance to think, to talk to the Lord, to contemplate the issues of life.

  She would be lonely, achingly so, hurting for companionship, especially the companionship of a particular person. She shut her eyes against the ache and the fear that this was her future.

  And she thought she’d felt bad when she woke up this morning.

  Dan clicked off his phone and said, “Your father’s coming over in a little while. He’s bringing his financial
records.”

  She blinked, pulling her mind to the moment. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you went over there?”

  Dan nodded. “Much, but he doesn’t want your mother to know what he’s done. He’s afraid it’ll send her into an episode.”

  “An episode?”

  “That’s what he calls her bad times.”

  Cass rubbed her temples. Her headache was back with a vengeance. “You can spread your stuff out over the kitchen table.”

  That’s what the men did as she and Brenna stripped the beds and turned the mattresses, cleaned the bathrooms, and washed the linens. Dan and Dad didn’t even stop working for lunch, eating their tuna salad sandwiches while poking Dan’s calculator.

  At four when Cass took meat out of the freezer and prepared to defrost it in the microwave, Dan abruptly rose. “What are you doing?”

  She stared at him. “I’m starting dinner.”

  “On your birthday?”

  She gave a little huff of laughter. “Somebody’s got to feed us, and I sincerely doubt it’ll be Jenn.”

  He took the package of hamburger from her hands and slid it back into the freezer.

  “Dan.”

  He smiled. “Trust me.”

  Cass became aware of her father watching them, and she struggled to be casual. “Trust you, huh?”

  He winked and turned to her father. “Tomorrow, Lew? I think we can finish what we need to do by then.”

  Dad nodded and began sliding all his papers into his soft-sided briefcase.

  Dan reached out and grabbed a small stack of business envelopes, tossing them back on the table. “Leave these here, Lew. No use letting yourself be tempted.”

  Sweepstakes, no doubt. Dad looked from the envelopes to Dan and back, clearly torn.

  “Trust the Lord, Lew. Remember? Trust and obey.”

  With a deep sigh, Dad left the envelopes on the table. He shook Dan’s hand, kissed Cass’s cheek, and left. She watched him climb into his car and drive away.

  She turned to Dan. “How bad are things?”

  “Hmm?” Dan was absorbed in the envelopes. The longer he studied the letters, the harder his jaw clenched.

  “Look at this!” He thrust a letter at her. “Right here on the back it says, ‘No purchase necessary; purchase does not increase chances of winning.’ But here on the front it asks for your processing fee of $17.97. If they don’t get your money one way, they get it another.” He flipped through the envelopes. “There are ten letters here, and they all ask for a similar amount. That’s over $170.00! And this is only one day’s worth of letters!”

  “What about the ones that ask you to put a special sticker on the envelope if you’re ordering something?” Cass waved the sheet with a shiny gold circle sticker. “How easy it is to think that the unmarked letters get thrown out. So you buy. I think that’s where Dad is getting into such big trouble. Before he knows it, he’s spent twenty-five or fifty dollars several times over.”

  Dan continued to rifle through the papers. “They all ask for his phone number and want to know if he has a major credit card. It’s a setup for telephone solicitations if I ever saw one. Look at the wording on this one offering twenty-five thousand dollars.” He held out a page with an official looking seal in the upper right corner. “ ‘Please be advised that this official document shall be deemed sufficient notification of unclaimed cash award. You have been authorized to receive this cash award simply by returning the cash claim form attached.’ And listen to this at the bottom of the page. ‘I do hereby declare that I am the person to whom this notification is addressed, that I have read the Cash Declarative on the reverse side, and that I demand immediate payment of my unclaimed check. I am returning this claim form pursuant to these instructions and understand payment will be made via check within twenty-one days.’ ”

  “It sounds like a guarantee to me,” Cass said. “What’s the catch? I don’t see it.” She took the document from him and studied it closely. Eventually she saw, running up the side of the page, DEADLINE: 7 days to respond. “Seven days,” she muttered, grabbing the envelope. “Look. The letter’s dated September 19, and the envelope is postmarked September 24. By the time the notice is received, the seven days are already gone!”

  Dan looked up from the letter he was examining. “When you feel pressed for money, these promises seem magical, the answer to all your problems.”

  “But Dad doesn’t need money.”

  “He thinks he does. He wants it for your mother so she’ll always have the best care, and he wants it so he can leave you kids an inheritance.”

  “What? Oh, Dan.” Cass thought her heart would break. “Like we want him worrying over something like that.” She folded the letter she held and tore it across again and again until all she had was a handful of confetti.

  “Feel better?” Dan held out his hand for the paper.

  Cass gave it to him. “Yes, I think I do.”

  “Good.” He tossed the scraps at her, letting them rain down on her hair and shoulders. One sailed into her mouth, open in astonishment, and she spit it out.

  “Now, birthday girl, go get dressed for a nice dinner.” He pointed upstairs. “The residents of SeaSong are celebrating.”

  Cass stared at him, her hand stalled halfway to her shoulder to brush off the confetti. “We’re going out for dinner?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” Talk about feeling deflated.

  “But we are having a special dinner nonetheless. From Dante’s at the Dock, fancy side.” The front doorbell rang, and Dan made a face. “Not yet! It’s too soon. Would you get that, Cass, while I clean up the table?”

  She hurried to the door where she found a delivery man from Seaside Flowers holding a vase filled with a dozen of the most beautiful red roses she’d ever seen. She took the vase and, eyes sparkling, spun around to see Dan smiling at her.

  “From you?” She scarcely dared believe it.

  “Why don’t you read the card?”

  She set the vase on the desk and pulled out the card tucked among the deep green leaves. “Putting on the ritz for your birthday. Love, Jenn, Jared, Brenna, Mike, and Dan—the SeaSong clan.”

  Maybe not just from him, but close enough. She leaned in and breathed deeply.

  “Now you have to get lost until six-thirty,” Dan told her as he tipped the delivery boy.

  She looked at him. “What?”

  “You heard me. I’d suggest a nice relaxing bath followed by a power nap. Since Jenn’s going to be reporting for duty any minute now to help with preparations, you can primp and polish in your real room upstairs. Remember, we don’t want to see you until six-thirty, and then only if you’re dressed in your best.” He glanced at her faded jeans and turtleneck. “Lovely as you look, tonight’s for putting on the ritz.”

  Cass knew she wore a goofy smile, but she couldn’t help it. They were having a party for her! Caught between tears and laughter, she held the flowers close. “I’m taking my roses upstairs with me.”

  Dan smiled, his navy eyes alight with his pleasure at her delight. “Oh, and when you come down, come down the front stairs.”

  “The front stairs. Yes, sir.” She raced to her cubby room, collected clean clothes, and flew upstairs. Free time! Wow.

  Jenn had left a floral gift bag on her bed with a big Aunt Cassandra sign resting against it. Cass put her roses on the dresser, running a finger over the deep crimson velvet and smiling to herself before turning to the bag. Filled with anticipation, she reached inside. Several packages, each wrapped in pink tissue paper and tied with deep fuchsia curly ribbon, kept her busy. Bubble bath, bath gel, body lotion, a spritz bottle of cologne, a mesh sponge, and the latest Deborah Raney romance.

  A little note inside the bag read, “For the perfect preparations for putting on the ritz. From all of us.”

  Carrying her roses and her bag of goodies into the just cleaned but now vacant guest Jacuzzi bath, Cass filled the tub, poured in the bubble bath, and climbed in. Wh
en the jets began pulsing along her spine, she sighed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d indulged in such luxury. She opened her new novel and settled in.

  When she came downstairs at six-thirty smelling like a flower garden, carrying her roses, and wearing her floaty blue dress that she usually wore to the annual banquet of the local chamber of commerce, she found Jared, wearing a dress shirt and tie, waiting at the foot of the stairs.

  “Wow, do you look handsome,” she said.

  “Well, you look pretty good yourself, all sort of glowy.” He extended his arm for her to take. “If I may seat you, ma’am.”

  She rested her hand in the crook of his elbow and walked beside him through the common room to the dining room where several of the small tables had been strung together and covered with a deep gold cloth. Good china that looked suspiciously like Jenn and Jared’s mother’s sat at six places also set with their mother’s sterling and crystal. Candles glowed on the table and on every available surface: tall candles, fat candles, slim candles, votive candles.

  “Just like in the movies,” Jenn said as a delighted Cass took in the golden scene and the smiling faces of her five hosts.

  The air was redolent with the scent of fine food, and not one Dante’s box was visible. Dan stepped forward to seat her at one end of the table. He took his seat at the other end with Jenn and Jared on one side and Brenna and Mike on the other.

  Jenn served the appetizer, a warm spinach-artichoke dip with petite vegetables and crackers for dipping. At the same time Jared poured everyone sparkling cider.

  When the only thing that remained of the hors d’oeuvres was a pair of miniature carrots, Jenn stood and pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of her Sunday dress.

  “What I Appreciate Most about Aunt Cassandra,” she read.

  Cass felt her jaw drop. There was something the girl actually appreciated?

  “Number one—I know she cares about me, even when her decisions make me angry.”

  Everyone laughed, Cass wryly.

  Jenn continued. “Two, she took us in. Three, she’s a good role model. Four, she makes me clean toilets—NOT! And last, she loves Jesus and shows me what that looks like.” Jenn handed the list to Cass with a flourish, then bent to kiss her cheek. “Happy Birthday, Aunt Cassandra.”