Goldenrod

by Ann McMan

  Buddy looked at her with his clear eyes. “Bach signed the music,” he said.

  She smiled at him. “Yes, he did. I’m glad you like it.”

  Buddy turned around and headed back for the door. Before he went outside, he stopped in the doorway. “Five biscuits are not right.”

  Celine laughed. “Dorothy? Can you get ten biscuits out of that dough?”

  “I can if you have a small glass,” she said.

  “Yay!” Henry ran to the counter. “You can use my Spiderman glass. It’s little.”

  Celine stood in the center of her new kitchen and closed her eyes as the mystery, form and substance of Bach’s perfect universe swirled around her.

  Divine grace came in many forms. And lately it had been raining down around her like manna from heaven.

  God bless the families we make.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Maddie’s most recent starring role in Theater of the Absurd was thankfully nearing an end.

  She’d just bundled Rosebud into the Jeep and left the clinic for home when she got a text message from Syd.

  Flat tire. Hwy 21 near Little Wilson. Come and rescue me for old time’s sake?

  Maddie didn’t miss the irony of Syd’s appeal for help. Another flat tire along the same stretch of road where they first met so many years ago? What were the odds of that happening?

  She thought about running home first and dropping the cat off—but she didn’t want Syd to wait alone on the side of the highway any longer than necessary. And she didn’t want to risk having Rosebud evacuate in a place where she’d be unable to find the ring.

  One thing she had no doubt about was the cat’s ingenuity when it came to ways to torment her.

  She watched Rosebud in the rearview mirror. The fat tuxedo cat was striding back and forth across the seat behind her, sniffing at the air coming in from one window before shifting to the other.

  Asshole.

  David had made her swear to call him the instant Oma’s ring reappeared. Maddie offered a hundredth mental apology to her late grandmother. Oma’s legacy included avoiding capture and imprisonment in a Nazi death camp and surviving to lead a stunning, decades-long career as assistant concertmaster in the Metropolitan Opera orchestra.

  Enter Rosebud . . .

  Orson Welles has nothin’ on me . . .

  She tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for why she was showing up with the cat in tow. Syd had an uncanny ability to smell a rat at a thousand yards. No good reason occurred to her. Maybe she could just tell Syd that Rosebud swallowed—something—and she had to x-ray her to be sure she was okay.

  That might work. But what could she swallow that wouldn’t kill her or pose a medical emergency?

  A screw? A washer? A brad tack? She glanced at the cat again. A couple rounds of ammo?

  How about an entire bag of Cheetos—including the bag?

  Bingo.

  That idea worked on a couple of levels. It was believable. And it would immediately distract Syd by tempting her to indulge in her favorite pastime—chewing Maddie’s ass about her diet.

  Yep. It was a winner. All the way around.

  The road ran along close to the river through here. It was late in the day and she could see flashes of sunlight on the water through the trees. She rounded a bend near the intersection of Little Wilson Creek and saw Syd’s decrepit Volvo on the side of the road.

  Syd was sitting on a grassy bank above the car. Reading. Maddie smiled.

  She’s so damn gorgeous . . .

  Syd never went anywhere without a book. Considering her irrational attachment to her ancient and unpredictable mode of transportation, it was a good strategy.

  Maddie flashed her lights to get Syd’s attention, and waved when Syd looked up and spotted her approaching. Syd waved back and got to her feet while Maddie parked.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” Maddie said.

  “I know.” Syd walked over to greet her. Maddie gave her a quick hug and kiss. “It’s like déjà vu all over again.” She smiled at Maddie. “I know I could’ve done this by myself, but I’m sentimental. This is nearly the same the spot where I had my last flat tire.”

  “I know. I remember it well.” Maddie patted the hood of Syd’s old Volvo. “I owe you one.”

  “We both owe her one. As I recall, depending upon the kindness of strangers worked out pretty well for me last time.”

  Maddie raised an eyebrow. “Think lightning might strike the same spot twice?”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  “Well, where this hunk of metal is concerned, I’d say the odds are in your favor.”

  “Hey.” Syd popped Maddie on the arm. “Any car can have a flat tire—even a brand-new one.”

  “Sweetie. This thing is older than Inger Stevens.” Maddie considered her comment. “In fact, this thing probably belonged to Inger Stevens before you acquired it.”

  “Very funny. If you ever get tired of lancing boils you should consider becoming a stand-up comic.”

  “From your mouth to God’s ear. Which tire is it this time?”

  Syd sighed and waved a hand at her car. “Front right.”

  “Honey . . .”

  Syd held up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say. I’m thinking about it. Okay?”

  They’d had so many protracted discussions about Syd’s refusal to get another car that they now could have the entire conversation without saying anything. Maddie just shook her head and headed for the back of the car to retrieve the spare and the jack. “What were you doing out here, anyway? I thought you were just working at the branch today.”

  “I was. Then I got a call from Edna Freemantle. She wanted to talk with me about . . .” She stopped abruptly and squinted at Maddie’s Jeep. “Am I seeing things—or is that Rosebud in your car?”

  “No.” Maddie bounced the spare to the ground and rolled it to the front of the car. “That’s her, all right.”

  “Is there . . . some reason . . . you’re driving around with the cat?”

  “Yeeees,” she dragged the word out. “I was working in the barn. She ate my bag of Cheetos.”

  “So, you decided to take her for a ride? What for? A chaser?”

  “Very funny. She ate the bag, too. I called your brother to see if she’d be okay. He said I should x-ray her to be sure there weren’t any complications—so I took her to the clinic. You’ll be glad to know she’s fine.”

  Syd laughed. “I bet that process was a barrel of fun.”

  “I called David to help me out.”

  “David? Okay, this one is sure to make national news.”

  “Yeah. Remind me to fill you in on his latest fashion don’ts. Will you hand me that tire iron?”

  Syd complied. “Remember to jack it up before you remove the lug nuts.”

  Maddie gave her a withering look. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

  “Probably not.” Syd gave her one of her best Sandra Dee smiles.

  “Well, as long as you took your time and gave the idea real consideration . . .” Maddie began to loosen the lug nuts. “What did Edna want to talk with you about?”

  Syd sighed. “She didn’t tell me on the phone and, as you can see, I never made it out there. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s probably about Roma Jean and Charlie.”

  “That’s ironic. Curtis came to see me last week for the same reason.” Maddie grunted as she fought to work the last lug nut free. “Damn. This thing is rusted in place. It won’t budge.”

  “Use your foot.”

  “My what?”

  Syd tapped her on the shoulder. “Back up and watch a professional show you how this is done.”

  “Okaaayyy.” Maddie obeyed and moved out of her way.

  Syd rested a hand on Maddie’s shoulder for balance, positioned her foot on the edge of the tire iron, and stomped down on it with all her weight. There was a resounding crack as the arm of the tire iron snapped in half. Syd’s momentum carried her r
ight after it, and she would’ve ended up face down on the pavement if Maddie hadn’t reached out and yanked her back.

  She ended up sprawled across Maddie’s lap in a most unladylike posture.

  “Now I see why this technique is so effective,” Maddie drawled.

  Syd was flustered. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “I dunno. I’d say it worked out just fine.”

  Syd slapped her wandering hand. “You’re a pervert.”

  “True.”

  “What about my tire?”

  Maddie pulled her closer. “What about it?”

  “It’s a goner.”

  Maddie kissed her neck. “Why should it be the only one?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I think it’s called taking advantage of the situation.”

  “I get that part.” Syd shifted around so she could look at Maddie’s face. “You do realize we’re sitting in the middle of a state highway, right?”

  “Um hm.” Maddie kissed her. “You talk too much.”

  Syd relented. Briefly. After a few blissful moments, she pulled away.

  “It isn’t that I’m—not—enjoying—this,” she said, a tad unevenly. “But we do have a—bit of a—situation here.”

  “That would be true,” Maddie agreed.

  “Well. What do you think we should do?”

  “You think we need to do something?”

  Syd looked at her with wonder. “Do I know you?”

  “In fact, you do—better than anyone.”

  “So?”

  “So?” Maddie repeated.

  Syd rolled her eyes. “Do you have any ideas?”

  Maddie looked at her. In that one ridiculous but perfect and unscripted moment, she did have an idea. The best one she’d ever had. And it required nothing. No planning. No strategizing. No flowers. No catering. Not anything but the two of them, here together, stranded along the same damn stretch of road where they had first met so many years ago.

  She took Syd’s face between her grimy hands.

  “I love you,” she said.

  Syd looked confused, but she went along with it, anyway. “I . . . love you . . . too?”

  “I want to be with you,” Maddie said. “Always. So we can face whatever else life throws at us—together. I want to fall asleep beside you every night, and have your face be the first thing I see every morning. And when it’s my time to leave this world forever, I want the memory of you and the life we spent together to carry me across the heavens into eternity.” She cleared her throat. “So. Here’s my humble but heartfelt idea. Will you marry me?”

  Syd’s face was a confluence of a hundred shifting emotions.

  “Do you mean it?” she asked. Her voice sounded small—like it was coming from a hundred miles away.

  Maddie nodded. “I mean it.” She tugged her closer and gave her a shy smile. “So, whattaya think?”

  Syd still seemed dazed. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Maddie chased off a tiny surge of panic. “Well, ‘yes,’ would be a helluva start.”

  “Oh, my god . . .” Syd laughed and hurled herself at Maddie. The force of it knocked them both over. “Yes. Oh, my god, yes. A thousand times, yes.”

  They rolled around on the ground beside the battle-weary car, embracing and laughing like fools. Finally, Maddie came to her senses and remembered something—the most important something.

  Rosebud.

  “Honey,” she said. Syd was on top of her, kissing her collarbone. “Honey?” She pushed Syd up with her forearms. “Wait a minute. I forgot something.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” Syd moved in again, but Maddie stopped her.

  “No. Really. Lemme go and get it. It’s important.”

  Syd sat up with a grunt. “It better be.”

  “It is. I promise.” Maddie kissed her on the forehead and climbed to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Back? Where the hell are you going?”

  “I just need to get something out of the car. Don’t go away.”

  “Fat chance. My legs are like jelly. I doubt I can even stand up, much less go anyplace.”

  Maddie opened the car door and scooped out the protesting cat. Rosebud had been napping, and she wasn’t very happy about being so rudely awakened. Maddie walked back to Syd and knelt in front of her. She held the cat up between them.

  “I forgot the most important part,” she said.

  “The cat?” Syd asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Well. Sort of.” Rosebud continued to squirm. Her fat body swayed between Maddie’s hands like a furry pendulum. “I wasn’t lying when I told you that Rosebud swallowed something. But it wasn’t just a few Cheetos.”

  Syd’s jaw dropped.

  “Yeah. She ate Oma’s ring, too.”

  Syd blinked. Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re giving me your grandmother’s ring?”

  “I will be,” she handed the cat to Syd, “in another four to six hours . . .”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  In the end, they decided to leave the Volvo parked where it was and call Junior to have it towed out to his place in Troutdale. They’d decide what to do about it later. Right now, all Maddie wanted was to get home with Syd, and spend a quiet evening looking at the stars and planning the rest of their lives.

  This time, they opted to leave the scene of a flat tire together. Maddie thought it was about damn time—and Syd’s response to her proposal suggested that she thought so, too.

  They didn’t talk much on the ride home. But they held hands like schoolgirls and gave each other shy smiles whenever their eyes met. The perfect symmetry of it all overwhelmed them both. After so many years, ending up precisely where they started—only to begin a new chapter in their lives together—was sweetly sentimental and demonstrably perfect. Maddie would be forever grateful that, for once, she was sharp enough to know the right moment when it presented itself.

  She was amazed by how simple it had been. Like all the most important things in life, asking Syd to marry her hadn’t turned out to be supremely complicated or impossible to orchestrate. And contrary to every expectation she’d ever had, it didn’t call for a thousand moving parts.

  It only needed two.

  Maddie confessed to Syd all she had planned for the “big event.” Syd laughed and said she hoped they still could enjoy the catering. Maddie hoped so, too—mostly because she’d asked Nadine to make a big batch of Grandma Harriet’s fried chicken.

  Rosebud resumed pacing as soon as the car started moving. Maddie was quick to tell Syd that they needed to keep the cat with them until the ring materialized.

  It was nearly dark when they turned onto their lane. Maddie was surprised that Pete didn’t greet them, running alongside the car and barking like he usually did. When they drew closer to the house, she saw why.

  James Lawrence was there—sitting on one of the lower steps that led down from the porch. She could see the tip of his cigarette glowing in the fading light. Pete sat on the ground at his feet, seemingly glad for the company. She cast about for Henry, but didn’t see any sign of him—not along the pasture fence where Before was nosing around looking for stray tufts of grass. And not by the pond.

  “Is that James?” Syd asked. “Do you see Henry, too?”

  Maddie shook her head. “No. I think he must’ve come alone.”

  “I hope everything is all right.”

  Maddie heard the underlying hint of anxiety in her voice. She squeezed her hand.

  “Try not to worry. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  They parked the car.

  “I’ll go and get the cat carrier out of the barn,” Syd said. “You go meet James.”

  “Okay. Come join us on the porch?”

  Syd nodded. “I’ll be there in two minutes.”

  When Maddie approached, James stood up and ground out his cigarette on the toe of his boot. He stashed the butt in his pocket.

  Pete rushed over to greet her as s
he approached. She stopped and scrubbed his head before walking over to greet James.

  “Hey, James. This is a nice surprise.” Maddie extended her hand. When James offered his, she shook it warmly.

  “I’m sorry for just showing up like this,” he apologized. “It was kind of last-minute.”

  “No. Not at all. Syd had a flat tire out near Little Wilson. That’s why we’re getting home so late.”

  James looked concerned. “Did you have to leave her car out there? Want me to go take a look at it?”

  “One of the lug nuts was so rusted I couldn’t get the wheel off. We called Junior and he said he’d go and fetch it. I’m glad you didn’t get the call.” She smiled. “Syd broke the tire iron trying to force it with her foot.”

  “I think that must be something they teach women to do in Driver’s Ed.” He seemed to think better of his observation. “No offense, ma’am.”

  “None taken.” Maddie smiled at him. “That car is so damn old, I’m amazed the axle didn’t break before the tire iron.”

  “I’ll check it out tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. But between you and me,” Maddie lowered her head and spoke more softly, “as the county coroner, I happily give you leave to pronounce it DOA and consign it to a pauper’s grave.”

  James smiled. “She sure does love that car. Henry says the engine sounds like the popcorn machine at Twin County Cinemas.”

  “Yeah. Except it doesn’t smell as nice.” She decided to take the bull by the horns. “How is Henry?”

  “He’s fine. He’s over at your mother’s. I asked if she would watch him a while longer tonight so I could come over and talk with you and Syd.”

  A free-floating wave of panic crashed up against her best-laid plans for the second time that night. This time, it had all the earmarks of a harbinger. Something bigger was right behind it, and it was heading right for them.

  Syd made her way toward them, carrying Rosebud’s crate with both hands. The container was listing dramatically to stern, suggesting the extent of the cat’s unhappiness with her new accommodations. Pete was jogging along beside her.