Memory Tree

by Pittman, Joseph

  “Cynthia, hi. What a nice surprise,” Nora said, emerging from behind the busy counter. She held an old book in her hands, and from the looks of it, she hadn’t gotten very far. Either it was a recent acquisition, or she’d just started it, or her mind was elsewhere. Cynthia assumed the latter. “I was just thinking I needed an afternoon pick-me-up. Can you join me for some coffee at the Five-O?”

  “I’d love to, but I’m short on time. Jake’s been patient enough with me.”

  “Okay, so then this is a business call?”

  “Hate to be so brusque, but yes, and I’m due back at the house soon,” she said. “Janey will be there.”

  Nora nodded. “And you want to know if I’ve made any progress on her stuffed frog?”

  “Are you going to pull a Christmas miracle a second year in a row?” Cynthia asked, her tone as optimistic as her smile was uncertain.

  “I wish,” Nora said with a shake of her head. “I realize how important it is for you to find out why Annie and her husband gave Janey that stuffed animal—trust me, I’ve dug all over the place—eBay of course, some old catalogs, other connections with shops across the country I’ve made over the last year, toy manufacturers, a whole network of Beanie Baby aficionados, the works. But Janey’s frog, while unique to her, doesn’t seem to be jogging the memory banks of any collectors. What I surmise is that Dan or Annie found it at a local flea market or perhaps a craft shop. I’m guessing it was made by hand rather than factory, and as such there wouldn’t be any record. Sorry to say, there’s no way of tracing its provenance.”

  Cynthia nodded. She understood, even if she was disappointed by the outcome.

  “We’ve got a week till Christmas, so I’ll keep digging. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

  “I guess that’s one story that doesn’t have a happy ending,” Cynthia said.

  “Janey doesn’t get many of those, does she?”

  The remark wasn’t intended to sound harsh, but still the truth of those words stung, creating a fresh burning inside Cynthia’s heart. It was like she was losing a part of herself, knowing this was her final Christmas in a town she loved with a little girl whom she adored. She felt like she was breaking a promise to always help look after Janey, and now she was just weeks away from a new home in a new town, somewhere west of the life she’d known these past fifteen years.

  “Nora, don’t stress over it. What happens, it happens. You’ve done more than I could have asked,” Cynthia said. “Look, I really appreciate your efforts and I hope you’ll send me a bill . . .”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Cynthia.”

  “Please, send me a bill. You are running a business, and I hired you.”

  “We’ll discuss it later,” Nora said, sounding as though she never wanted to hear another word about it. “Who knows, maybe I picked your name for Secret Santa.”

  Cynthia laughed. “What are the odds? Ha. Okay, look, I’ve gotta run . . . Everything else okay with you?”

  Nora looked away suddenly, her saddened eyes replacing the amused ones she’d flashed earlier. She didn’t appear to want to discuss anything beyond business and Cynthia decided to respect that, at least for now. She really was running late. “Fine, Nora, I won’t pry. So, I’ll see you Saturday night at the annual tavern holiday party, yes?”

  “You will indeed. I’m helping my mother with the food as much as she’ll let me.”

  “So you’re a spectator?”

  Nora laughed. “Thanks, I needed a laugh.”

  “This is the holiday season; it’s supposed to be special. Problems can wait till the New Year.”

  “Which means what?”

  “Bring Nicholas to the party and just enjoy yourselves, hang with me and Bradley if it will help ease some of the tension,” she said. “You can figure out the rest of the stuff when January rolls around. That’s what it’s there for, resolutions and all that pabulum. Okay, I’ve gotta run before Janey gets there first. Wish me luck—Brian’s mother is joining us.”

  “Yikes.”

  Cynthia leaned over and gave her friend a hug.

  “Thanks, Cyn,” Nora said. “Now, go. I’m fine.”

  Cynthia emerged back into the light of day, only to see it begin to fade in the sky. Time was fast running away from her, on preparations for the upcoming pageant, on Christmas Day, but mostly on her remaining days in Linden Corners. As she drove through the tiny downtown area, she mused about all she saw and all she would miss, her eyes zeroing in on the gazebo, the site of so many past Christmas celebrations, Memorial Day picnics, and Independence Day fireworks, all of those holidays heightened by memories of people, of good food and laughter and special times. Driving like an old lady headed to church on Sunday, she absorbed it all like she’d never see it again, even watching it from her rearview mirror as it grew more distant. Only her arrival at Crestview Road returned her to the present, and instead of taking the turn up, she continued on and pulled to the side of the road beside the windmill.

  Brian had lit it before leaving for work at the tavern, its powerful beam of light beginning to dominate the landscape as the sun dipped beyond the horizon and the night took shape. With Jake asleep, she got out of her car, leaned against the passenger door and just stared forward. She watched as the sails spun, ever so slowly in the nearly nonexistent wind. All around her a gentle quiet had settled in, on the roads and in her heart too, until she imagined she could feel every beat, hear the constant thrum. This visit to the windmill was unlike her, she more of a realist, and so seeking inspiration from its knowing sails was beyond her. She knew the windmill was a constant source of energy for Janey and for Brian, and for once she felt its spark. It was beautiful, no doubt, and the sparkle it gave off on this early night filled her with an inner warmth that mixed with regret.

  She supposed only now was she appreciating what the old windmill did for others.

  What it was doing for her now.

  It was this land, this sight, that first drew a wanderlust-struck Annie to Linden Corners, where she met the first man she would fall in love with. But what really filled her days after moving here was the windmill itself, so much so that she was dubbed by the locals the Woman Who Loved the Windmill, and it was because of her it still stood; she had saved it once from being torn down. Had she done so out of her sense of loss for her husband, her dedication to all his family had done to preserve it? Given Dan’s missteps in the final months of his life, she gathered Annie had done it for herself, and for Janey.

  “Annie, I guess it’s all going to turn out okay. I’m sorry we have to leave . . . but Janey is in the best hands possible. But you knew that, didn’t you?” she asked aloud, feeling empowered by a fresh whipping wind that blew past her, “and besides, I know she will always have you looking after her. It’s like those sails are loving extensions of your arms, and she comes here to feel your embrace. I feel it too, Annie, my best friend who I miss so much.”

  Cynthia knew she was officially running late, but she couldn’t leave just yet.

  Jake was sleeping, as though understanding his mother’s need for some alone time.

  Time that, for her, moved ever so slowly, like the windmill’s sails.

  She thought of the day she had first met Annie. It had been the height of summer and all around her nature was painted in vibrant, verdant colors, and she’d heard this joyful exuberance coming from the field that separated the two properties. She had gone to investigate, and as she’d stepped over the stone bridge, she saw a woman dancing around the base of the windmill, Dan Sullivan standing just feet from her. She then ran to Dan and leaped into his arms.

  “Whoa,” he called out, “not even the frogs in the stream can leap like that.”

  And then he spun her around till her legs took to the sky, and then they kissed and they laughed like nothing else mattered in the world. Cynthia thought she had never before witnessed a more romantic scene, and now as the memories flooded her mind, her eyes began the gentle flow of tears
.

  She was late, having arrived back home at nearly four thirty that afternoon, the headlights of her car flashing onto another one, already silent in the driveway. Thankfully, though, neither Didi nor Janey had needed to wait in the car or on the porch, since Janey knew where they hid a spare key. When Cynthia walked into the house she heard the sound of guests making themselves comfortable, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee luring her to the kitchen.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late,” Cynthia said. “Time can get away from you.”

  “Think nothing of it. We were a few minutes late as well,” Didi said.

  “Hi, Cynthia . . . hi, Jake,” Janey added, her lips coated with the remains of hot chocolate.

  As though they’d been here far longer than Didi was politely letting on.

  Jake was wide awake now after enjoying a good nap, and he gurgled at the familiar sight of a smiling Janey, who went up to him and started playing with his tiny fingers. It wasn’t long before she had taken Jake off Cynthia’s hands, bringing him upstairs to play with his array of toys. Cynthia was relieved at the chance for some peace and quiet in her kitchen, but any chance of that would have to wait, as she saw Didi pour one cup for Cynthia, then a refill of hers. She had a feeling Didi’s inviting herself over this afternoon was anything but a social call.

  Kevin might be the businessman, but Didi was far more imposing.

  “Successful shopping day?” Didi asked.

  “Mostly,” she said. “Bradley is impossible to buy for, so I usually just get him new dress shirts. But not this year.”

  “What’s different this year?”

  “You have heard we’re moving,” she said.

  “Yes, and far away, I hear. A major decision in life.”

  “Life is about opportunity; you have to seize it,” she said.

  “Your husband’s words?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, dear, it’s just you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself, not me.”

  Cynthia held the mug close to her lips, hoping to hide her faltering expression. She needn’t have bothered, her eyes like open windows to her troubled soul, which allowed Didi a chance to peek in. “Brian was right. You’re very direct.”

  “Honest,” Didi said. “Otherwise I find that conversations can get diluted, sidetracked.”

  Cynthia set down her cup, the taste of bitter coffee on her tongue. It was almost as if the aroma’s scent had lured her into a carefully orchestrated scene, Didi’s agenda conducting itself. Cynthia steeled her nerves and straightened her back, her arms set forward on the table as though she were about to be interrogated. She eyed Didi carefully and decided they might as well get this over with.

  “Fire away, Mrs. Duncan.”

  “Please, dear, call me Didi, and I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable in your home. Which, I must say, despite all the boxes strewn about, is quite charming. Much more modern in its conveniences and furnishings than the farmhouse, as Brian insists on calling it. So, please, relax, I only want to ask after a few things. Call it a mother’s concern.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  Didi didn’t even hesitate. “Do you think Brian is truly happy?”

  “I think Brian is a man who makes other people happy,” Cynthia said.

  “Now, that’s hardly the same thing, is it?” she asked. “My goodness, his father and I have been here barely three days and already we’ve gone and chopped down a tree, decorated it the same night, attended a village-wide Secret Santa drawing, then watched as Brian lit practically the entire countryside with the windmill, and now on what should be a quiet night he’s off for a spell at the tavern. Don’t mistake me, the beauty of those lights on the windmills—and his intent behind it—is not something I’ll soon forget.”

  “I know I won’t,” Cynthia said.

  “But you do see my point, don’t you? Is Brian always so busy?”

  Cynthia considered her words. “You left something out.”

  “What’s that?”

  “All that he’s done, he’s done for Janey. And to an extent, the two of you.”

  “I’m not sure I get your point, dear.”

  “Brian’s put his life, his own priorities, on hold, or so he keeps informing me,” she said. “Sure, every few months he’ll announce a plan in which he’s going to figure out his future, but before he takes two steps he gets distracted by our daily lives here. It may be a small town, but he’s got big issues to consider. The upkeep of the farmhouse, the property—he’s the keeper of Linden Corners’ legacies, and he wears his responsibility well. But his biggest concern is Janey. He’ll do anything for her peace of mind, for her happiness,” she said, realizing her tone was bordering on the defensive. She felt her voice begin to quake. “If that means overdoing it a bit at Christmas, so be it. Janey’s still only ten years old, and she’s endured worse than people five times her age have. What I see, Didi, and not just during this season, but year-round, is your son’s utter devotion to that little girl. Her happiness is what makes Brian happy.”

  “Except now you’re not going to be around to see her grow up.”

  “Mrs. Duncan . . . Didi, I believe you said you believed in being honest. Why now are you dancing around whatever issue you wish to discuss?”

  Didi pursed her lips before speaking. “Fair enough, Cynthia.”

  Cynthia waited while the woman collected her thoughts, sipping at now-cold coffee.

  “Who is this Trina woman?” Didi finally asked.

  Brian was right about his mother: she didn’t miss a trick. The only problem was, when it came to Brian and Trina, Cynthia knew very little. No doubt Didi had become intrigued when Trina was invited for the windmill lighting, the fact that Brian had staged a disappearing act with her shortly after everyone else had gone back to the house for pie. Cynthia herself was curious to know just what she’d created between Brian and Trina, but so far, neither was talking, at least not to her, and apparently not to Didi either. Their lack of knowledge about Brian and Trina’s relationship gave them common ground.

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at . . . I mean, they’re friends.”

  “Hmph. How long have they been . . . dating?”

  “I’m not even sure you can call it that,” Cynthia said. “Trina’s new in town, the daughter of one of our longtime residents,” she said.

  “She works at a motel,” Didi said with a sniff of disapproval.

  “Actually, Richie Ravens, her father, owns it, and he’s recovering from a fall. She’s here to take care of him and help run the business.”

  Didi considered this, clearly not happy that her rush to judgment was unfounded.

  “How did they meet?”

  “Nora and I thought we were responsible for pushing them together, but it turned out that they’d already met. Trina had been to the tavern. I think she just popped in late one night and I guess they got to talking. I think they were already intrigued with each other before Nora and I suggested they might want to . . . you know, go out.”

  “So she’s Brian’s girlfriend?”

  Cynthia looked amused. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” she said.

  “But you admit you had that in mind when you put him up to the date,” Didi stated.

  “Brian’s been alone a long time . . .”

  “And now with you leaving town and shirking your responsibility to Jane, you thought you’d simply marry him off to ease your guilt?”

  “I think that’s oversimplifying the situation. Seriously, I think you’re reading too much into this,” Cynthia said, her mind blown. Conversations like this just didn’t happen in Linden Corners. “I’ll admit it would be great to have Brian settle down, and it’s obvious Janey will need a mother figure in her life as she gets older. And I’m not saying Trina is that woman . . . I mean, they’ve only just met, so I wouldn’t go buying a dress anytime soon.”

  “Except you don’t know Brian’s pattern.”

  Cy
nthia did. They’d had long talks about life, love, things like satisfaction and happiness and settling, on quiet summer nights when only the chirping crickets were privy to their secrets. But she figured she’d let Didi fill her in. It would be interesting to hear the perspective of a mother who simultaneously sneered at her son’s choices and did little to help encourage him. As she waited for Didi to continue, she wondered just where Bradley was, why he wasn’t rescuing her from this bit of awkwardness, or for that matter, where Janey was too. Had she fallen asleep upstairs with Jake? Not that she wanted Janey to overhear any of this conversation, but her bright smile would be most welcome, a reminder that Cynthia was indeed home in sweet Linden Corners and not in some staged melodrama starring an overbearing mother.

  “Brian falls in love at the drop of a hat,” Didi finally said. “He did in high school, and he did again once he arrived in New York, and he did a third time, right here in Linden Corners. Lucy Walker was his childhood sweetheart and they dated not just in high school but all through college. Only after he got the job offer in New York did they part, since Lucy didn’t want to move there—she’s married to a doctor now and I think they have more homes than children. Anyway, after a while he met that Maddie Chasen woman—a cold fish, if you ask me, and before you go thinking whatever your mind is conjuring, I know I too can be a tough cookie. I wasn’t disappointed when I learned of her . . . corporate machinations with the boss.”

  She’d slept with the boss to get ahead was what she’d done.

  Cynthia knew it had devastated Brian, the original reason he’d set out on his journey.

  “And then there was Annie,” Didi said.

  Cynthia had had enough of this; she wasn’t going to hear her friend’s name minimized by this woman’s ill-formed generalities. Squelching anger, she said, “Mrs. Duncan, if you dare compare Annie Sullivan to those other women, I will have to ask you to leave my home. You never met Annie, and despite the way you wish to lump all of the women in Brian’s life into one category, Annie defies it. He was going to marry her, and they were going to be happy, and they should have been. He and Annie and Janey—they were a family with everything to look forward to. When she was taken from us, your son stepped up and helped out a little girl who was so lost, she might have given up on any hope of any of her dreams coming true. Each and every day, Brian does that for her, and you know what? She does it for him.”