Flight of Fancie

by Linda Rettstatt

  “He called things off two days before the wedding. I’m supposed to be in the Greek Isles right now.”

  “Wow. What kind of low life does that?”

  “If you ask my friends, it’s the self-absorbed, vain, narcissistic type of low life.”

  “You seem oddly okay.”

  “I have my moments. Chastity convinced me that Graham did me a favor and I’m finally inclined to agree with her.”

  “What’ll you do now?”

  She turned around and began to walk back along the beach. “Go somewhere.”

  He followed. “Somewhere?”

  “Anywhere. I can’t remain in Columbus and I can’t lock myself up at Quail Hill. I’ve never been anywhere with the exception of one trip to Indiana for a funeral. I need to seize this as an opportunity to do something different. Something more.”

  “I get that. I’ve taken this sabbatical to finish my research for a book.”

  “You’re a writer?”

  “I want to be. I have an idea for a story set during the Civil War. Since the research fits with my teaching, I can take a sabbatical for a semester and still have a job to return to.”

  “Lucky you.” Fancie envied this guy. He had a job he obviously loved. He was pursuing a dream. And he seemed happy or, at least, content with his life. “I’ve always wanted to write a book. Funny, I teach Creative Writing, but I’ve never managed more than a few short stories.”

  “Then you should write.”

  She shrugged. “I can’t just write. How would I pay the bills?”

  This time when he stopped walking, he grabbed her arm and turned her around. “I have a great idea. I can possibly get you a teaching job in New Hampshire and you can write.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Very much so. I’ll need to make a few phone calls tomorrow, but there was a position open when I left last week and I can’t imagine it’s been filled already. Come over in the morning around ten. That is, if you’re interested.”

  Fancie felt a surge of excitement. Anticipation. Hope. “Yes, I’m definitely interested.” She felt like skipping back to the cottage. She, Francine Hollensby, had an option that didn’t involve Graham Wellington the Third or any other man. Well, except for Luke, but not in the same sense of a man taking care of her. She would take any job that was offered, move to New Hampshire, and take damned good care of herself.

  ~

  Fancie counted on her friends spending the next morning on the beach. Unfortunately, rain clouds had gathered and darkened the sky. Thunder rumbled across Tybee.

  “Are you anxious about something?” Mikayla stared at Fancie over the newspaper.

  “No. What time do you have?”

  “I left my watch upstairs. What is going on?”

  “Nothing.” Fancie hurried into the kitchen to check the clock. Nine forty-seven. If the plumber hadn’t already come and gone, leaving the plumbing in perfect working order, she could claim the call of nature to run next door. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she called before dashing out the back door and across the yard.

  Luke sat at the kitchen table sipping coffee and tapping on his laptop. He smiled at her. “Little wet out there.”

  “A little. Am I too early?”

  “Nope. How’s the sunburn?”

  “Itchy. And flaky. I won’t be wearing a bathing suit again this week, that’s for sure.”

  “Want coffee? There’s some made.” He nodded toward the half-full coffee pot.

  “Thanks.” She removed a mug from the wooden mug tree and filled it, adding cream from the Half & Half carton on the table. It struck her that she felt remarkably comfortable with this man. “Tell me more about the job.” She sat and wrapped her fingers around the warm mug.

  “When I left a week ago, a position had opened up for the fall term in the English Department. Teaching Beginning Creative Writing to undergrads. Sounds like it’s right up your alley. I’m not sure about the pay, though.”

  “I’d have to make enough money to live on, pay rent and buy food, but I don’t need a lot.”

  He picked up his phone. “Let me get Dr. Archer on the phone.”

  Fancie sat back, nervously twisting her fingers together in her lap. Was she doing the right thing? Her mother had often told her she was impulsive. What if this was one of those times? She almost reached out to stop Luke.

  “Dr. Archer, it’s Luke Campbell. Great. How are you? Well, then, I’m glad I caught you. I think I’ve found a candidate for the Creative Writing position, if it’s still open.” He smiled. “Yes, sir. She’s right here. I’ll put her on. Her name is….” He paused and whispered, “Fancie?”

  “Francine Hollensby,” she hissed out her proper name.

  “Francine Hollensby.” Luke passed her the phone.

  She took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Hello?”

  “Miss Hollensby. Luke tells me you’re interested in a position at our school.”

  “Y-Yes. Yes, sir. I could be.”

  He inquired about her background and experience before giving her more details about the position. “You must realize this is part-time. If you’re still interested, I’d ask that you fax your curriculum vitae along with three letters of reference as soon as possible. Luke can provide the fax number.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Archer. I’ll get that out to you within the week. Do you want to speak with Luke again?”

  “Not necessary. Once I receive your materials, I’ll contact you to arrange a face-to-face interview.”

  She gulped. Face-to-face, as in I’ll have to fly to New Hampshire? Of course they’d want to interview her. No one was going to hire her over the phone on Luke’s recommendation. He didn’t really know her any better than she knew him.

  “Great.” She hoped her lack of enthusiasm didn’t carry through the phone. “Thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome. Goodbye, Miss Hollensby.”

  She handed the phone back to Luke. “He wants to see my CV and letters of reference.” She picked up the mug of coffee and her hand shook, sloshing the liquid over the side. “What have I done? This is happening too fast. I need to breathe.”

  “I’m sorry? I thought you wanted to find a new job, move away.”

  “I do. But sometimes I act on impulse, react to stress and then regret it. I hope this isn’t one of those times. I’d feel awful if I put you in a bad position.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t worry about me.”

  She bit her lip, hesitating, then said, “I might be running from what happened with my fiancé. And I don’t know anyone in New Hampshire.” She stood and paced. “Where would I live? It’s only a part-time job. I have a little savings, but what if I get there and can’t make ends meet? Why am I stressing? I may not even be offered the job.”

  “Slow down. I can solve at least one of those problems. You can stay at my place.”

  “Your place? I…uh…you may have misread….”

  Luke shook his head. “I own a house and rent out rooms, usually to graduate students. It’s an old Victorian and far too big for me alone, but I couldn’t resist its charm. I can give you a room, at least for the one semester. Then you can see how things work out. You’d have kitchen facilities and use of the laundry. Heck, I’ll be gone for most of the next five months. You’d have the run of the house. We can call it a trade—a room in exchange for you looking after things and collecting rent from the two students who have registered.”

  It sounded perfect. And it terrified her. “I need to think about it. Is that okay?”

  “Sure. But I wouldn’t wait too long. That faculty opening could fill quickly.”

  “We’re leaving day after tomorrow to return to Columbus. Can you give me your phone number and the contact information for Dr. Archer, including a fax number?” She sat again.

  He studied her for a moment. “What are you most afraid of?”

  “Pardon?”

  “What’s the hesitation?”

  “It’s not an easy
decision, nor one to make in haste.”

  He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You sounded so sure that what you wanted was a change. And now you’re talking yourself out of a perfect opportunity. When I do that, it’s because I’m afraid of something. For me, it’s usually fear of success.”

  “You’re afraid of success.”

  He nodded. “Funny, huh? Most people fear failure. I almost talked myself out of this sabbatical and research for the book because, well, what if it turns out to be great? People will expect more of the same. So I’m wondering what you’re afraid of.”

  “I’m considering doing something that will change every facet of my life. My marriage wasn’t going to change that much. I mean, we’d live in Columbus. I’d be close to my family.” But you were already changing. She mentally swatted the thought like it was a pesky mosquito. “It seems wise to examine the decision before leaping into it.”

  “Sure. Let me know what you decide.” He handed her a slip of paper with the contact numbers.

  She started for the door, then stopped and turned. “Why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.”

  He grinned. “You seem like a nice person. I know what it’s like to have your back against the wall and need a way out. I’ve been there. And it does sound like you’d be perfect for the position. I’m just trying to be a friend.”

  “Oh.” That he saw himself as a friend both relieved and disappointed her. “Well…. So, I’ll get back to you.”

  Chapter Six

  Fancie tried to slip quietly through the back door and to her room, but Chastity was coming down the stairs. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you. Thought we’d drive in to Savannah and take in lunch and a movie. This rain’s expected to last all day.”

  “I ran next door for a minute. To thank Luke and let him know our plumbing issues were finally resolved.”

  “What’s that?” Chastity nodded to the slip of paper Fancie held.

  “Oh, nothing. Just some information.”

  Before she could tuck the note into her pocket, Chastity snatched it from her. “You got his phone number? Good for you. Way to move on.” Then she frowned. “Who’s Dr. Archer?”

  She snatched the paper from her cousin’s hand. “Nobody. The name was just on the paper when Luke wrote down his number. I probably should give this back to him in case he needs it.” She shoved the note into her pocket.

  Ashley strolled into the kitchen. “Oh, there you are. We’re heading to Savannah. You need a few minutes to get ready?”

  “You all go on without me. I need some time alone,” Fancie said.

  “You sure you want to stay here?” Chastity asked.

  “I’m sure. Go and have fun.”

  “You heard the lady. She wants to be alone,” Mik said. She snatched the car keys from the table just as Ashley reached for them. “I’m driving.”

  Fancie flashed her a grateful smile. Mikayla was the one person of their group who took you at your word and didn’t push. If you said you didn’t want to go, she didn’t argue or insist they all stay behind to keep you company.

  After everyone left, Fancie stood at the front window, gazing out at the grey skies and steady rain. She picked up her cell phone, poured the last of the coffee from the pot, and went out to the porch. She’d always loved porch sitting. Pawpaw and Bitsy, her paternal grandparents, spent all their evenings on the big wraparound porch at Quail Hill, sharing their memories of the past. Pawpaw would throw in a tale here and there that was pure fiction and Bitsy would laugh and slap his arm while the porch swing creaked and swayed beneath them.

  Her eyes misted over as she thought of her Pawpaw. From the time she was old enough to walk, he’d taken her with him on drives to Jackson and even to Alabama to buy seeds for the vegetable garden. He insisted you had to shop around for the best seeds, but everyone in the family knew his bigger interest was in driving around to find yard sales and flea markets. After he passed, it took weeks to sort through and clear out the stuff he’d collected over the years and stashed in the old barn at the back of the property. In his honor, they’d held a yard sale.

  Bitsy went down hill fast after Pawpaw died. The first signs of confusion everyone attributed to grief. It wasn’t long before she could no longer live alone in the small house Fancie’s father had built for his parents behind Quail Hill. They refused to stay in the bigger house and be “under foot.” So Fancie slept most nights in the smaller house with her grandmother until the time came when Bitsy required both constant monitoring and nursing care for her heart condition. And the dementia continued to progress. It just about broke Fancie’s heart the day they left her grandmother at Seven Oaks Nursing and Rehabilitation Center. She visited Bitsy every day, then three times a week. One of the nurses told her, in a very kind way, that it would be “easier for Mrs. Hollensby to adjust to her new life situation” if Fancie wasn’t there so often. Saying goodbye to her grandmother would be the hardest thing she’d have to do.

  She scrolled through the numbers in her phone and called her mother. “Hi, Mama.”

  “Fancie. Everything okay there?”

  “It is. The girls went in to Savannah for lunch and a movie. It’s raining. I just wanted to spend some time alone.”

  “So you called me. What’s going on?”

  “Did you ever want to do anything else besides being a wife and mother?”

  In the long silence, Fancie thought they’d lost their connection. “Mama?”

  “Where is this coming from?”

  “I’m just thinking about options for the future. And I realized how much I let Graham change me.”

  Her mother laughed. “A relationship does change people. It should change both and for the better.”

  “I’m not sure it was for the better. Mama, why do I feel so lost without Graham when I believe I’m better off?”

  “You were in love with him.” Her mother paused. “Weren’t you?”

  “I thought I was. Now I realize I feel the loss of the dream of what my life might have been more than I feel the loss of Graham himself.”

  “You always were one to worry a problem down to a nub. Honey, the past doesn’t matter nearly as much as what’s to come. You’ll have a wonderful, rich, full life with someone who will worship you.”

  “I don’t want to be worshipped, Mama. I just want to be loved and respected. Graham didn’t respect me, so how could he have loved me?”

  “Here’s what I think you need to do. Have a good time with your cousins and friends. Forget about Graham Wellington. Then come back home and we’ll figure out the rest. You’ll know what’s right for you and you’ll take flight, just like those butterflies you love so much.”

  She smiled. Butterflies. She did love butterflies. Her bedroom was decorated with prints and borders and even a butterfly wind chime. Childish perhaps, but they made her happy. She’d read somewhere that the average lifespan of a Monarch butterfly was about one year and that they went through four stages—the egg, the caterpillar, the chrysalis and, finally, a fully developed butterfly. During the chrysalis stage, from the outside, it appeared not much was happening. But inside, transformation was taking place. Maybe this was the stage she was in now. It was hard for others to see it, but she was changing and preparing to take flight. And butterflies migrated! Well, they usually went south in the winter and north in the spring. So what if she had the process a little backwards. It was her process.

  “Thank you, Mama. You always have the answer I need when I need it. How’s everyone?”

  “Your daddy’s doing fine. So is Bitsy. Fancie, have you talked with your brother in the last day or two?”

  “No, why?”

  “No reason. I just can’t get him on the phone. He’s probably off somewhere with Pike. You know those two like to get out in the swamp. He’s been down to Louisiana almost every weekend for the past three months. I swear if that boy gets himself eaten by an alligator….”

  Fancie
laughed. “He’s not chasing alligators. You know Tripp and Pike. They go out on the lake in a boat, drink beer and get sunburned and call it fishing. He’s young. Just sowin’ his oats. If I talk to him, I’ll tell him to call you and put your mind at ease.”

  “You do that. I’ll see you in a few days, sweetie. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, Mama.”

  The rain eased to a soft mist and the clouds began to disperse. Fancie donned her sneakers and pulled her hair into a ponytail before heading in to town. She was on a mission.

  The gift shop smelled of spiced candles. A large orange cat blinked at her from its perch behind the cash register and the clerk greeted her with a smile. “Afternoon. I see the rain’s let up some,” the woman said.

  “Yes. It’s kind of nice out there now.”

  “It’ll heat up in no time and the humidity will rise. Can I help you find something?”

  “Just browsing, thanks.” She walked up and down the aisles, searching. Then she found it. A beautiful Monarch butterfly in stained glass with a small chain for hanging in a window. She looked up to see a display of kites, one in the shape of a giant butterfly and with several small butterflies attached to the tail. “I’ll take this window hanging and one of those kites,” she told the clerk. “And whatever else I need. String, I suppose.”

  “It comes with a reel of string. Your kids like butterflies, huh?”

  “No kids. That’s for me. I love them. The beauty and grace and all they go through in such a short time to live what they’re meant to be.”

  “I never thought of them that way. That’ll be sixteen-forty five.”

  Fancie handed her a twenty and tucked the change into her pocket. She opted to skip lunch and head back the cottage. After depositing the stained glass piece in her bedroom and changing into her beach shoes, she headed over the dunes. The rain had let up and the sun broke through, exposing a brilliant blue sky.

  It had been years since she’d flown a kite. She sat on the sand, unwrapped the packaging and followed the instructions for putting the kite together. Using the trick her grandfather taught her, she stuck her fingertip into her mouth and held it up to test the wind direction. She lifted the kite above her head and began to jog into the wind, then flat-out run down the beach. The wind caught and she released the kite, letting out the line. Something unknotted inside her.