Dancing Ladies

by Marilyn Gardiner

  Turning away from the sight, she tried to block out the horror. She breathed through her mouth. Whatever she heard, saw, felt, remembered, none of it had anything to do with Leah. Leah was dead and buried in her grave. A desperate end to a miserable existence. She was gone! Forever! Yet Kate listened, helplessly, another minute for ... For what? Thankfully, there was nothing but the normal thud of Max and Babe playing upstairs. The smell of gardenias was gone.

  "This has to stop.” She said it aloud into the silence of the room. She couldn't go on waiting for some ghostly disturbance to occur. And, whether or not she was willing to admit it, that appeared to be what it was. She hadn't yet been in the house two days, and Leah was all but haunting her. And this had happened in broad daylight. Weren't ghosts supposed to roam at night? In the dark?

  Ghosts? Ghosts! Surely she was dealing with memories. Simply memories. But why were the—memories—of Leah coming with such frequency only since she'd moved in? She'd been back to Winsom to visit dozens of times since the accident. Summers and spring breaks while in college, vacations and visits since then. Why now? Was it because she had moved in to stay? And why would Leah object that she had?

  But ... She and Max had nowhere else to go. She'd just have to put Leah from her mind. Surely it was all in her head anyway. Leftover guilt triggered by something unidentified as yet and, maybe, left-over stress from her marriage. She'd just have to make a renewed effort to remember the good times, like the counselor had said all those years ago. Remember the love they'd shared, the laughter, the togetherness. Put the bad stuff in a closet and close the door. She could open the door and examine what was there when she was ready to deal with it. And that time was most definitely not now.

  Bending over, she got out the grilling pan and, with a clatter, set it on the stove. Her hands were still shaking. Chicken strip tacos and a salad for dinner. One of Max's favorite meals. If there was anything sinister about tacos, she failed to see it. And Leah had hated them. She drew a long steadying breath.

  From the corner of the window she could see the lake. A quarter of a mile further west was the river. Big and broad and swift. Because she mistrusted water so greatly, she'd made sure Max swam like a little guppy almost before he walked. Actually, he'd swum almost before he was much bigger than a guppy. Still, she'd caution him again about the lake. It was far too handy for a curious little boy.

  Deciding that dinner could wait for a few minutes, Kate wandered out onto the porch. She stood for long minutes looking at the small beach they used beside the lake, and then curled herself into the swinging chair hanging by a chain from the rafters. Gradually the tightness in her shoulders began to lessen. Her breathing evened out. The aura of Leah's presence faded. The porch, the lawn, flowers and trees, and the lake beyond were always soothing balm to her spirits. She inhaled the fragrance of honeysuckle deeply.

  A pair of hummingbirds hovered at the feeder. Max was fascinated with the tiny creatures. He'd informed her the night before that the little bitty ones flayed their wings up to 200 times a second.

  "Can we name them, Mom?"

  "Like what?"

  He frowned. “How about the selfish one who thinks the feeder belongs to him? He's an Attila. The guy in the book."

  "You mean Attila The Hun?"

  "Yeah. That's him."

  "I like it. How about Attila The Hum?"

  Max laughed. “Yeah! Because hummingbirds hum. You made a joke, Mom."

  For a minute, coming down the stairs, pursued by the scent of gardenias, Kate had felt like her heart was beating at least that fast. Here, with the backyard and tranquil lake before her, the episode seemed ludicrous. It could not have been as it seemed. She'd go back upstairs in a minute and find everything normal. She would.

  Sounds of Max and Babe's rough and tumble play drifted down the stairs. Max laughed, a sound of joyous happiness. The puppy barked. Somewhere down the block a lawnmower droned. Normal. Kate slowly expelled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Normal.

  Beyond the lake the levee rose, overgrown and wild, protecting the land from the possibility of a flooding, rampaging river. On this side of the levee things were fairly tame. Ducks and geese flew in and out with regular precision, laid their eggs and raised their young. A long-legged blue heron stalked the shallows in lonely dignity looking for unwary small fish. On the far side of the lake, flanked by prairie grass, was a wooded gully that the deer used as a passageway to the water. Kate snuggled deeper into the cushioned chair.

  Over the years, her mother had created a sprawling lily garden on the gentle slope leading to the river. Every year she added to the colorful bed, sending to Europe for exotic bulbs. Her mother's pride and joy, the taller Asiatic beauties, double Aphrodites, stood three to four feet tall, bracketing the sides and back of the bed in scarlet splendor. Inside the circle was a profusion of color in the shorter varieties: the Tigers, Pumilums, pink and white Turk's Caps, Elegant Ladys and the spectacular Nippons, with seven inches of ruffled white blossoms edged with cherry red. When the wind was right, their fragrance spilled over the lawn and drifted up to the porch.

  Her dad had often teased her mother about spending more time with her lilies than she did in the kitchen. And it was half true. Mom had enjoyed more than almost anything being on her hands and knees, weeding, separating bulbs and packing the extras to give away to friends.

  How heavenly it was to be home. Safe and secure from the problems that had formerly plagued her. Free from money worries. Free from Huey. Free to be a stay-at-home mom and paint. Free from everything, apparently, except memories of Leah. She would not allow herself to fret about that, however. She'd been over-extended and over-burdened for too long, that's all. She was home now. It would take a concentrated effort to free herself from memories, too, but she could do it. Kate put her head back, closed her eyes and made a deliberate effort to let the tension drain from her body.

  * * * *

  In the next few days, Kate got the gravel and settled her downstairs orchids, as she called them, in their new bed, did laundry, talked to all the utility companies, called her dye supplier in Maryland and placed an order, did more laundry—baseball practice was dirty work, as Max said—and went to the bank to spend an informative hour with an old friend. They had graduated high school together. Spence was in his office.

  "You're coming up in the world. Vice president of First National. I'm impressed!"

  "Yeah. Well, it happens when your dad's president."

  "You look good, Spence."

  "You too. You look great. I heard you were home again. With your son."

  "And a million matchbox cars,” she laughed.

  "I'm envious. I'd make room for an additional million if...” he said, before his voice broke and he looked away.

  "I heard. I'm terribly sorry. That's hard, Spence.” She reached across the desk and touched his hand. Both his wife and daughter had been hit by a car while waiting for the school bus. A double tragedy.

  He shuffled papers for a minute and then straightened. “Did you come home to sell?"

  "Sell what? The house?"

  "The house, yes. I've been asked to make you an offer."

  "Someone wants to buy my house? No. Not interested."

  "Yes. That's what I thought you'd say, but I had to ask. I'll tell him. Nice to have you back in town, though. Did I hear right? You have your own business? Painting on silk? I never heard of it."

  They talked for a few minutes of trivialities, her painting, Max, the heat, and then transferred everything from her parents’ name into her own and signed all the forms. She left after a warm handshake, feeling as if she'd touched base with another friend upon whom she could depend. That was two: Bree and Spence. More than she'd had a week ago.

  On a drizzly Friday afternoon, after yet more laundry and baseball practice held in spite of the falling mist, Kate looked into the fridge and found very little except for a squashy green orange that had begun to grow hair, and milk about to turn so
ur.

  Max hated to shop. Kate thought long and hard about the advisability of taking him to the grocery store, but there wasn't any real choice. She hated to play drill sergeant, yet there were times when it was the only thing that worked.

  "Now. Max, I mean it. Into the van. We won't be gone long enough that Babe will have time to get lonely."

  "He doesn't like to be alone. He's afraid of the orchid room."

  "Afraid? What do you mean, he's afraid of the orchid room?"

  "He won't go in. Just sits at the door and stares. He's scared of something in there."

  That bothered her. She'd heard stories of animals avoiding a room where supernatural events took place. But she didn't have time now to worry about it. “Babe will be fine. Let's go."

  And so, Max grumbling beside her, they traversed the town, around the ball field, to the supermarket.

  He brightened long enough in the parking lot to turn with only a slight frown. “Do birds belch?"

  "Heaven's Max. How would I know?"

  "I'll bet they do. I bet they belch worms. What do you s'pose that'd taste like?"

  "Eeuw! You're going to make me throw up. Forget the worms."

  He shrugged. “I'll bet they..."

  "Max!"

  She lost him the minute the electronic door let him in, before she had separated her cart from the line outside. She found him five minutes later bowling a fat can of bean sprouts and another of water chestnuts down the international foods aisle.

  "The water chestnuts go farther ‘cause the sprouts cut to the right all the time,” he was saying to a man squatting alongside the matzo balls and showing great interest in the experiment.

  Briefly Kate closed her eyes. Max's adventures in supermarkets were legend. They'd been all but banned from the neighborhood Safeway in Winnetka before they moved.

  "Max, unless you intend to eat a lot of Chinese food in the next few days, I suggest you stop this instant.” Max detested Chinese food.

  Max and his companion both looked up. Kate recognized the man instantly as Cass, Max's T-ball coach. She also remembered the day in seventh grade when he'd taught her how to hit a baseball properly. Arms around her waist and his hands covering hers on the bat he'd said, “Use everything you've got and swing from your heels.” She'd made the middle school softball team the next week.

  "Cass,” she said. “Hi. It's good to see you."

  The laugh lines around his eyes deepened. “I thought that was you on the sidelines last week. Why didn't you come over and say hello?"

  Kate smiled and shrugged. “I'm always in a rush and you always have your hands full of, how many? Fifteen little boys."

  "And one girl. Mine."

  She remembered a long, honey-colored ponytail falling from the back of a blue ball cap. “First base, right? She's not bad."

  "Not bad,” he agreed. He put a big hand on Max's shoulder. “Neither is your little Mark McGwire here. He has a good arm. Who taught him to hit?"

  "I did. And I had a good teacher.” Kate felt her face relax and fall into a smile. Openly she allowed herself a closer inspection than had been possible at the ball diamond. The same thick, brown hair threatening to curl. Broader through the shoulders and more narrow around the hips. He had to be close to six feet tall with a hard, muscular body. This was a man who used his body daily, either in work or at a club. Legs longer, of course, than they'd been at eighteen, and stubby-lashed eyes that had always given away whatever he was thinking. Right now he was liking what he saw. Her grin widened.

  "Hey!” Max was tired of being ignored. “You guys know each other? He's my coach. Stacey's dad."

  Kate pulled her gaze away from Cass. “Max, Stacey's dad knocked out my first tooth in kindergarten."

  "Wow!” Max's head cranked around to look at the man who had lived to be reminded of such a thing.

  "Only because you used me as a tree to stop a headlong rush on new roller skates. We both went down as I recall. My elbow knocked out one of your teeth and I tore the knee out of my new jeans."

  They smiled at one another, filling up with the warmth of shared experiences, while Max stood between them with his ball cap slant-wise on his head and a can of vegetables in each hand.

  Cass moved first, hooking a thumb in his belt and cocking one hip. “I hear you've acquired an ‘ex'. Me too. Three years ago."

  Kate nodded. “I heard.” And when his eyebrows rose, she explained simply, “Bree."

  "Ah,” he said. “Bree, the town social director. Organizer of pool parties and cookouts. I haven't seen you at any of them."

  Max drifted down the aisle to a display of small toys and her eyes followed his square little-boy shoulders, the attempted swagger he was copying from older kids, the tufts of hair sticking out beneath the ball cap. He was morphing, or was trying to, from little boy-hood into whatever stage came next. It was sad in a way, and yet very happy in another. None of which explained why she avoided Bree's cookouts.

  What could she tell him? That she was afraid? “The rules have changed in ten years,” she said and saw, gratefully, that he understood.

  "It's because we have the good sense now to be wary. Don't apologize."

  "I'm getting very good at sidestepping complications."

  He nodded. “I stick to good friends and run like hell from complications, myself."

  A small silence built while they each considered the changes of the last decade and the small miracle that, after all these years, they still thought alike.

  "Did you,” Kate asked, curious, “get a try-out with the Cardinals like you hoped?"

  "Nah. Went into business with my dad after he had a heart attack and bypass surgery. Building. Contract work. I'm a restoration carpenter. And you? Do you teach?"

  She shook her head. “Actually, until recently, I've been in business with a computer. I'm a graphic design artist. I've just begun my own business, though, painting on silk. I studied it in college and have been dabbling with it in my spare time ever since. It's too soon to know what will happen."

  She had a brief surge of sorrow for him. He'd been a good ballplayer. And he'd wanted so badly to play professionally.

  He said, “I always figured you for a lit. teacher, lecturing on the Greek tragedians to a room full of students."

  She shrugged. “Me too, but necessity has a way of altering long range goals. I'm happy with my paints.” She tilted her head, changed the subject, and grinned. “By the way, Max says he's an official Wart Hog now. And believe it or not, I just got a commission today to paint a wall hanging of Wart Hogs.” At his look of bewilderment, she explained. “They are a specific kind of orchid. With funny little wart-looking things on their shoulders. Lovely, but really strange looking."

  He shook his head and smiled. “You, painting exotic flowers on fabric. It blows the mind. Your fondest dream was always teaching William Shakespeare."

  "And I remember when your fondest wish was to play second base for the Cardinals."

  So, they each had to alter their fondest wishes. Kate wondered briefly if all of life was like that. You gave it your best shot and then had to make the best of a forced right-hand turn.

  Cass shifted his weight to both feet, sighed, and glanced at his watch. “I'd better shove off. Stacey will be waiting. It's good to have you back. See you around."

  He looked back as he turned at the end of the aisle and their eyes locked for a moment. She caught a glimpse of something ... Interest? Friendship? Fond memories? And he was gone, leaving her to wonder what kind of look it had been.

  Once, fleetingly, there had been the promise of something special, but Leah was always there to complicate things and neither of them had done anything about it. Kate knew he was a loyal friend and fun to be with; he'd always been able to make her laugh. There was a gentle side, as well. She remembered the afternoon they'd found a dog that had been hit by a car. The dog died on the table at the vet's, but Cass had helped her load the animal into his car to take it there.


  He had always been on the honor roll, she remembered. He'd wanted to know about everything. Planned on college, first, and then the Cardinals. He'd played first-string football and third base for the school baseball team, and—She pulled up short. What was she thinking? He wasn't for her. She wasn't in the market for a man. Not today. Not next month. Groceries. She'd come to the store for meat and vegetables and fruit. Not for dreaming of impossibilities.

  Kate collected her thoughts and her son, bought her groceries, and went home. But she couldn't help a happy little inward bubble that remembered childhood dreams. Seeing Cass had brought a rush of memories, and she found her mind dredging them up one by one, all the way through town.

  The rain had turned into a steady drizzle that seemed to have set in for the day. Having an attached garage was a blessing she hadn't had in many years, and it was nice to carry in groceries without getting drenched.

  Entering the house, she hesitated a moment on the threshold. Memory or not, there was always a moment, with her first step in the door, when she knew whether or not Leah was there waiting. More times not. Yet, she couldn't stop the apprehension that washed over her every time she walked in the door. Despite herself, she seemed to be convicted of the certainty that Leah's presence was more than a mere memory. Her fear that this was so, was so strong it made her shudder. Would this be the time she walked in the door and something awful happened? She didn't even know what she was afraid of. Just the fact that Leah was there with literally no earthly explanation of how this could be.

  Or maybe it was the fear that all this existed only in her mind, and she was losing touch with reality. That was sobering, for if she was impaired mentally, what would happen to Max? Would the law give him to Huey? The thought was too awful to bear. Panic lay right behind that fear, so deliberately she blocked it out. One thing at a time. Go into the house and confront whatever is there. Just do it!