That same afternoon, Mr. Jones had read to them from Tom Sawyer, and when he reached the part about blood brothers, Judith knew just what they would do. She stole a thumbtack from the bulletin board by the door and on the way home, beneath a maple tree and hidden behind the secure protection of a tall laurel hedge, she and Jasmine both jabbed the tack into their right forefingers and mixed their blood to become honest-to-goodness blood sisters. And they vowed to be best friends forever and ever, and to never allow Mr. Morrison or anyone else to come between their friendship ever again. But that childhood promise had long since been broken. First by time and distance, and now it seemed that death had come between them—forever.
Judith wiped a tear from her cheek, then exited the freeway and headed east. The road quickly became interesting with twists and turns, familiar bridges, and towering evergreens casting cool shadows. The small town of Cedar Crest nestled at the western foot of the Cascades, not all that far as the crow flies from where Peter’s plane had gone down. It grew cooler, though it was still warm, as she reached the higher elevation. And then the air suddenly grew fresh and clean, pine-scented just the way she remembered it. She knew that anyone in their right mind would stop right then and there and lower the convertible top and enjoy the summer air. But she was not in her right mind, and this was not meant to be a pleasure trip. And although, she could almost admit to being alive—almost—she was not ready to feel good yet.
She pulled into town, hardly allowing herself to look around, although it was surprising how much everything seemed exactly and hauntingly the same. She parked right in front of Polly’s Hair Salon and glanced at her watch. It was just half past four; Polly should still be open for business. The little brass bell jingled when she opened the door, just the way it had thirty years ago, and she was met by the strong smell of ammonia mixed with cheap perfume. An older woman with thin gray hair wrapped tightly in pink and green permanent rods sat contentedly behind a dogeared issue of Glamour without looking up. Judith glanced around the cluttered shop for her cousin.
“I’m coming,” chimed Polly’s voice from in back. “I just need to throw these towels into the washer and I’ll be right with you.”
Polly stepped out with a bright smile, and Judith was surprised at how little her cousin seemed to have changed over the years, although she must be pushing sixty. Her hair was still fiery red (she’d been dying it for as long as Judith could remember), and it was styled within the very limits of its life. With full makeup you almost didn’t notice the extra wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. She approached the front of the shop in her soft, bouncy way, but then stopped in midstep when she saw who was standing there.
“Judith Anne?” she asked with wide eyes.
“Hi, Polly.” said Judith evenly, hoping to sound nonchalant, as if she always popped into town unexpected like this. “It was such a beautiful day that I decided to take a little drive and get away from the city for a bit.”
“How nice.” said Polly dryly, glancing over her shoulder at the gray-haired woman who had suddenly laid down the magazine and was now watching them with unveiled curiosity.
“It was difficult to talk on the phone, and I hoped that—”
Polly cut her short, waving her hand. “Oh, I know, I know. Phones are just like that. But as you can see, I’m right in the middle of a perm right now.”
“But I just wanted to ask you a few questions about Jasmine—”
“I know, Judith. It was just such a shock to everyone.” said Polly with a firm mouth. She now rolled her eyes as if to signal that she didn’t wish her overly interested patron to overhear this particular conversation. Although why it should matter bewildered Judith completely.
She studied Polly for a moment. “Well, I thought if you had time I could—”
“You know, Judith, if you have questions, you should probably just address them to Hal Emery,” said Polly coolly. “He runs the hardware store right across the street. You see, I didn’t really know Jasmine all that well.”
Judith sighed. “Okay. Thanks, Polly. I guess I’ll be seeing you then.”
“Sure,” said Polly without meeting her gaze. She turned back to check on her perm lady, calling over her shoulder, “See you around then.”
Judith stepped out the door and sighed. What in the world had come over Polly and why was she acting so cold? She looked up to see the store across the street. It used to belong to Rich Carter, but now the sign said it was Emery’s Hardware. But other than the sign, it looked just about the same as thirty years ago. Well, what did she have to lose? In fact, she’d like to meet Jasmine’s husband. She had always wondered what sort of man Jasmine Marie would marry. Sometimes she imagined Jasmine married to someone exactly like Peter. Then other times she imagined her married to some rich, Southern gentlemen who looked just like Rhett Butler, a witty man with a quick smile and a great sense of humor.
Judith walked across the quiet street and stepped into the cool dark store. It smelled of old wood and metal, and the dusty crowded shelves appeared to contain some of the very same items that’d been there back in 1971 when she’d picked up masking tape to seal their moving boxes before she and her mother finally left Cedar Crest. She walked down several aisles wondering if Jasmine’s husband, or rather her widower, would even be here in the store. And if he was here, what would she say to him?
“Can I help you?” asked a man from behind a long, glass counter. Judith looked up to see a slightly built, partially bald man with faded blue eyes. She stepped closer, certain that this was not, never could have been, Jasmine’s husband.
“I’m looking for a Hal Emery,” she said.
The man leaned against the counter, his pale eyes fixed upon her with keen interest, almost as if he recognized her from someplace, although she didn’t recall him from her earlier days. By her estimation he was older than her by at least fifteen years, maybe more. Finally he spoke. “And why, may I ask, are you looking for him?”
“Apparently he was married to a good friend of mine. And as I’m in town for the day, I wanted to meet him. You see, I only just learned of Jasmine’s death, and I am still so stunned.”
He nodded slowly with realization, then sighed deeply. “I see. Y’all say Jasmine was a good friend of yours. But how long has it been since you last seen her?”
She knew by his accent he was Southern, and for some reason this caught her off guard. “Uh, well, it’s been years and years.” she stammered. “Actually not since we were teens. We both lived here back in the sixties, and then she moved away and we lost touch—completely.”
The man smiled now, not a big smile, but just slightly as if her answer satisfied him. Then he extended his hand. “I am Hal Emery.”
Judith felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment as she shook his hand. It was a slow, weak handshake, and his palm felt clammy against hers. She resisted the urge to wipe her hand on the back of her jeans when he finally released it. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Emery. I didn’t realize that you were—I mean, I hope you didn’t think—I just was so sorry to hear about Jasmine. May I offer my deepest sympathy to you.”
“Thank you. And may I ask your name?”
“Of course. I’m Judith Blackwell. My maiden name was McPhearson—back when Jasmine and I were good friends.”
“You know, I think I remember Jasmine mentioning you,” said Hal, then he leaned over the counter and peered at Judith with raised brows. “It’s very, very odd...” He didn’t finish the sentence.
“Odd?” asked Judith, confused.
“How much you actually look like her.”
“Really?” said Judith, strangely pleased at this. “When we were girls, people always thought we looked like sisters, and we liked to pretend we were twins.”
“I can understand that,” said Hal. “It’s a striking resemblance.”
“Not knowing her as an adult.” began Judith, “it’s hard to imagine what she may have looked like. You don’t happen to have a photo around,
do you?”
He shook his head. “I have some at home. Are you going to be in town tomorrow?”
“Perhaps,” said Judith with uncertainty. “Actually, I came sort of spur of the moment. I’m not really sure how long I’m staying. But now that I’m here, I do want to look around some. Cedar Crest, and of course Jasmine, were a very important part of my childhood. I don’t think I could leave without seeing the old sights.”
“Well, if you stop by tomorrow, I’ll show you some photos of Jasmine,” promised Hal.
“Thank you. I’d really like to see them. I only wish I had known she was back in the state. I would have loved to have seen her before—”
Hal looked down at his hands in silence.
“I’m sorry.” said Judith. “I know it must be very difficult for you right now. In fact, I know just how you feel. I lost my husband not too long ago...”
Hal looked down at the wedding ring she still wore on her left hand and then up to her face. “Yes, it’s not easy, is it?”
“I’d like to say it gets better with time, but I’m not a very good example of it. I’m still dealing with the whole thing myself.”
”I expect you never completely get over these things,” said Hal, again without looking up.
“Maybe not completely, although one would hope that it might get better with time.” Judith glanced uncomfortably at her watch. “I expect you’re ready to close up shop now. Thanks for taking the time to talk to me. I’ll look forward to seeing those photos.”
He nodded. “You bet. Thanks for stopping in, Judith. I “spect I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
She stepped back out into the sunshine and instantly wished she had asked Hal more questions, like how long had they been married, or how had Jasmine died, or why was she buried in Mississippi. But the strange little man had just taken her so completely by surprise. How could someone like that have possibly won the hand of someone like Jasmine Marie Morrison? Of course, he seemed a nice enough man, and she shouldn’t judge him too harshly while he was still grieving. She of all people should understand how grief might alter a person. People who had never known Judith before losing Peter would probably think she was a mousy, boring person too. But at least she hadn’t always been like this. Even so, it seemed as if the old Judith had been permanently lost, never to be found again. As if a part of her had been buried with Jonathan, and the rest with Peter.
She sighed and walked across the street to where her MG was still parked, pausing to study Polly’s little shop again. Still the turquoise blue canvas awnings over the windows, faded and shabby with age and sun. She glanced up to the second floor, which used to house the little apartment that Polly had inhabited when Judith was a girl. She wondered if Polly still lived up there. For someone hit with a lot of hard luck, including at least two bad marriages and numerous unhappy romances, Polly somehow managed to emerge a survivor, and her normally sunny perspective usually spread happiness onto the lives of others. But not for Judith—at least not today. It still bothered her that Polly had acted so unexplainably cool, almost to the point of rudeness, but there seemed nothing to be done about it. And even though the shop was still plainly open, Judith felt fairly certain she wouldn’t be welcome inside. So she climbed into her car and wondered what to do next. Where to go? She really hadn’t planned this mission very well.
CHAPTER FOUR
POLLY WAVED FROM THE open doorway of her shop. “Hey, don’t you go off and leave already, Judith Anne! I haven’t even had a chance to talk with you yet.”
“Are you sure you want to?” asked Judith, as she climbed back out of her car and cautiously followed Polly into her now-empty shop.
“Of course I do. Come on in here right now.” Polly pointed to a lime green vinyl-covered haircutting chair. “Here you go. Have a seat, honey.” She was sounding more like her old self, but Judith still wasn’t sure.
Just the same, she obediently sat in the chair, keeping a perplexed eye on her cousin. “What exactly is going on here, Polly?”
Her back to Judith, Polly began to fiddle with combs and scissors on the counter. Then she abruptly turned and smiled brightly. “Say, honey, I’m still open for business. How about a cut and style?”
Judith frowned. “I didn’t drive all the way down here just to get my hair done.”
Polly spun the chair around so that Judith could see herself fully in the well-lit mirror. “Well, just look at yourself, sweetie. It’s not like you couldn’t use a little sprucing up.”
Judith stared at her reflection as if seeing herself for the first time in a very long time. Her straight dark hair fell limply over her shoulders and down her back. It was held tightly back from her forehead with a tortoiseshell hair band, the same she wore every day. Not a very flattering style for her thin angular face. Her dark brown eyes looked like burned out holes, contrasted by her overly pale complexion which was, as usual, void of makeup. Even her freckles had long since faded away. Her hand reached up and touched her cheek as if to see if the haggard-looking holocaust woman in the mirror was truly her. Unfortunately, it was.
Judith sighed. “I guess I’ve let my appearance go a little...”
“I’ll say.” said Polly without mercy. “But, honey, don’t you worry. You’ve still got a lot going for you.” She fingered Judith’s hair. “Still good texture and thicker than it looks, and not a trace of gray, you lucky girl. And just look at your skin! It’s still flawless, and I don’t think you’ve even got a single wrinkle. There’s nothing here a little TLC and a few good meals won’t fix right up.”
“Honestly, I really didn’t come here just to get a makeover.”
“I know, honey,” said Polly, glancing nervously over her shoulder and out the plate glass window to the street beyond. “But, you see, I’m open “til six, and I don’t have any appointments right now. And besides, I always talk better when I’m working with my hands.”
“All right,” agreed Judith, suddenly realizing that perhaps this was the only way to extract any information from her. “Then go for it, Polly. Do whatever you like. But just keep talking, okay?”
Polly had already tied a pink vinyl haircutting shawl over Judith’s shoulders and was now wetting her hair. “Okay, honey, you ask the questions, and I’ll try my best to answer.” She reached for her scissors. “Just one thing though.”
“Yes?” Judith looked at her cousin’s suddenly serious reflection as she began to comb through the dampened hair.
“If that door opens, we immediately change the subject, you hear? That is, unless you want yoµr hair cut in a Mohawk—not that you’d notice running around looking the way you do.”
“Whatever you say,” agreed Judith. When Polly turned her chair away from the mirror, Judith suspected it was to keep an eye on the door.
”I hate to take too much off,” said Polly as she continued to comb. “Your hair really would be pretty if you’d only give it a little attention with a styling brush or curling iron.”
Judith pressed her lips together, concentrating on where to start with her questions about Jasmine. “How long had Jasmine been living here in Cedar Crest?”
“Well, I’m not real sure exactly when it was that she moved back here,” said Polly as the scissors began to snip steadily. “When I first saw her again, she was already married to Hal. No one had ever heard about them getting married that I know of. I heard they might’ve got hitched in Reno or someplace down there. And then after that I think he kept her holed up out on that run-down old farm of his. But the first time I saw her was almost a year ago.”
“So they haven’t been married all that long?”
“No, probably less than a year, I think. Hal had been married once before. A real nice lady named Beth, but she took the kids and left him fifteen or more years back. I used to do her hair, and she never came right out and said it, but I always got the impression he was a real jerk. They moved here from somewhere down South—Mississippi, I believe Beth said. I think she was right smart t
o get away from him. And I’ll tell you, I was real sad when I heard that Jasmine and he had got together. I bet you anything Mr. Morrison had a finger in it. But, I’d better watch my tongue, Judith.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s things happen in this town, that’s why. People got to look out, watch their backsides, if you know what I mean. And just for the record, I don’t want you repeating any of this to anyone. I’m only telling you because you’re kin. And the fact is, you can leave, but I gotta live here.”
“I appreciate that you’re even talking to me. Did you see much of Jasmine, Polly? Did she ever come in here?”
She shook her head. “Not really. Well, she almost came in—two separate times, as I recall.”
“Almost?”
“I know, it sounds weird. But one time she walked right in that door. The shop was pretty busy, and she looked right at me just as I was touching up Mrs. Babcock’s roots. Well, I nodded at her, and said “hey’ but the look in her eyes.” She stopped snipping. “Why, Judith, she looked just like a frightened doe. That’s just what I thought when I saw her standing there—just like a frightened doe caught in the headlights of some big old Mack truck. And then she just turned and left. The next time she came by was several months later. But that time she just paused and looked through my window. It wasn’t even busy that day. And I waved at her to come on in, but she just stood there and stared for a while, then she glanced over across the street, over toward the hardware store, I’m guessing. Then she just kept walking with her head down.”
“Poor Jasmine,” whispered Judith. “That doesn’t sound a bit like the girl I remember.”
“I know just what you mean. She didn’t seem nothing like that little bright-eyed imp that used to come bopping in here with you to get her hair cut. You two were so cute back then. You know, the first time I saw her after she came back to Cedar Crest, I actually wondered if she might be on drugs or something. She just seemed like such a totally different—”
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