Al watched the road long after the silver Toyota disappeared around a bend. He took a deep breath in, then blew it out, wondering at how light he felt. Was this the peace that Willow had asked God for? Well, maybe he was answering Willow’s prayers without her even realizing it. Maybe God wanted to use Al to help take down the Jericho walls around Willow’s heart.
“Did you set all this up like she said, God?” He voiced the question into the fading light of the day, feeling a little foolish. But he’d heard Willow’s conversation with God, and he’d seen the results. Maybe, just maybe, God might start listening to Al, too. “Is this what you planned all along, bringing Willow Goodhope here to help us, so that we could help her?”
There was no audible answer, but maybe Al didn’t need one.
~ ~ ~ ~
SEPTEMBER LONGING
Episode 9
~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 1
“The sun is up, the sky is blue, it’s beautiful, and so are you. Dear Prudence, won’t you come out and play?” She sang the Beatles lyrics softly to herself as she rinsed her cereal bowl and teacup, and left them to drip-dry on the already full bamboo dish drainer beside her sink. It was, in fact, a beautiful September day, and Pru moved quickly through her apartment, gathering up abandoned shoes and discarded scarves, scattered fashion magazines, and an empty box of chocolates she’d received from a happy client, as she straightened the place up.
Carney was back from the road and would be here in an hour, and she had big ideas for how they were going to spend their day together. Things had felt a little stale lately, and while he’d been away, she’d thought a lot about their plans for the future.
Could she see herself with him forever and ever? Could she live with the long absences his job demanded of him? What about Carney? Did he really want to spend the rest of his life with her? Could he accept her the way she was and not try to change her, not try to make her into something she wasn’t? She was a fair bit older than Carney, long past child-bearing years, but she never wanted to be a mother anyway. He hadn’t mentioned having children, but neither had she asked him directly about it. What if that was why he still hadn’t proposed after all these years? What if he was just keeping her around until he found a woman who would produce a brood of miniature Carneys? She grinned at the visual her mind drummed up; a room full of barrel-shaped, tattooed babies with hairy forearms.
“Ew,” she giggled, scrunching up her nose at the thought. “That’s just wrong.”
Besides, she had Mumsy, whose condition had rendered her like a child for years now. Pru was glad she could give her mother the undivided attention she needed after the woman had dedicated so much of her own life to be there for Prudence.
The phone rang, and she spent a few frantic moments digging through the loveseat cushions for the cordless handset; she hadn’t bothered returning it to its stand after checking in with Mumsy first thing this morning. By the time she found it, her cellphone was ringing instead. Carney.
“Hey, you big stud. Excited to see me?” She dropped her voice to a sultry purr, knowing it would make him smile self-consciously, wherever he was.
“Hey, yourself, Doll. Actually, I’m running late.” He sounded distracted, tense. “Can we do this after lunch?”
“Is everything all right? What’s the hold up?” Do this? He made it sound like an oil change, or a trip to the dry cleaners. He’d been driving for ten days and it’d been even longer since they’d seen each other. Mumsy’s Alzheimer’s was getting significantly worse, and two days before Carney left, the poor dear fell and ended up in the hospital with a broken arm.
“I need to update my medical card, that’s all. I just got here and the doc is already half an hour behind. And now Nurse Ratched informed me I have to do a full lab workup this time, too.”
Carney’s conversational skills left much to be desired, especially on the phone, but Pru usually liked filling in the spaces around his terse sentences. They made a good couple that way; she loved to talk, and he preferred to listen. For Carney to call anyone names, especially in reference to the awful nurse in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Pru knew he wasn’t happy.
“Why did you have to schedule a doctor’s appointment for today?” she asked, keeping her voice level, her tone matter-of-fact. “I took the whole day off to spend with you.”
“They opened at eight. I planned on being outta here by nine at the latest.”
She glanced at the heavily-scrolled clock that doubled as wall art over her loveseat. It was ten after nine already. “Can you do your lab work another time? Tomorrow morning, maybe?”
“I’m not subjecting myself to this nuthouse two days in a row unless I have a gun to my head. I’m here. I’m gonna get it all done now.”
It made perfect sense; really, it did. The facility the trucking company used was about thirty miles away from Carney’s place, and having just arrived back from a cross-country delivery that included a breakdown in Pennsylvania, she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to drive any more than he had to while he was off. But they’d been together so long now, Pru could tell there was something else; something he wasn’t saying. He wasn’t normally a rude man, although she knew some people mistook his taciturnity as such, and even if things didn’t go the way he wanted, he’d spent enough hours behind the wheel of his big rig in stop-and-go traffic that he usually had the patience of a saint. So what was up with him today that he was so out of sorts?
She didn’t bother asking. If he didn’t want to tell her what was on his mind, her pushing him to talk never worked to her benefit.
“Okay,” she replied, no longer bothering to keep the disappointment out of her voice. Dropping down onto a pile of large, multi-colored floor cushions, she stretched out her legs and crossed her ankles. Wiggling her freshly-painted toes, she sighed dramatically.
“Look. If I’m outta here in time for lunch, I’ll call, okay?” His voice was gruff, the way it always sounded when he knew he’d let her down. She stuck out her bottom lip, her eyebrows drawing together in a scowl, feeling childish, and she was glad no one could see her pouting. “I’m already starving, but they won’t let me eat until after they stick me.”
“You didn’t eat any breakfast?” How often had she chided him about making the first meal of the day the most important one? No wonder he was grumpy. She didn’t know any man who could handle going without breakfast for very long.
“Figured I was on my way to some of your home cooking. Saving my appetite.” The smile crept back across her face. She did love to cook for him, mainly because he was so appreciative.
“Okay. I’ll have something yummy ready and waiting. And Carney?”
“Hm?”
“I’m sorry this morning isn’t going well for you, but I’m really excited to see you again, no matter what time of day it is.”
“Yeah. Me, too. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done.” He hung up before she could ask him for clarification. Was he sorry the morning was shot, or excited to see her, too?
Now that she had extra time on her hands, Pru decided she didn’t feel like hanging out by herself. She could go sit with Mumsy, but she knew a morning visit would upset her mother’s routine, and besides, Pru wanted to be close to home in case Carney finished up earlier than he was predicting. She puttered around the house a little longer, put the drainer full of dishes away, straightened up her Tarzan and Jane inspired bedroom, and made certain all her cupboard and closet doors were closed. She had way too many articles of clothing for one woman, but she could pretend leopard print and zebra stripe fabric wasn’t an addiction when she didn’t have to look at it spilling out onto the floor of every room.
She sat at the window seat, legs criss-crossed beneath her, and stared out the window toward the driveway that ran between Edith and Al’s places, as though wishful thinking would make Carney appear in his orange El Camino.
“This won’t do,” she declared out loud, pushing up off the cushioned bench. She stood,
both hands on her curvaceous hips, and scanned the room for ideas. On the coffee table, filled with a pretty display of smooth river rocks, cloudy blue and green sea glass, and candles, was the rectangular twig basket Willow Goodhope had brought by over a month ago. It had been filled with all kinds of goodies: a rosemary and mint scented lotion that made her skin tingle pleasantly, a bag of loose fragrant tea made from some kind of berries and tiny white flowers, a tea ball, and two mugs. There was also a lavender and rose petal pillow for Mumsy; Pru had mentioned to Willow one day out near the mailbox that Mumsy suffered from headaches and had trouble sleeping. The pillow, along with a tiny blue glass jar of salve called Sweet Dreams, was packaged together in a mesh bag with instructions for use. “Rub a tiny bit of Sweet Dreams into Mumsy’s temples in the evening. Not only is your touch soothing, but the calming herbs and oils will help settle her nerves.” Pru didn’t know if all that earth girl stuff was real or not, but over the last month, Mumsy seemed to fall asleep much easier after their evening visits.
The day really was beautiful, the morning still young, and sharing an hour or so with the enigmatic Willow Goodhope suddenly sounded like just the way she wanted to spend it. She scooped up her phone and dialed Willow’s number.
~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 2
She and Willow bumped into each other often at the row of mailboxes that ran along one side of the Coach House Trailer Park driveway, and more than once, they’d promised to get together for a meal, coffee, even a girls night out. Time, however, kept marching by, and there always seemed to be a scheduling conflict for one or the other of them. So when Willow exuberantly agreed to make her way across the bridge to Pru’s apartment, Pru was thrilled.
“I brought scones!” Willow declared, holding up a covered platter in one hand and a jar of garnet-colored fruit in the other. “You must try my elderberry jam. If you like it, there’s more where that came from. I’ve harvested so many elderberries over the last two months, it’s all I can do to keep up.” She gave Pru a one-armed hug, and bustled in, dropping her slouchy shoulder bag on the floor near the end of the couch. “It’s September, and my little tree is still making fruit.” The jam and scones she set on the kitchen counter, the stretch of Formica already comfortably cluttered with various mismatched kitchen appliances, a set of glass canisters, and a miscellany of other things, including notepads and pens, a bowl of pennies, and a box of tissue.
“I just put on a fresh pot of coffee, but should we have tea with our scones instead?”
“Coffee’s perfect for me,” Willow said, spinning slowly to take in the apartment. “Oh Pru, your place is so you! I love the animal print and jewel tones, those big floor cushions. And look! You have a beanbag!” She crossed the room and flopped down onto the big red leather bag of tiny Styrofoam beads, spreading her arms wide. “I love beanbags!” She fluttered her fingers at the alcove across the room. “And the way you have everything set up so the window is a focal point? You inspire me, Prudence Meriweather!”
Pru beamed. She loved the way it felt in here, too, but she knew there weren’t many who approved of her style. Too flamboyant, too wild, too young for her fifty-eight years. But it was exactly the way she wanted it. “Thank you. It is me, isn’t it?” She picked up the plate of scones and carried it to a sturdy little table with two chairs in front of the window where she’d planned to share her midmorning coffee with Carney. “I love that I can see all the comings and goings of this place through this window. You can’t get in or out of here without me knowing,” she chuckled. “At least when I’m here, anyway.”
Within minutes, they were settled into the conversation of kindred spirits, moving past the “first official visit” awkwardness before they knew it. Willow sat cross-legged on the cushioned seat, her back soaking up the warmth from the sun through the window, and Pru settled in one of the chairs, her feet propped up on the bench beside Willow.
“I hear Shelly Little over at the other end of the park is spending a lot of time with our Eddie,” Pru remarked, leaning forward, coffee cup in both hands. She drank it strong and creamy and sweet, while Willow took hers black.
“Oh yes! I love that the two of them have discovered each other! And the fact that they’ve lived next door to each other for so long already takes some of the pressure off them hurrying things along.” Willow’s eyes sparkled. “A jewel of a girl was hiding out over there, Pru. Shelly’s just blossomed under Eddie’s attention over the last few months!” Willow’s voice was pure whimsy, Pru decided. Rich and husky, but entirely feminine. Listening to her talk was like lying on her back in the middle of a stand of aspens on a blustery Colorado morning.
Pru smiled to herself; she hadn’t thought of that early childhood memory in a long time. She’d spent the first nine years of her life in a tiny home in the shadow of the Rockies. Her father, a quiet, reserved man she remembered mostly by his photographs and her mother’s undying love for him, worked for the railroad, and was gone more often than he was home. Mumsy adored John Lennon and the Beatles, and each morning, her mother got her out of bed by singing Dear Prudence to her. They’d go running through the woods, following animal trails and catching lightning bugs, sharing picnics in their favorite clearing, and listening to the wind swirling and twirling through the leaves of the white-barked aspen trees. Even when the sun wasn’t up and the sky wasn’t blue, Mumsy insisted that Pru was beautiful, like the song said, and the two of them still sang it together over the phone each morning.
“You remind me of—” Pru blurted out. “Of trees.”
Willow’s eyebrows arched prettily. “Oh? As in willow trees?”
Pru snorted. “No. That would be too cliché, right? Aspens. Mumsy and I used to spend hours listening to the wind in the aspens, and the way you talk…I don’t know. Something about your voice reminds me of that sound.” She reached for a second scone and slathered it with the elderberry jam.
“Aspens, hm?” Willow’s smile showed all her teeth. “I take it you didn’t grow up around here.”
“Colorado. My father worked construction for the railroad. We lived in a little house in the middle of nowhere, but that was just fine with us. My mother taught me at home, back in the days when home schooling was frowned on. When Popsy was killed in a train accident, we moved out here to be close to my Uncle Pete and Aunt Trish, and we’ve lived here ever since. My goodness, but those were precious years to me.” Pru closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to recall the way the arid woods smelled, the spicy aroma of mountain air.
“I grew up in the woods, too.” Willow offered, and Pru opened her eyes, nodding encouragingly, wanting to know more about her. “Up in Oregon. My mom and I traipsed around like forest children, too. That’s where I first learned about elderberries. The trees grew wild in the woods where we lived, and she taught me how every part of the tree was good for something, even if it was just for entertainment. Do you know Ivan? Ivan Davis from Space #10?”
“I don’t know that I’ve ever met Ivan, but I know Patti and Richard. At least Patti. Richard doesn’t get out much, does he?”
“Not really. But Joe next door is helping Patti put in a fall garden in the Davis’ little yard this year, and Richard’s often outside on the porch keeping them company. You should wander over there some day. I know they’d both enjoy getting to know you. And Ivan! You two would get a kick out of each other. Anyway, I’ve taught him how to make clappers and whistles with the elderberry branches. You should see him. He’s like a kid with new toys. I don’t know if Patti and Richard are happy to have him around more or not. Maybe they’re just wishing he’d never met me; he sure makes a lot of noise whenever he’s visiting!” Willow laughed loudly; a sound that startled Pru. Her coffee sloshed with her sudden movement, but fortunately, it all stayed in the cup.
Pru chuckled good-naturedly. “My goodness, Willow! That’s quite the noise you make!” She didn’t mean her words to sound ugly, and the minute they were out, she regretted them, but Willow laughed
again, the riotous sound bouncing around the room like a pinball machine.
“I know! Isn’t it terrible?” she hiccupped. “My mother used to laugh like that, too. I don’t mind it because it makes me feel like she’s still with me.” She pressed a hand over her heart. “In here. And when I laugh, a little bit of her comes bursting out of me.”
“I don’t think it’s terrible, honey. I think it’s wonderful. Besides, I kinda like a little brass, can’t you tell?” Pru fluffed the fat, freshly darkened curls floating around her face, and batted her long-lashed eyes. “Give me bold any day. Let’s people know where you stand. None of this subtle nuance stuff for me, thank you very much.”
A movement out the window caught her eye. “Oh look. Speaking of Joe, there he goes with that wife of his out for their morning walk. I love that he’s finally come out of the closet about her.”
Willow peered over her shoulder briefly, patted her hand over her heart, and sighed dreamily. “It’s so romantic. And she’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”
“Oh, my goodness, yes! You know, when I admitted to her that I’ve always wanted to learn how to do those intricate hair weaves like she wears, she promised to bring her daughter out for a visit. Between the two of them, she claims they’ll have me weaving like a pro in no time. Isn’t that the sweetest thing?” Pru set her cup down and pointed at Willow’s hair. “And you, Willow Goodhope. Oh my word! What I wouldn’t give to have your hair!”
Elderberry Croft: Volume 3 Page 8