Maple Creek

by Elizabeth Penn

  “Yeah, I look forward to it,” I smiled.

  I went back into the room, my chest fluttering still from her smile. But the feeling washed away like I was hit by a splash of cold water, and I came back to reality as moments after I entered the room, John started to stir and blink awake.

  “John!” Margaret and I cried in synchronicity, both of us lunging towards him.

  “Grams?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

  “I’m here, baby!” she assured, taking his hand and sitting in bed beside him.

  “Where’s Emily?” he asked, wincing as he tried to sit up.

  “I’m here,” I said standing opposite Margaret.

  “Lay back down, hun,” she said, “You need to rest. The doctors want to keep you here until tomorrow just to make sure your concussion isn’t too bad. You have a couple fractures, but you will be okay in a month or so.”

  “But what about work?” he asked, laying back again.

  “We will figure that out later. Right now you rest.”

  “Are you okay, Emily? He didn’t hurt you, right?” John asked, turning to face me.

  “I’m just fine. And Sarah was here to see you earlier, but she had to leave. She said she will come and visit in a few days.”

  “Did she, now?” he said with a little smirk followed by another wince.

  “What?” I asked, “She is worried about you. She really likes you, John.”

  He chuckled a bit, “She really likes you, too, Emily.”

  I could feel my face flush as I looked over at Margaret to see if she had caught it. She looked up at me with a wink, and I assumed John had mentioned a thing or two to her. But before I had too much time to think about it, the nurse came in again.

  “Margaret Davies?” she asked

  “That’s me,” Margaret replied, standing from the hospital bed and crossing the room to stand by the nurse.

  “Can I talk to you for a moment in private?” the nurse asked. She had long dark hair and glammed up makeup that matched her bright purple scrubs. But even with her colorful look, her face was grim. I could tell there was something wrong in the way her mouth was turned down, and her eyebrows scrunched together.

  “You can speak in front of all of us,” John said, “Anything that has to do with my care concerns everyone here.”

  “Um, okay. Well, the doctor wanted me to give you some paperwork and send you home now.”

  “Home? Doesn’t he need to be moved out of the ER to a room here? The doctor said they would be keeping him overnight,” Margaret asked frantically.

  “Well, the doctor thinks that she,” the nurse stressed the word, looking past both of us to John, “is fine enough to be monitored from home. The scans didn’t show any sort of major trauma aside from the minor fractures, so you guys can take her home and watch her there. The paperwork includes care information and what to look for if you need further medical assistance. Dr. Scott has called one of the doctors at the hospital in Harvest, and they said they are willing to take care of you guys if you need anything from here on out.”

  “Harvest?!” Margaret exclaimed, “That’s over two hours away! Does he need a specialist or something?”

  “No, it’s just that, Dr. Scott was unaware that John is a woman. And once he was informed by the nurses, he feels uncomfortable with any further treatment. It would go against his religion to treat her, since being transgender goes against God,” the nurse explained, handing Margaret some paperwork, and taking over a release form to John and having him sign it.

  “Are you kidding me? You stupid backwards hicks! This is a hospital, and my grandson is hurt. How dare you…”

  “Grams,” John interrupted, “It’s okay. Harvest is a great hospital. Remember? That’s where I got my hormone therapy done. I like them a lot better anyway.”

  “But, John!” Margaret begged, her face turning red.

  “It’s okay,” he nodded.

  The nurse unhooked John from his monitors and scurried out of the room without another word.

  “How did they know you were a woman?” I asked John, helping him sit up so we could get him dressed.

  “I haven’t had my surgery yet. Still saving up the money,” he said.

  The left side of his face was like a puffy red and purple balloon, but he was in good spirits. We got him dressed in his clothes, which were still speckled in blood from the fight. Then all three of us went out to Margaret’s car, which was a small newer-looking tan car. John’s car was still at the school, and I had rode in the ambulance with him to the hospital.

  John sat in the passenger seat, and I sat in the back on the cool leather bench. Everyone was silent on the way back.

  Chapter 15

  The new tenants arrived the next morning: Thanksgiving Day. They were an Asian family who had come to visit local relatives who had moved to America a few years before. The family was an older couple, and their 20-something daughter. They didn’t speak much English, but they were kind and laughed a lot, which helped lighten up the energy in the house.

  I spent most of the day tending to John. I helped him stand when he needed to, I fed him soft snacks that I snuck from the kitchen, and I made sure he was always on time for taking his double dose of over-the-counter pain medication. Margaret was cooking up a storm all day, but the few times I went down, it appeared that the new family was helping her out in the kitchen, so I didn’t worry too much over her. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves.

  And I was enjoying myself in my own way, as well. Even injured, John was cheery. To avoid boredom from his bedrest, he sent me to the basement to rummage through old dusty boxes where I found some decks of cards, and we sat together on his bed playing various card games and enjoying the day.

  By the late afternoon, Margaret was calling us down for dinner, and I helped John dress in a suit and tie. I then went to my room and threw on a pair of black leggings with a tan sweater dress, and went back to help John down the stairs. He was greeted by everyone with cheers and hugs, then I helped him to his seat and poured him some cider.

  The table was absolutely overflowing with food and drinks. In the center of the table was a giant honey-glazed turkey, which was surrounded by plates of salads, berries, nuts, and pies. The entire room had a warm glow about it.

  “While I cut the turkey, let’s each go around and say something we are thankful for this year,” said Margaret, picking up a carving knife and pulling the turkey closer to herself. “I’m grateful for my grandson, John. And I am grateful that he is going to heal up just fine.”

  Everyone clapped.

  “I am grateful for my Grams, for my newest friend, Emily, and for being able to be here today with all of you,” said John with a glance across the table to the young Asian woman. She seemed to notice, and they locked eyes for a moment, and I couldn’t help but smile as I looked back and forth between them.

  I cleared my throat, “And I am grateful for the wonderful people I have met here, and for the fresh start I am getting here in Maple Creek.”

  “I am grateful for family we visit here, and for America as their new home,” the older man said, nodding to each of us. “We will be going over to have a meal with them after we eat some here.”

  “I grateful for family,” the wife said immediately after, taking his hand, and then looking at her daughter.

  The daughter remained silent, and her gaze returned to John. Her mother muttered something to her, and gestured at us.

  “I am grateful for the food and for your hospitality. Thank you,” the daughter said, smiling at each of us.

  “You are very welcome. We are so glad to have you here. We hope you enjoy your stay,” said Margaret, placing some turkey on each of our plates.

  Only a few bites into the delicious food, and the front door was suddenly swung open and slammed shut. We all paused, turning to see who had come in, and Margaret stood from her seat, preparing to greet them.

  “Happy Thanksgiving!” squeaked Sarah, taking off her kni
tted winter hat, revealing a mess of curls that fell into her face and draped down her shoulders. “It’s freezing out there. Brrr!”

  “Sarah!” exclaimed Margaret, “Come join us. Take a seat.”

  “Thanks,” she said, going for the seat across from me.

  John threw back his chair and stood, wobbling a bit as he did, “Sarah, here, take my seat so you and Emily can chat about art and stuff. I’ll take the other seat.” His words were a bit slurred through the puffiness of his face.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, hesitantly.

  “Of course!”

  “Okay, thanks,” she said, sitting in the chair beside me and scooting it in. She smelled like vanilla sugar. “And how are you doing, John? It’s only been a day, but the swelling looks like it’s already going down a bit.”

  “Has it?” he asked, taking the seat across from us, beside the young woman, “I have been avoiding mirrors. But I’ve been feeling better, thanks for asking. Emily has been taking great care of me. And we have some wonderful new company as well.”

  John looked beside him to the young woman who smiled into her lap at his glance. Most women I knew would have been nervous or uncomfortable around a man with a bruised face, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  Everyone dug into the scrumptious piles of food. I filled my plate with berries, stuffing, and a large slice of pumpkin pie that I laid alongside my piece of turkey Margaret had given me.

  I took my first bite of turkey. It was seasoned perfectly, juicy, and warm. And just as I reached over to my cup to take a sip of my cider, I felt a hand on my lap. It was Sarah’s hand. I looked over at her, and she was just going on, eating her food, as if nothing was happening. My eyes darted around the table to see if anyone else had noticed, or was freaking out, but they were all just eating and conversing casually.

  Her hand slid up my thigh, and I could feel my legs quiver, and part of me wanted to push her away. Didn’t you want this? For her to like you back? I thought to myself.

  I held my breath, looking back to Sarah. Her eyes had those little lines around them when she smiled. A soft crease framed her lips. She was perfect.

  I reached down with my hand, and instead of pushing her away, I laid my hand on hers, intertwining our fingers. Her hand fit perfectly in mine, and a sense calm washed over me. I breathed a sigh of relief as I settled back into my chair, and joined in on the conversation with the rest of the group. The food was delicious and filling; the best I had ever had.

  Once everyone was done eating, the young woman sat to keep John company while her parents helped Margaret take dishes to the kitchen. Sarah and John shared pleasantries and a hug goodbye before I walked her to the door.

  “Glad to see he is doing well,” she commented as she put her hat back on.

  “Yeah, he is strong and seems to find the best in everything. I admire that about him,” I smiled.

  “We still on for decorating next week?” she asked.

  “Of, course. I can’t wait.”

  She looked over my shoulder and I looked behind me as well, but I didn’t see anyone there. When I turned back to her, she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and skipped out the door. I watched her walk down to her car, and then closed the door with a quiet click.

  I considered going to the kitchen to help Margaret, but as I walked past he dining room, I caught a quick glimpse of John and the young woman out of the corner of my eye. Sarah’s kiss on my cheek wasn’t the only one stolen that Thanksgiving. I decided to give them their space, and instead, retired to my room to lay down and think about what I was going to do about Sarah.

  How could I tell Sarah I was married?

  Chapter 16

  A week passed, and with John not only starting to feel better, but also having Kiuchi, the young woman who was staying with us, taking care of him now, I decided it was time to go see Sarah.

  I dressed in my red sweater with a pair of jeans and my red coat thrown over it. I put a black clip in my hair, to keep it out of my face, and applied a little more makeup than usual. I wanted to look nice, but not like I was trying too hard. Although, part of me thought that by putting that much thought into it, I was already trying too hard.

  I went downstairs to get the address from Margaret, who was dusting around the living room. I slipped on my jacket and some snow boots as I did.

  “Hey, do you have Sarah’s address? I told her I was going to come by and help out for a bit.”

  “Yes, of course! It’s 224 Acorn Lane. It’s only two streets over from the elementary school, you can’t miss it. And speaking of helping, I have a question to ask you when you get back.”

  “Yeah, no problem. I should be back in a few hours.”

  “Great! Have fun, dear.”

  Sarah lived in a brick townhouse on the corner of the street. The houses were clumped together into groups of four, and hers was on the end with a bright red door. The lights were on inside, but the curtains were drawn, so I couldn’t see if anyone was inside as I walked up to the front door.

  My heart skipped a beat as I raised my hand to ring the doorbell. Without a phone, I had no way of telling her that I planned on coming over, so I wasn’t sure if she would be available. My mind raced through different scenarios of what she would say or do when she opened the door. Perhaps she had others over, or I was bothering her in the middle of something, or maybe she was on her way out, or, even scarier, maybe she would want me there and pull me into the house and kiss me wildly.

  My heart stopped as I heard the red door unlock, and Sarah, dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and a fluffy pink hoodie, opened the door. Her hair was pulled up into a frizzy bun of curls, but her face looked fresh and bright.

  “Emily! Hey, come on in. Sorry I look like a mess,” she said, hugging me and closing the door behind us, “I’ve been cleaning up around the house a bit today.”

  Her home was tiny and a bit cramped. Directly to the right was a narrow staircase, and down the hall I could see what looked like a living room. There was a doorway on the left that had a bright light coming from it, which looked like it might be the kitchen. Her house smelled of warm candles and spiced meat.

  “Come, sit down,” she gestured me to a gray suede couch in the living room, taking a seat beside me, “How’s John?”

  “He is doing much better. Kiuchi has been taking care of him. They will be here for a few more days.”

  “Is she the young woman who was sitting next to him at Thanksgiving dinner?”

  “Yeah, that’s her.”

  “She seemed sweet. Too bad they have to leave soon,” she said, pulling her legs up onto the couch and propping her chin on her hand.

  Even in such casual clothes, curled up on the couch, Sarah expressed an air of grace. I wanted to reach out and touch her, but it still felt wrong.

  “It smells good in here,” I said, changing the subject.

  “Oh, thanks for reminding me,” she said standing up and adjusting her clothes, “I have to go stir the meatballs. I’m making homemade meatball marinara in my slow cooker for dinner tonight.”

  “That sounds good.”

  There were no paintings on the walls in the living room, except for one small painting of some sunflowers that hung on the back wall over the dining table. There was also a small TV on a wooden stand with a gaming system hooked up and a single controller sitting on top. There was no coffee table. The whole place was surprisingly bare from what I had expected from a creative person like Sarah.

  “Alright,” she said, entering the room again, “It should be done in a few hours. Until then, are you ready for some decorating?”

  “Yep, that’s why I’m here,” I said, standing from the couch. It was kind of a lie. I was there for her.

  I was glad I’d kept my shoes on, because we started our work outside. Behind her house was a storage shed where we got out two plastic tubs of decorations and a tall metal step ladder.

  “Can you hold the ladder while I put up the lights?” she sa
id, opening up one of the tubs and pulling out a ball of tangled plastic icicle lights.

  “Of, course.”

  I helped her untangle the lights, which was actually easier than it looked, and I set up the ladder in front of her door. Because it was a two-story house, there was no gutter down low, so she worked at clipping the lights above the doorframe and stringing them over to the window by the door.

  “I’m up here looking like a hot mess, and you look so sweet today,” she said, smiling down at me.

  “Key word: hot,” I answered.

  She giggled as she finished attaching the last bit of wire, and draping the rest down the doorframe to the outside plug by the door. As she descended the ladder from adjusting a few bulbs on top of the door, she wobbled a bit, and my hands went instinctively to her hips. I held her all the way down, and my arms almost wrapped around her when she reached the bottom. I quickly remembered that we were outside and people could see us, so I took my hands back and moved the ladder.

  “Ready?” she asked, holding the plug.

  “Ready.”

  She plugged in the lights, and even with the sun still up, they twinkled a bright blue. It was supposed to snow any day, and I was surprised it hadn’t already. The lights made me even more excited for snow. They would look beautiful against the blanket of white. I hadn’t seen snow in years.

  “Perfect,” I sighed, and she came to stand beside me and look at them herself. She nodded.

  Next, we went inside with the second bin and started putting up the mini plastic tree. It was only about two feet high, but because the living room was so bare, it was more than enough to bring the holiday spirit to the room.

  At the bottom of the tub were some plastic red ornaments, and some silver tinsel. And hidden beneath all that, was a small porcelain angel in a green velvet dress with long blonde hair and white feathered wings. She had a plastic clip under her dress to clip her atop the tree. I picked her up carefully, pulling her from the box to admire her. Although there was a beauty about her, the grand look of her brought back memories of the Catholic cathedrals and it made me a bit uneasy.