Secrets and Revelations (Bellingwood #4) (5 page)

They approached the garden and Lydia bent over to pull weeds away from some blooming flowers.

"Should I be doing that?" Polly asked.

Lydia laughed whole heartedly, "No, Polly. If you have to ask, I think it might be a horrible mistake."
She continued to laugh as they walked along the path. They stopped in front of the bubbling pond. "All of this is such a wonderful addition to the corner here," she said. "We should have done this a long time ago."

"I'm just glad you did it now," Polly said.
She sat down on a wooden bench. "And I should probably come out here more often. It's awfully peaceful, especially with the water bubbling. But, whenever I'm out, Obiwan is with me and I won't let him anywhere near it."

"He has gotten big.
Has he finished growing yet?"

"I don't think so. It seems like he fills out and gets a little taller every time I take him to get his nails trimmed."

"You don't do that yourself?"

"No!
He whimpered at me the first time and I felt so guilty I cried. Now I make Marnie do it at the vet's office. He loves her and licks her hand when she's done. I'll pay for that treatment every day!"

Lydia sat down beside her and they listened to the water and then watched as Beryl strode across the lawn toward them.

"Hey!" she called. "I didn't know where you'd gone. I thought maybe y'all had gone off and left me to fend for myself with all those men and horses."

"I'd never do that," Polly responded. "I like those men and horses. It wouldn't be fair to them."

Beryl stood in front of them and made a shooing movement to Lydia, "Move over. I'm sitting too."

"There's barely room!" Lydia protested.

"There's plenty of room. I'm a skinny wretch and you two are way too comfortable here. Move it."

Polly moved off the bench and sat on the edge of the pond, poised on a large rock.

"You didn't have to get off," Beryl said. "We were going to fit."

"I'm fine," Polly assured her. "As long as the rock doesn't shift and send me into the water, I'm fine."

"Are you ready for the big quilt show? That Cindy Rothenfuss is a pip, isn't she?" Beryl grinned.

"I'm so glad I don't have to deal with her. Jeff is doing all of the organization. What's her deal anyway?"

"She's a bitch," declared Beryl.

Lydia slapped her leg. "Beryl!"

"Well, she is. All she ever does is criticize everything and try to control everyone and she doesn't do a damned thing herself. Does she quilt? No. Does she sing in the choir? No. Does she bake pies? No. She doesn't do a thing, but she thinks her opinions about everything are important because ... well, I don't know why."

"Some people need to find ways to express themselves and that's her way," Lydia said.

"Well, it's a rotten way. I don't know who gave her permission to act like that, but someone should take it away from her. How is she involved with this quilt show anyway?" Beryl asked.

Lydia looked down, "She kind of stole it from Marla Singer.
One year, Marla was running things and the next year, she'd gotten shoved out. Cindy flashed around a bunch of money that she'd wrangled out of her husband for prizes and hiring judges and there wasn't anything poor Marla could do."

"See, like I told you. She's a bitch."

"Stop it, Beryl. That's not nice."

"Not nice? I’ll give you not nice. She tried to tell me that one of my paintings was wrong. I told her she could choose not to like my painting, but she couldn't tell me it was wrong. When she decided to paint and enter the market, she would earn the right to have a conversation with me, but until then, she needed to walk away."

"You didn't!" Polly said.

"Look at me," Beryl said. "Do you think I'm lying to you?"

"I guess not. What did she say?"

"She walked away. I was mean enough to donate the painting to the bank where her husband is the president, though. She has to look at it every time she walks in the front door."

Polly snorted with laughter and she saw Lydia's face turn red. "Oh Beryl, I love you! She completely ignored me yesterday and told Jeff she doesn't want Eliseo around her precious quilts. I hope Jeff figures out how to deal with her."

"Maybe someone needs to just run her off the road into a big, deep ditch," Beryl said.

"Now Beryl!" Lydia admonished, "Don't say those things. You'd be upset if something awful happened to her."

Beryl turned her body so as to fully face her friend, "Do you really think I'd be upset?"

Lydia simpered, "Yes?"

"You're right. I probably would, but it might take me a minute to get to that point. She's a mean and nasty woman."

"She is miserable and unhappy. I've tried for years to get to know her and find out what was behind all of that ugliness."

"Of course you have," Beryl said, patting Lydia's knee. "You don't give up on anyone.
You need to give up on this one, though. If you can't get through to her, no one can."

"So," Polly said,
changing the subject "Something strange came into my email box the other day."

"Was it a puddy tat?" Beryl asked.

"What?" Polly looked at her friend and then at Lydia, who shrugged.

"Nothing. No one ever lets me get away with making random statements. I think they're funny and apparently I'm alone with my thoughts. You said that something strange had come into your email box and I had an image of a cat in your computer. Sorry."

"Oh, okay. I got an email from a lady who said she knew my mom and dad and was there when I was born. She told me that she had left in some kind of disgrace. Dad never talked about her. There was never anything in the house that referred to her and I don't have any pictures of her. It really has me freaked out."

Lydia's concern for Polly showed in her face, "What did you say to her?"

"I told her that if she wanted to come to Bellingwood, I would meet her."

"Have you heard anything more?"

"Not yet. I don't know what to think about any of this. It's times like this I wish Dad were here. How could he not have told me about someone who was so important in his life with mom that this person was living in our house?"

"There are many reasons he might have kept that from you, Polly," Lydia said.

"I've thought about a ton of them and I don't like them," she replied.

"I imagine so. But, if she's reaching out to you, maybe now is a good time to find out what she meant to your family."

"Do you want us there as your backup when you meet her?" Beryl asked.

"No, that's not necessary. Henry said he would
go with me."

"If you need anything from us, anything at all, you know we'll be there, don't you?" Lydia asked.

"I do. Thanks. I needed to tell you about this, but I'm not ready to make a big deal out of it."

"I'm ready for a big deal. In fact, we haven't had a big deal in forever. We need a party, girls."

Lydia smiled, "We probably do. We've all gotten so busy. But, Bellingwood Days starts next week. There isn't much time."

"Are y'all busy Sunday night? We should do something."

Polly looked at Lydia, who said, "I'm game."

Beryl slipped her phone out of the pocket in her shirt and pressed a button, "Andy?
It's me. I don't care what you have planned for Sunday night, cancel it. Us girls need a party."

"You what?" She paused and listened. "Cancel it. No. I'm not kidding. Cancel it. I'll text you details later."
Another pause. "I'm with them now. Okay. Love you!"

Polly couldn’t stand it. "What did you make her cancel?" she asked.

"It was just a stupid date with Len. She can go out with him any time. She's partying with us Sunday night." Beryl turned to Lydia. "So you'll tell Sylvie?"

"I think Polly should tell Sylvie. They're together all the time."

"So you'll tell Sylvie?" Beryl asked Polly.

"Sure. I'll take care of it."

They watched Jason and Andrew fly across the road and head for the front door of Sycamore House, towels flapping in the breeze, wet heads and red eyes telling the tale of their trip to the pool.

Polly stood up. "I'd better get inside and make sure they've showered.
Thank you for stopping by." She hugged both Lydia and Beryl. "I've missed you."

They walked back to the parking lot and the women got into Lydia's Jeep.
Polly went inside and up the steps to her apartment to deal with two very happy boys.

Nothing was going to stop Polly from attacking the
stack of books to be read on her coffee table. The animals were curled up on the sofa beside her and Polly was ready for a quiet evening. She didn’t get many of those and almost felt a little decadent.

Insistent
knocking at her front door had her cursing under her breath and she mumbled all the way across the living room floor. Jeff was standing there, looking at her in amazement.

"Aren't you ready?" he asked.

Polly's eyes grew huge and then she frowned. "I forgot. I don't suppose you'd let me skip tonight."

"Nope. There is only one more rehearsal and besides, you'd feel guilty."

She frowned. "You're right, but I had other plans."

"
It doesn’t look as if they include you leaving your apartment."

"No, they didn't. Just a minute, I need to change and grab my
things."

She grumped and muttered all the way into her bedroom to change into jeans and a t-shirt, then sighed as she scooped up the folder and her flute case.

"I'm ready now. Sorry about that," she said, meeting him at the entry way.

Jeff laughed at her. "Get rid of that pouty face.
We're making good music and you enjoy it."

He had talked her into joining the community band. There were many rehearsals and only a couple of performances - the first at Bellingwood Days, but as far as she could tell, they sounded pretty good
as a group. She hadn't played her flute since high school, but figured that fourteen years couldn't have erased all her knowledge. She still had her high school instrument and after having the keys re-padded it was ready to play again.

Jeff had given her two weeks to prepare for the first rehearsal. The first night she curled her lower lip over the mouthpiece, she'd whimpered.
The second night she realized how much air it took to make a decent tone and felt a little dizzy. She didn't remember being that out of breath when she was younger. A few more nights and she was fine with the tone, and had been quite relieved to find an old fingering chart tucked into the flute case..

On the other hand, Jeff had obviously never stopped playing.
He surprised her with the news that he was playing the clarinet solo in one of the pieces. He was good! When she pressed him about it, she discovered he had played in the Columbus, Ohio, symphony orchestra. He was very good! It was fun to watch him play and even more fun to watch others in the group be impressed with him. It made her feel a little proud. The director had chosen a fun piece for the Bellingwood Days concert that would allow Jeff to shine. He not only played beautifully, but got into it and added quite a flourish to the music. The first night he played the solo, the band erupted in applause as soon as they could get their instruments into their laps. Jeff bowed gracefully and quietly sat back down.

They took his car over to the elementary school. Others were still arriving, so she knew she hadn't made them late. They entered to the sounds of instruments playing scales and tones as musicians warmed up their instruments and their lips.
She nodded to the conductor, Bruce Jones, a high school band instructor who had also brought in a few of his players to ensure the band could pull off the pieces he'd chosen. She found her seat, opened the case and put the pieces of the flute together. After aligning them, she blew some warmth into the instrument. Setting her music on the stand in front of her, she smiled as the girl who led the section arrived and sat down beside her.

"Did you practice this week?" Jeanie Dykstra asked.

"No," Polly said, and hung her head. "I feel awful. I think I have everything, but I should have gone over it one more time."

"I didn't either and I just know he's going to call me out if I make a mistake."

Polly was horrified. They hadn't been practicing together that long, but she’d never heard the conductor call any individual out. He scowled at sections when they made obvious mistakes, but she was certain he wouldn't harangue volunteers in a city band.

"Why do you think he'd do that?" she asked Jeanie.

"Well, wouldn't you?" Jeanie responded. "Especially when we only have two rehearsals left?"

"No!" Polly exclaimed. "And I don't think Bruce will either. He'd end up with half of the band whimpering on the floor in tears and the other half angry enough to never return.
You'll be fine. Stop worrying about it."

The young woman was a good musician. She taught piano lessons after work and played for one of the services at the Lutheran Church in town, but she had a terrible problem with self-confidence.

Polly looked up as she heard a stick tapping on the stand. He held up the cover of the score to "Beautiful Savior" and everyone shuffled to bring it out of their folders. The chattering and tuning stopped as people realized he was ready to go. He brought his arms up and they began to play. She shuddered a little as she realized how far out of tune she was, stopped and readjusted, then re-entered the piece.

He finally stopped the song and said, "Good evening!"

The group seemed to smile as a whole and responded with their weekly response, "Good evening, Maestro!"

She liked the guy. He didn't live in Bellingwood, but came over every summer to rehearse the band for the Bellingwood Days concert as well as a second concert on Labor Day weekend. She had met people from the area who wanted an opportunity to dig out their instruments every year and make music.
There was a sense of camaraderie and accomplishment as squeaking and squealing gave way to marches, polkas and other songs. When they finished the evening's rehearsal with the "Star Spangled Banner," she got emotional every time. Polly was glad Jeff had talked her into this.

After rehearsal, some of the musicians invited everyone to head uptown for drinks and Jeff intended to go with them, so Polly offered to walk home. He protested a little, telling her that it would only take a minute to drop her off, but she insisted.
It was a beautiful evening and the walk was less than four blocks. While everyone else walked the two blocks west to the Jefferson Street Alehouse, Polly turned south and crossed the highway. The solar lights in the garden were glowing. She opened her phone, dialed in and switched on the street lamps lining her driveway and smiled at the sight. This was home now and she loved it.

Polly crossed the road in front of Sycamore House and walked up the driveway. Cars went past, honking their horns. She turned and waved, surprised to see one pull in behind her.
Polly peered into the dark of the car. The window came down and she recognized the woman who delivered their mail.

"Hi,"
Polly said. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm so sorry," the woman said. "I had a package in my truck for you today and it slid under things in the back. It looked like it was important and since tomorrow is the beginning of my vacation, I wanted to make sure you had it."

"Wow," Polly replied. "You didn't have to do that."

"I tried to catch you after rehearsal tonight, but I got swept up with the crew heading to the Alehouse. I ran back and got this. They can wait for me."

“Won’t you be in trouble for delivering it after hours?" Polly asked.

The woman stage-whispered, "If you don't tell, I won't tell. I scanned it, knowing I'd see you tonight.
So, shhh."

"Thank you so much. I'm sorry I don't know your name. I just say hi during the day."

"I know," she smiled. "I'm Lisa Bradford."

"Well, have a good vacation! Are you going away?"

"Oh no. I'm staying in town and getting ready for Bellingwood Days. My husband owns the hardware store uptown and we always do something a little extra. This year he's setting up over at the Elevator and will help people make birdhouses. I run the store while he's gone, but we have a lot of work to do to get things together. I'm also going to have a quilt in the show here at Sycamore House."

"You are! Will I see you here?"

"Not much until Sunday afternoon. The woman who runs it doesn't like me, so I just submit my entry and run away."

Polly nodded in agreement. "I get that," she said. "Maybe I'll see you on Sunday."

"Oh, that's right! I need to make a couple of pies. We had the pie tins at the store and my dear husband brought two of them home, so I guess I'm also entering that."

Polly laughed. "It's going to be a great time, isn't it!"

"We always have fun." She began to drive away, then stopped and said, "You're never going to get this package if I keep forgetting it."

She handed the large padded envelope to Polly and said, "I'm so sor
ry! Who knew I was so forgetful?"

"Thank you," Polly called as the woman drove away.

She looked at the return address. Ruth Ann Marshall from Arkansas. The woman must have mailed it before emailing Polly. Great.

Polly went inside and upstairs, setting her flute, music and the package on her coffee table.
Obiwan did a full-body wag as he followed her from the entryway to the sofa and both cats walked out of the bedroom to greet her.

"Hi guys," she said to the animals in general. "Obiwan, are you ready for a quick run tonight?"
They went through the apartment and down her back stairs. She grabbed the leash from the hook as she opened the door.

She found herself distractedly walking between the fence and the road that went past the Sycamore House barn, thinking about the package in her apartment.
They walked to the creek and she had turned Obiwan around again to walk back when her phone rang.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hi Polly," Henry said. "I hadn't heard anything from you tonight. What's up?"

"I completely forgot about band rehearsal," she said. "It's a good thing Jeff came up to get me. I'd have felt awful!"

"So you're just getting home?"

"Obiwan and I are out taking a walk. I'm sorry. I should have texted you."

"No, it’s fine," he said. "I wanted to check in with you. Ya know, like I do."

She heard him chuckle in the background.

"Are you going to sleep well tonight?" he asked.

"I don't know, we'll see," she
said, her voice betraying her emotions.

"What happened? Was someone mean to you at rehearsal tonight? You know I'll beat them up if you ask," he teased

Polly laughed. "No, you nut. It was great. I'm having a blast." She took a breath. "My mail person, who by the way now has a name, caught me and gave me a package she didn't get delivered today. It's from that Ruth Ann Marshall."

"Have you opened it yet?"

"No, I'm outside with Obiwan. He seemed more important at the time. It can wait until I get back upstairs."

"I wouldn't be able to do that," he said. "I'm much too curious."

"I am curious, but I don't know what to expect."

"Do you want me to come over?"

She thought about his question. If she was honest, yes, she wanted him there. But, it wasn't fair. He had a long day of work tomorrow and needed to get some sleep. It was enough that she might end up tossing and turning all night.

"No, I'm fine. It's probably no big deal."

"Are you sure?"             

"I'm pretty sure. Don't worry about me."

"You sound like I should worry."

"It's really no problem. We're back home now," she said. "I'll talk to you in the morning. Good night."

Before he could say anything else, Polly ended the call and unlocked the back door. She and Obiwan went up to her apartment and after she let him off the leash, he dashed for the kitchen, slurping up water and dribbling it on the floor.

She had followed him so she could get something to drink and looked down, "You're a sloppy drinker, you know that?" she smiled.

Obiwan wagged his tail and went back into the living room. He dropped on the floor in front of the couch and watched as she opened cupboards and the refrigerator.