September Wind (53 page)

             
“You’re kidding me. Oh, Rose, really?”

             
“
Yes. Really. We’ll join the stupid club, and try out for so many plays that they’ll soon be running out your ears.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Emily went back to the hospital to see her grandfather, but when she walked into his room the bed was empty. She rushed down to the nurse’s station. She couldn’t believe he was gone just when something good had happened between them.

              “
I came to see Rupert Rezell. I-I noticed he’s not in his room. Did he...did he...?”

“He checked out of the hospital a few hours ago. Are you Emily, by any chance?”

              “
Yes.”

             
The nurse handed her an envelope. “He left this for you.”

             
Emily found the nearest chair and sat.

Emily,

I’m an old man who drank hard and lived like a fool, who hated himself as much as anyone. Actually, I haven’t had any booze now since I came into the hospital. I already feel better. Longest time without a drink in over nineteen years. The doctors are setting me up with a group back home, with people like myself.

             
I’m not proud of what I did to my sister. But here it is. Carl and I were gambling one night. Francine hated that. This one night there was a once a year bash in Chicago. Carl always said he’d hit it big one day. Well that night he did. The diamonds. No one but me knew exactly how much they were worth. Anyway, Carl said he’d split the profits with me if I’d hide them at my house until he could figure out what to tell Francine. I hid them in the necklace box.

             
Carl died shortly after. I thought I’d let them sit till Francine was gone. She didn’t have enough ambition to do anything worthwhile with them anyway. Somehow she ended up with the necklace. When she died I searched high and low for that box. We both know where it was. Anyway, not long before you left, I lost big in a poker game. Melanie’s father, remember the lady in court, well he set the whole thing up, I’m sure. The guy’s been threatening to take the farm for years, and now he’s more determined than ever. I’ll finally be able to pay him the money he thinks he’s owed so he’ll leave me alone.

             
No matter what’s happened or how I feel about things, you did take care of us men for all those years. And when I sell the diamonds I’m going to send you half the profit for college or whatever.

“Huh, just like him, didn’t even sign his name.” She folded the letter, and walked up the corridor, not really thinking about why she was taking the long way around, and maybe not actually intending to. She had taken the second turn when a small group of people came around a corner. There was Michael right in the middle of them. She managed a smile then hurried by.

              She had foolishly waited and hoped he would call. But he hadn’t, obviously because he didn’t want to talk to her. She should’ve known better, realized whatever conversation they might have now would be overshadowed by the fact she’d spent time in jail. He’d probably be embarrassed to be seen with her.

             
The corridor twisted one way, then another, and it wasn’t long before she was lost. Another corner took her to a dead end. Frustrated, she turned back.

             
“Emily,” Michael said, stepping from the group he was with. The medical team slipped into a room across the hall and left the two staring at each other.

             
“
Hi, Michael.” She was sure he would think she came to see him. “I… I didn’t expect to see you. I came to see my grandfather,” she added quickly.

“Your grandfather? Here?”

              “
He was, but he left.”

             
“
So he came out to visit?”

             
“
Yeeah… you might say that.”

“Say, Emily… I was just wondering the other day how you were doing. How’d everything go in Illinois? I should’ve called, I know. I got your number from your file, and I meant to. Although I’ve been so busy. I apologize.”

              “
No need to apologize. And yeah, everything turned out just fine. I’m free.” she added, with a hands-up gesture, and a laugh to indicate it wasn’t so bad.

             
“
That’s good. That’s real good. I never doubted the outcome.” Another group passed and slipped into the room. They both watched the door close.

             
No need to keep him any longer.
“So, I guess I’d better go,” she said.

“Yes, I’d better go inside.”

“
Bye.” She turned to leave.

“Emily.”

              She stopped and looked back.

             
“
I’ll give you a call sometime and we’ll meet for coffee or tea.”

             
“
That would be nice.”

             
She watched him walk away, and then laughed to herself as she turned up the corridor with a visual of him in his doctor attire and herself in a jail uniform having coffee. She didn’t see how he could possibly look at her any other way.

Yet, they’d had something, and she knew in the core of her being that it could’ve been something special… if only. Even now, it still hurt when she let herself think about the time they spent on the train, especially that kiss she could still feel if she closed her eyes. Yet, in a way, she hoped if he did call, it would be after she made something of herself, after the memory of her past was put in its place.

She sat outside the hospital entrance, waiting for a ride, remembering how excited she was about coming to San Francisco. She thought of how her vulnerability placed her in the hands of those who took advantage of her, and how she was let down by some, herself included, even Sam who was probably not so bad. Then there were people like Peter and George, Otto too, and Bruce, Donna, and of course Maria and Nathan, and how they had shown her just how good it could be to have real friends.

The familiar blue Chevy came around the corner and pulled up to the curb. Rose was in the driver’s seat.

When her father stepped out of the car, her heart leaped for joy. He was what she had come for in the first place, wasn’t it? And now she had so much more.

Tears filled her eyes as she went into his arms. Maybe the road ahead would be winding, but she knew that with her family she had an anchor to hold onto. For now, that was good enough.

Acknowledgments

Thanks to my dear children, and lovely daughter in-laws, my precious grandchildren, and all my family and friends who are there no matter what.

I want to thank my sister Iris Forrester for being supportive, and helping with my edits, especially the many requests of: “Which one, which sentence do you like best?”

And I also want to give a special thanks to my daughter in-law Bethany Engstrom who edited my book years ago when I first started while she was still in college. Love you all.

Thanks to Solstice Publishing, and Nik Morton, Editor in Chief, for his faith, edits, and support. He may write horror and thrillers, although I find him a kind gentle spirit.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I decided to write, although:  Elsie Dinsmore’s Holidays; Camp Fire Girl’s First Council Fire, and Boxcar Children sparked something in me.

             
At twelve, I began to wonder what sort of goal I’d pursue. I tried twirling the baton, danced a little, played basketball, which I did fairly well.

             
Then one day I set out to write a story. I can’t remember what it was about because it disappeared shortly after, probably in the garbage can, or maybe it found its way into the fireplace. I tried a diary, which “someone” got a hold of. I tossed that one. After that, I didn’t write on paper for a while, but continued to hone my imagination with stories in my head, sometimes during class, and then I couldn’t wait to sink into my cozy bed at night to continue on where I’d left off the night before.

Years later, I took writing classes at a nearby college, read books like
A Woman of Substance
, a book that inspired me to try and write so that the reader could not only see but feel the words. And then one day during a dark period in my life, I picked up a guitar and learned enough chords to write songs.

The day I got my first computer, I started writing a story.

The process of writing my first novel
September Wind
has its own story that could probably fill a novella. It won a second place award under the name of
An Empty Forest
. I’ve changed the name several times, and worked it through many more before sending it to Solstice Publishing.

I’m working on other novels, short stories, a novella, and a book of poems.

Other Solstice Books that might be of interest

THE SCALES OF SIX

Rosean Mile

On assignment collecting relics in Indonesia, independent curator Gail Weaver learns that an ephemeral plant sprouting prolifically on Sumatra can transform all hair types into gorgeous locks.  Seizing an opportunity to make a fortune in the cosmetic market, Gail smuggles plant clippings into the US and sways her apprehensive sister Fran to help seek financing for a shampoo she’s made with the Indonesian plant.  But dreams of impending wealth are quelled by the shocking revelation of the shampoo’s horrifying side effects. 

             
Against a backdrop of career and money problems, shady competitors, legal challenges and romance, Fran, Gail and an exotic Indonesian scientist must race against biological, corporate and media forces to save Fran’s boss, and a legion of young women whose quest for beauty is transforming them in ways they never imagined. 

             
Testing human greed against forces of nature,
The Scales of Six
blends suspense, intrigue, and surreal circumstance to weave a new story about an old myth coming to life in the contemporary world.

BLOOM FOREVERMORE

E.B. Sullivan

A romantic mystery. Psychology professor Dr. Sonia Wyland seeks a change from her stale routine by vacationing in California. While shopping at a secondhand store, she acquires a diary written by a woman named Margaret. This journal leads Sonia to believe Margaret is in a dangerous liaison with a man who calls himself Alexander.

             
Detouring from her plans, Sonia attempts to rescue Margaret.

             
In this quest, Sonia discovers an intriguing man and quickly loses her heart.

P.A. Estelle

Katherine Gardner is awakened at 6:30 a.m. A strange woman claims to have her granddaughter, Rio, aged 6, and she’ll call the police if Katherine doesn’t make arrangements for somebody to pick up Rio.

             
, 56, is alone since her husband died over three years ago. Her life takes a dramatic turn when Rio comes to stay with her. Rio is a scared little girl whose life is filled with uncertainty and fear. In her grandmother, Rio finds a safe haven and an unconditional love that she has never known in her six short years and Katherine has found a love to fill the void that has been absent for way too long.

             
Unfortunately, Katherine’s daughter, who deserted Rio, has other ideas.

STRUMMIN’ THE BANJO MOON

Joyce Keller Walsh

Nineteen year-old Juanna Mae DelRio Lottery was abandoned by her husband and foreclosed out of her house in South Jersey.  Left without any resources except for an old Buick, $264, and her own grit, she and Dell—her five-year-old daughter—moved their belongings into the car and drove to a secluded spot deep in the pinewoods.  Juanna planned to stay there until she saved enough travel money to go home to her mother in Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana.  But she made a mistake by applying for food stamps and now they have to leave right away because the Social Service is about to swoop down and take Dell into foster care . . . and if Juanna hadn’t lied about her age, they might even take her, too. She should have known better, for as her mother always says, “The road to hell is paved with government intentions.”

Like Huckleberry Finn’s adventures on the river, Juanna’s adventures on the road thrust her into a world of oddball characters and precarious situations.

Her humorous, moving, and sometimes tragic journey spans thirty years and two continents, and often tests her belief that everything that happens has a purpose and a moral. 

Over the years, I’ve read many books of fiction, the vast majority good and memorable; and some of these have given me glimpses of the human condition.

A few have introduced me to characters who live and breathe, whose journey becomes mine, albeit vicariously.

Juanna Mae DelRio’s narrative pulled me in and didn’t want me to let go. Through the years of her tumultuous life, I was there, sharing her heartbreaks and laughter. This is a powerful novel, a fascinating emotional roller-coaster that made me laugh and cry.

– Robert Morton, author of
Death is Another Life

SCRAPS

Rosemary O’Brien

Angela has been trying to reunite her feuding grandmother and older sister all of her adult life. When Angela’s 19-year-old unmarried sister Lisa announced she was pregnant, a stormy argument ensued between Lisa and their traditional Italian grandmother who had raised the two girls ever since their parents died tragically six years earlier. The rift lasted between them for over twenty years. To help mend the family she loves, Angela creates a scrapbook to be presented to her grandmother on her 85th birthday. Will it work?

              It may only be a scrapbook, but it’s a scrapbook of memories enjoyed, memories missed and the woman determined to piece the scraps together into a family.