Simple Gifts (14 page)

“You were busy trying to figure out which swing you wanted.”

Had I been that transparent? I blushed. “I'm afraid I've never gotten over my love of swinging. It helps me relax and get my thoughts straight.”

Her lips curved into a sweet smile. How could I ever have thought she was mousy? She was more alert, calmer tonight. She shook her head. “I understand completely, though I always preferred the slide.”

“You go down the slide?”

Colored tendrils crept up her neck. “Oh my, no.” She hesitated. “That is…well…”

“You
do
?” I could not believe it. I glanced at the high slide. I wouldn't go down that thing on a dare. “You really mean it?”

“Sometimes, but only if no one is around. I suppose it really isn't proper for a woman my age to be so frivolous, and I wouldn't want Millicent to know about it. She has such firm opinions about everything, and she'd be sure to think it wasn't appropriate. I'm always careful to wear slacks though. One must preserve propriety.”

“Oh, yes, one must indeed.” I was determined not to grin.

She smiled. “You're thinking I'm too old to play on the slide?”

“Of course not.” But I was. I sighed. I was too old for the swings, too. Childhood was a long way behind me, and I couldn't go back and start over, no matter how much I'd like to. God is the God of second chances, but that doesn't often include the opportunity to go back and right a serious wrong. The moving finger writes and moves on. I'd read that somewhere, and it certainly described my life.

Lily laughed. “Mrs. Queens…”

“Please, call me Marlene.”

“Marlene. I can tell from your expression that you think a woman your age shouldn't be swinging either. Don't you know age is just a frame of mind?”

A frame of mind? She had to be kidding. “Oh, I think it's more than that.”

She shook her head. “The body ages, whether you do or not is a choice.”

Like I had a choice? The events in my life had worn me down, changed me from a young girl to a woman older than my years. Evidently Lily's life had been less problematic. I kept my voice calm, denying her comment. “We don't always have a choice.”

She reached out and patted my hand. “Listen to me, my dear. Three years ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had surgery and treatments, but for a while I didn't expect to live. And then one day I was praying about it, having a pity party, I suppose you'd say, and it came to me that I wasn't dead yet. I could use my remaining time to enjoy what I had and be thankful for it, or I could sit there and feel sorry for myself. I decided to live every day I had left.”

And here I'd been thinking she didn't know what suffering was. Her problems made mine dim in comparison. “I'm sorry, Miss Lily. I trust you're recovering?”

“In remission and feeling fine.” Her eyes twinkled. “I've done a lot of things since then. Nothing big or exciting, but little things I've enjoyed.”

“Like what?” Suddenly I needed to know her secret. How she knew what was important and what wasn't.

“Well, I waded in the Parnass Spring one day last summer, took off my shoes and socks and walked right in. Caught a frog too. And I climbed on General Hooker's horse on the American Legion front lawn.”

“You didn't! I always wanted to do that when I was a child.”

She laughed. “Me too. I grew up here in Parnass Springs, just like you, only I'm many years older. I finally decided I wasn't getting any younger and I'd never ride that bronze horse if I didn't put away my fears, so one night around this time of evening, I drove down to the American Legion Hall and climbed right on. Just sat there and looked at the night sky. I could see the Big Dipper, so clear, like God hung it just for me.”

“You're lucky someone didn't catch you.”

“God caught me, but he didn't mind.”

I bent closer and whispered. “What else have you done?” What deep dark secrets lurked in Lily Lippet's adventurous soul?

“I dropped a water balloon from the top window of the shelter. Just barely missed Winston. I felt bad about that.”

“About dropping the balloon?”

“About missing him.”

We shared a smothered giggle.

“Miss Lily, you were so quiet when I first met you. I had no idea you're such a hoot.”

“Well, you see, Millicent was there. She's a wonderful person, organized and efficient, but a bit judgmental. Her staunchness makes it uncomfortable to be around her sometimes. She disapproves of so many things.”

“She'd not approve of dropping water balloons.”

“Oh no, or riding bronze horses or going down the slide, either, I'm afraid.” Melancholy entered her eyes. “I feel guilty.”

“Because you do those things?”

“No, because I enjoy them so much.” She deftly changed the subject. “I knew Herman.”

“You did?” I didn't remember her from my childhood days.

“I worked in the five-and-dime. He used to come in and buy bubble gum from me.”

Ah yes. I'd forgotten the bubble gum and the massive pink bubbles he used to blow. “Did you like him?” For some reason it was imperative for me to know. If anyone had sound judgment, it would be this woman.

“Of course I liked him. Herman was a special boy. I believe you were too close to the situation to fully understand, but he had a gentle personality. He was always eager to assist.”

“Whether you needed help or not.”

“Yes, sometimes. I understand your feelings about the statue, but I do wish you'd give it more thought. It means a lot to the town.”

“That's what I don't understand. Why would anyone care one way or the other?”

“Because he was one of us. And that shelter is a wonderful building we could never have afforded if it weren't for Herman. It didn't cost us a thing.”

Part of me said go ahead and build the statue, but something within me hung back. If only I knew which argument to listen to.
God, I need guidance and wisdom, more wisdom than I have ever possessed.
I glanced at my watch. “Ingrid will be wondering where I am.”

“I've enjoyed our visit.” She cocked her head, grinning. “Remember, Marlene. You can live your life acting your age, and be bored to tears, or you can do something silly once in a while, just for the pure enjoyment of it.”

“Age is just a matter of mind.”

“You got it. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter.”

I laughed and turned to go.

“Marlene?”

I turned back to see what Lily wanted.

“The swings are usually empty this time of night if you want to come back.”

“Thanks. I might do that, Lily, I just might.”

Halfway across the park, I turned and looked back. Lily was climbing the ladder of the slide. I slipped behind a tree to watch. When she reached the top, she carefully positioned herself and shoved off, hands lifted to the sky, unbound hair flying. Her laugh rang out, as joyful as an enchanted child's.

I walked to my car, thinking hard. Lily was onto something. From now on, I was going to enjoy every moment God gave me. Live life with gusto.

Just one problem: true gusto and joy came from a clean heart and soul.

What are you going to do about that, Marly?

Seven

I
scrambled eggs and bacon Tuesday morning, in lieu of the birdseed cereal. At this rate, Ingrid's cholesterol would be off the chart, and that would be my fault too.

She spoke around a mouthful of bacon. “Heard any more from the homewrecker?”

“Not a word. We'll probably hear from her attorney nephew though.”

That seemed to give her pause. “Well, he can talk to J R if he has anything to say. That's what I pay him for.”

Lawyers. I could live on the man's pocket change. Ingrid held out her empty cup, and I rose to fetch the coffeepot. I had to get her back on her feet, but short of tipping her out of that wheelchair, I didn't see how I could accomplish it. Woman was as stubborn as a cockeyed mule.

The phone rang and I reached to answer it.

“Mrs. Queens? R J Rexall. I've been doing some research into the…uh…alleged foot ownership.”

“And?”

“Well, it's a complicated issue. I don't believe I've ever run across one like it before.”

Trust Ingrid to come up with an unsolvable quandary. “So who owns the foot?”

He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Moss can contend that the foot is not an asset of the estate but rather a completed gift. However, the third Mrs. Moss, Prue Levitt Moss, given enough money and time, can continue to fight the case. I do believe, though, a judge will reach the conclusion that Ingrid owns the foot.”

R J Rexall had done his homework. I appreciated his effort, and the conclusion was sure to make Ingrid happy. I glanced at my aunt. But by the preset scowl on the woman's face, it appeared unlikely this would end the dispute, and a judge
could
rule for Prue Moss.

The attorney continued. “Ultimately, I would say we can take this matter as far as your aunt wishes to pursue it, but in all good conscience, I must warn that it will be a long and costly fight. Perhaps the two women should sit down and try to reach an amicable solution, even if it means moving the deceased body and severed limb to a common grave that both parties could visit.”

Ha. He didn't know Aunt Ingrid. Or for that matter, Prue Levitt Moss. Both women had enough money to burn a wet mule, and at their ages, they had nothing to lose by spending themselves dry just to prove a point.

“Thank you, Mr. Rexall. I'll talk to my aunt and see what she wants to do.” I hung up and turned around to find the room empty. Ingrid could move that wheelchair when she wanted to. She was seriously starting to get on my nerves, but she couldn't run forever; she had to face the truth sometime.

So do you, Marlene.

I was caught between two selfish, self-centered women—-Sara and Aunt Ingrid. Three, if you counted Prue. But Prue Levitt wasn't my problem. Sara and Aunt Ingrid were, and right now I wanted to shake both of them.

What a lovely Christian attitude. Still, I had a feeling God understood my dilemma since he'd
put
me here.

God did? He's not the one who made Sara overly dependent. Or who made promises that should never have been made about only being gone a week. Or who caused Aunt Ingrid's maladies. And he's
certainly
not the one who has lied to everyone all these years.

Right on every count.
Sorry, Lord. I'm getting as bad-tempered as Aunt Ingrid.

Speaking of whom, I found her in her bedroom thumbing through a magazine. I squinted.
Cat Fancy
? Since whe had she been so interested in cats?

“That was R J Rexall.”

She turned a page, ignoring me.

I cleared my throat. “The man knows his business. Perhaps you should listen.”

“Don't need to listen. My mind's made up. I'm keeping the foot.”

“You know Prue won't give in that easily. She'll take it to court.”

“I can handle it. Bring it on.” She glared at me, as if the whole thing were my fault. “Woman thinks she can just send a telegram and I'll bow and scrape. If that's what she thinks, she's way off base.”

“This could get very expensive. Lawyers don't come cheap, you know.”

She shrugged and turned the page. “It's for a good cause.”

“Sure it is.” Besting the homewrecking hussy would rank right up there with giving blood. I sighed.

My cell phone rang, and I stepped out on the porch for privacy.

“Mom?”

“Yes dear, what is it?” What minor crises had her in a snit now? What would she do if something bad ever really happened? Didn't she have friends? One other brave soul to help her out?

“Mom, I just thought of something.”

“Uh huh.”

“Wouldn't it be cute to paint a mural on the nursery wall? It would make the room absolutely special.”

Sure, if she had someone who could do it. I was a nurse, not an artist or a seamstress. And with my job, a new baby on the way, two small grandchildren, one full-grown, helpless daughter, and a paralyzed aunt, I had all I could handle, thank you.

“Exactly what did you have in mind?”

“I'm praying for a girl. A pink and white castle set on a hill, banners flying, and clouds overhead, and a long, winding road with a knight on a white horse riding up it. Wouldn't that be the most fabulous thing?”

Possibly, and completely out of my talent range. “It does sound adorable, Sara, honey, but be realistic. I'm not an artist. If you want something artistic, you'll have to hire someone to do it.”

“But, Mom—“

“I'm serious Sara. You may have to get by with something simpler.”

“Oh, Mom! When are you coming home? I need to talk to you.”

“We're talking now.”

“You know what I mean. When will you be
here
?”

I hesitated. “Well, that will depend on Ingrid.”

“Mom! I need you too.”

Oh, honey, think of someone else for a change.

“Marlene!”

“I have to go now, Sara, Ingrid's calling.”

“Mom! Don't hang up.”

“What is it, Sara?”

“Promise me you'll be home by next week.”

I sighed. “No promises, Sara.” I ended the call.

Progress, Marlene.
Maybe next time I'd see if I could get by without answering the phone or responding to Ingrid's summons. I was getting a little tired of being pulled apart like a wishbone.

The plumber finally arrived when I was cleaning up breakfast. I'd almost given up hope. I followed him around as he checked the ancient plumbing, jotting notes in his tattered spiral notebook. Finally he stopped. I held my breath, waiting for the final verdict.

“Faucets need to be replaced.”

“All of them?” That couldn't be right, could it? Water came out of them.

“Yup.”

“They still work.”

“Yup. Won't for long though.”

“Why not?”

“Getting old.”

Well, so was I, and I was still serviceable. “The faucets stay. What about the hot water heater?”

“Yup, that needs to be replaced too.”

I sighed. I figured the faucets would be overlooked in lieu of decent linoleum, which the kitchen didn't have. I would receive the sum of Beth's estate, but a lifetime of pinching pennies had left me with a master's degree in Thrift. Besides, I still had to do something about the rocks in the living room. It made my back hurt to think of them.

We finally agreed on what needed to be done, and he left in his old pickup truck with Kelo Plumbing written on the side. He promised to be back tomorrow. I wouldn't hold my breath.

During the early afternoon, I left Ingrid napping and drove to the local tile-and floor-covering store. I picked pretty blue and white linoleum for the kitchen, patterned in squares, reminiscent of Dutch tiles. The clerk checked her schedule. “Let's see, we can be there on Friday, will that be all right?”

“You can't make it sooner?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, we're booked until then.”

I sighed. “Sure, Friday will be fine.” I wasn't sure how that would work out, but anyway, I'd still be here. I paid for the purchase and left.

Driving by the covered bridge on the way home, I noted frenzied activity. I slowed the car and watched a carnival crew set up concessions and hoist heavy cables. The carnival had arrived early this year! A stiff wind blew from the north, ruffling the workers' thin Windbreakers. On impulse, I rolled down the window and sniffed the air, thinking I could smell cotton candy, candy apples, and popcorn.

Right then and there I followed Lily's advice. I promised myself a treat—the first I'd had since coming to Parnass Springs—unless I counted the flowers from Vic. Tomorrow night I'd go to the carnival. By myself. I'd eat one of those candy apples and a bag of popcorn and maybe a corn dog lathered with thick mustard, and I'd remember the good God had put in my life, because the good far outweighed the bad. I'd take care of Ingrid's immediate problems. Get her settled with a home companion, list Beth's house, then return to Sara and my life in Glen Ellyn. It should be easy enough. I just had to focus.

Right, Marlene, focus
. Like I was good at that.

Rain fell overnight, and by the following evening, the soggy ground had turned into a swamp. A cold wind blew off the pond adjacent to the bridge. Late April in the Ozarks. Warm one day, cool the next. April showers brought May flowers.

Ingrid sat in her wheelchair, crocheting after dinner. “You surely don't intend to go to that carnival in this kind of weather,” she said. “And what about evening service? Joe will wonder where you are.”

“I thought I'd go after services.” I didn't know why she was so concerned with my plans.

She'd been suspiciously absent all day, and I figured she was hatching up some new plot to hinder Prue. The phone had remained silent during the afternoon; Rexall was awaiting Ingrid's next move, and even Ingrid didn't know what she'd do, but she'd have a plan soon. I knew there would be no lastminute reprieve, no phone call from Sara inviting me to stay until my work was completed.

Like I really expected one. My daughter was waiting me out, and I knew it was a matter of time until I caved in to do whatever she wanted.

You're a big pushover.
I knew it and resented it, but I hated confrontation. Maybe that was why my life had taken a downward spiral when Noel walked out the door. Not that it had been perfect until then, but I'd gotten away from Parnass Springs and its memories, which was what I'd thought I wanted at the time. Now that I was back, the accomplishment only sounded pathetically immature, but I'd made a lot of foolish mistakes.

Living a lie had hardened my senses, but I was scared at the time, insecure, wanting to avoid confrontation with Vic and Aunt Ingrid at all costs. Neither reason was good enough to continue the ruse, but how do you undo a lie of such proportions? Every year it had grown and taken on a life of its own. Every year I'd dug myself in deeper until I was in a bottomless shaft and couldn't see daylight.

Aunt Beth was gone, but Aunt Ingrid was still in good verbal condition. I didn't want to hear what she'd have to say about my deception. Her words would be caustic and to the point. Even worse, I'd have to face Vic and Joe and their knowledge that I'd lied.

Rain pattered against the kitchen window. Bent over the sink, I wiped steam off the pane and peered out. Everything drooped with moisture. Raindrops glistened on the forsythia bush, its shiny green leaves soaking up the spring shower. Shivering, I rubbed warmth into my forearms. Ingrid's house was also damp; she refused to turn up the heat, fearing large utility bills. Outside the temperature was chilly, but not uncomfortable.

Ingrid still refused to discuss Rexall's advice; she ignored me when I tried to talk about it. Then again, maybe she'd gone deaf. She didn't mention it, but by now, nothing would surprise me.

I put on a heavy coat and gloves, and wrapped a scarf around my neck. I glanced in the mirror for a last-minute check before taking a twenty out of my purse, then letting myself out the back door. Mist, as fine and light as a bridal veil, created a circled haze around the streetlights. The night seemed cloaked with mystery—a good night to be out, even if I had no one to share my adventure.

After services, I made the brief drive to the carnival ground, the colorful lights reminding me of my high school days when we skipped classes to watch the brightly lit rides go up. Teachers looked the other way or were busy themselves, gawking at the activities that gave the small town a holiday-like atmosphere.

This was a first for me: attending a carnival alone. I'd felt alone many times in my life, but never so much as now, walking through the near-empty grounds. Huddled vendors beckoned from concession stands, inviting me to throw a ball or break a balloon and win a stuffed toy. The rain, falling in a light mist didn't seem so mystical now, just wet. I huddled deeper into my jacket. Most folks stayed home tonight.

Most folks were smart.