Time to Love Again (2 page)

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Sarah peeked around the corner of the garage. Her friends hid behind her. "I think she saw us." She made another snowball and raised her arm to throw it.

"Stop!" Jenny pulled Sarah's arm. "You're going to get us into big trouble. She's going to tell."

"Oh, quit being a scaredy-cat." Sarah tossed the snowball at her friend. "She doesn't even know where you live. She never pays attention to us."

"Yeah, we'll get into trouble." Jason and Billy agreed with Jenny.

"Come on let's find something else to do, leave the old lady alone." Billy turned and ran toward Sarah's house, the others followed close behind.

"Party poopers," Sarah grumbled as she gave in and followed her friends. She kicked the snow with her boots as she followed slowly behind. Big old scaredy-cats, that's all they are. Don't want to have no fun. She picked up a handful of snow, looked back at Mrs. Asbury's house and threw it. Darn it, she was too far away. Oh, well, she'd find something else to do.

 
She hated that the old lady was rude to her grandpa. All he wanted to do was talk to her, but no, she couldn't be bothered. Served her right that she fell. Poor Grandpa just stood in the drive and watched her go into her house. Didn't even thank him for helping her. Old Meany. Sarah raced after her friends.

Chapter Two

Okay, so she hadn't been pleasant since Frank died, so what? Didn't she have the right to feel this way. He'd been gone five years now and sometimes loneliness just overwhelmed her. To make matters worse, her son, Francis, moved to
California
. As if that wasn't bad enough, her daughter, Melinda, moved to
Oregon
, both a long ways from
Parma
,
Ohio
. Life had become so empty. Their lives had become too involved to bother with her. And lately, their phone calls had become less and less frequent.

"That's not true, Rose," the voice interrupted her thoughts. "You're the one who cuts the phone calls short. You're turning into a hermit. You don't socialize with neighbors or friends. In fact you don't do anything anymore. You haven't decorated for the holidays in two years." The shadowy form stood beside her in the kitchen.

Rose jumped back and looked at it. Now the damn thing was reading her mind. It sounded like Emma's voice, but it was just a shadowy form. She shook her head and turned away. Just her imagination.

"You haven't answered me, Rose. What are you afraid of? Why don't you decorate anymore?"

"Decorate? What's the point?" Her own voice startled her. She shook her head. Was she losing her mind– talking to herself? Sometimes she scared herself. Was she getting senile already? Seeing apparitions? Hallucinating?

No, just nerves that's all. That, and the season. She clung to that explanation, not wanting to think of the alternative. No one was there, just shadows. All her imagination. A strand of hair in her vision. Her mind playing tricks.

Closing her eyes, she thought about Christmas. Oh, how she used to love the holidays. Now she dreaded them. No one visited, beside her best friend, Louise– and even Louise didn't visit often. More often she went to Louise's. Rose sighed. Louise was too busy with her own family during the holiday season. She has her own life. Her own family. And she entertains a lot. She couldn't be bothered with Rose this time of the year.

 
"She invited you to join them. But you refused the invitations. Why?" The voice suddenly became stronger.

Dear Lord, how could the voice read her mind? "Emma?" Rose backed away. It couldn't be. "Emma is that you? What do you want?"

The shadowy figure became clearer and Emma appeared before her. Not the Emma she remembered in death, but a younger Emma stood in front of her. The beautiful figure of Emma that she remembered from high school smiled at her. "Are you afraid of me, Rose?"

"I, uh, no." What was going on here? This couldn't be happening. A figment of her imagination, that's all. Maybe the fall had jarred something lose in her head. Rose closed her eyes and shook her head. Surely the figure would be gone when she opened them. But it wasn't. Emma stood there, laughing at her.

"You can't make me go away, Rose."

"What do you want?"

 
I've come to help you."

"Help me?" Right, an apparition, ghost, whatever you wanted to call it, was going to help her. "I don't need help. Not from you. Not from anyone."

"Yes, you do. You just don't know it. You've become a crotchety, old woman."

"So what? It's my business. Besides, you're not here anymore."

"I'm here now."

Rose hurried back into the living room. "Well, I don't want you here now." If she ignored it, it'd go away. It had to. She sat down on the couch and thought about Louise.

Yes, she had gone to a few of Louise's parties. But then she quit. She wouldn't be the fifth wheel. She knew how the other women looked at her if she spoke to one of their husbands.

Louise said they were afraid she'd start asking them to come over and fix things. Like she'd do that? Hell, even when Frank was alive, they hired professionals to fix everything. Frank wasn't all that handy. Well, who cared? She didn't need them. She sure as hell didn't need their husbands. She almost laughed out loud. Like any of them could hold a candle to Frank.

"You need more than you think." Emma walked around the room, picked up a picture from the mantle, set it back and picked up another.

"What do you want?"

"I told you, to help you."

"And I told you I didn't need any help."

Emma smiled. "Yes, you do."

Rose cringed. "Next you'll be telling me I'm going to be visited by three ghosts."

Emma didn't say anything. She just smiled that same smile she used when they were younger to get what she wanted. Well, it wasn't going to work this time.

"I'm not– am I?" One ghost was bad enough. Lord knows, she couldn't handle three.

"No, just me."

"That's a relief. Just what do you propose to help me with?"

"Your life." Emma sat in the leather chair. Frank's chair. No one had sat in it since he died.

"There's nothing wrong with my life. Thank you very much."

"You live like a recluse."

"So what, I'm happy."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?" Why did she feel like they were talking in riddles?

"Happy?" Emma leaned forward and stared at her.

"I just said I was, didn't I?" Rose couldn't keep the anger out of her voice. Emma always managed to get the heart of the problem. Always probing, asking questions. Just couldn't mind her own business.

"You're not acting happy."

Rose stood up and went to the kitchen. She had enough of this ridiculous conversation. Was she nuts? Carrying on a conversation with a ghost? She didn't even believe in them.

Emma followed her.

"You're not going to show me things are you?" She was nuts. What made her continue this conversation?

"What kind of things?"

"Things from the past? The future?"

"I'm not Jacob Marley, Rose. I'm your sister."

Suddenly an overwhelming urge to laugh came over her. This whole ridiculous thing amused her. She couldn't help it. She started laughing and couldn't stop. Tears ran down her cheeks, and still she couldn't stop.

"It's good to see you laugh, Rose."

Rose wiped her eyes. Lord that felt good. It had been so long since she laughed so hard. Suddenly, she sobered up. What did she have to laugh about?

"You have everything to laugh about."

"Maybe I don't want to laugh."

"Maybe not, but you enjoyed it. Look at you – you still have tears in your eyes. Why don't you call your kids, go visit them for the holidays?"

Rose shook her head. "Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

 
"I won't be a burden to them. Francis and Melinda have their own families. They have their own lives to live." Besides she liked being alone. Liked sleeping when she wanted to sleep, eating when she wanted to eat, watching what she wanted on TV. No cares. No one to worry about. No one to answer to.

Nope, she liked it just fine.

"Do you?" Emma asked.

"Do I what?"

"Like being alone?"

"Yes, I do." She shouted. "Damn it, why don't you go away. Leave me alone?" Where had she come from anyway? She didn't need this nonsense. A ghost, what was the matter with her?

"How are you going to spend the holidays?" Emma refused to be quiet. "The kids aren't coming home for Christmas again this year. Why don't you visit them? They invited you. But, you said no. You're going to spend another lonely day."

Rose shrugged. "The kids can't come home. How many times do I have to tell you, they have their own lives?" Just like her sister to push the issue. Never did listen. Never accepted Rose's explanation for anything. Always had to be right.

Rose leaned back and closed her eyes. She did miss the fun, laughter, love, and traditions of the holiday. Missed seeing her kids and grandkids too and the commotion of the Christmas season.

 
Memories of childhood Christmases filled her mind. Merry sounds of long ago holidays rang in her ears. She hugged herself, warmed by the memories of earlier days. She thought back. Back to her childhood.

"Do you remember how Mom started baking cookies right after Thanksgiving, Rose?"

"Harrumph!" Did she remember? "Of course, I remember. I'm not senile you know."

"We used to sing and dance. Remember how Johnny always got to pick the first songs?" Emma's smile lit up her face.

 
"Yeah, because he was the youngest. He got to pick the first sugar sprinkles too." Rose said.

"Those were the days, weren't they? I can still hear Mom scolding us when we tried to grab our favorite jar of colored sugars before Johnny. He always got to do everything first."

Rose laughed. "Mom always said the same thing, didn't she? Even now, I can hear her firm voice – 'If you three want to help, you'd better settle down'." Rose tried to mimic the tone.

Emma laughed "You always were able to imitate her. You sounded just like her. Remember coming home from school and smelling fresh baked cookies or cakes. God, the aroma lingered for days."

"They were such fun days." Her parents were gone now too, dying just days apart and only six months before Frank. Rose dabbed at her tears. And Emma, her beautiful sister, Emma, died two years ago. Oh, how she missed her best friend, her shopping buddy.

Rose brushed the tears away. Bittersweet memories. She stood up. She didn't want to remember anymore. It was too painful.

Sometimes, she felt old for her fifty-eight years and so lonely. Why did things have to change? Frank and Emma were too young to die.

Rose shivered, pushed Emma's voice from her head, and went to refill her coffee cup.

 
Life used to be uncomplicated and fun. She loved the holidays back then. So lively and exciting. She missed those days.

Missed the kids counting down the days on a quilted wall hanging she had made especially for the occasion. Each day Melinda and Francis took turns adding the gift-wrapped package to the tiny hand stitched pockets in Santa's belly.

Rose hadn't thought about that wall hanging in a long time, wasn't even sure where it ended up. Maybe Melinda took it.

The doorbell rang. Now who could that be? She set her cup down and went to answer it.

"Rose, uh, Mrs. Asbury, I stopped in to see how you were doing?" Stephen said. "After that nasty fall, I wanted to be sure you were okay. Do you need anything? I mean..."