Hometown Series Box Set

by Kirsten Fullmer

  Winnie’s heart swelled with love. Each time she experienced this tender pang with Bella, she couldn’t help but think about her own precious daughter. That little girl, so long lost, had been fair and dark haired like Isabelle, and just as demanding and sweet. The haunting, familiar ache held an extra sharp edge today, and the song faded as Winnie’s thoughts drifted back across the years.

  Bella’s eyes popped open.

  Winnie picked up the song once again.

  The classic tune wove its magic, the notes lofting gently across the bed, pulling Winnie back through time. Her thoughts wandered to one day in particular, a day that same song had rattled and buzzed cross the radio speakers of a ramshackle, Dodge Dart. It was June 1967, and the song was a hit, playing on radio stations across the country. The day was hot and humid, and Winnie remembered her hand hanging out the window of the car, surfing the wave of wind in rhythm with the song. Her best friend, Claudia, was in the front seat; Claudia’s big brother, Roy, was at the wheel.

  The vision of her beautiful friend laughing at Roy’s joke, her long hair streaming in the wind, left Winnie stricken, and the pleasant vision ended abruptly. Tears filled the old woman’s eyes, and she hoisted herself from the bed, careful not to wake Bella.

  She staggered to the window to lean wearily against the frame. Reaching into her apron pocket, she drew out a letter. Since she had taken it from the mailbox that morning, the envelope had laid heavy on her mind. She held it up, tilting it into the patch of sunlight streaming through the window. Her lips pursed into a frown at the name carefully penned on the front. Wynona. She hadn’t been Wynona for a very long time.

  What on earth had prompted contact after all these years?

  Winnie sniffed and turned to watch the tiny girl sleeping soundly on the old double bed. Bella snuffled, her dreams interrupted, then settled back into the deep, relaxed sleep of a child.

  With a weary sigh, Winnie headed toward the bedroom door, overwhelmed by the aches of old age. That letter in her pocket belonged to a different time, not this place. She was happy here. She knew what to expect, how to feel, and exactly what to do. She was practically Smithville royalty, after all. People came to her for knowledge, support, and sage advice. She was not the idealistic girl she’d been back then.

  The fractured memories of that time, long ago, felt peculiar and disjointed. The joy and pain of her college years had been carefully tucked away for an eon -- cataloged among things too beautiful and too painful to contemplate.

  Shuffling toward the stairs, she tucked the envelope back into her apron pocket, but the halls of her Victorian home faded, becoming the corridor of her university dorm. She could almost feel the liveliness of her step and the swish of her short skirt brushing her thighs. The distinct smell of dirty laundry, contraband food, and incense hung in the air, along with the thump of music from behind closed dorm doors.

  And there, under it all, she sensed long-forgotten enthusiasm -- the guileless hopefulness of youth.

  * * *

  Tara climbed from her car, and a hot September breeze tossed hair in her face. As she hurried to the back door of Winnie’s house, she wound her hair into a thick twist over one shoulder and glanced at her watch. Bella had already been with Winnie for an hour longer than planned, and she worried that the little monster had run the old woman ragged. Winnie was tough in her own right, but Lord knew Bella could wear down the devil himself.

  She pushed open the kitchen door expecting to hear screeches of two-year-old laughter. Instead, she halted at the sight of Winnie sitting alone in silence. “Where’s Bella?” she sputtered in surprise. She hurried around the kitchen island to the old woman’s side. “What is it? Bella—”

  Winnie swiped self-consciously at her cheek as she hurried to fold a sheet of paper and tuck it into an envelope. “Everything’s fine. Bella’s napping upstairs.”

  Tara dropped onto the stool. This motherhood thing was aging her prematurely, she could feel it. The rise and fall of her blood pressure alone was enough to kill a person. Her gaze fell on the envelope as Winnie tucked it away, unwilling to share.

  Winnie hobbled to the replica stove. “I tucked her into my bed when I saw you were running late,” Then, with a clank, she hoisted the antique tea kettle and plodded over to fill it at the sink.

  Guilt replaced relief in Tara’s expression as she watched Winnie work. There was an unusual frailness about the old woman today. Had the letter upset her? The handwriting on the front had been spidery, like Winnie’s, and she’d only been able to make out the lone name, Kinkade, in the return address. No one she knew had that last name. It must be from one of Winnie’s old lady friends.

  Had an old friend upset Winnie, or was Bella too much for a woman Winnie’s age? Winnie cherished the little girl, but the kid was fast and smart as a whip. It was all Tara could do to keep up her, so it must be even harder be for Winnie. “I really appreciate you letting Bella come here while I deal with morning checkouts. She runs wild the second my back is turned and gets into everything.”

  Winnie placed the kettle on the stove and lit the burner. “The inn has been busy lately, hasn’t it?”

  Tara wandered across the kitchen and opened an upper shelf. “I’m glad for the business, but it’s more than I can handle some days.” She took out cups and saucers and put them on the kitchen island. “Bella deserves more of my attention. It seems like all I do is holler at her, and that’s not the type of mom I want to be.”

  Winnie arched a brow knowingly. “Do you think you’re the only mother who feels that way?” With tea tins in hand, she returned to the island. “Because I can assure you, you’re not.”

  Tara pulled a lock of hair over her shoulder and ran her fingers through it. “I’m fine.”

  Winnie gave the younger woman an I know better than that grandmotherly look.

  Tara sighed. She’d never been able to hide anything from Winnie. “Oh, I don’t know, it just seems like I don’t enjoy anything anymore. Not Bella, not the Inn, not my time with Justin -- like I get any of that,” she added under her breath. Winnie waited for Tara to continue. “I’m just— I’m too busy worrying about the next thing I have to do. I’m never even sure if I’m doing the thing I’m doing right.” She waved one hand. “You know what I mean.”

  Winnie grunted, indicating that she did indeed understand, but she didn’t reply. Instead, she moved to her stool, eased up onto it, then adjusted her empty cup and saucer on the counter, deep in thought.

  “Anyway,” Tara huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “I need to hire a maid to help clean the guest rooms or something.”

  “Or a maid and a manager,” Winnie offered.

  Tara’s head whipped up. “A manager?”

  “You’re surprised.”

  “Well— yes,” Tara sputtered. “Why would I hire someone to do what I can do? I’ve run the Inn since it opened.”

  “Because you’re only one person, dear, and running the Inn is a 24 -hour a day job. You’re a wife and mother too.”

  Tara pulled a face. “But, we live there. That would be weird.”

  The kettle rattled on the stove, then hummed to a low whine, so Winnie slid from the stool.

  Tara followed her with her eyes. “Do you think I’m doing a bad job with the Inn?” She certainly felt overextended, but she hated to think that others had noticed.

  “Don’t be silly,” Winnie scolded as she poured steaming water into their tea cups. “I can just see how exhausted you are, that’s all.”

  Tara sniffed, watching Winnie return the kettle to the stove. Winnie didn’t hold back when it came to her opinion, but the old woman definitely felt a bit off today. “Are you feeling all right?” she asked. “Did Bella wear you out? I could see if Julia could take her tomorrow—”

  “Don’t you dare,” Winnie interrupted, waving the pot holder at her. “I love that little girl -- she’s no trouble at all!”

  Yup, Winnie was definitely not herself today; usually,
nothing ruffled her. Watching the old woman from the corner of her eye, Tara pried the lid from the tea tin and dug absently through tea bags.

  Winnie collected spoons and returned to her stool, where she watched Tara with pursed lips. Once every tea bag was spread across the top of the island, she spoke. “You know there is only one type of tea in there. What are you looking for?”

  Tara shrugged. “I can hope, can’t I?”

  “No,” Winnie replied with a frown. “I only keep breakfast tea in there and you know it. You can bring your own if you don’t like it.”

  Tara’s tea bag froze half dipped into her cup, her gaze searching the old woman’s face. Finally, she wrapped the tag around the handle of the tea cup, the way Winnie had taught her. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Winnie’s spoon clinked the sides of her cup, but she didn’t look up.

  Tara was at a loss. Winnie was the one who always knew what to do, and she, herself was the mess. What should she do if Winnie wasn’t okay? It had never happened, not that she could remember anyway.

  Justin had dropped Bella off this morning; had he seen something amiss? He hadn’t called or said anything about it. “When is your next quilting bee?” she asked nonchalantly as she added sugar to her tea cup.

  Winnie shrugged.

  Alarm bells rang in Tara’s mind. Winnie never slumped and she never shrugged, she considered it bad manners.

  Biting the side of her lip, she considered calling Justin for help, but she didn’t even know what was wrong. Justin wouldn’t appreciate being interrupted with her irrational ramblings.

  Then she remembered the letter. Winnie was one of the few people she knew who still corresponded through snail mail. She must have received bad news.

  “I see you got a letter today.”

  Winnie glance up at Tara over the edge of her raised tea cup.

  “Who was it from?” Tara continued, taking a sip of her own tea, unable to meet Winnie’s gaze.

  Winnie’s tea cup chinked back onto her saucer. “None of your concern.”

  Tara’s cup rattled down onto her own saucer. “Well, you’re obviously upset about something,” she defended. “I want to help if I can.”

  The old woman sighed.

  “I’m worried that Bella is too much for you. I certainly—”

  “I already told you, she’s not,” Winnie argued. “Or have you not been paying attention?”

  Tara stood, fully alarmed. Winnie was her rock, she was everyone’s rock. “I have been paying attention, and I can see that you’re upset.”

  Winnie didn’t comment but her lips quivered.

  Tara rounded the counter to perch on the stool next to the old woman. “Winnie?” She questioned, her voice soft. Hesitantly, she placed one hand on Winnie’s arm. “Please talk to me.”

  * * *

  Tears filled Winnie’s eyes. Her thoughts jumbled and swam, betraying her, taking her back to that day with Claudia and Roy. She had arrived at the University of Pittsburgh, filled with anticipation, as well as apprehension. Her neck had kinked back to take in the 20-story Residence Hall as she’d climbed from Roy’s old dodge. The round building’s tall towers resembled gray tin cans, and she’d never seen the like.

  Students bustled around them, through the parking lot, carrying in supplies. She felt every bit as out of place as Roy’s car, with its ’50s style wing fenders. Compared to the sleek, new muscle cars around them, Roy’s hand-me-down Dodge was a relic from the decade past.

  Claudia rounded the front of the car. “Look at this place, will you?” she gushed to Winnie. “Can you believe we’re going to live here?”

  Roy stretched his thin, six-foot frame, and rubbed his palm across the top of his crew cut. “Stop staring like hillbillies and get your bags,” he motioned with his hand. “I have stuff to do.”

  Winnie’s gaze landed on a group of boys gathered on the sidewalk. These young men had a different air about them from the boys back in Smithville. Some of them smoked cigarettes, looking cool and confident as they tossed interested, yet superior, glances toward them. She couldn’t help but think that they looked experienced.

  Tearing her gaze away, she scanned the height of the building once again, and then took in the trees, walkways, buildings, and parking lots surrounding her. The campus was simply grand, far more modern than she’d thought it would be. This was a world far removed from stuffy old Smithville.

  The noon day sun, high and glaring, made the already humid day insufferable, so Winnie headed around to the trunk to collect their bags. She hadn’t brought much, just bedding and clothes for the most part, but now she wasn’t sure if she had brought anything that would work. Her excitement to finally be at the university waned as her gaze darted amongst the other students hurrying past with their belongings.

  The girls here wore their skirts shorter and the fabrics brighter. Everyone seemed so assured and confident, as if they knew exactly where to go and what to do.

  Back home, at the small Penn State campus in Uniontown where she and Claudia had attended, she’d been confident, maybe even better dressed than most. But there, the entire campus had consisted of five rented rooms in an old office building. This was different all together.

  “Wynona, wake up,” Roy grumbled, knocking her leg with the suitcase.

  Groping blindly for the bag, she stared at a nearby student. The girl wore a tight tank top, which made her lack of a bra obvious. Her short, fringed, buckskin skirt, and go-go boots topped off the look. Winnie had felt comfortable enough about her looks up to now. She had high cheek bones and big brown eyes. Her figure was good enough, though maybe a little on the slim side. Claudia would look amazing in the tight tank tops like that girl wore, bra or not, whereas she’d have to settle for not filling them out quite so much.

  “I have got to go shopping, oh, why isn’t there a way we could have known what the styles would be like here!” Claudia proclaimed, gripping Winnie’s arm as she watched the girl disappear into the resident hall. Her eyes danced. “We are going to love this place!”

  “Come on you two,” Roy grumbled as he continued hefting bags from the car. “I’m not carrying all this stuff by myself.”

  “Winnie?” Tara said again, giving the old woman’s arm a shake. “Are you okay? You’re scaring me.”

  Jolted back into the present, Winnie tugged her arm from Tara’s grasp. “I’m fine,” she huffed, reaching for her forgotten tea cup.

  Tara’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on with you today?”

  Chapter Two

  Tara backed away from the old woman, her expression wary. Finally, she settled back onto her stool across the island. “Where did you go?”

  Winnie took a sip of her tea. “I was right here.”

  “I know that look, you wondered off somewhere, you can’t fool me.”

  “If you must know,” Winnie said, giving Tara an irritated look, “I was remembering my first day at University.”

  Tara’s head pulled back in shock.

  Winnie snorted a chuckle. “Yes, dear, I went to college.”

  Tara blushed. “I’m— I’m not surprised, you’re very wise.”

  Cocking one eyebrow, Winnie regarded Tara for a long moment.

  “Really,” Tara added.

  Winnie tipped up her cup, draining the last of her tea, then rose to rinse her cup at the sink.

  “When was this?” Tara asked, collecting tea fixings from the island.

  Tossing a glance over her shoulder, Winnie braced herself for Tara’s response. “1967.”

  Tara’s mouth fell open.

  The old woman rested her hip against the counter, watching Tara in amusement.

  “But— but that was, I mean, that would make you—” she did math in her head. “I thought you were much—” the words died on her lips.

  “Older?” Winnie offered.

  “Well—”

  “I’d been attending classes in Uniontown for several years before I went off to the Un
iversity of Pittsburgh, so I wasn’t eighteen, but—”

  “Pittsburgh? You went to the University of Pittsburgh?” It didn’t particularly shock her that Winnie was educated; it was the fact that Winnie had never uttered a word about college that blew Tara’s mind.

  “It’s not exactly the ends of the earth, dear.”

  “No,” Tara sputtered, “but it’s— How old are you? I thought you were well into your eighties.”

  Winnie pushed away from the counter. “For one thing, that particular school has been allowing women since the 1800s. And I’m sure I’ve always been old to you, honey, but I’m not that old. Besides, once you came here, I sort of settled into the grandmother role and didn’t bother with youthful things. I sort of took on old age early.” She turned back to the sink. “I’d been through enough for two lifetimes,” she muttered under her breath.

  The words stung Tara as she stared at Winnie’s back. “I didn’t mean…”

  Winnie waved her off and headed into the laundry room to change loads. “I’m sure there are several things you don’t know about me, dear.”

  Tara rose from her stool but hesitated, thinking about Winnie in college at that turbulent time. She couldn’t help but wonder what the old woman had seen or been involved with.

  * * *

  On the short drive back to the Inn, Tara pondered Winnie’s words. She’d been so stunned by the thought of Winnie being part of the sexual ’60s, that she’d forgotten all about the poor old lady being upset. Obviously, something had happened, and she was dealing with memories. Maybe the letter said that one of Winnie’s friends had passed away. What else could possibly have her so upset? As she drove up the long winding drive to the Inn, she decided to check in on Winnie later.

  Pulling to a stop in front of the house, she turned to Bella in the back seat. “You ready to go inside?”

  “Inside!” Bella chanted, bouncing in her seat.