Previously Loved Treasures

by Bette Lee Crosby

  Up until now Joe never hit Sara, not once. Oh, often enough he’d come home drunk, smash things around, and start yelling so loud we were afraid to blink an eyelash. Times like that I was scared to death he’d start in on poor little Sara, but he didn’t. That’s not to say next time he won’t. Joe is plenty mean, and meanness has a way of spreading itself around. Today it was me; tomorrow it could be her. I’m not willing to chance it.

  I know you’re questioning why any girl would marry a man like Joe, but he wasn’t always this way. When we met I was sixteen years old, and he was twenty-three. That night when I left the bowling alley with Evelyn she said I ought to watch my step, ’cause Joe had the look of trouble. I didn’t say anything ’cause I didn’t want her to worry, but by then we’d already made a date for the next night. We got married a month later. I was starry-eyed in love and sure didn’t see trouble. All I saw was the handsomest man who ever walked.

  That first year Joe treated me like I was a precious baby doll. He never even said a cross word. He didn’t turn ugly ’till after Sara was born. The first time he hit me, it was just after I’d been nursing her. He was stomping around like a bad-natured bear, and I started teasing him about being jealous of the baby. I was laughing when he hauled off and slammed me upside the head. Less than a minute later he was on his knees begging my forgiveness. Knowing how much Joe loved me, I forgave him. I figured it would never happen again, and we’d go right back to being happy.

  I was wrong; not wrong about him being jealous of Sara, but wrong to think we’d ever be happy again.

  I keep wondering if I hadn’t ever touched on his sore spot, would Joe still be crazy in love with me? Some days I think yes, and other days I know it’s just wishful thinking.

  The saddest thing about an ugly mess like this is that you don’t stop loving someone like Joe; you just keep hoping things will get better.

  A Rose by Any Other Name

  Early the next morning before any of the other residents got out of bed, Caroline rapped on the door of the room where Rowena and Sara were sleeping. It was a soft tap, not a knuckled knock, but Rowena opened the door cautiously.

  “Thank heaven it’s you,” she said when she saw Caroline.

  Caroline slipped inside the door. “Stay here in the room. I’ll bring a breakfast tray up.”

  The plan was set in place, and as far as any of the residents knew it was just an ordinary Wednesday. Yes, the biscuits were a bit burnt and the bacon undercooked, but that was something they’d come to expect so no one asked questions.

  Caroline sat at the table nervously nibbling on a burnt biscuit. “So, what is everyone going to do today?”

  “I’m thinking I might clear the weeds out of that flower patch in front of the house,” Wilbur said.

  “On a day like today? Why, it’s way too hot for that.”

  “It’s not that hot—”

  Before Wilbur could finish his thought Laricka jumped in. “Oh, it’s definitely going to be hot! Too hot for weed-pulling.”

  Pleased with Laricka’s answer, Caroline turned back to Wilbur. “See, Laricka thinks it’s too hot too.”

  Laricka nodded. “You wouldn’t catch me pulling weeds on a day like today. I’m just gonna sit in that nice big rocker on the front porch and read my book.”

  “The front porch?” Caroline repeated. Things were not working out as she wanted. Normally all the residents went their own way after breakfast. Some napped, others watched game shows on television, and Doctor Payne usually grabbed the lounge under the elm in the back yard and spent the day reading magazines about dentistry. It was a rarity when anyone sat, stood, or worked in the front of the house. Trying to come up with a plan that would appeal to the majority, Caroline suggested, “A hot day like today is when you ought to be sitting in a nice cool air-conditioned theater.” When no one voiced a difference of opinion, she added, “The new Indiana Jones movie is playing at the Rialto.” Although Caroline had only the Food Lion clerk’s opinion to go by, she swore it was a movie they didn’t want to miss.

  “Sounds good to me,” Louie said.

  Harriet agreed. And although Wilbur stuck to the thought of weeding, he eventually gave in and said he’d go with the others.

  “What about you?” Caroline asked Laricka.

  “I can’t go,” she answered. “My grandsons are coming to visit.”

  Caroline thought of the grandsons, two boys who ran helter-skelter throughout the house. They popped up from behind sofas, crawled under beds, and once emerged from behind the coal bin in the cellar. They had big ears and loud voices. No secret would stay safe with them around.

  “All the kids are going to see Indiana Jones,” she said. “The boys would be crushed if they missed it.”

  The thought of depriving her grandchildren of anything struck home. “Well, yes, I suppose they would enjoy it,” Laricka said. She excused herself from the table and went to call the boys.

  Doctor Payne decided to pass; he’d just received a new magazine that needed reading.

  With everyone out of the house this afternoon and Max still sleeping it off behind locked doors, Caroline could set the stage for her plan.

  ~ ~ ~

  Once the table was cleared, she did the dishes in record time then jumped in her car and headed for the drugstore. In less than ten minutes Caroline was back with a box of Roux hair color. She handed Rowena the package of chestnut satin dye and a pair of scissors.

  “I’ll be back in an hour,” she said.

  It took twenty minutes to get there, but when Caroline pulled alongside the curb in front of Previously Loved Treasures Peter Pennington stood outside.

  “Good morning,” he said with a smile. “I was expecting you a bit earlier.”

  Without questioning she said, “Sorry, I had to stop by the drugstore first.” Following him inside, Caroline mentioned she was looking for some children’s clothing. “Girl’s,” she specified. “Size four or maybe five.”

  “Size five is what you want,” Peter replied confidently. “And I’ve got everything you need.” He carried the yellow stepstool to the back of the store, climbed up, and pulled down a box that was nearly the size of steamer trunk. “You’ll also want some toys.”

  Peter hauled the box to the counter and lifted the lid. Inside was everything Sara would need: play clothes, dresses, underwear, shoes, even a miniature-sized pocketbook, a baby-faced doll, and several other toys.

  Caroline gasped. “Oh, my gosh! This is exactly what I was looking for.”

  “Of course it is.” Peter grinned.

  When Caroline asked how much, he gave an even bigger grin and said, “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? How can you make money selling things for nothing?”

  “I don’t need money. I’m happy with what I’ve got.” He gave his mouth a sad little twist and shrugged. “Dollars, dimes, drachmas—the world still doesn’t realize they can’t buy happiness.”

  With a look of puzzlement, Caroline asked, “Then why the store? Why not retire and take life easy?”

  “This store is not for me, it’s for people who need things. People like you and your grandma.”

  Caroline found fuzzy reasoning in such an answer, and were she not in such a hurry she would have stayed to pursue it further but time was of the essence. By four o’clock the residents would return, and everything had to be in place by then. Not that she wouldn’t trust them to keep her secret, but not knowing was far better. Not knowing meant there was no chance of a slip-up.

  In addition to the box of children’s clothes, Peter gave Caroline a previously loved suitcase filled with jeans, tee-shirts, and sweaters that would fit her or Rowena. “It’s been to Paris, France three times,” he said as he carried it to her car.

  Before she could pull away from the curb, he again asked if she’d hung the picture.

  She’d said yes last time, but he’d obviously seen through the lie.

  “Actually I haven’t done it yet,” Caroline confessed
. “I planned to, but now that I have a guest staying in my room I doubt I’ll be able to work at the desk.”

  “Not work at the desk?” Peter replied. “A desk with so many stories waiting to be written?” He lowered his head and gave a sorrowful shake. “Sad.”

  Caroline felt a sense of shame creeping over her. How could she? This strange little man had given her so much and asked so little. Peter wasn’t just a shopkeeper; he was a friend.

  “You’re right,” she said. “I know that’s something I should do.” Caroline smiled at Peter and it was a genuine smile, a smile that promised fulfillment. “Tomorrow I’ll move the desk to my loft and hang the picture.”

  As Caroline pulled away she caught one last glimpse of Peter standing at the curb and waving goodbye.

  ~ ~ ~

  When the residents sat down to dinner that night, there was a newcomer in their midst. A woman dressed in a business suit Caroline had once worn for work. A woman with short dark hair and a well-dressed daughter sitting beside her. If anyone came looking for the ragged blond from the Laundromat, they could honestly say they’d never seen such a person.

  When she introduced Rose Smith, Caroline gave a slight smile. “Rosie and I go way back. Why, we’ve known each other since God knows when.”

  Rose Smith smiled and nodded.

  Harriet was the only one to mention the large purple bruise on Rowena’s cheek. “What happened to your face?”

  Rowena, who was now Rose, gave a shallow little laugh. “It happened on the way down here,” she said, then explained how on the bus her suitcase had tumbled from the rack and hit the side of her cheek.

  Before there could be any more questions, Caroline jumped in. “Rose is going to be staying with us for a while. She’s promised to help me with the cooking.”

  Louie was the first to speak. “Well, now, that’s certainly good news.”

  “I can’t say I’m a great cook,” Rose replied demurely. “But I do make really good biscuits and gravy.”

  Everyone smiled; even Sara.

  Chicken n’ Dumplings

  On Thursday morning when the residents came to breakfast, they were greeted with a cheese omelet so fluffy it looked like it might float away. Alongside the omelet sat a stack of ham slices browned to perfection and a pile of juicy fat sausages.

  Louie reached across the table and carved off a sizeable chunk of omelet.

  “You mind leaving some for somebody else?” Harriet said.

  Rose, just coming from the kitchen, set a basket of biscuits on the table. “Don’t worry,” she said, laughing, “there’s plenty more.”

  Before Louie had swallowed that first bite, he garbled, “Delicious!”

  For probably the first and only time Doctor Payne agreed with Louie, and Louie, with his mouth full, didn’t have a wisecrack comeback.

  Breakfast lasted a good half-hour longer than usual, and when the residents finally left the table they all agreed today lunch would be unnecessary.

  “Why, I’m so full I couldn’t swallow another bite,” Laricka said.

  Doctor Payne, who had begun to read medical journals as well as the dentistry magazines, added, “Overeating is bad for your heart, and given the way we’ve all overindulged this morning skipping lunch is a well-advised option.”

  Although Louie had misgivings about such a drastic move, he went along with the others. Somewhere about two o’clock his stomach started rumbling, and he regretted the decision. It was another four hours until supper. He snapped on the radio and tried listening to a Braves baseball game, but in the bottom of the third inning he started thinking about the stadium hot dogs smothered in mustard and lost track of the score.

  His stomach grumbled again, and he thought back to breakfast. He could picture the platter sitting on the table at the end of the meal. There were several slices of ham left on the plate and three biscuits in the basket. What harm could there be in grabbing a few slices of leftover ham and a cold biscuit? Shortly after his stomach rumbled a third warning, Louie slipped quietly into the kitchen.

  Rose stood at the kitchen counter with her back to the door. The radio played a Jimmy Buffet song, and as she snapped the ends off of a pile of string beans she sang along.

  So much the better, Louie thought, and without saying a word he crossed behind her and opened the refrigerator door. He reached in, pulled out the platter of ham, a basket of biscuits, and a jar of mayonnaise. He would have gone unnoticed if at the last minute he hadn’t decided to add lettuce. When he added the head of lettuce to what he was holding, the jar of mayonnaise tipped and began to fall. Louie tried to catch it, but the platter of ham went. Everything hit the floor at once in an explosion of sound.

  Rose screamed and whirled around, a look of fear on her face and the knife in her hand thrust out defensively. Seeing Louie, she said, “You scared the life out of me!”

  By then Wilbur had come running to the kitchen, as had Laricka.

  “For shame,” Laricka scolded. “We say no lunch and you do this?”

  “It’s okay,” Rose said as she stooped to help Louie pick up the pieces of glass strewn across the floor. “No harm done.”

  “But,” Laricka stammered, “you screamed—”

  “Just startled,” Rose explained, trying to calm the momentary fear of believing Joe had found her.

  ~ ~ ~

  For the first week Rose constantly looked over her shoulder, jumped at even the slightest sound, and slept with one eye open. Despite Caroline’s assurance that no one had seen them leave town together, Rose could not rid herself of the belief Joe would one day come walking through the door. The only moments of peace she found were the ones spent in the kitchen. There she could lose herself in the tasks of mixing batter, peeling vegetables, or leafing through the pages of Ida’s cookbooks. When Rose came to a page that was tattered and food-stained, she would think about making that dish for supper.

  After only a few days the house began to change. Burnt biscuits became a thing of the past and questions such as “Would you prefer stuffed pork chops or rosemary roasted chicken for dinner?” began to circle the breakfast table. Supper was once again served at six, and there was no longer a need for the dinner bell because the residents were seated in their chairs before the sixth chime on the clock had sounded. But the food wasn’t the only change.

  High-pitched giggles wafted through the hallways, and toys began to pop up in the strangest places—a Jack-in-the-Box in the hall bath, a tower of blocks on the living room coffee table, a Barbie doll with no clothes peeking from beneath a stack of newspapers,

  The desk in Caroline’s old room was moved upstairs to the loft, along with the picture Peter Pennington had given her. Although Peter made the desk seem light as a feather when he carried it in singlehandedly, Louie and Doctor Payne wiped beads of sweat from their faces as they heaved and hauled it up the stairs. Once the desk was pushed into place against the sloped wall, Caroline hammered a nail into the wall and hung the picture above the desk. She stepped back, eyed the picture, and looked into the face of a man who was both stranger and friend. “Welcome to your new home,” she said laughingly.

  On Sunday Rose made Ida’s much-loved chicken and dumplings for dinner, and after Louie tasted the first bite he jumped up, darted around the table, lifted Rose from her chair, and wrapped her in a gigantic bear hug. “You’re amazing!” he said. Then he pleaded with her to marry him. Laughter broke out around the table, and before long it had the merry sound of a party.

  The door to Max’s room was closed and locked, but sounds slid through the keyhole and picked at his thoughts. Through the weeks Max’s resentment had spread from Caroline to the other residents, and such frivolity could only mean one thing: they were hatching a plot against him. With his eyes narrowed to mere slits and his mouth set in a steely straight line, Max twisted the lock open and walked into the dining room. Rose sat in the seat he’d previously occupied. With a scowl that carved ridges above his brows, he looked at her and r
oared, “What the hell…?”

  Rose bounced up so quickly the chair fell backward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  Caroline might not have found the courage to speak if the angry words had been directed at her, but there was no hesitation in her defense of Rose.

  “Back off, Max!” she said angrily. “I told Rose to sit there.”

  Before anything could happen, Wilbur grabbed onto the exchange. “Here, Max, take my seat.” He stood and offered his chair.

  Max eyed him suspiciously, then came around and sat.

  While it may have appeared to be a lessening of Max’s standoff, such a thing was not true. To Max’s way of thinking, his presence prevented them from furthering whatever vengeful plans they had. He’d already imagined any number of harmful things they might do: break into his room and cart away all his belongings, plant a nest of bedbugs in the mattress, poison his toothpaste. The list was endless. He had to be on guard.

  Once Max was seated at the table, the laughter ended and words came with a thin covering of wariness. The conversation turned to weather, summer flowers waiting to be planted, and a movie Harriet had seen nearly a month ago.

  Max added nothing to the conversation but remained in his seat, smug in the satisfaction that he had thwarted whatever mischief they were planning. Moving forward he would be more diligent; he would be there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

  The next morning Max came to the breakfast table. He also sat there at lunchtime and again at supper. For the first few days his presence caused the residents to be on edge, wary that a single wrong word could set him off on a tangent that could turn violent. Twice Harriet cornered Caroline and suggested it would be better for all concerned if Max moved out.

  “That might be,” Caroline answered. “But Max is family, and I can’t ask him to leave.”

  In time the nervous, buckled-down conversation that took place when Max was seated at the table eased back to what it had been. Not all the way back to the frivolity of the chicken and dumplings night but back to a warm chatter that passed from one to another like a dish of butter or a bowl of peas. When the words were passed to Max he quickly moved them along, cautious of giving voice to any thought or intention they could use against him.