Elderberry Croft: The Complete Collection

by Becky Doughty

  “Don’t say that. You’re not a party-pooper. You made a perfect MC for my celebration tonight. You played right along, you counted for me, and you laughed with me. That’s more than most would have done for a completely ridiculous stranger.” But Willow wasn’t looking at her. She was staring at her little house with its pretty white lights and the lovely flowers, and Kathy could tell the girl wanted to disappear inside it again, hidden away, safe from the world.

  Kathy shuffled back and forth, mortified by her thoughtless words. She did that often, she realized. She’d taken the old ‘think before you speak’ adage and tweaked it so that she spoke what she was thinking. How many other people had she hurt by the thoughts spilling unfiltered out of her mouth?

  Makani. Her words had nearly destroyed their relationship. It wasn’t his fault his father walked out. It wasn’t his fault he wanted answers. It wasn’t his fault she still harbored bitter-ness and anger and resentment toward Paul for all the times he’d pounded on her, called her terrible things, pushed her away with his cruel words…the way she, Kathy, was always doing to others.

  Makani. His wife, Sylvia. Had she ever said anything kind to the girl who had stolen her baby’s heart? She honestly couldn’t remember. Maybe there was more to Makani’s silence than just the things she’d said to him. Maybe it had something to do with what she never said to the woman he loved. And Myra? She hurt Myra’s feelings almost every day. She didn’t mean to, not really, but Myra was just so easy to poke at. She couldn’t count the times her dear friend had stormed out the gate, tears in her eyes, threatening never to return again. What about Patti next door? That poor woman spent every waking moment taking care of grumpy old disabled Richard, but did Kathy ever offer to help? No, she was too busy making snide remarks to Patti about useless, worthless men. It didn’t matter that Richard was a bitter old coot. Patti needed to be encouraged and acknowledged for standing by him when he didn’t deserve her, not torn down and demoralized for doing what she could to make Richard’s life better.

  What Kathy wouldn’t give to have someone in her life, who refused to leave her side, even when she wasn’t very nice.

  “You’re not ridiculous, Willow. I think you’re lovely. I think what you’ve done to your place is amazing. My dogs like you. My cat likes you. I like you. And I hope you won’t stay a stranger for long.” The words didn’t come easy. She had to practically wrench them out of her mouth. But she meant every single one of them.

  “I’m so glad you feel that way, Kathy! I don’t mind being ridiculous, and I really don’t mind being alone most of the time, but I hate being a stranger."

  Was this magical creature really all alone? Was there no one in her life to share these moments with? Kathy knew what it felt like to be alone, and most of the time, she didn’t mind it either, but at least she knew the people around her. At least she knew she could call Eddie if a faucet broke or the roof leaked. At least she knew Myra would come running if Kathy’s heart started acting up again. Well maybe she could be Willow’s ‘at least.’ In fact, maybe she should try being Patti’s ‘at least,’ or Myra’s ‘at least,’ or even Shelly Little’s ‘at least.’ Someone should take it upon themselves to check on the strange cat lady every once in a while. Why not Kathy?

  Maybe it was time to put Paul’s binoculars away and step outside her comfort zone.

  Chapter 5

  “I have a new motto.” Kathy beamed at her friend through the screen door. Myra, still in her bathrobe, stared at her in shock.

  “What are you doing here, Kathy-la? Is everything okay? Is it your heart?” Myra clutched the lapels of her robe together. “I was just getting ready to take a shower.”

  “Are you going to invite me in or am I going to have to stand out here in the cold, freezing my fingers off?” Kathy knew her words were still gruff, but they were much nicer than what she might have said even yesterday.

  “Of course! Come in. Sorry. I’m just not used to you coming to see me. I always come to see you.” Myra stepped back, then closed the heavy front door after Kathy was safely inside. “Let me go get dressed. There’s still coffee left if you want some.”

  “No, no, Myra. This will only take a minute. I just came to tell you my new motto. Are you ready for it?”

  “What do you mean, Kathy? Are you sure you’re okay? I didn’t know you had an old motto.” Myra dropped into a chair at her circa-1970’s dinette set and picked up her coffee cup, taking a sip and frowning. “What is this motto?”

  “A motto. It’s like words to live by.”

  “I know what a motto is.”

  “Well, I have new words to live by. Are you ready?”

  “Sure.” Myra was getting impatient, Kathy could tell, but she didn’t care. She was accustomed to Myra’s frustration.

  “Try on, don’t spy on, people.” Kathy smiled and spread her arms in an anticipatory gesture. Myra just stared blankly at her. “Well, what do you think?”

  “What do I think? I think you’re losing your marbles. What does that mean? You’re going to try on people? I get the not spying part. I’ve been telling you to stop doing that for years. But trying them on instead? Loco.”

  Kathy grinned. “Okay. So it’s silly. But it means something to me. I’m going to stop sitting in at my window spying on people through my binoculars—”

  “Paul’s binoculars,” Myra corrected her.

  Kathy continued without acknowledging the interruption. “And start trying on new friends. Like trying on clothes. See how they fit. How we get along. I’m going to try to make some friends here at The Coach House.”

  “Well, it’s about time. I’m always telling you that you need to have someone to check on you. Someone besides me, who won’t die before you do. My doctor says my kidneys are in such bad shape that one of them is bound to give out soon.”

  “Then I’ll be here to take care of you. Maybe you could have one of mine.”

  “What? Why would I want your diseased kidney?”

  “My kidneys are in great shape. You’re the one with diseased organs.”

  “I’m not diseased. My body is just failing me. Ask my doctor.”

  “I don’t need to ask your doctor, you old—” Kathy smacked her forehead and clamped her lips shut. This new motto was going to be a little more trying than she’d planned on.

  “Look Myra. I’m not always very nice to you.”

  “No. You’re usually mean to me.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry.”

  Myra stared at her, a look of distrust in her eyes, and Kathy continued. “I just want you to know how much I appreciate you as my friend. I don’t know anyone else who would put up with me—not even my own son!—the way you do. I want to try to be a little easier to put up with. This is me trying.”

  Myra’s mouth hung open, her eyes wide, and Kathy chuckled. “This is me trying you on. See how it works? Stupid, I know, but it makes sense to me.” She shrugged and turned to go. “I didn’t want another day to go by without you knowing that I’m glad you’re my friend. I’m going to try to be a better friend to you, Myra.”

  Just as she reached for the handle of the door, Myra bolted up out of her chair and threw her arms around Kathy. “I’m glad you’re my friend, too, Kathy-la. I like your motto. It’s not stupid at all.”

  “You should come up with some words to live by,” Kathy said after Myra released her.

  “Words to live by? Oh no. I need words to die by. I won’t live much longer, remember?”

  Kathy rolled her eyes. “You’ll outlive me, silly old—friend.”

  A happy little grin lit up Myra’s face, and Kathy waved goodbye. “I’m off to see Shelly now.”

  “You’re what?” Myra’s expression was priceless; she was even more shocked by Kathy’s stated intentions than she’d been by Kathy’s appearance on her front porch.

  “Shelly Little. Cat lady. I think she needs a friend, too. Someone who doesn’t have four legs and a tail.”

  “You’re cra
zy, Kathy-la. Loco.”

  “You said that already. If this is crazy, then I’m okay with that.” Kathy headed down the steps and crossed the gravel road that circled around the park. She patted the ball of catnip in her pocket, mentally promising Lucy she’d request a replacement from Willow.

  Tomorrow, she was going to stop in at Joe’s place and ask him for the recipe of a simple meal she could cook for Patti and Richard. No one had much money at The Coach House, so she had no qualms about telling him to keep her limited larder and resources in mind. She was sure a night off in the kitchen might do Patti some good. She was also sure Richard wouldn’t so much as utter a ‘thank you,’ but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying them on, too.

  There didn’t seem to be anyone home at Shelly’s house, but she could hear the scuffling and mewling of cats behind the door. One catnip ball wasn’t going to be enough. Maybe it was providential that Shelly wasn’t home. She’d go right now and ask Willow about making more of the toys. She’d offer to pay for them, even if it meant buying a few at a time.

  When she reached the driveway between their two houses, Kathy paused, suddenly feeling uncertain about her plan. Should she bother her new neighbor already? The poor thing hadn’t even been here a week yet and here she was, thinking about asking her for favors. Besides, her heart was beating pretty hard with the walk she’d taken around the park. Maybe she should go lie down instead. She could introduce herself to Shelly and her cats another day.

  Before she could chicken out, she marched across the little yard and made her way carefully up the steps and under the honeysuckle archway onto Willow’s front porch.

  The sound of weeping stopped her in her tracks. Deep, heart-wrenching sobs were coming from inside the cottage, and Kathy wanted to cover her ears against it. The sadness she’d seen on her neighbor’s face the night before was real, and by the sound of things, it went very deep. Poor girl.

  What could she do? How could she help? She’d have to talk to Myra about this.

  She turned to go, trying to slip away without being noticed. She’d just cleared the bottom step when the front door opened, and Willow stepped outside, a moss-green shawl draped around her shoulders for warmth.

  “Kathy? Were you looking for me?” Willow’s voice cracked a little, but other than her red-rimmed eyes and pink-tipped nose, there were no other telltale signs that she’d been sobbing only moments before. “I didn’t hear you knock.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you. I’ll come back another time.” Kathy felt terrible.

  “You’re not bothering me, not at all. What can I do for you?” She was putting on a brave face, making Kathy feel even worse, but there didn’t seem to be any way to politely leave now.

  “I was just wondering about this catnip ball. You made it, right?” She held up the toy by the string.

  “I did. The herbs are from my garden, and the ball is just a quick little knitting job.” Willow had moved forward until she was standing under the honeysuckle. With her pale features that closely matched the creamy flowers on the vine overhead, Kathy thought she looked like a growing thing herself in her green shawl, her mahogany hair loose around her shoulders. “Would you like another one?”

  “Actually, I was wondering if I could pay you to make some more for me. Maybe five or six of them?”

  “Five or six of them? Your kitty likes them that much?” Willow’s laugh burst out, albeit a little subdued compared to the night before.

  “Oh, no. They’re not for Lucy.” Kathy met her eyes. “I’m following your example. I’m going to go officially meet Shelly Little down at the other end of the park. She’s lived here for a few years now, and even though I learned her name right away, I never bothered to introduce myself to her.” She could feel the heat of a blush creep up her neck, and was glad for her dark skin. “You made me want to change that.”

  “Oh, Kathy, that’s lovely!” Willow came down the steps and wrapped her in a quick hug, then she stepped back. There was that cookie smell again; it must be her lotion or shampoo. “Thank you for coming to see me. I needed a reminder that God still loves me, and He sent me you.” Her tender smile didn’t completely replace the sadness in her eyes, but relief settled around Kathy’s shoulders.

  “Now for those catnip toys,” Willow declared. “I just so happen to have several of them on hand. I’ll be right back.” She hurried inside and returned with a little woven basket filled with the stuffed toys. “Take this with you when you go. Make sure she has one for each of her cats. If that’s not enough, you let me know, and I’ll whip up a few more, okay?” She thrust the basket into Kathy’s arm and pulled the shawl a little tighter around her shoulders.

  “Are you…are you all right?” The words were out before Kathy had given them a moment’s thought, and Kathy wanted to bite off her tongue.

  For several moments, Willow didn’t answer, but let her eyes drift across the patio from pot to pot and plant to plant. Finally, she said, “Do you see that tree over there?” She pointed at a tree that grew along the little creek beyond the mulberry tree.

  “Do you know what that is?”

  Kathy didn’t recognize it. It looked more like a shrub than a tree. She shook her head.

  “It’s an elderberry tree. That tree is how I knew I belonged here when I came looking a few weeks ago. That tree was my Christmas gift from God.” Willow smiled, the tender way a mother does when looking at her child. “It shouldn’t be growing there, not on its own like that. Even though they grow beautifully up north, and especially in the Central Valley, here in Southern California, especially in this arid climate, these trees require a fair amount of attention in order to survive. They prefer moist soil, cool nights, a sunny spot, and other elderberry trees.

  “But look.” Willow pointed at the little creek. “That tree is growing in the one spot where it will find everything it needs. Rich soil. Water. Sun.”

  She pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders, but kept her eyes on the tree. “One of my favorite verses in the Bible is in Jeremiah where it says, ‘He—or she, in my case—is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit.’”

  She turned back to Kathy then, the gentle smile still on her face. “I’m like that tree. I’m in a place right now where growing feels almost impossible, but God is teaching me to send out my roots toward the water, to choose life, and maybe to bloom where I’m planted, even to bear fruit. For now, this is where I’m planted.” She stepped back, opened her arms wide, and faced the little cottage.

  “Welcome to Elderberry Croft, Kathy Kekoa.”

  FEBRUARY EMBERS

  Chapter 1

  Richard was in a good mood today. When he said her name, it wasn’t with his usual biting tone, and he shaved this morning after his shower. He even complimented her on breakfast once he was settled into the recliner for his morning news programs.

  It was nice, this unexpected glimpse of the man she married so many years ago. There were days when she would give anything just to roll over and go back to sleep, back to her dreams where her husband could walk without excruciating pain, where her son looked at her with something more than dismissal, and where the days didn’t stretch out interminably before them.

  She took another sip of coffee, savoring the last moments of peace before he called her name. Pulling back the curtain at the window beside her favorite green chair, she kept a ready eye on him. He’d gone outside to sit in the sun after their light lunch of potato soup and crackers; he had a plaid flannel blanket draped around his shoulders to ward off the early February chill. But he wouldn’t last long, however determined he might be.

  She knew why he was out there, and her smile faded. Willow Goodhope.

  Willow had drifted in on the blustery winds of January like some woodland Mary Poppins, planting herself in that horrible shack at the edge of the
park, just beyond the laundry shed. She’d turned the dilapidated building into a rustic cottage where things grew practically overnight. Flowering vines crawled up and over the entrance, leaving her front door in shadows, so Patti could never tell if it was opened or closed unless she really looked. She didn’t like that; she preferred to know when she was being watched. Overflowing pots of growing things hung from the eaves and were scattered about the river-rock patio, making the place look like an old lady wearing too much jewelry.

  Then she’d gone and named the place as though she owned it. Elderberry Croft.

  Sounds like a witch’s house. Looks a little like a witch’s house, too. How does she get all that stuff to bloom in the middle of winter?

  Patti could barely keep the geraniums growing along the front of their lot. She wished they had some real grass and pretty flowers in the yard, but she didn’t really have time to grow things anyway; especially things they couldn’t eat. Joe next door used every square inch of his lot to grow his vegetables, and he liked to wave his hand trowel over the fence at her, encouraging her to do the same. There were some days, though, when he was out there sunup to sun-down, and she knew that was more than she could commit to; especially with Richard needing so much from her.

  “Patricia!”

  She sighed, wishing he’d call her Patti, knowing he never would. She got up, set her empty mug on the counter beside the sink, then hurried out to the small porch where he sat, leaning forward in his chair to get a better view of what was going on down the way.

  There she was, on her hands and knees, digging around in the flowerbed under her front window. Her long hair was pulled back into a braid that kept slipping over her shoulder. With a toss of her head, she’d send it slithering out of the way again. Self-consciously, Patti brought a hand up to her own braid, wrapped tightly around itself at the back of her head. It was thin, more gray than brown, and she hadn’t worn it hanging down her back like Willow’s in fifteen years.