Elderberry Croft: The Complete Collection

by Becky Doughty

  “Richard?” She called out softly, waited, and when he didn’t respond, she hurried to her room and pulled the door closed behind her. Using her fingertip, she carefully slit open the envelope. On the front of a plain blue card were the words, My love. Inside, it said, Will you celebrate Valentine’s Day with me tonight?

  What did it mean? Didn’t he remember that she always made a special meal to celebrate? Was it possible he wanted to go out somewhere? Why did he send the invitation through the mail? Why not just talk to her?

  She stood, momentarily indecisive, then made up her mind to do just that; talk to him. She quickly covered the few feet to her husband’s room. At the last moment, her heart fluttered, but she pushed open his door anyway.

  Chapter 5

  His bed was empty.

  “Richard?” Shock and concern made her voice crack. Had he tried to get up while she was gone? Was he lying on the floor somewhere, hurt? She turned—then caught sight of another blue envelope on his pillow. It had slipped down near the headboard and she almost missed it. Snatching it up, she tore into it, not caring if it had her name on it or not.

  I’ve gone with Ivan. He’s going to help me prepare for this evening. Dare I hope that you will be waiting for me? Will you wear something pretty?

  Patti stared at the card in disbelief. This was not her Richard. This was not his doing; it couldn’t be, could it?

  But inside her, something was waking up, stirring, and shifting, an ember being fanned to life. “Dare I hope?” she whispered, repeating her husband’s words. She hurried back to her own room, throwing open the door of her closet.

  “Something pretty,” she mused, flipping through the few special items in her wardrobe.

  In clear plastic, at the end of the rod, hung a dress she’d worn years ago on one of the last dates they’d shared, their fifteenth anniversary. Ivan was twelve, and they’d left him home alone for the first time. The dress was dated, with shoulder-pads and a dropped waist, but it was blue, and Richard had told her she looked beautiful that night.

  An hour later, showered, and waffling between anticipation and self-doubt, Patti stood before the full-length mirror in her room, wearing a silky white camisole and matching slip set. “Even my underwear is outdated,” she muttered to her reflection.

  She brushed her hair slowly, watching her careful movements in the mirror, wishing the strands were once again the pretty chestnut they’d been so many years ago. It wasn’t very long, considering she hadn’t cut it in years; it seemed to have stopped growing, like so many other aspects of her life. She had just begun to braid it, preparing to pin it back in place, when there was a knock at the front door.

  She donned her robe, hoping it wasn’t Ivan and Richard already. “Who is it?” She wasn’t going to open up for just anyone; she was in her underwear, after all.

  “It’s me, Willow. I come bearing gifts.” Her voice, although light and playful, was like a boon to Patti, solid footing to her shaky nerves. She pulled open the door, prepared to tell the girl all about her surprise afternoon, but she could see Willow knew already.

  “I’m here to help you get ready for your big date,” the red-haired girl stated, clearly prepared for nothing but acquiescence. She had yet another twig basket—this one twice the size of the one that now held catalogs on Patti’s coffee table—stuffed full of jars and bottles, pretty bags, and a small cluster of dried white flowers. “Let’s work a little magic, shall we?” Willow wiggled the fingers of her free hand as though casting a spell. “Take me to your inner sanctum.”

  Patti reached out and impulsively hugged her, breathing in the woodsy aroma that seemed to emanate from the girl. “I don’t know how you knew, and right now, I don’t really care. But you’re right. I need help. I haven’t gotten ready for anything other than my bed in years.”

  When Willow finally let her turn around, Patti felt a surge of panic. She was almost afraid to look, but when she raised her eyes to her reflection, she gasped in surprise.

  “Oh, my!” She lifted her hands to her hair.

  Willow had asked permission to cut it, “a little shaping up” she promised, but the results were dramatic. Patti’s hair now fell in soft, smooth waves around her face, a small cluster of flowers pinned above one ear. “You’re beautiful, Patti! You look like a modern Jane Greer. Did you see her in Out of the Past with Robert Mitchum?”

  “I don’t know about that, but I feel like I’m looking at something from out of my past, that’s for sure!” Patti couldn’t stop staring at herself. Even the grey in her hair seemed softer, intentional, and her make-up, although subtle, highlighted her big, brown eyes. She practically glowed, like she was all lit up inside.

  “Do you think he’ll notice?” It slipped out, her whispered fears, and Willow circled around to stand in front of her. Taking her by the shoulders, the younger woman waited until Patti looked at her.

  “He’ll notice.” Willow’s eyes were luminous.

  Patti nodded like a child, and she spoke in a small voice. “You remind me of my mother, Willow. You’re so certain about things.” Then almost as an afterthought, she added. “But you smell like…like my father!” She pressed a hand over her heart, swept suddenly back in time. “That’s it! I didn’t know I even remembered that smell. Oh, Willow, my dad worked in a lumber yard, and he always smelled like cedar and pine, all spicy, and earthy. I loved it when I was a little girl. It was my favorite time of day, when he came home for supper.”

  Willow chuckled loudly. “So I smell like a man, huh?”

  “Not just any man. My daddy.”

  “Well, thank you.” Willow didn’t seem to take offense. “Now I’m going to disappear, and you are going to get dressed before your prince comes to whisk you away.” She began gathering up her things and refilling her basket.

  “Thank you.” Patti still stood before the mirror in her underclothes, her reflection watching the girl. “Although that feels so inadequate. Thank you for being a friend to Ivan. Thank you for opening my eyes to the little things, to hope. Thank you for whatever is happening to Richard. I can’t explain it, but I somehow think you’re at least partly responsible. Your gifts—you—you’re just so alive. Thank you for sharing you with us.”

  Willow’s eyes were bright as she smiled and shook her head slightly. “I’m only breathing, living, like everyone else, Patti. One breath in, one breath out. Sometimes all we can do is keep breathing.”

  Patti saw it then, that hollowed-out place Ivan had eluded to, something raw and torn open in the look that passed between them. “I’m so sorry, Willow. For whatever your loss, I’m sorry.”

  The girl turned her face away, but Patti could see her shoulders rise and fall, slow and steady, one breath in, one breath out, breathing, living.

  Chapter 6

  It was after five o’clock, and getting dark, and Patti was beginning to worry. Willow had left her alone more than an hour ago and there was no word from the boys. She tried calling Ivan’s home, but no one picked up there. The last five hours were the longest she’d been apart from Richard in years, and as pitiful as that sounded, even to her own ears, she felt his absence like a cold day without a winter coat. He may not be the warmest thing in the world, but he was hers, and he was comfortably tattered in all the familiar places.

  When she heard the purr of an engine, and wheels on the gravel outside, her mouth went instantly dry. She ducked into the bathroom, checked her hair and lipstick, pinched her cheeks a few times, then returned to stand in the middle of the living room. She had no clue what to do while waiting for him to walk through the door. It would be ridiculous to act nonchalant.

  A brief knock was followed by the turning of the doorknob. Ivan entered, and she gasped at the sight of him. All decked out in a black, long-tailed tux, he greeted her, a satisfied smile on his face. “Mrs. Davis, your husband awaits your company. Shall we?” With that, he spun on one heel, stuck out an elbow, and waited until she came forward to slip her hand through his arm
.

  As they stepped out onto the porch, Patti brought her free hand up to her mouth, remembering just in time not to smear her lipstick. Richard stood beside the open door of a shiny black limousine, straight, and tall, and waiting for her. There was no walker in sight; he was supporting his weight on a dapper black cane. He wore a beautiful black suit, his white hair freshly cut and combed away from his face.

  Ivan escorted her down the walkway, and stepped back while his father gallantly kissed the hand of his mother in greeting. Then he helped both Patti and Richard in before making his way around to sit up front with the driver.

  “Where are we going?” Patti asked, feeling a little shy around this altered version of the man to whom she was married. She felt like Cinderella, riding in a magic pumpkin carriage, but with Willow as her beautiful fairy godmother.

  Richard just patted her knee and smiled mysteriously, not really looking at her. She stole a glance at him, trying to juxtapose the man who sat beside her with the one she’d been caring for all these years. Even his profile seemed changed; stronger because of the way he held his shoulders and kept his back straight. Time melted away and the old flame in her heart burned for him.

  The car tires crunched along as they pulled away from the front of their trailer. She turned and looked out the back window to see Joe standing on his porch next door, smiling and waving. When they came to the stretch between Kathy’s and Willow’s little houses, the car slowed even more, then purred to a stop altogether. Ivan was opening their door before Patti had the chance to ask questions.

  “Oh my word!” she exclaimed as she stepped from the car. Willow’s place was all aglow, the patio festooned with twinkle lights and flickering candles. There was a roaring fire burning in the fire pit, and a table for two set up comfortably close to it. On the steps of Elderberry Croft stood Willow, in a loose-fitting, long-sleeved gown as blue-black as the sky above them. Her hair flowed down her back, but it was swept away from her face by a homemade tiara crafted of dried berries and multi-colored leaves.

  She spread her arms wide and greeted them with a smile.

  “Welcome to Elderberry Croft!”

  ~ ~ ~

  As Ivan cleared their plates, Richard placed a hand on his son’s arm. “Thank you. And please tell Willow that the food was excellent.”

  Patti nodded in agreement. The pork loin steaks with elderberry glaze were indescribably delicious. “And that apple crumb dessert, too, Ivan. My goodness!”

  Ivan seemed to be having the time of his life as he played the part of their server to the hilt. Patti’s jaws were beginning to ache; she hadn’t smiled this much in far too long. Ivan spoke in a formal voice. “Because of the definite chill in the air—in spite of the fire—you have the option of basking in the glow of Elderberry Croft for as long as you like; I highly recommend a little snuggling in order to keep warm, if you do. Or you are free to return to your limousine and drive with the top open so you can watch the stars pass by overhead. Snuggling is still highly recommended.” He winked. The limousine, having disappeared shortly after dropping them off, swept back around and pulled up close to the front of the little house.

  As enchanting as Elderberry Croft was, Patti was feeling the cold, even though she wore a velvet shawl around her shoulders, courtesy of Willow, and her legs were extended toward the fire. She looked at Richard, however, wanting him to decide.

  He reached across the table and took one of her hands in his. “Would you like to go for a drive with me, Patti?”

  When he looked at her like that—and called her Patti—she’d go anywhere with him.

  Once the couple was settled comfortably in the back seat of the limo again, Ivan leaned his head in the window close to Patti.

  “Dad, Mom, I think you know your own way home from here. You have this limousine for up to two more hours. Take advantage of it. Your driver will take you anywhere you want to go, as long as you’re back by ten. If you don’t care where he drives, I’ve already given him some suggestions.”

  Patti, overwhelmed by the amazing night, felt the prickle of tears. “Oh, Ivan. How can we possibly thank you for all of this?”

  He bent forward and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. “You’ve got it all wrong. ‘All of this’ is my way of thanking you, even as insignificant as it may seem in the grand scheme of things. You’ve had this night coming for a long time. And, by the way, you look beautiful tonight, Mom.”

  He reached around her and put a hand on Richard’s shoulder. “Dad.” A bottomless well of emotion was wrapped in that small word, and then he was gone.

  Soft music began to play as the limousine pulled away from Elderberry Croft toward the front of the park. They passed in front of the coach house, the three trailers up front, then pulled onto the main road that took them out into the magical night.

  “He’s right, Patti.” Richard spoke so quietly she almost missed it, but when his cool fingers brushed her cheek in the dark, she knew she wasn’t imagining it. “You look beautiful tonight.” He found her hand, and brought it to his lips, placing a kiss on her knuckles. “Almost as beautiful as you look to me when you’re scrambling eggs for my breakfast. Or folding my undershirts. Or massaging my aching legs. It’s the little things I’m thankful for, Patti. The little things that tell me you haven’t given up on me. And I’m an old fool for not telling you every day of every week of every month of every year that I love you.”

  The little things. Patti smiled into the darkness. Thank you for the little things, Jesus.

  MARCH WHISPERS

  Chapter 1

  Joe smacked the back of his neck for the third time in less than ten minutes. How come they always found that one spot? And it was only March, for Moses’ sake! The bugs had arrived far too early.

  It was turning out to be a warm spring in Midtown, Southern California. The rain, like a woman, just toyed with the affections of gardeners the likes of him, offering little more than a load of sweet-talk and a string of no-shows. Joe Sanderson looked up at the sky with its full-to-bursting clouds and thought of the sugar-lipped woman he’d sent on her way just yesterday.

  “Go on,” he’d said, shooing her off his front porch. “Go on home, now. I’m doin’ just fine on my own. Don’t need you comin’ in here, wipin’ counters and scrubbin’ floors.” Mm-mm, but that Vivian sure looked lovely standing there with her hands on her round hips, eyebrows arched like twin angry cats, arguing that he did, indeed, need someone around to take care of him.

  “Joe, Baby, whether you like it or not, you’re getting old. You’re getting too old to see the dirt that’s collecting in the corners. You’re getting too—”

  “Woman, if you tell me I’m too old for one more thing, I might just have to drag you back inside and prove to you that age has nothin’ to do with any of the important things. Is that what you want?” Vivian had snorted, waved her red-nailed fingers, and trounced down the steps ahead of him.

  Yes, trounced. She was one of the few women he knew who could trounce and look good doing it.

  So what the Sam Hill was he doing sending her away again?

  Joe thrust the old shovel deep into the soil of his yard at Space #9. He’d worked this ground every year since he’d moved in, and after all this time, golf-ball-sized rocks still worked their way up to the surface. And the older he got, the more he felt the jarring clunk of spade versus stone all the way up into his shoulders. Sometimes, after a long day spent in his garden, it would be the next morning before the feeling came back into his hands.

  Today, between the bugs, and the stones, and the hollow place Vivian always left behind, he didn’t know how much more he had in him. He leaned the shovel against the fence and picked up his hand trowel instead. He’d take it easy today; let his heart recover a bit.

  “Morning, Joe!” It was Patti next door, slipping outside ahead of her husband to set up a chair for him. Richard, wedging his walker against the screen door, ambled out, his slow, shuffling steps a testimony to his ne
w determination to make life a little easier for his saint of a wife. Joe was glad. He didn’t like to see a woman looking old before her time, and up until that Willow Goodhope got ahold of her, Patti Davis looked plum used up. Now, between her new hairstyle and the way her husband looked at her these days, she seemed to have come more than a few steps back from the grave.

  Willow Goodhope. Joe had met her briefly when she was out front whispering with the Davis boy last month. She’d been baking; he could tell. She smelled like boysenberry pie.

  Now there was a woman with a secret or two. Joe knew it like he knew the color of his own skin. Secrets. They were like ghosts; always hovering, always slipping in and around the way of things, whispering nonsense in the ears of those who could hear them.

  And Joe could hear them, yes, indeed.

  In fact, that girl’s secrets were so busy keeping her busy that Joe was hesitant to get in the way. It wasn’t like him to ignore a new neighbor; not that there were many new neighbors in The Coach House Trailer Park. As Kathy Kekoa liked to say, “This is the final parking lot of life. We’re all just sitting here waiting our turn. This is where we’ve come to die.”

  Well, Joe knew that to be true, and he was having a hard time figuring out what that girl was doing here. Apparently, Richard Davis was trying to figure things out, too. Richard had been on his front porch nearly every day since she moved in. Joe might be old, but he wasn’t deaf, and he could hear the discussions between the man and his wife. Richard wanted Ivan, their son, to strike up a relationship with the girl, but Ivan Davis was dead-set on just being friends. His heart belonged to another, and Joe got the sneaking suspicion that the Goodhope girl’s heart wasn’t as untethered as she’d like everyone to believe.