“Yes, I’m Frida Banner…can I help you?” There was a slight accent that had Frannie’s mind turning it over.
“My name is Frannie Kendall,” she held her palm out, the two clasping hands lightly. “I’m a friend of Donovan’s and I…”
“My son? Is he alright?” A frown creased her face, eyes wide with worry.
“Oh, yes…please…I’m sorry…he’s fine. He’s…wonderful, actually…” Frannie said softly, her hands holding both the woman’s palms. “I wanted to speak with you…I’m actually not entirely sure…”
“Please…come inside, Frannie, you said…please…Mitch! We have company,” she stepped aside and led Frannie into the large living area filled with photos and little trinkets. “You are a friend of Donovan’s? He doesn’t visit nearly enough…I worry about him…”
“Where are you from? Donovan never said…” Frannie sat back on the sofa she gestured to, watching the older woman take a chair near her.
“Iceland, Reykjavik, actually. I met Mitch there when he was in the Air Force…oh, so many years ago now…”
“You called, Frida?” A man just as tall as Donovan came into the room, filling the doorway and looking at the young woman on the sofa wrapped in a cloak. “Hello…”
“Hello…” Frannie stood up and held her palm out. “Francine Kendall…or Frannie, please.
“She is a friend of your son’s and came to speak with me,” Frida told him curiously.
“Donovan? Nothing’s wrong, is it?” He stood looking from one woman to the other, a thick jacket with a pair of gardening gloves sticking out a pocket.
“Oh, no…he’s fine. I was out and finished my class for the day and…I wanted to talk to you…or just meet you…maybe…do you garden?” She asked with a slightly frantic note in her voice. Explaining curiosity is never an easy thing.
“We grow some vegetables and flowers,” he smiled at his wife. “Frida loves fresh flowers in the house when it’s seasonal. Now I’m just cleaning up the beds…maybe thinking of things to winter grow…”
“I have some wonderful books for winter crops…I’ll try and remember to drop them by next week after work,” Frannie told him with a smile. “You haven’t tried it before?”
“This is our first season, to be honest. It took awhile to get things built the way he wanted them,” Frida confided with a teasing grin.
“On that note, I will let you girls chat,” he nodded and went out the sliding patio doors.
“Donovan told me you were both teachers, that he received his language talent from you,” Frannie turned and met the bright blue eyes and couldn’t help smiling. “You have a beautiful house…may I look at the photos?”
“Of course…they are mostly of Donovan,” she admitted. “And we are both teachers. I teach language and Mitch is a science teacher. He was a mechanic in the Air Force and loves teaching.”
“Oh, he was so cute,” Frannie peered at the photos of the little boy with long blond hair in everything from a swim suit to winter snow suit. “You said your husband was Air Force…but Donovan said you were opposed to him joining the military.”
“Not opposed to the military…not at all…but the timing…” Frida sighed thickly, walking over to hold up a photo of Donovan in full military gear. “When Mitch was in…it was between battles…between wars, if you will. I…no mother wants to expose her child to the…the evils that humans can be,” she said softly.
Frannie stared at the photo, full helmet and weapon that looked almost too huge to be real. A shudder ran through her at the thought. “He has nightmares,” she said quietly, her fingertips out to trace the photo. “Five years later and he still has nightmares. Fear…anger…anxiety…and frustration…but aimed at himself,” she said aloud.
“We tried to tell him we would find a way to get the money for his school. He wanted a degree so very badly, Frannie,” she recalled lovingly. “But he is stubborn…head-strong…I say it came from his father…Mitch says it is Icelandic pride,” she said with a laugh. “We did not fight…just disagreed. He doesn’t talk to us about his time in the military. I know he was a good translator. He is very good with languages once he sets his mind to learning a new one.”
“He doesn’t talk to many about that time. He is stubborn,” Frannie agreed, setting the photo gently on the shelf and joining her on the sofa. “Have you been to the resort?”
“I’m sorry…which resort?”
“The WindSwept Narrows…Donovan is a manager there.”
“His last email said he was relocating but he wasn’t sure where he would be living,” Frida stared at her. “Is that how you know him?” She looked over the younger woman with the out of date dress and cloak.
“I met him there, yes. He’s one of the high level managers. I work out of the health center,” Frannie said with a smile. “I’d love to take you there for dinner one night, my treat. It’s beautiful and has the most marvelous European foods in the restaurant.”
“You are a doctor?”
“A naturopathic healer, yes and I’ll be a mid-wife the middle of January,” she said proudly, feeling a slight swell when the woman leaned over and hugged her tightly.
“How wonderful! What a fantastic achievement! I would not have thought you old enough…”
“I’ve been studying a long time on both of them,” Frannie admitted. “There’s always so much to learn.”
“I don’t know why he hasn’t let us know he’s in the area,” she frowned slightly. “He’s always so…intense…so very private…” she looked over at Frannie when she sighed.
“Conventional…and I’m the total opposite,” she said quietly, shaking her head.
“Do your parents live in the area?” Frida asked politely, wondering at this young woman’s connection with her son.
“My mother died a very long time ago, but I live with my father out in Gig Harbor. He’s a teacher, as well, with the university. Botany is his specialty. Considering that students haven’t changed much, you would probably have a great deal to commiserate about,” Frannie said with a smile.
“I live in hope,” Frida agreed with a chuckle.
“I would love to talk more, but I have this appointment…I’m getting my hair cut off this afternoon,” Frannie confided with a slight bit of trepidation in her voice.
“All that lovely hair? My…I talk of it…I understand…”
“It’s time…” Frannie fumbled for the little pouch. “Would you like to see the photo? Rosa is a genius…and I’m really looking forward to the change…I’m not certain about the bangs, though…”
Frida took the color photo that had been cut from a magazine and looked at the circle of free waving hair. “Yes…I can see this for you…much younger even. I think I vow to get my hair cut like that at least twice a week when it refuses to co-operate with me in the mornings,” she handed back the photo.
“You could come with me. We could lend support to each other…” Frannie suggested warmly. “Rosa really is brilliant…”
“I…” Frida considered her offer. She liked this girl. She was full of life. “Yes. Yes, I will…and it will be a great surprise. Let me leave a note for Mitch,” she said hurriedly, writing and leaving the paper on the table, both women running out the front door laughing.
“Thank you…I needed someone to be with right now,” Frannie said as she drove. “Donovan…he’s so…proper…sometimes it feels like everything I do is wrong in his eyes…”
“He tends to only see with his eyes,” Frida said with a nod. “He’s very grounded…it’s funny…the collection of tiny winged fairies I have…he bought for me one Christmas. He liked reading mysteries as a child, not fairy tales or make believe or science fiction. It had to be realistic and possible.”
“I know,” Frannie said with a sigh. She parked the mid-sized jeep and closed the door with a deep breath. “Time for a change.”
“Come along,” Frida looped her arm with Frannie’s and they entered the small shop toget
her.
“Frannie! I’ve been waiting for you! Who’s your friend? Hello, I’m Rosa,” she looked around at the bundle of two tone hair and shook her head. “You are much younger than that hair style.”
“This is Frida Banner, Rosa…my friend,” Frannie fumbled with the photo she had brought and handed it to Rosa. “I was thinking this…”
Rosa took the photo and put one hand up on Frannie’s chin, turning it to the side and nodding slowly. “No bangs…we make it just long enough for you to do what you do now with it…or let it fly free…or bundle it into a ponytail…yeah…and you…may I?” She asked, touching the pinned bundle.
“Yes, please…it’s a day for changes,” Frida declared firmly, standing still while the pins were removed and her hair let free.
“Oh…lord, you are so much younger than this hair style and this color. When it was shorter, did it curl on it’s own?” She accepted the nod and frowned with a slight tilt of appraisal to her head. “I think something…” Rosa went to a book and flipped pages, stopping at one that had a nice short frame of loose curls. “And your color…it should be solid…not the same as Frannies’…but I know the perfect shade for you…you girls gonna trust me?”
“We’re in your hands, Rosa,” Frida said with a deep breath.
“Then it’s time for work…I’m going to cut Frida’s first so the color can set while I’m working on you, Frannie,” she led the older woman to the chair and went to work.
Two hours later the women stood before the mirror staring.
“There you go, girlfriends…you two look incredible…” Rosa declared, taking her phone out and snapping a photo. She laughed when Frannie fumbled with her phone and handed it to Rosa, stepping closer to Frida.
“Mitch will be so surprised,” Frida shook her head, laughing lightly at the easy wave that fell around her face in a pale blond shade.
“You need to stay blond a while…you’re much too young to be grey or silver yet,” Rosa complimented, taking the money Frannie held out to her and sliding it into the register.
Frannie caught the sides into the silver clip at the back of her head, thick, wide curls dangling over her ears and barely touching her neck.
“It’s perfect, Rosa…thank you,” she hugged her friend. “I told Frida you were brilliant.”
“Easy care, ladies…come back in a month for a trim,” Rosa told them, waving as they left the shop.
“I was so afraid I’d chicken out,” Frannie said with a long sigh, smiling into the mirror and shaking her head from side to side.
“Frannie…I’ve had the most fun the last few hours,” Frida looked at the young woman driving slowly through the dusk tinted streets. “Why did you come to see me?”
“I…your son…” She sighed, trying to collect some very confused thoughts. “He says I belong in another era…our house is very old and old fashioned, I suppose…he asked my father for his permission to court me, Frida.”
“I…Donovan?” Frida stared in surprise and delight. She couldn’t imagine a more perfect daughter-in-law.
“I thought it was sweet…old-fashioned…I suppose if I’d been a little more of a feminist rebel, it would offend me,” she said with a crooked smile. “But I think it’s a sweet gesture on his part…”
“But…” Frida saw the hint of pain in her face.
“I don’t think we fit,” she whispered sadly. “He doesn’t…I couldn’t be with someone who believes what I do…my passion…is irrelevant or unimportant because it doesn’t fit into modern, cutting edge medicine. He…doesn’t like my clothes…my hair…things I do bother him because I’m not disciplined…I’m rarely on time for things…”
“You don’t believe that all can be talked out or better still, accepted?” Frida saw her home approaching. “Come inside with me…I want Mitch to see…I’m so thrilled with this new look…” She was out of the car and around the front, waiting for Frannie. She hugged her. “Thank you.”
“I think he would be better off with someone more like him,” Frannie said firmly, wanting to believe the words she had spoken. “I know people in accounting who would…would fit with him…” she said with determination.
“Frannie…Donovan won’t…I know my son can be rigid…umm…the word…he takes his belief in what he thinks is professional to extremes…but he is capable of learning,” Frida said carefully. “And I know for a fact, he won’t be happy having what he considers his plan altered.”
“If you change for another person…then which person did they really care about? You…or the one they made you into?” Frannie blinked and smiled brightly. “No…I think he would be far happier with someone he can relate to.”
Frida was about to comment when Mitch looked up from the puzzle book he was studying at the table. She smiled and saw the cute twinkle in his eyes that she’d fallen for so long ago.
“I remember you…” He commented with a glance at Frannie. “But who’s the foxy blonde you brought back with you?”
Frannie giggled and sighed when he came to take his wife’s palm, twirling her slowly.
“Wow…you did it…”
“Frannie and I decided we needed some change…”
“Two of the prettiest girls I’ve seen in ages,” Mitch complimented warmly, deciding his son had very good taste.
“I must be going,” Frannie hugged Frida impulsively. “It was very nice to meet you both…thank you…good bye,” she turned and disappeared before they could say anything, going quickly to the jeep and driving off.
“Is she alright?” Mitch asked quietly, closing the door and wrapping Frida close.
“I don’t think so…Donovan asked her father if he could court her,” Frida said with a soft smile at the expression on her husband’s face. “She doesn’t think they fit…and it’s hurting her.”
“We raised a smart boy, Frida…if she’s the one he wants, he’ll make it fit,” Mitch declared with a nod and a memory.
****
Donovan saw her drive up. It was an hour past dinner. She parked in the back near the kitchen entrance. Alister had told him that arriving late on Sundays was normal because of her class. He had his laptop set up on the small table in his room, sitting down and tapping in the sign in codes he had assigned. He’d written down the names of her characters and watched for any of them as he absently played the distracting game.
He felt his chest constrict when one of her names popped up on his screen. He waited a few minutes, studying the screen and sending a message just to her.
“Hello.” Was all he typed. She wouldn’t know who he was but she would answer.
“Hello.” Came the text answer. “Can I help you with something?”
“You’re in late tonight. How was class?”
Frannie frowned at the screen and checked the level of the character, her brows arching considerably. Donovan?
“Class was fine, thank you.”
Cautious, Donovan thought. “We missed you at dinner.”
“Are you enjoying the game?” Frannie blinked hastily, one hand up and brushing away the tear that rolled down her cheek.
“Invite me into your tower, Frannie.”
Donovan cursed softly when she vanished, signed out of the game. He closed the computer and went to sit in the window. And for the first time in many months, he didn’t wake up with a nightmare.
Chapter Ten
He poured coffee in the morning, staring out the window at Tom returning from the dock. Pale lashes narrowed as he went into the kitchen at the same time the man entered.
“Did you take Frannie over to the resort, Tom?”
“Yes sir. She said she had some early clients. It’s a nice wintery morning, to be sure, but the water’s calm,” Tom noted with a nod.
“Thanks,” Donovan went back to the dining room and had a quick breakfast, leaving before Alister arrived.
Frannie stood before the large mirror and stared.
“Wow…Frannie…it doesn’t look like you,” S
ophie said honestly, peering at the tall blonde in the pin striped, fitted suit. The jacket was short, an English cut, the blouse a deep scarlet and the skirt fitted with a slit up one side. Smooth nylons and a pair of black open toed heels completed the outfit. She had worked the newly cut shorter hair into a sleek, smooth bundle at the nape of her neck, held in place with a few pins.
“It doesn’t…it doesn’t feel like me, either, Sophie,” Frannie took a few tentative steps across the tiles, listening to the heels clicking as she walked. “But I’m going to try it…at least for a few hours. Thank you for helping me.”
“No problem…leave your dress and things here…I’ll keep an eye on them,” she promised, watching her friend enter the main area with her head high.
****
Frannie was busy looking down at the clipboard when she vaguely saw two men walking past her. Mac stopped in his tracks and turned to stare, aware of Donovan watching him and then following his gaze.
“Frannie?” Mac called out carefully, nudging Donovan in the side.
“Miss Kendall,” Donovan called out more firmly and louder.
Frannie closed her eyes and froze in place. She swallowed hard and turned slowly, raising her gaze from the notes in her hand. A smile tilted the carefully tinted red lips as she looked from one to the other.
“Can I help you, Mr. Banner? Hello, Mac.”
“Frannie…I…” Mac felt his brain stutter. “What happened to your dress?”
“I’m dressed. Isn’t this professional?” She looked from one to the other, but didn’t see the tense line of Donovan’s jaw.
“I…it’s very professional,” Mac agreed carefully. “But it’s not you…”
“It could be. I happen to be a very professional woman,” she said softly, defiantly. “If you’ll excuse me? I have several appointments and don’t want to be late.”
“I’m guessing your plan isn’t going quite as smoothly as you’d like,” Mac said as they continued to the cafeteria.
“Now there’s an understatement,” Donovan growled, filling a large cup with coffee.
WindSwept Narrows: #7 Francine Kendall Page 9
