by Joyce Magnin
“Are you Harriet Beamer?” the driver called.
“Yes. Yes, I am,” Harriet said. “Do you have a package for me?”
“I do,” the driver said. “But I wanted to meet you. I feel like I know you already. Henry has told me so much.”
Harriet couldn’t help but feel a little confused. “I don’t understand. Are you and Henry friends?”
“Well, kind of. I delivered all those packages you were sending. Henry said they were salt and pepper shakers. You’ve become kind of a legend at the depot.”
Harriet smiled. “Oh for heaven’s sake. Me? A legend? All I did was send my collection and the shakers I found in my travels across the country.”
“Well, even so. We got a kick out of it. At least I did. And here’s another package addressed to you. From Maggie Valley, North Carolina.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake. It must be from Ricky and Shawna.” Harriet smiled at the driver. “They’re my Native American friends—Cherokee to be specific. They took me stargazing. I think stargazing is one of the most spectacular things a person can do.” Harriet signed for the package. “Thank you very much. I wonder what they would be sending me.”
“Probably more shakers. You are a hoot and a half, Harriet Beamer,” the driver said. “Have a nice day.”
“Thank you—I think.”
Harriet carried the smallish, brown package into the house. She gave it a slight shake but didn’t hear anything. She set it on the ottoman as Humphrey trotted over. His tail was wagging a mile a minute. It had been a long day without her. Harriet patted him. “Hello, puppy,” she said. “Did you miss me?” Sometimes Harriet wondered if Humphrey worried that every absence meant she was off on another adventure and that he could very well be stuck inside the belly of another airplane on his way to who knew where.
“I told you I’d be back,” she said with her most reassuring tone and several pats on his side. He responded by falling onto his back so she could get in a good belly rub also. And that was when she remembered she had forgotten to stop at a bakery. “Oh, Humphrey. I’m sorry. I forgot your …” She didn’t dare say the word donut, hoping he might have forgotten. And why remind him just to get him upset? That didn’t seem right. After a couple more good rubs, Humphrey scrambled to his short little legs and trotted off, but not without giving Harriet a disappointed, mournful look.
He never forgets.
That was when Henry appeared in the living room. “Mom,” Henry said, “where have you been? You’ve been gone all day. I was starting to worry. You didn’t answer your phone. I called several times.” Henry stood in the doorway between the living room and his den. He had a pencil sticking from one ear, and his arms crossed against his chest like he was reprimanding a tardy child.
“You did?” Harriet said. “Oh for crying out loud, Henry, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear the phone jingle.” Harriet rifled through her bag—it was a large thing, more of a tote bag, with a bright yellow background and covered with flowers. She loved the bag as it had served many purposes over the last year, from carry-all to weapon. “I know I brought the fool thing with me. Where is it?” She removed a small flashlight, her favorite Moleskine notebook, two pens, a wadded up Kleenex, six pennies, a pack of orange Tic Tacs, and a tube of hand lotion concocted with oatmeal.
“Life was definitely easier when we weren’t all in communication every minute of every day,” she said. “All it does is lead to unnecessary worry.”
Harriet found her phone wedged between a small copy of the New Testament she carried and a red wallet crammed with coupons she never used.
“Here it is,” she said, holding it up obviously so Henry could witness the fact that she had taken the phone into town with her. “See, no need to worry, dear. I had my phone.”
“I can see that,” Henry said. “But it’s only good if you turn it on. Otherwise it’s a paperweight.”
“I know that, son. And if I needed you, if I ran the car up a telephone pole or into a moose, I would have turned it on and called.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just worried about a lot of things right now.”
Harriet looked into her son’s Hershey-chocolate-bar-colored eyes. “I know, honey. But you have got to calm down. Prudence and the baby are doing great. You’re the one who isn’t, and if you keep up this level of worry, by the time the baby is born you’ll be a babbling, gray-haired, worrywart stringing beads at a mental hospital. Isn’t that what the good Lord says, worry is not going to add a single … whatever it is … to your life. Worry just subtracts.”
“I know. It’s just—”
Harriet patted his cheek. “She’ll be fine. The baby will be fine. I know.”
“Thanks, Mom. But where have you been?”
“Oh, well, I told you where I was going. I went into town and got a—”
“Is that a package?” Henry said.
“Yes. It just arrived. It’s from my friends in Maggie Valley.”
“That’s nice.”
Harriet opened the package and pulled out two, gold, star-shaped objects. “Oh, that was so sweet of them,” Harriet said. “They remind me of the night we went stargazing.”
“Oh, that is thoughtful,” Henry said.
Harriet shoved the wrappings into the box. “I think Humphrey needs to go out.”
“So did you buy anything?” Henry asked.
“I did.”
“Where is it? In the car? Do you need help carrying it inside?”
Harriet couldn’t help but burst into laughter. She recovered quickly, thinking about a gold mine in the living room, and looked away from Henry. “No, no, let’s just say it will be delivered when it’s time.”
“Oh, good idea. And we don’t have moose in Grass Valley.”
“No? Then what do you have?”
“Bears. Grizzlies and elk.”
“Okay, I will definitely call you if and when I meet a grizzly bear in downtown Grass Valley.”
“Oh, and another thing,” Henry said as Harriet checked her phone. “I spoke with Martha today.”
“Oh dear,” Harriet said. “She called my cell phone ten times. I missed every call.”
“That’s why she called me.” Henry sat on the couch and tied his shoe laces. “She’s making plans to come on Tuesday. I told her that’s fine.”
“Really? This Tuesday?” Harriet said. She sat on the couch and untied her sneakers. “That’s wonderful, but oh dear. Tuesday? I have so much to do to get ready.”
Henry stood. “She sounded great, Mom, and is so pleased to be coming. We had a nice conversation.”
“Henry,” Harriet said practically leaping from the couch. “Did you give her the good news? The baby news?”
Henry chuckled. “No, don’t worry. I saved that for you.”
Harriet sat on the edge of her bed with Humphrey at her feet.
“I suppose I can tell you,” she said as she reached down and patted his side. “But you have to promise not to tell a soul.”
Humphrey didn’t move much except to swish his tail slightly.
“I leased a … a gold mine. There I said it. Out loud. I can hardly believe it.” All of a sudden Harriet was struck with a case of what she called monkey nerves. “A gold mine, Humphrey. Mommy leased a gold mine.”
Humphrey looked up at her with a decidedly incredulous expression and then laid his head on her foot with a whimper.
“Oh dear. I hope I didn’t make a terrible mistake.”
Humphrey let go a woof.
She changed into more comfortable clothes, jeans and a light sweater. She placed her Chucks near the closet and then grabbed her cell phone to call Martha.
“Martha, you are not going to believe it,” Harriet said the instant Martha said, “Hello.”
“Harriet,” Martha said. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I have been having quite a busy day. My phone was in the bottom of my tote. I never heard it ringing.”
“Well, I
wanted to tell you that I could come soon. I spoke with Henry earlier and he said Tuesday would be fine.”
“I know. And I’m so happy. I can’t wait to see you, but you haven’t heard the big news. Prudence is pregnant.” Harriet’s heart skipped a beat. She was so excited to say the words out loud. “Prudence and Henry are going to have a baby.”
“Oh, Harriet, I am so happy for you. For you and … and everyone. When is the baby due?”
“In the spring”—she did a quick cipher on her fingers—“April, I think. A spring baby. Isn’t that just so sweet? Henry was a winter baby and winter babies can be difficult.”
“Congratulations,” Martha said. “That is wonderful, wonderful news.”
“Thank you, and of course you will be Aunt Martha.”
“Now you just want to make me cry.”
Harriet almost mentioned Wyatt, but thought better of it. Wyatt had yet to marry, and Martha never talked much about becoming a grandmother. Especially lately, now that she thought about it.
“Don’t cry, dear. This is a joyous time and not only that but … but there’s something more.”
“More news?”
Harriet took a deep breath, glanced out the bedroom window, and thought a moment. No. News of the gold mine was better delivered in person. And she would keep the news about the addition until Martha got there too so she could see her face. “Nothing. I will tell you when you get here, but it’s a secret. You’ll have to promise not to tell the kids.”
“Okay. I’ll promise.”
Chapter Eleven
THE NEXT COUPLE OF DAYS FLEW PAST. HARRIET BUSIED herself with getting everything ready for Martha. And Henry had located a bed and had it delivered in record speed. And now it was Monday, the day before Martha’s arrival. Harriet could hardly contain her enthusiasm. She looked over the room before having breakfast, imagining what it would be like to have her best friend in the world staying with her.
“Will you look at those curtains? They’re nice, but they could use refreshing.”
Harriet wanted something brighter. New curtains could bring a room a complete new look.
Later that morning, she and Florence Caldwell went into town together and bought a few things, including the curtains—bright yellow with pink flowers—and three sets of brand new sheets. Nothing to be jealous about over curtains or sheets, and Florence was a pleasant shopping partner.
“Not much beats brand new, Egyptian cotton sheets,” Florence had said as they stood in line waiting to pay for their treasures.
“So smooth,” Harriet said. Then she laughed. “Do you remember the sheets we slept in as newlyweds? Egyptian cotton was never heard of.”
“I do remember. I think I used the cheapest sheets for ten years of marriage. It was like sleeping on sandpaper some nights.
“Your friend will be very comfortable,” Florence continued. “You must be very close.”
“That will be seventy-five, twenty-two,” the cashier said.
Harriet swiped her card and went through the menus before answering.
“We are close,” Harriet said as she slipped the card back into its spot in her wallet. “I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have Martha right after Max died. She helped me through some pretty shaky weeks.”
“I hear that,” Florence said. “There is nothing like a good friend.”
Harriet smiled. “I know she’ll love these curtains.” It was nice that Florence understood about Martha.
They made a couple of other stops in the store before heading to the car. Harriet purchased a small bud vase and a pair of warm socks. “It’s not cold yet,” she had said. “But these are so cuddly.
Keep my tootsies toasty.”
Florence pulled her minivan onto the main street. “Where to?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I could eat.”
“Good idea.”
“I ate at that little café, Rachel’s. It was kind of nice.”
“Oh, Rachel’s is a good spot. Let’s go. And Harriet, lunch is on me.”
Harriet did not argue, considering all the money she had been putting out in the last few months. Her reserves were nearly depleted, which made the whole gold mine enterprise that much more important. She hadn’t told Florence about the lease. She wanted Martha to be the first person to know. But she was beginning to think she should, especially since she had yet to hear from Win or Lily since their initial transaction or get copies of the signed papers. Over lunch. She would tell Florence over a veggie wrap and fries and get her advice.
Florence parked in the lot, and the two made their way to Rachel’s Café. It was a little before one o’clock and the place was hopping. But it didn’t take long to get a seat. Many of those waiting were getting take-out.
The same waitress, Cindy, led them to the table Harriet had sat at before, promising to bring coffee right away. And as they passed the counter, Harriet once again saw that woman from the other day, leaning over a book. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something odd about her. She stood out like a broken toe.
“I think I’ll have grilled cheese,” Florence said.
“Veggie wrap and fries for me,” Harriet said with a glance toward the strange woman.
“What’s up?” Florence asked, turning toward where Harriet was looking. “Do you know her?”
Harriet turned her attention back to Florence. “No. It’s just that she was here the other day when I … I …” She could not say the words. Now, all of a sudden, she was filled with utter embarrassment and couldn’t get the words out.
“When you what?” Florence asked.
Cindy set down two cups of coffee. “Where’s your little friend today?” she said to Harriet.
Harriet’s heart sped. “I … I don’t know. She’s really not my friend. We had just met that day.”
Cindy shook her head. “Uh huh. Can I take your orders?”
“What was that all about?” Florence asked after Cindy left.
Harriet let go a huge sigh. She tried to stall as long as she could, dumping Half and Half into her coffee, stirring it as though she were trying to make butter, looking every which way but at Florence.
“Okay, here’s the thing,” Harriet said. “The other day I was in here, and I met this girl, Lily. She was waiting for her father, who was at the assay office.”
Florence stopped her right there. “Oh no, I think I know where this is leading. Did you get snookered into buying some fake gold nuggets? Fool’s gold?”
Harriet felt her eyebrows rise and her cheeks flush. “Well, not nuggets. At least not per se, not exclusively.”
Florence let a small chuckle escape her mouth. “Then what? What did you do?”
“Okay, okay. I leased a mine. Well, a section called Brunner’s Run.”
For a second or two, Florence didn’t say a word or make a sound.
Harriet glanced around the café. The woman was still leaning over her book, although she had seemed to shift more toward Harriet and Martha.
“Okay, you say you leased a mine. Tell me about it,” Florence finally said.
Harriet proceeded to explain the whole thing. Florence seemed to know quite a lot about placer mines and such, and that actually gave Harriet a certain amount of comfort. But still, she found it necessary to ask, “Do you think I was scammed?”
Florence chewed her sandwich and looked pensive a moment. “Not necessarily. There are plenty of legitimate mines and leases around, but I guess you should be careful. Get Prudence to check it out.”
Harriet swallowed. “I can’t. I haven’t told them, and I won’t tell them. Not until I have made a profit.”
“You know that could be a long, long time.”
Harriet pulled a piece of cucumber from her veggie wrap and set it on the side of her plate. “I don’t like cucumbers. Pre-pickles, that’s all they are. Slimy pre-pickles.”
“You should tell Henry,” Florence said.
“I can’t, and, Florence, please
, promise me you won’t tell either.”
“Okay. I promise.”
Harriet looked into Florence’s eyes. “I’m serious. I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”
“I promise.”
After having little success at home, Henry had gone to his favorite coffee shop that morning to work, leaving a note for his mother so she’d know where he had gone when she got back from shopping with Florence. A place called JavaScone. It had a nice ambience, artsy with original paintings by local artists on the walls. Rustic wood tables with tiny votive candles and a seemingly endless array of sweets. A Horse with No Name was playing in the background when he got there, and Henry hummed along as he chose a vanilla latte and a blueberry scone.
He sat down at the only remaining table near the window and opened his laptop. It was a particularly hard chapter to write since he made the tough decision that Polly would lose the baby. Writing about it brought back some painful feelings, but Henry had learned to use those emotions to write better, richer, truer.
He remembered sitting in the hospital caféteria while the doctor tended to Prudence after losing their second child. He wondered if he would ever be a father. If maybe it was his fault. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Henry reached way down deep inside his heart and wrote:
Cash wiped tears from his wife’s eyes. Then he kissed the one, large tear that escaped and had rolled down her cheek. He kissed it to taste it, to try to really understand what it was like for her to carry a baby for nearly nine months only to have him die just days before he was ready to be born. But he couldn’t know, not really. All he could really know was that there was a huge void inside of him now. A void that would never, ever be filled.
Cash felt his hand turn into a tight fist. Why, God, why wasn’t this child born just one day earlier?
Henry looked away from the screen and broke off a piece of scone.
But that’s the way it should be. He didn’t want the new baby to fill the void left by the two that were with Jesus. He didn’t want to forget them—ever.
Henry went back to his story and kept typing, pleased and not so pleased with the words he was writing. “I can always re-write,” he thought.
