Dedication
for the girl with the awesome smile who sat behind me in my freshman English class Redwood High School 1958
Copyright © 2005 by Stephen Bly
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America
978-0-8054-3171-1
Published by B&H Publishing Group
Nashville, Tennessee
Dewey Decimal Classification: F
Subject Heading: FORGIVENESS—FICTION
You dripped orange Popsicle all over your shirt, Devy-girl.” The boy in the short-sleeve blue gingham shirt sat straight up in the saddle, his crisp straw cowboy hat pulled almost down to his eyes.
“I prefer to think of it as a modern-art field of poppies.” Develyn kicked the flanks of her horse. He began to trot. “Besides, Brownie doesn’t mind.”
The boy raced up alongside her. “He’s a horse. He’s color-blind.”
Develyn stuck out her narrow, pointed tongue at her twin brother. “Who cares?” She studied the rolling prairie ahead of them. “Are you sure it’s OK to ride north? I think we’re lost.”
“Mr. Homer said we could ride any direction, as long as we don’t leave a gate open or cross a blacktop road. We haven’t seen either of those in weeks. We are not lost. All we have to do is turn around and follow our trail back.” He serpentined his horse around the gray sagebrush.
“Even if we are lost, Brownie can lead us home. He’s the smartest horse in North America.” Develyn paused. “Dewayne, I don’t want to go home. Do you?”
“Yeah. I haven’t played baseball in two weeks.”
“Well, I’m coming back,” she insisted as she caught up with him.
He turned and rested his hand on the back of the saddle. “When?”
She held her upturned nose even higher. “Next summer.”
“Yeah, right. Next summer we’re goin’ to visit Grandma and Grandpa in Wisconsin.”
“Then the summer after that. I’m coming back, Dewa … I really am.”
“I believe you, Sis. You’re as stubborn as…”
“Mama?”
“Maybe not that stubborn. I’ll race you to that stand of trees down there. One … two … three…”
The crack of the lightning bolt came as if on cue. They galloped toward the small stand of cottonwoods. Thunder rolled all the way to the trees.
“I won!” Develyn shouted.
“I let you,” Dewayne declared.
“You did not!”
“A boy is supposed to let the girl win.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s the rules.”
“But I won fair and square.”
“Your field of modern-art poppies is getting wet. It’s going to rain really hard.”
“It better not.”
Dewayne brushed drops of water from his dusty face. “What are you goin’ to do about it?”
She shook her fist at the sky. “Don’t you dare rain on me! Do you hear me, clouds? I’ve had enough of this. You stop it right now!”
The clouds ripped open, and a Noahian deluge collapsed on top of them.
***
Warm water blasted Develyn’s face. She cupped it in her hands and washed her eyes, then turned off the shower. She reached past the cream-colored plastic curtain and grabbed an oversized cream-colored fluffy bath towel.
She was dry when she heard a car pull up in the gravel driveway, and almost dressed when a voice rang out from the adjoining bedroom. “Latte delivery service.”
“Yes! You are a lifesaver, Lily. I’ll be right out.”
“Take your time, Dev, I had them make it extra hot. Say, I do believe your alarm clock’s broken.”
Develyn Worrell poked her petite blonde head out of the walk-in closet and eyed the woman standing next to the queen-sized bed. “Yes. I’m afraid it’s permanently stuck on twenty-one minutes after midnight.”
The shorter woman with black and gray wavy hair studied the cracked glass of the round brass alarm clock. “Why do you keep it?”
Develyn padded over and retrieved a beverage in a tall green cup that steamed on the dresser. “Lily, it’s the only thing I saved from the bedroom at my old house.” She meandered back into the walk-in closet.
The woman wearing black jeans and a pale green blouse tossed the clock into the open duffle bag. “Dev, explain this to me: the clock doesn’t work, yet you take it with you?”
Barefoot, Develyn Worrell scooted out into the bedroom, her shoulder draped by a blue dress on a hanger. “It’s a reminder of what I want to forget.”
Lily Martin pulled her silver-framed glasses down on her nose and peered over the lenses. “Ms. Worrell, that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Mentally unstable women don’t need to make any sense. It’s one of the privileges of our lot.” Develyn flopped the dress on the bed and spun back toward the closet. As she walked, she tugged at the back of her blue jeans that rode low on her narrow hips.
Lily followed her to the doorway that led to the master bath, as well as the walk-in closet. “Dev Worrell, you are not mentally unstable.”
Develyn jabbed her hand into the crammed rack of clothes. “How does this pink blouse look? Is it too youthful?”
Lily Martin surveyed the pink, short-sleeve, scooped necked T-shirt with lavender outlined stars trailed across it. “A size six anything looks darling on you, Dev. In over twenty years, I have never seen you look anything but cute and classy.”
“Ms. Martin, you always make me feel good.”
“And you, Ms. Worrell, always make me feel old and dumpy.”
“You are only a few years older than me.”
“That might be, but on more than one occasion I’ve been mistaken for your mother.”
“Then, I’m your unstable, coming-apart-at-the-seams daughter.”
“That’s nonsense, Dev. You just might be the most together woman in Montgomery County. Unknown to most in the community, you’ve almost singlehandedly held together Riverbend Elementary School for over twenty years. Your incredible stability and strength of character have survived six principals and four superintendents, several of which would have pushed anyone else over the edge.”
Develyn shoved a curling iron and a tall fuchsia bottle of shampoo at Lily. “Toss these in for me.” Her gray-green eyes bounced around the nearly bare walls of the off-white bedroom. “Five superintendents, if you count Frederick LaClaire.”
Lily chuckled. “I had forgotten about good ol’ Frederick. I suppose that any man who shows up drunk and makes a pass at Miss Chambers before school starts on his first day at work is not easily remembered as a superintendent of schools.”
Develyn exited the bathroom, with an olive green and brown plaid towel and solid brown washcloth. “Betty Chambers certainly remembers him.”
Lily rearranged six ruffled floral pillows at the head of the bed. “Dev, you are the finest fifth-grade teacher I have ever worked with.”
“Thank you, dear Lily, now tell that to mother.” Develyn circled the bed to pull the floor-length curtains on the large window, blocking out most of the early June sunlight.
Lily studied a medium-sized black cat with white paws as it perched in the doorway to the living room and yawned. “Your mother said you were unstable?”
Dev plucked up a small blue glass heart-shaped bot
tle from the huge oak dresser and opened the lid. “From the first day three years ago, when I said I was divorcing Spencer, I have been a failure in her eyes. ‘A family embarrassment,’ I believe were her words.” She sniffed the perfume, then held it over to Lily. “If I only take one fragrance, should this be the one?”
“Anything called Melancholy Moments must be right for you,” the older woman shrugged.
“It’s not the name but the fragrance that matters.” Dev put the blue bottle down.
Lily studied the top of the dresser, then plucked up a white frosted, opaque bottle with a brass lid. “In that case, take this one.” She shoved it toward Develyn’s hand.
Dev refused to take it. “I will not go on a trip with a perfume called Wander Lust.”
“It’s not the name but the fragrance,” Lily mimicked as she sniffed the perfume. “It smells very nice.”
Develyn yanked the perfume out of Lily’s hand and tossed in into the forest green duffel bag. “There, are you satisfied?”
Lily wiggled her nose, causing the glasses to creep back up her small nose. “Yes, I am. Thank you,” she grinned.
“What am I forgetting?” Dev rubbed her narrow, pointed chin and studied the bed.
“Common sense comes to mind.” Lily brushed her hair back over her ears. “You didn’t tell me why your mother thinks you’re mentally unstable. You did tell her all the circumstances of your leaving Spencer, didn’t you?”
“No. There are some things so awful you can’t even tell your mother. I have never told anyone that scene, except you. I explained that Spencer was unfaithful and I couldn’t live with that.”
“Did you tell her you’re going on this trip?”
Dev folded the rest of the blouses on the bed, then stacked them inside the duffel. “No.”
“Are you just going to drive off into the sunset without telling your own mother?” Lily scooped up the cat with her left hand and began to scratch its head.
Develyn sighed. “She’s tied up this week with the garden club bazaar. And, I might add, she’s very disappointed that I’m not helping her this year. Lily, I just don’t want to have to explain this. It will only make me feel like a failure in her eyes again. I’m forty-five years old. I am what I am. She needs to accept that. She and I are so different.”
“I was just thinking how much you are the same.”
“You mean, stubborn and opinionated?”
“Yes … and gracious and kindhearted.”
When Develyn paused, her shoulders slumped. “Mother does have her good moments. I’ll send her and David a postcard. They will be in Austria most of the summer anyway.”
“Austria?” Lily continued to stroll the room, cat in hand. “Is that her idea or David’s?”
“It’s Mother’s plan. She has it in her mind to do a cultural tour of Vienna and Austria. Dear, sweet David adores her and will do whatever she asks.”
“She’s quite a lady to find two jewels to marry. David is very much like your father.”
“Yes, I don’t know what I would do without David around. After father died, mother was at such a loss. Then David drove up in his gold Chrysler and charming attentions. He’s perfect for her. And dear mother has reminded me of the fact that there are good men available, but I just don’t seem to have the discernment to find one.”
“She said that?”
“That’s what she implied.”
“Ms. Worrell, that makes two of us with no discernment.”
“You know, the strange thing is that mother thinks you did the absolute right thing with Donald. It was very justifiable in her eyes.”
“When your husband of twenty-five years moves in with another woman three blocks away, you don’t have a lot of choices,” Lily replied.
Develyn opened the top drawer of the oak dresser and sorted through satin nighties. “I guess that’s the difference. I left Spencer, so it must be all my fault.” She held up a royal blue nightgown with thin spaghetti straps. “What do you think of this for my one nightgown?”
“It depends on who is going to be seeing it.”
“No one is going to be seeing it,” Dev snapped.
“Then, it really doesn’t matter, does it?” Lily smiled. “So you just drive off without telling your mother a word? You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious, Ms. Martin.” Dev tossed the blue gown back in the dresser and shoved the drawer shut. “I’m going to wear sweats for jammies. You are right, no one will see me anyway.” She transferred the alarm clock from the center to the side pocket of the duffel bag. “Now, will you feed Josephine and Smoky until Trevor and his family get back from Florida? He’ll take care of them and the yard work for the rest of the summer.”
Lily stroked the black cat that hung like a pelt from her arm. “I’ll feed the cats and your neighbor boy and do the yard. But, gone all summer? The first I heard of this trip was two hours ago.”
“Think of it as furthering my education. It will be advanced teacher training. I told you I just need to get away.” Develyn toted the duffel bag out of the bedroom and into the entryway, then slapped it down on the white tile beside the front door. She scurried back into the bedroom.
“You only taking one suitcase?” Lily called out.
Develyn waltzed out with a brown leather bag over her shoulder, then dropped it over the duffel. “And a garment bag with one dress and a blanket-lined denim jacket.”
“You need more than that when we go for a weekend in Indy.” Lily put the cat down on the cream-colored carpet.
Dev buzzed into the adjoining room. “Yes, but I’m not going to Indy.”
“And just where are you going?” Lily followed her into the immaculate kitchen.
“I’m surprised you waited that long to ask me.” Develyn dug a tray of ice out of the freezer. “I’m going west.”
“I was waiting for you to volunteer the information, but it was sort of like waiting for a room mother to materialize before the sixth-grade fall social. I gave up on it happening. Now, how far west are you going?” Lily pressed. “Iowa? Nebraska?”
Dev pulled a tall, blue plastic glass from the oak cupboard. “Somewhere in Wyoming.” She plopped in a half-dozen ice cubes.
Lily refilled the ice tray and shoved it back in the freezer. “I hear there’s nothing but wind and sagebrush in Wyoming.”
“Yes, it sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? So peaceful.”
“If you’re an antelope or a jackrabbit.”
“Lily, you are my very best friend in the world.” Develyn filled the glass with tap water, then took a sip. She rubbed her upturned nose with the palm of her hand, then sighed. “We’ve taught side by side for twenty-three years, you with the sixth grade, me with the fifth. You were there for me when Spencer had to be in New York and I was alone when Delaney was born. You held my hand through two miscarriages. You and I drove to Lafayette day after day, summer after summer, to get our master’s degrees. You were there both times I waited in the hospital for the results from the biopsies. You opened your spare room to us the night I left Spencer; then you let me and Delaney impose on you for six long months until we could buy this place. You showed me by your strong Christian example how to survive the pain of divorce with class. I thought I had worked my way through all of it. But, dear sweet Lily, I’m telling you, I can’t stay here this summer. It’s difficult to explain, but it’s crushing me. Absolutely crushing me. The bad memories hang as heavy as the humidity. And now, the situation with Delaney. I don’t think I can physically, mentally, or spiritually survive if I stay. For the sake of my sanity, and my faith, I have to go west.”
Lily plucked a tissue from a square gold box. “What will you do in Wyoming? Do you know someone there?”
Develyn took the tissue, then strolled around the small two-person breakfast table and stood at the window that revealed a six-foot-high spruce tree in the middle of the
unfenced back lawn. She held the water glass in her hand in front of her. “No, I don’t know a soul in Wyoming. I just have to find some peace of mind and rest for my spirit.”
Lily Martin stepped up next to her and gazed outside. She rubbed Develyn’s back in a circular motion. “Sweetie, Dee’s just going through a twenty-year-old, I-want-to-prove-my-independence stage. She’ll work through it. She’s a smart girl.”
“I pray she will.” Dev slipped her free arm across the shorter woman’s shoulders. “And I pray I’ll live through it.”
“What exactly did she say when she called?”
Dev took another sip of ice water, then cleared her throat. “She said, ‘Mother, I’m not coming home this summer. I’m not going with you to Maine. I’m not sure when I will see you. I might go live in Charleston and work at the Crab House.’”
“Charleston, South Carolina?”
“Mr. Awesome Corvette lives in Charleston. I believe his father owns the Crab House.”
“But, I’ve listened to you and Delaney giggle and plan this trip to Maine for two years.”
Develyn drew the cream-colored curtains closed on the window and turned toward Lily. “Yes, it was to be her graduation present. But, as you know, high school graduation turned out to be a little different than I hoped for. So we had to postpone it until after the divorce settlement. This was the first summer I could afford it.”
Lily slipped her arm around Develyn’s narrow waist. “Why not just get away for a few days? Or a week? Go up and visit your friends in Michigan. Go out on the lake. You always said how much you enjoyed that. Think things through.”
Develyn trailed off to the living room where her buckskin-colored boots and forest-green socks waited by the off-white leather sofa. “I’ve already thought things through, Lily. I declined to teach summer school with you because of the trip to Maine. But I have no intention of going there alone. I’ve canceled the cabin.” She sucked in her breath. “My dear daughter, my only child, has accused me of being so unforgiving and cold-hearted that I caused her father to have a massive heart attack and die.”
Stephen Bly's Horse Dreams Trilogy: Memories of a Dirt Road, the Mustang Breaker, Wish I'd Known You Tears Ago Page 1
