Autumn Spring

by Shelley Thrasher

  Bree pretended to shudder.

  Linda’s voice took on a faraway tone again. “Mom loved the outdoors. She always had an herb garden and grew vegetables. She taught me all about herbs and how to use them, but Ann stayed a mile away.”

  “I wonder why.”

  “At times she acted like she didn’t think she fit in. Strange,” Linda said.

  Not so strange, Bree thought, but sad. Apparently neither Linda nor Ann knew the truth.

  “Which herbs did your mom grow?”

  “Rosemary, basil, mint, dill, thyme, lavender, parsley, and sage. That’s all I can recall.”

  “Sounds like an old Simon and Garfunkel song.”

  Linda laughed. “You’re right. Mom and I used to love one in particular, uh…‘Scarborough Fair’?”

  “That’s the name. You cooked with the herbs?”

  Linda nodded. “Yep. At harvest time, we’d go out in the garden on a dry day, each of us with a basket on our arm, and gather them.”

  “What fun.”

  “It was. Mom taught me to tell each plant why I took a piece of it and ask its permission.” Her face reddened a little, as if she was worried about Bree’s reaction.

  Bree laughed. “Did any of them refuse?” She enjoyed teasing Linda.

  “No. They were very kind, agreeable plants.” She also enjoyed having Linda tease her right back. But then Linda’s expression grew serious. “However, Mom taught me to always be kind to everything and everyone, especially when asking for something.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Does it?”

  “Of course. Isn’t Wicca’s lone rule Do no harm?”

  Linda’s smile was radiant. “You’re exactly right. She’d be proud of you for learning so quickly.”

  “And of you for teaching me.”

  Linda blushed again, as if brushing off the compliment.

  “What did you do with the herbs?”

  “Tied some of them into little bundles and hung them to dry in a small greenhouse where Mom stored her gardening tools.” She took a deep breath, as if visualizing the little house. “I put the loose flowers and leaves in cloth bags, and then we hung them from nails, along with the bundles.”

  Bree wished she’d explored their property more fully, but Ann had never encouraged her to. “Bet that smelled good. What did she do with the herbs?”

  “Used them in cooking, candles, and oil. Oh, and rosemary sachets.”

  “Did your mom ever mention the herbs to Ann?”

  “Once.”

  “What happened?”

  “Mom hung a rosemary sachet in Ann’s closet and told her it symbolized love.”

  “How nice.”

  Linda frowned. “Yeah, but Ann threw it on the floor and stomped it. She said she didn’t have any problem finding love on her own, called Mom silly and superstitious.”

  That didn’t surprise Bree. Nothing but expensive French perfume would impress Ann. “What did your dad say?”

  “He agreed with Ann, though in a lot more diplomatic way. He said Mom’s herbs wouldn’t hurt anybody and to just ignore them—they weren’t worth getting upset about.”

  “Sounds like a little stepmother-stepdaughter thing.” Bree was surprised she hadn’t sensed it, but she’d focused mainly on Ann and her dad back then.

  Linda sighed. “Yes. I tried to ignore it, but it wasn’t easy. Dad got caught in the middle of a lot of their disagreements. He tried to smooth them over, but it seemed like he sided with Ann most of the time.” Linda stopped at the red light near the Dairy Queen and turned on her blinker, then turned left.

  Poor Linda, Bree thought, as they passed several churches and the UT Tyler campus, headed for the loop. And her poor mother, Helen. She was evidently more into pagan beliefs than her husband ever suspected. She probably revealed them only to Linda, and indirectly even then. But Ann wouldn’t have anything to do with them and saw them only as a threat to her normal way of life and to the memory of her mother.

  Telling Linda and Ann about Linda’s real father would certainly open a big can of worms, as the locals would say, but they deserved to know the truth about who Linda was. Having this information would help level the playing field between the two sisters. But was it her secret to tell?

  *

  Linda drove around the loop until she hit Broadway, then turned left at a major intersection. The Christmas shoppers were already doing their thing at Dillard’s, JCPenney, and Sears in the old enclosed mall she and Bree were passing now, the traffic in stop-and-go mode even on this early Thursday afternoon.

  In two weeks, when Black Friday hit with all its craziness, the number of people in town would triple with shoppers from the outlying towns and communities, and she’d try to avoid Broadway altogether. At least the new mall would divert a lot of the holiday commercial traffic south of town, but it was located on Broadway too, so the entire street might become a giant parking lot similar to a Dallas freeway at rush hour.

  “Started your Christmas shopping?” she asked Bree as they inched forward. They’d already sat through the traffic light twice, and she was beginning to be afraid they’d be late to tea.

  “What Christmas shopping? The only people on my list are Sarah and Carolyn. I always give my mother some art supplies, but if you can think of anything else she might want or enjoy, how about letting me know. And does Carolyn need any witch supplies?” She chuckled. “I just can’t get used to the idea of a coven existing right in the middle of a small East Texas town.”

  She smiled. “Correction. The First Baptist Church is right in the middle of town.” She finally made it through the first traffic light. “Our coven’s definitely on the outskirts of town, in more ways than one.”

  Bree settled back in her seat and adjusted her seat belt. “At least you’re there, exercising the freedom-of-religion clause of the First Amendment. I say hooray for you.”

  They finally made it through four more traffic lights, necessary because of the endless stream of big-box behemoths, and reached the new mall on their left.

  “I guess you knew about this addition to Tyler,” Linda said, pointing to the shopping area that resembled a small city.

  Bree stared at the recent development, then frowned. “No. All this was totally wooded the last time I drove by. What a shame.”

  Linda tried to sell it to Bree just to see what she’d say. “This mall has a hundred stores. And this new toll loop we’re driving under right now should make this area boom, especially when it’s finished all the way east to I-20.”

  “That’s exactly what we need. New places to buy more stuff and a more direct route to get there.” Bree looked like she’d bit into a lemon. “I’ve always thought of East Texas as a natural paradise, but it’s beginning to look more like Chicago every day.”

  Linda shrugged. “It’s not all bad. People from out of state are moving in all the time, and a lot of them are bringing new ideas and open minds.”

  “It just hurts me to think of those huge old trees giving their lives so I can have yet another place to buy a new brand of dog food or a set of tires.”

  “I know what you mean.” Linda slowed down. “We’re almost to Troy’s,” she said as she took a right onto a country road.

  “This is more like it,” Bree said as they passed huge heavily wooded tracts of land dotted by small businesses and residences. She pointed at a large sign identifying an attractively landscaped area that sprawled to her left. “South Campus. What’s that? Another part of UT Tyler?”

  Linda shook her head. “Afraid not. The largest Baptist church in town runs this campus. We’ve heard they teach teenagers how sinful homosexuality is and hold workshops here about how to deal with gays.”

  Bree frowned. “Do I want to know more about that subject?”

  Linda didn’t want to disillusion Bree so thoroughly that she’d catch the next plane back to Chicago, but she refused to lie. “No. It’s not a pleasant one, but it’s definitely a reality of life i
n this area.”

  “Almost makes me want to go pack my bags, but I’m not a quitter. In a way, it makes me want to stay and fight such insanity.”

  Linda straightened up with relief. “Well, those are some of the issues we discuss every week at tea, so you should feel right at home.”

  After they passed a large horse farm on their left, Linda turned right, then left.

  “This is a beautiful neighborhood,” Bree said as they passed brick houses lined up on comfortable-sized lots with tasteful landscaping. “I love the way they’ve left so many of the large trees.”

  “Yes. Tall Timbers is an appropriate name, isn’t it?” They passed several more houses, each one featuring a tall brick mailbox built near the street.

  Linda pulled up and parked behind a white Cadillac SRX. It and several other cars sat in front of a one-story brick home, its lawn neatly mowed and a pecan tree in the yard. She killed the engine and turned in her seat to face Bree, who was looking around curiously. “Here we are. Welcome to Tea at Troy’s.”

  Hopefully, Bree would bond with this group of liberal Democrats who were trying to survive in an area dominated by conservative Republicans. It might even help her decide to stay in East Texas a bit longer than she’d planned.

  Linda wasn’t sure why she wanted Bree to stay. But she did.

  *

  Standing on the small covered front porch, Bree gazed at a bronze-colored plaque of a man’s face. “It’s the Green Man,” Linda whispered. “Tom, Troy’s housemate, loves Celtic folklore.”

  Just then, the door opened, and a tall, well-built middle-aged man wearing rainbow-dyed jeans and a purple paisley shirt wrapped his arms around Linda in an enthusiastic hug. “Troy, this is my friend Bree,” Linda said when she recovered her breath. “Bree, this is Troy.”

  Bree received the same treatment. The man obviously liked to hug. “Thanks for letting me visit, Troy.”

  “No problem. Come on in and meet the group.”

  The living room looked out through three large windows and a multipaned door onto a grassy backyard, protected by a privacy fence. But the outdoors didn’t interest Bree because the room was overflowing with art objects. After Linda made the rounds and greeted several other people seated in a square around a large coffee table loaded with food, she began to introduce Bree to them.

  “This is Tom, Bree,” Linda said. “He’s Scottish and the one responsible for the Green Man out front.”

  From the couch, Tom pulled her down into a hug so fierce she almost fell into his arms. Apparently in his late seventies, Tom wore an olive-green T-shirt that featured the Green Man, as well as a small gold medallion with the same image around his neck and a rainbow bracelet on one wrist. Sweats and sandals completed the look, and with his short white beard and hair, he reminded her of a laid-back Santa.

  “How wonderful to meet you, Bree,” he said, helping her regain her balance and squeezing her hand. “Welcome to our weekly gathering, and be sure to come back.”

  “I will, Tom. Thanks.” She noticed the tall grandfather clock that stood behind the brown soft-fabric couch where Tom sat. He seemed as regular and dependable as the timepiece.

  “Hi, Bree,” came two voices from across the room. “You remember us, don’t you? From the women’s dinner last week.” She turned and waved to Lou Anne and Kay, the Baptist couple determined to stay in the denomination they grew up in.

  “Of course. It’s good to see you again.” They sat side by side in an oversized brown leather chair. “I’m glad to have a chance to get to know you better.”

  Behind Lou Anne and Kay stood an old windup Victrola, and on the top shelf of a nearby bookcase, Bree spotted an ancient camera. With its removable lens cover instead of a shutter and a dark cape to cover the photographer’s head and shoulders, it was a prize any museum would love to display.

  She turned to Tom and Troy. “You have some amazing pieces. Seeing them is a treat.”

  As Troy carried in several large glass containers and set them on a serving cart, Tom said, “I understand you’ve been a museum curator in Chicago. How wonderful. Sometime we’d love to show you all our little treasures.”

  Linda had just placed a dish on the low table in the center of the room and was removing foil wrap from it. Bree hadn’t even noticed it earlier. “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Oh, we usually bring something to nibble on. I woke up hungry for deviled eggs this morning, so I fixed some.”

  Bree’s stomach growled. “That’s good. I didn’t eat lunch.”

  Troy stopped juggling teacups long enough to point at the spread of food. “Help yourself. We always have plenty of cheese and crackers for absentminded professors and museum curators.”

  Everyone laughed. “Don’t mind him,” Tom said. “Troy’s the resident comedian. If he can’t make everybody laugh, he thinks he’s had a bad afternoon. Just ignore him, if you can.”

  “Don’t worry,” Bree said. “I think I’m going to enjoy myself even more than I anticipated.” The warm welcomes and variety of art objects and participants had already impressed her.

  A very slim, youngish man, wearing tight jeans and a tailored turquoise shirt, had already hugged Linda. “Bree, this is Don. He usually hosts game night for our group once a month.”

  Don’s bright-blue eyes gleamed as he sat down again in the multicolored, striped cushioned chair he’d jumped up from. “I hope you’ll be there. We have a great time and always have loads of food. Be sure not to eat before you come.”

  “And make sure you don’t break any of the crystal and china Don uses,” Troy said as he handed Lou Anne a cup of tea in a sturdy mug.

  Don mock-scowled at Troy. “I serve my guests on only the best.”

  “As do I. Only my best is less expensive than yours.” Troy shot back at Don without missing a beat.

  “Okay, you two,” Lou Anne said. “Let Linda finish introducing our group members to Bree.”

  Linda led her over to Joe, a man with large ears and receding gray hair who braced himself on a cane made from an old oak limb, the Texas flag painted on it. “Sorry I can’t get up, but my legs aren’t so good,” he said in a resonant voice. He sat in a straight chair in front of a large-screen TV flanked by tall shelves crammed with vintage record albums. “It’s too bad my wife isn’t here to meet you, but she’s not feeling well these days. It’s a wonder I’m even here, since I’m blind in one eye.” He pointed to the foggy left lens of his glasses.

  “If you see an old man in a blue Honda Accord on the road, you better watch out,” Troy said as he handed Don a cup of tea.

  “You…” Joe waved his cane at Troy, and Bree half expected him to call Troy a young whippersnapper. Joe’s voice boomed like the sound Bree expected would come from the four-foot-tall African drum standing to his right.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” Troy said, his eyes twinkling. “Anyone who used to star on Romper Room and play piano in Dallas lounges can’t be too scary.”

  “But I fought in World War II, young man, so you better watch out.”

  “Well, I went to the United States Air Force Academy,” Troy said. “Just because they kicked me out of the service for being gay doesn’t make me any less fierce.”

  Kay chimed in. “Calm down, guys. You’re upsetting the dogs.”

  A small white poodle that apparently belonged to Tom had started barking and racing around the room, and a large beige mutt had stopped cadging for treats from a woman with short dark hair who sat across the room from Joe in front of the hearth, holding a plastic bag full of small dog biscuits.

  “Bree, this is Connie, canine-lover extraordinaire.”

  “Glad to meet you, Bree.” Connie looked down at the two dogs, who kept their eyes fixed on her. “And this is Rennie, who belongs to Tom”—she pointed to the poodle—“and Penny, Troy’s dog. We’re all happy to meet you.” She slid some treats into the openings in a dog toy and handed it to Penny. “Sorry my partner isn’t here to meet you today, but s
he had to finish editing a novel and couldn’t make it.”

  “Maybe another time,” Bree said. As she looked up above the mantel, she spotted several bronze statues and a print by a Texas impressionist artist named G. Harvey. “What’s this painting called?” she asked Troy.

  “Immigrants in a New Land, I believe. Harvey’s one of my favorite painters.”

  “He’s a native Texan, right?” she asked.

  Joe looked up, and Bree wondered how well he could actually see the painting. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. I didn’t know that. I’ve looked at that painting every week for a long time now. No wonder I like it so much.”

  Linda sat down in the straight-back chair next to Joe and began to chat with him, and Bree chose a similar chair directly across the room from her, with Tom to her left and Connie to her right. “I hear you’re an academic,” she told Tom, and they quickly discovered several mutual acquaintances at the University of Chicago.

  Across the room, Linda was inspecting what looked like a recent cut on Joe’s right arm and listening to his account of his wife’s poor health. She recalled Linda mentioning earlier that his wife, in her early nineties, had once worked as a reviewer for The Dallas Morning News and had a keen interest in politics and women’s issues. Bree was disappointed she couldn’t meet her.

  She nibbled on one of the deviled eggs Linda had brought, as well as several pieces of cheese and crackers and assorted sandwiches and chips and dips while she continued to alternately chat with Tom and participate in the group discussion as a whole. It centered on Lou Anne and Kay’s six-week trip throughout New Mexico and Arizona to visit PFLAG meetings and several church groups, where Lou Anne spoke about her book and coming out as a senior citizen. She’d also just been invited to be part of a panel at the First Baptist Church in Austin, which was thinking of openly accepting and supporting the gay community.

  “So, is anyone interested in a piece of the Italian cream cake I made for today?” Lou Anne finally asked them, and everyone immediately smiled.

  “Me, me!” Joe spoke for the rest of them as they simply nodded.