by Geeta Kakade
It was amazing to see how the scenery changed in an hour. We rode through a beautiful meadow filled with summer wildflowers like bright yellow woolly mules, crimson columbine and delphiniums, crossed a small stream and then began a gentle climb. Joe reminded us it is against California law to pick any wildflowers.
In the distance an old abandoned cabin turned the scene into a beautiful live painting. We were so lucky to hear a hermit thrush and stopped to listen as its flute like music faded to the soft notes of a tinkling bell.
I love Nature and this trip was comprised of scenes of her finest performances.
Further on interspersed with small waterfalls, the countryside changed as we climbed till we reached the first alpine pool. We continued till we could see Emerald Bay and Lake Tahoe from a wonderful viewpoint and then we stopped at a small cabin that served refreshments. After a half hour break we continued.
The higher we got the quieter and more beautiful it became. Joe pointed out so much we would never have seen otherwise. Flowers, birds, an old abandoned mine, even a porcupine. At midday he turned off the trail and suddenly we were at a small alpine lake. While Amy and he set up the picnic the pack mule was carrying, he told us to go for a swim. The water was amazing…we would have expected it to be freezing cold but it had been warmed by the sun and was perfect. We changed behind the trees, hoping there were no bears around.
Later we told Joe and Amy that stop at Little Lake was a must stop on their future packing trips. That night we reached a popular campground where they had booked two cabins for us. The dinner around a campfire, the songs and the stories provided an amazing atmosphere of what the old days must have been like. Christy told Amy she appreciated having all the mod cons in the cabin after a day on the trail.
The next day we got off to an early start and again Joe led us away from the normal trail to one he and Amy had found. It led us higher up and suddenly we were in golden eagle territory. It was amazing to see the pair he spotted, even more so when one of them dived down and rose with its prey in its mouth.
There aren’t enough good things to say about that trip and we were all glad we’d had those riding lessons, even Moira. Next summer, Mark said we could try one of the more challenging trails and Joe and Amy agreed we had done great on our first packing trip and declared us Junior Wranglers.
September 2012
Frank’s back at school. He likes his new teacher, a Mr. Larson.
The first few days after school reopened him I missed him very much. Everybody seemed to sense that because Mr. and Mrs. Kemp said I must learn to play Bridge, Toby told me he needed help tending the ten orchids Christy had got for his greenhouse and Moira told me she wanted to learn how to knit. They are all so incredibly kind. I know I’ll keep doing the things I was in the summer but it is different without Frank’s constant chatter.
I’ve bought more wool and made a list of what I’m going to make for everybody. Knitting sweaters will keep me busy and be a good Christmas and thank you present for everybody when I leave.
I went to St. Mary’s by bus and spent two days there but my restlessness stayed with me. For the first time in my life I felt like a guest there.
As we parted, Sister Winifred kissed me and said, “Often when one door closes, another opens. God has a purpose for each one of us my child.”
Sometimes there’s no explaining her remarks immediately but in the long run they’ve always made perfect sense.
Something very exciting has happened. Christy and I were in the attic putting the cleaned wedding dresses away carefully when she said there were two trunks she hadn’t opened yet. Would I like to go through the contents of one with her?
Of course I said I would. I can’t think of anything more exciting than to open a trunk stored with items from the past. Well, maybe it is searching for hidden drawers in desks and finding diaries there.
We opened the larger of the two trunks and I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was filled with dolls. Dolls from all over the world, carefully packed and put away. Some were from the 1800’s and very valuable. Others were from the 1900’s and later. There were the first Barbie and Ken dolls there. It seemed as if every generation had contributed to the collection.
There were some in their original boxes and some that looked as if they had been well loved and played with. We took them out and laid them on the bed. Christy noticed my hands were shaking and I told her about Emma…the doll that had arrived at the Convent for me when I was three years old and how much she meant to me. She had been sent from Australia. Except for the words ‘Emma’ for Bridget Cupid pinned on the doll, there had been no note with her. When I was older and asked who had given her to me, Sister Winifred had said St. Mary’s received donations came from all over the world and sometimes donors wanted to remain anonymous.
I think it was my love for Emma that had me so excited over the doll collection. I took so long with each doll examining its and putting aside the ones that needed mending, talking about cataloguing them and cleaning them that Christy left me to get on with it and said she had to go down and give Moira a hand with dinner.
I was still at it when she brought me some hot chocolate at five and then some soup and rolls at seven. It was plain to her that I just wanted to go on doing what I was doing. There were one hundred and fifty dolls, some with doll stands, some in cases.
Mark finally came up too and he and Christy sat talking while I kept sorting dolls.
“We could have a large display cabinet with dolls, in the living room, if you like,” he told Christy.
“I know just the place,” she said. “Between those two windows on the side. What do you think Bridget?”
I couldn’t say as all I could think of was the dolls had to be stored properly.
“Some of them are really valuable,” I repeated.
I wasn’t aware what Christy and Mark were talking about till she said. “I think we have to hire you Bridget to sort them all out, fix their clothes and mend some of them.”
I looked at her. “You mean that? You would trust me not to ruin the collection? I don’t know much about mending them but I could find out.”
Christy laughed. “Your enthusiasm for the job outranks everyone else’s and I vote for you.”
Mark said he seconded that.
I could hear them talking in the background as I kept examining the dolls. Drifts of their conversation floated to me.
Mark said he had a friend who needed a place to stay for a few weeks. It was a buddy who was part of his battalion on his last tour of Afghanistan. He’d had an accident recently and needed a place to recuperate.
I don’t know why Christy who is so generous, hesitated when Mark mentioned his friend and asked if he could come. She gave him the strangest look and said, “We’ll talk about it later.”
“You know Bridget may have found an interest to challenge her,” Christy said that night as she came out of the bathroom in a bathrobe.
“The dolls? You could be right. I’ve never seen her look so engrossed in anything.”
“I’m thinking of more than just some dolls on display in a cabinet. What if we let her set up an online store and sell them?”
“It would give her something to do. With the cooler weather coming on, and Frank in school, that might keep her happy and busy. With Bridget I’ve noticed that both words mean the same thing.”
“Maybe doing this,” Christy said, “she’ll find she could develop a business of her own. I Googled a few dolls when she told me how old they were on the iPad and they are really worth quite a bit. I didn’t know there was so much money in dolls.”
“Is all this meant to keep her away from the Convent?” Mark couldn’t help teasing his wife.
“If it is her calling I have no problem with her becoming a nun,” said Christy seriously. “It just worries me if she does it because she has no other choice. I wanted her to find something here but so far nothing has shown up until now.”
“Whatever you deci
de about the dolls, I’m in your corner,” said Mark.
“Who is this friend you mentioned earlier, Mark?” Christy’s eyes met Mark’s in the mirror as she brushed her hair.
He came up behind her took the hairbrush away and started running it through her hair.
Shower fresh, smelling so good he looked great clad only in pajama bottoms that rode low on his hips.
“Andrew’s a buddy I’ve known since boot camp and he was in an accident ten weeks ago…broke his knee and had to have surgery to replace it. The cast is off but it’s an uphill battle with therapy and rehab. He needs a place to recuperate.”
He had put the brush down and his hands were on her shoulders, massaging the stiffness out of them and moving up to the sore spots in her neck.
Christy wasn’t going to be distracted. “Special Forces?” she demanded sternly.
“Yes,” said Mark.
“Here on a case?”
“Yes. I mean No. He was on a case till his accident. Now he’s on medical leave.”
“And you can’t tell me any more about it? As usual?”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t he have family?”
“No and he’s not doing too well on his own. His knee’s not healing the way it should and he’s getting down on himself because physical therapy is causing so much pain and swelling in his knee. He can’t sleep, he’s barely eating. He needs to be around people. He’ll pay for his room and board. It would only be for six weeks.”
Christy sighed. She knew how difficult it was for the soldiers who came back and if he had PTSD, loneliness wouldn’t improve it. A fractured patella wasn’t the easiest thing to recover from. Besides Mark wouldn’t ask her to do this unless it was really important to him.
“Okay husband,” she said turning to face him. “He can have the downstairs bedroom.”
“Thanks,” Mark bent to kiss her and the rest of the world receded.
“I like Bridget,” Phillip said as he floated into the attic to find his wife looking for something in one of the trunks. “She’s polite and kind and very helpful.”
“Yes she is, Pa,” agreed Agnes.
“Did we really have so many dolls?”
“We had a few but every generation added to my collection and that’s what she and Christy found today.”
“But she hasn’t shown any signs of liking any of the young men Christy’s introduced her to. Will she just go back to the Convent? Is she our flesh and blood?”
“We’ll have to wait and see, Pa. Maybe things will change by Christmas.”
“Trouble’s coming before that,” said Phillip gloomily.
“What makes you say that?” Agnes asked.
“I feel it. I suppose it’s this friend of Mark’s. Andrew something or other.”
“Could be, Pa.”
“Wonder what he’s mixed up in?”
Agnes shrugged…at least she would have if she still had shoulders and wasn’t just a wraith.
“Don’t trouble trouble till trouble troubles you,” she quoted vaguely and drifted off before Phillip could ask if it was all her doing.
CHAPTER TWO
October 2012
Bridget stared at herself in the mirror. Christy and she had just spent a day at the new spa in town. The latter had said she wanted to celebrate the four month anniversary of Bridget’s arrival with a day out on the town. A new spa had opened in Miner’s Rock next to the motel there. Overriding all Bridget’s objections Christy had said they had to use the gift certificate for two Mark had presented her with, before the expiry date.
Bridget had given in when she saw how keen Christy was on the idea.
They had been massaged, soaked in a hot tub, given facials, had their hair trimmed, eyebrows shaped, manicures and pedicures. Christy had loaned her one of her dresses for the party they were having at Cupid Lodge that evening. That particular shade of orange seemed to suit Bridget’s dark hair. Its hemline just above her knees drew attention to her great legs and ankles, Christy said. Bridget felt a little self-conscious but the sheer stockings she had on made her feel a little better.
Never having worn such a bright color before Bridget took a long look at herself. Was this a glimpse of the real person she could be if she wanted to? She doubted it but it was nice to try all this at least once and enjoy looking and feeling good.
‘Pride goes before a fall,’ Bridget could hear Sister Winifred’s disapproving voice clearly.
She turned away from the mirror.
Mark and Christy had gone to town to pick up the Mexican food they were serving that evening for Frank’s eleventh birthday. He had chosen the menu and except for the burritos she’d helped Moira make, the rest was coming from Pollos’, the Mexican restaurant in town.
Bridget heard a thud and went downstairs. At the landing she ran the rest of the way.
The man on the floor on his back was cussing words that were X rated for would be nuns and children. From the back all she could see was a mop of thick black hair.
“Let me help you.” She got his crutches first but she had to help him by supporting him as he got on his good leg, and holding on to her hauled himself up.
She gave him one crutch and reached for the other when he said Whoa! and the next instant was falling against her.
Bridget had no choice but to put her arms around him to hold him up and they clung to each other for the longest minute.
Embarrassed, Bridget handed him his second crutch and stood back. Being pressed against him had made her aware of herself in a new way. There were so many currents running through her she thought she might blow a fuse.
“Thanks,” he said gruffly, limping to a chair.
He sounded angry not thankful.
“I’m Bridget Cupid.” Introductions were in order. She couldn’t just stare at him and wonder where she had seen him before. Dark wavy hair, blue eyes, sweats and a tee shirt didn’t ring a bell.
“Andrew Blackwell,” he said tersely.
“Mark and Christy will be home soon,” she said, glad that Frank burst in just then to see if the food had arrived. Seeing the stranger he paused.
“This is Frank, Moira’s son. Why don’t you keep Mr…Mr…” she paused wishing her present state of confusion hadn’t chased his name from her memory already.
“Blackwell,” supplied the man again.
“Keep Mr. Blackwell company for a few minutes while I help your Mom in the kitchen.” Bridget told Frank and escaped.
She didn’t like being around people with a dark aura of anger and tension.
Maybe it was the fall that had upset him.
How had he fallen anyway? Those crutches had non-skid cups at the bottom and looked brand new. That hallway and entry were spotless. She knew because she had mopped it herself and there was nothing there that would make him slip.
“Taste this and tell me if it needs some more salt.”
Bridget turned to Moira who was making her own salsa. She said it was better than the one from Pollos’. She hadn’t wanted them to get the food from Pollos’ but Christy had said everyone needed a day off and Pollos’ was Mark’s favorite restaurant. Wisely she hadn’t mentioned it was Frank’s too and added fuel to Moira’s worry that he was being spoiled. Frank had gotten into trouble once before when she’d heard him telling Mark that his Mom needed a day off every week and they could eat at Pollos’.
“It’s perfect.” Bridget said.
Happy with her response Moira turned back to the counter.
Bridget made some fresh lemonade squeezing limes and lemon adding ice and water, salt and sugar and tasting it till it seemed perfect.
All the while she was working and cleaning up after herself, she thought of Mr. Blackwell.
It must be awfully hard on him to return from a tour of duty and then end up in an accident once he was home safe and sound. The nuns didn’t approve of war but neither did they approve of criticizing actions taken by leaders who’s shoes they weren’t in so there had
never been any discussion of it at the Convent but Bridget had watched the news and Eb the odd job man who had taught her so much about fixing things had an opinion on every single thing in the world. Sometimes much to Bridget’s amusement he’d take both sides of an argument and listening to him was better than watching a gubernatorial debate.
Whatever the reason for it, war was hard on everyone.
A few minutes later she was glad when she heard Mark and Christy come in with trays of food that smelled delicious. They went through to the living room to greet their guest while Bridget and Moira put the dishes on the kitchen table and got the wine glasses out. The Kemps had come down with the other guests and as Mark served the drinks, Bridget sipped her lemonade and looked at the newcomer. He was well built, his upper body strength evident in the muscles straining against his dark brown shirt. He had sharp clean-cut features and his teeth were amazingly white in his tanned face when he smiled as he was doing at Christy. He reminded her of a hero in the old movies she’d watched when she’d spent the weekend with a friend in fourth grade.
“May I get you some more lemonade? It’s delicious.”
Bridget jumped and looked at Mr. Kemp. “No, thank you I’m fine.”
“You look beautiful tonight, just beautiful. Like a model. Just as if someone waved a wand over you and changed you.”
“Into a swan for one night?” asked Bridget giggling.
Mr. Kemp looked stricken. “I didn’t mean that dear. You are beautiful but tonight…”
“You’re gorgeous,” Mrs. Kemp cut in. She’d come up behind her husband in time to rescue him from his gaffe.
“If only I was thirty years younger,” he said on a mock sigh.
“And single. And sixty pounds thinner dear,” said Mrs. Kemp affectionately. “Let’s meet Mark’s friend and give Bridget a break.” She turned to her and said. “Don’t get him wrong dear. He only teases those he’s fond of.”
