"No, just me."
"That's a relief. Just what do you propose to help me with?"
"Your life." Emma sat in the leather chair. Frank's chair. No one had sat in it since he died.
"There's nothing wrong with my life. Thank you very much."
"You live like a recluse."
"So what, I'm happy."
"Are you?"
"Am I what?" Why did she feel like they were talking in riddles?
"Happy?" Emma leaned forward and stared at her.
"I just said I was, didn't I?" Rose couldn't keep the anger out of her voice. Emma always managed to get the heart of the problem. Always probing, asking questions. Just couldn't mind her own business.
"You're not acting happy."
Rose stood up and went to the kitchen. She had enough of this ridiculous conversation. Was she nuts? Carrying on a conversation with a ghost? She didn't even believe in them.
Emma followed her.
"You're not going to show me things are you?" She was nuts. What made her continue this conversation?
"What kind of things?"
"Things from the past? The future?"
"I'm not Jacob Marley, Rose. I'm your sister."
Suddenly an overwhelming urge to laugh came over her. This whole ridiculous thing amused her. She couldn't help it. She started laughing and couldn't stop. Tears ran down her cheeks, and still she couldn't stop.
"It's good to see you laugh, Rose."
Rose wiped her eyes. Lord that felt good. It had been so long since she laughed so hard. Suddenly, she sobered up. What did she have to laugh about?
"You have everything to laugh about."
"Maybe I don't want to laugh."
"Maybe not, but you enjoyed it. Look at you – you still have tears in your eyes. Why don't you call your kids, go visit them for the holidays?"
Rose shook her head. "Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"I won't be a burden to them. Francis and Melinda have their own families. They have their own lives to live." Besides she liked being alone. Liked sleeping when she wanted to sleep, eating when she wanted to eat, watching what she wanted on TV. No cares. No one to worry about. No one to answer to.
Nope, she liked it just fine.
"Do you?" Emma asked.
"Do I what?"
"Like being alone?"
"Yes, I do." She shouted. "Damn it, why don't you go away. Leave me alone?" Where had she come from anyway? She didn't need this nonsense. A ghost, what was the matter with her?
"How are you going to spend the holidays?" Emma refused to be quiet. "The kids aren't coming home for Christmas again this year. Why don't you visit them? They invited you. But, you said no. You're going to spend another lonely day."
Rose shrugged. "The kids can't come home. How many times do I have to tell you, they have their own lives?" Just like her sister to push the issue. Never did listen. Never accepted Rose's explanation for anything. Always had to be right.
Rose leaned back and closed her eyes. She did miss the fun, laughter, love, and traditions of the holiday. Missed seeing her kids and grandkids too and the commotion of the Christmas season.
Memories of childhood Christmases filled her mind. Merry sounds of long ago holidays rang in her ears. She hugged herself, warmed by the memories of earlier days. She thought back. Back to her childhood.
"Do you remember how Mom started baking cookies right after Thanksgiving, Rose?"
"Harrumph!" Did she remember? "Of course, I remember. I'm not senile you know."
"We used to sing and dance. Remember how Johnny always got to pick the first songs?" Emma's smile lit up her face.
"Yeah, because he was the youngest. He got to pick the first sugar sprinkles too." Rose said.
"Those were the days, weren't they? I can still hear Mom scolding us when we tried to grab our favorite jar of colored sugars before Johnny. He always got to do everything first."
Rose laughed. "Mom always said the same thing, didn't she? Even now, I can hear her firm voice – 'If you three want to help, you'd better settle down'." Rose tried to mimic the tone.
Emma laughed "You always were able to imitate her. You sounded just like her. Remember coming home from school and smelling fresh baked cookies or cakes. God, the aroma lingered for days."
"They were such fun days." Her parents were gone now too, dying just days apart and only six months before Frank. Rose dabbed at her tears. And Emma, her beautiful sister, Emma, died two years ago. Oh, how she missed her best friend, her shopping buddy.
Rose brushed the tears away. Bittersweet memories. She stood up. She didn't want to remember anymore. It was too painful.
Sometimes, she felt old for her fifty-eight years and so lonely. Why did things have to change? Frank and Emma were too young to die.
Rose shivered, pushed Emma's voice from her head, and went to refill her coffee cup.
Life used to be uncomplicated and fun. She loved the holidays back then. So lively and exciting. She missed those days.
Missed the kids counting down the days on a quilted wall hanging she had made especially for the occasion. Each day Melinda and Francis took turns adding the gift-wrapped package to the tiny hand stitched pockets in Santa's belly.
Rose hadn't thought about that wall hanging in a long time, wasn't even sure where it ended up. Maybe Melinda took it.
The doorbell rang. Now who could that be? She set her cup down and went to answer it.
"Rose, uh, Mrs. Asbury, I stopped in to see how you were doing?" Stephen said. "After that nasty fall, I wanted to be sure you were okay. Do you need anything? I mean..."
Rose stared at him. "I, uh... I'm fine." Heat burned her face. Why didn't he leave her alone? What did he care how she was? "No, I don't need anything." She started to close the door. Something made her stop. "Thank you for asking." She closed the door and leaned against it.
"Why don't you make friends with the man next door, Rose?" Emma said.
Why indeed? He certainly was friendly enough. Handsome too, in a rugged sort of way. It wasn't that she wasn't attracted to him. In fact she was too attracted. Rose shook her head. Outrageous idea. She didn't need him or anyone else. Did she?
Chapter Three
"Come on, it'll be fun sledding down her drive. No one ever shovels it. Look at the thick layer of snow." Sarah convinced her friends "We probably aren't allowed to go to the park, anyways." She told them.
Jenny, Jason, and Billy shrugged and gave in to their friend. They were having a grand time sledding down the drive when Billy yelled, and Mrs. Asbury pulled the door opened. Grabbing up their sleds, they raced off to Sarah's yard around the corner of the garage just in time.
"I'm going home," Jenny said, "I'm going to be in so much trouble if my mom finds out."
"How's she going to find out? I told you the old lady doesn't know where any of you live. If she tells on anybody, it'll probably be me and my grandpa won't do anything." Sarah formed a snowball and threw it at Jenny. "He'll sit me down and talk to me and shake his head and make me promise never to do it again." Sarah rolled her eyes and spoke in a sing-songy voice.
"You should listen to your grandpa." Jason threw a handful of snow at Sarah. "My father would tan my hide if I ever ignored him the way you do."
"Yeah!" The other kids agreed.
"Let's build a snowman." Sarah changed the subject. She made a snowball and began rolling it, gathering snow. When they had three balls of various sizes Sarah suggested they roll them into Mrs. Asbury's yard and set the snowman up there.
"No way." Jenny threw a handful of snow at Sarah. "You act like you want us to get into trouble."
"Yeah, let's just build it in your yard," Jason and Billy said at the same time.
Sarah began rolling the largest of the snowballs towards the house next door. "Come on, she won't do anything. Anyway what's it going to hurt? It's just snow. It'll probably melt in a day or two." Sarah, as usual, talked the others into it.
&nb
sp; Chapter Four
Laughter and screams pulled Rose out of her reverie. She looked out the window and saw the four kids sledding in her front yard. Darn kids. Again, as she pulled the door open, they vanished around the side of the house, almost as if someone had signaled to them.
"The kids really aren't hurting anything. They're only kids. They're just playing," Emma said.
Rose ignored her.
The room darkened, but Rose didn't bother to turn on the lights. She sat in her chair, remembering happier times.
She and Frank had loved the holidays. Together they had decorated the house inside and out with lights and special figures he had made from wood. They began in early November setting up the figures outside. Everything had to be done by Thanksgiving.
"Besides," Frank often said, "We need to take advantage of the warmer temperatures."
Frank climbed the ladder, and she handed up the lights. How pretty it all looked when they finished. Colored lights sparkling in the dark.
"No cold white lights for us," Frank said. "We want a happy house. Warm and inviting."
And it was.
She remembered one year when they got an early snow. No warm days in November that year. She and Frank finally had to go out in the cold to decorate. A blizzard was developing, and they raced to beat it, finishing just as the first snowflakes began to fly.
Afterward, they sat in front of the fireplace with hot chocolate and watched the snow cover the lights in the bushes then they made love on the floor by the firelight. Rose sighed, remembering how embarrassed she felt at first. It was one of the few times they didn't make love in their bedroom. She worried that the kids would come down and catch them, but Frank laughed and told her she worried too much. He promised if they heard anything, he'd cover her with a blanket.
God, how she loved those days.
Then everything changed.
Her parents died first.
Frank helped her through those days after her parents' deaths and then like a snap of the fingers he was gone too. So sudden. Rose still couldn't believe it.
How unfair life seemed at times.
She moved around the room and stood behind Frank's old leather chair. His familiar pipe tobacco still clung to the leather. She leaned down and kissed it. "Oh, Frank, I miss you so much." She rubbed the back of the chair, wishing him back. But he wouldn't be back. Wishing didn't make it so.
She walked to the fireplace and picked up one of his pipes. The one thing she couldn't bring herself to part with. She loved the feel of the smooth wood. Meerschaum, if she remembered correctly. She set it back in the holder and went to the desk. They had such great plans for their retirement. Frank couldn't wait to retire and travel. Even then, he was making plans for some of their trips.
She sat down and pulled open the desk drawer. Maps of Maine, Cape Cod, Connecticut and Vermont filled the drawer. He planned on doing the East coast first. She picked up one of the maps and opened it. Small black dots centered on places he wanted to stay. She brushed another tear, folded the map and stuffed it back in the drawer and closed it.
Shaking herself out of the somber mood, she stood to turn on a light. A movement outside caught her attention. Those kids again.
She opened the door and as usual, several pairs of legs scattered. But one child, the smallest of the group, remained. She stared at Rose for a minute, patted the hat on the snowman's head, waved, then turned, and raced off to join her friends.
Rose almost laughed at her boldness. She's taunting me, Rose thought. She shook her head and stared out the window at the night sky. If there was a heaven, Frank was up there somewhere.
Could he see her?
Frank would've loved the snowman.
It looked as if it guarded the house. How long ago it had been since her yard had sported a snowman. She closed the drapes and turned on another light. Though it was only five o'clock, darkness came early these dreary winter days, especially with the prediction of the winter storm.
Why didn't those kids play in their own yards? Why did they persist in bothering her? Maybe it was time to call their parents, after all they were trespassing. And where were their parents? What were they doing out so late? It was dark, they belonged inside.
"But it's only five o'clock. Not even dinner time yet. Ah, Rose, when did you become such a grouch?" Emma appeared next to her. "Your yard used to be full of kids, and you were right out there with them. They all thought you were cool. Remember, they all called you Mom Asbury. When and why did you change? They're only kids. What are they hurting?"
"That was a long time ago," Rose said. "I don't need this nonsense now." She hurried to the closet and grabbed her jacket. "I'll just go next door and confront their parents, find out whose involved and make them stop"
Rose didn't know much about her neighbors. They had moved in a little over a year ago, but other than to nod hello, she hadn't bothered to hold a conversation with them. She couldn't even remember their names. Lately, she only remembered seeing the old man who tried to speak to her. She hadn't seen the young couple for a long time.
"So what are you going to do? Knock on their door and tell them their kids rode their sleds in your driveway and built a snowman in your front yard." Emma laughed. "What juvenile delinquents they are. Really, Rose, what would you have thought if a neighbor had complained like that about your kids? You would have laughed. Where's your sense of humor? You're going to make a complete fool of yourself."
A snowball thumped against the house. "That's the last straw." Rose put on her jacket and ignored Emma. Besides, Emma was a figment of her imagination.
Wasn't she?
* * *
"Sarah Elizabeth!" Stephen yelled for his granddaughter. "Get in here right now."
"Now we're in trouble. I'm going home." Jenny didn't wait for Sarah to answer, she turned and ran home.
Billy and Jason followed close behind.
"What, Grandpa?"
The innocence of Sarah's voice sliced through Stephen. What was he going to do with the child? "Were you throwing snowballs at the house next door?"
Sarah looked down and didn't answer.
"Okay, we're going over there, and you're going to apologize to her."
Shoot, Sarah thought. She didn't know what made her do this stuff. But heck, Grandpa was talking to that old lady, and she wouldn't even answer him. The old grouch always ignored him. Grandpa was only trying to be friendly. She deserved a snowball at her house. At least now she'd have to talk to Grandpa. She'd have to answer the door.
* * *
Rose harrumphed, ignored Emma, and walked straight-backed to the door. "It's time these kids learned some respect."
She grabbed the knob, yanked the door open, and met the steel gray eyes of the man next door. The little girl, who had waved earlier, stood next to him, holding a plate of cookies in her tiny-gloved hands.
"Mrs. Asbury, I'm sorry for throwing snowballs at your house."
The tall man nudged the little girl.
She looked up at him and continued. "And for playing in your yard."
Rose couldn't help but smile at the pretty chubby-cheeked child. Her red, curly hair stuck out of a green stocking hat and her face, flushed from embarrassment or the cold, lowered. She kicked at the snow gathering on the stoop.
Something about the child reminded her of Melinda at that age. "I, it's..." Rose, seldom at a loss for words, stared at the man.
He ran his fingers through his dark hair. He looked down at her from his six-foot stocky frame. The serious look in his eyes negated the cocky grin that formed on his lips, even though they held a glint of something like mischief. Bet he was something in his younger days. A yearning stirred deep inside her again. She didn't like it before, and she liked it even less now. Only Frank had stirred that feeling. It had been dead for a long time.
"I'm Stephen Daniels." He extended his hand. "I caught my granddaughter, Sarah, and her friends throwing snowballs at your house."
His
voice had a rich mellow tone. A spark of something familiar ran through Rose when she shook his hand. A spark of something she hadn't expected to feel again. Wasn't sure she liked, yet liked too much. She pulled her hand away and put it behind her, out of his reach. It smoldered like it was on fire.
"I hope they didn't bother you too much."
Rose couldn't think of a reply. One of the few times in her life, she was speechless.
Time To Love Again Page 2
