by Ina Williams
CHAPTER 6
From the Outside In
Molly was so excited that she was waiting outside of the house for her guest to arrive. Howard Bixby had given his wife the message as promised and in the week since she had returned Molly’s call about the garden, they had talked every day. The calls started as a way to get the planning started, sharing ideas and favorite flowers but, as is so often the case with people of like minds, they began to talk about the whys. This flower was her favorite because of this childhood memory, and the other favored this one because of what it symbolized. Before they knew it they were talking about people and animals and God and friendship and love. The consequence of these confessions was a brilliant plan for a simple garden and a blooming friendship between two kindred spirits.
The idea that she was one step closer to creating her garden made Molly feel one step closer to making this cottage her home. She didn’t have any benches or chairs for the outside of the house yet, which made waiting outside a bit more obvious than she would have liked. If there were a rocking chair or swing she could have brought out a book and pretended to read. Of course if she had the rocking chair or the swing she wouldn’t need to pretend at all. Inspired by the stream of consciousness she decided to do something instead of pretending. She grabbed her journal and an old blanket from the closet before heading back outside.
She spread the blanket on the hard dark earth and looked up at the perfect early spring sky. Soft white puffs of cotton on a crisp blue satin cloth, every Sunday afternoon should look like this. She opened up the journal and began to write about her intention for the garden and her new home.
“Hello?” a bright voice called out.
Molly looked up from her journal, shading her eyes. She had been so engrossed in her writing that she hadn’t heard the car pull up in the drive. Slightly blinded by the late afternoon sun, she was able to make out the silhouette of a woman, petite but strong, with her curly blonde hair pulled into a ponytail.
“Hello there!” Molly sprang to her feet and the women wrapped their arms around each other as if they had been old friends separated for a long time.
“It’s so good to finally meet you.”
“You too!”
Their embrace transformed into linked arms and Molly led her guest towards the spot where the garden would be.
“Well Mrs. Bixby, can I get you anything?”
“Oh please,” she tossed off the idea of a formal greeting from a friend, “call me Elsa.”
As seemed to be the trend with Molly, the business was handled quickly—measurements for the garden, marks for each plot, and the plans for what would go in each one. With all of the formalities out of the way the ladies were free to dive heart first into another wonderful getting-to-know-you conversation.
“So where are you from originally?” Elsa asked now seated on the couch in Molly’s living room.
The couch was incidentally the only real piece of furniture in the living room and only one of three in the whole house. The southern hostess in Molly was horrified to be entertaining in such squalor, but the only thing stronger than the pride of a southern woman was the bite of a Georgia mosquito at sunset, and they were out with a vengeance tonight.
“Well my parents moved around quite a bit when I was little but I was actually born in North Carolina.”
“Really? I would have guessed you were from somewhere up north.”
The irony dripped from every elongated syllable. Elsa had enough of a southern accent for the both of them.
“Yeah, well there’s a little of that in there too. Two years in D.C., one in Chicago, and another in Pittsburg, but I grew up in Atlanta mostly.”
“Wow, quite the seasoned traveler. So how’d you end up here?” Elsa wondered aloud. “No offense to our small town but we’re not exactly metropolitan.” They chuckled together.
“Yes, I’ve noticed. Honestly, I knew that when I bought my first house I wanted to own at least a little of the land around it, the closer you are to the city the more expensive it is so I just decided to travel off the beaten path.”
“Yeah, way off,” they shared a laugh again.
Elsa took a look around the room, deciding on a delicate way to ask the next question.
“So, are you thinking about renovating at all?”
Molly smiled into her glass of lemonade. She loved it when people went out of their way to be polite.
“Honestly, I wouldn’t know where to start. Decorating, designing, that sort of thing has never been my strong suit,” Molly admitted.
“I refuse to believe that. We just spent the past week designing one of the most gorgeous gardens I have ever seen, for a bird.” They both exploded with laughter at the thought. “You mean to tell me you can’t design three little rooms for yourself.”
Molly thought to herself. When it was put like that it sounded really easy but the truth was that was exactly why it was so hard. She was excellent at doing things for others, it was doing for herself that had always presented the most problems.
Apparently Molly’s face betrayed her every thought.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a hard time about it. You’ll do it when you’re ready.”
Molly was grateful for the reassurance but she recognized the truth of Elsa’s first statement.
“Actually, I’d love to do it now if I had the help.”
Elsa beamed, she always loved an opportunity to help.
“Well I know someone who would be perfect for the job. Let me talk to him and I’ll pass along your information.”
Molly’s face was full of grateful surprise, “That would be great. Thank you!”
Elsa smiled in reply then stood from the couch. “I better get home. I don’t want Howard to worry.”
Molly walked her to the door and hugged her goodbye. She stood at the door and watched Elsa pull off into the darkness. As she watched the taillights disappear into the woods she felt the familiar pang of jealousy. She had grown accustomed to it now—anything from a couple holding hands in the market to children playing at the park brought the feeling up like bubbles to the surface of a brook. It had been miserable for a while, but she had learned to control it. It was just a feeling after all. Feelings have no bearing on what is real and, despite popular belief, they can be controlled. But one look into her empty living room and Molly knew she would have her work cut out for her wrestling those reckless feelings tonight.
CHAPTER 7
Let Me Go
Molly had loved Clint Wilkes for all the wrong reasons. Ever the artsy outsider in high school, the pretty popular guys had never taken interest in her. It didn’t bother her. She had never taken to worshiping people like the other kids her age. She had intensely meaningful causes to be a part of and even if they didn’t stick, they were hers for the moment. It wasn’t until Clint came along during her second year of grad school that she began to understand the appeal of a charmed life. Clint was an up and coming African-American entrepreneur, even in college. With his father’s money and his ivy-league education his star was on the rise.
She hated to admit it but, looking back Molly knew that part of his appeal had been that she thought he was way too cool for her. She began to make subconscious concessions. She forgave the days without a single phone call, plans canceled for impromptu meetings, one-sided conversations, and a thousand other small things that slowly became a mountain between them. She couldn’t break up with him of course, he was perfect for her. He was tall, handsome, successful, ambitious, intelligent—she would have to be crazy to break up with him. Only she wasn’t crazy, she was lonely, and not just sometimes but all the time.
By year three, their relationship had become less about love and more about strategy and planning. Even his proposal was an elaborate way for him to check things off of his to do list. Romantic overpriced bouquet - check, romantic music -
check, expensive ring - check, moving rehearsed speech - check. She still couldn’t believe she’d said yes. Her heart sank the moment she said it. How can you love someone who never seems to see you? Clint loved her, she was sure of that, and she loved him, but it wasn’t marry-me love, it was stay-with-me love. It was the kind of love people cling to in order to keep from being alone. Deep down Molly knew that it wasn’t strong enough to build a marriage on and she finally worked up the courage to say so two days before the rehearsal dinner. Clint had called to tell her that he was going to be a few hours late, his meeting had been pushed back so he had to take a later flight.
“How about we don’t get married?” She blurted over the phone.
He was sure it was a joke, but he didn’t laugh. He never laughed anymore, she couldn’t remember if he ever did. In his own version of hanging on, he asked if she had thought of all that she would be giving up. Molly flashed forward to every soccer game and ballet recital that she knew he would one day miss for similar if not identical reasons and her compliant smile faded. She was resolved.
“I have.” She said with certainty and relief.
The months she spent crying after the breakup were more about how little she felt, rather than how much.
It had been three years since she ended things with Clint and Molly was beginning to miss something she never had. With every year she began to wonder, with increasing intensity, what it would be like to have a man look at her and be moved by what he saw, not just impressed or attracted. She had long ago begun to crave the touch of someone who needed her as much as she needed him.
After Katy there had been a string of women, but none ever made it to his mother’s house or Eloise’s. Business school was the focus now and since each woman seemed eventually more disappointing than the last, Elijah began to see women as a means to a very specific end. Two years flew by—Rae finished school, the store was doing well, and things were on track for Elijah to buy it from Earnest. Then his world changed.
It was three o’clock in the morning when Ms. Eloise called. Elijah had fallen asleep studying for finals, so understandably he thought it was just a dream when she told him his mother was seriously injured.
“There’s been a car accident on Miller Bridge, Elijah. You need to get to the hospital as soon as you can.”
They were getting to be old friends by now, Elijah and Grief. The same long drive, the same hospital, the same dark sadness. Elijah could feel that small glimmer of hope that there was a God who heard him growing dimmer with every goodbye he uttered.
He whispered a prayer out loud to this divine stranger, “God, I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair for me to ask a favor of you the very first time I talk to you, but my sister says you usually cut people slack for making mistakes like that. Please don’t let my mother die. I know I can’t tell you what to do, but I’m asking. Please.” he bargained as he wiped a tear from his eye before it could make its way down his cheek.
Ms. Eloise, Rae, and Elijah had been sitting nervously in the waiting room for an hour before the doctor came out and told them that they had stopped the bleeding but he warned them to prepare themselves for the worst. He explained that her injuries were extremely critical, however, she was too weak for surgery.
“So what do we do now,” Elijah asked urgently.
The doctor looked up at Elijah with somber eyes that he recognized all too well.
“We wait,” he said softly. “For now she’s awake and asking for you and your sister.”
Elijah had been taller than his mother since the ninth grade. “You get that height from your father,” she told him once when she found him slouching to be closer to his friends’ height. He had been looking down at her for the past few years, but she never looked smaller or more frail than she did lying in that hospital bed.
“Momma?” Rae sounded five years old again and it broke Elijah’s heart in a new way. Their mother looked up and when she saw them both, she smiled.
“Momma you’re going to get better, ok? We’re going to do everything we can to help.”
Her smile fell and she shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Elijah stepped closer, “Look this may not matter much to you but I’m sure it’ll thrill Rae. I had a little talk with God tonight.” Both his mother’s eyes and Rae’s widened.
Elijah took his mother’s hand, “I asked Him to help you get better.”
He could feel a well of tears building up in his throat. His mother tugged weakly on his hand to pull him closer. He closed his eyes and held her. Her weak but calm voice surprised him, she hadn’t spoken since they’d arrived. For a moment he was happy to hear her voice, imagining that if she could speak it meant she was stronger than the doctors believed. Then he realized what she’d said.
“Sometimes He gives us what we need instead of what we ask for.”
Elijah felt his soul on fire. He stood up and looked at her. It may only have been a moment, but it felt like forever. The room was getting smaller but she seemed to be drifting further and further away, too far for him to reach her, for anyone to reach her. Tears burned their way out of his eyes as he helplessly watched her smile goodbye. Rae stood silently sobbing, without hearing a word she understood what was happening. Her mother was leaving, she was going somewhere they could not follow. The thought was too much to bear, she gently crawled into the bed beside her mother and buried her head in her neck to weep there. Elijah stood frozen watching his life change before his eyes.
Ms. Eloise entered just in time, as she always did.
“I’ll stay with them,” she whispered softly at his side.
Her voice was so even, so calm that Elijah wondered how she could live through all of this, again. But as he turned to leave he saw the tears on her cheeks. He left the room and made his way to the silent solitude of the stairwell. He bawled until his eyes were numb and his voice was stripped.
With his mother gone, Elijah began to remember Jim’s face in the days following Percey’s death. Only now did he understand how hollow grief could make you. Nothing seemed to matter—not the store, not school, even Rae seemed too far away in his sea of grief. He lay in his apartment dazed and broken for three weeks. And then there was a knock.
Ms. Eloise stood in his doorway and, without a word, she hugged him deeply. The embrace brought back the flood of tears and she let Elijah cry on her shoulder until he was finished and then she led him by the hand into his kitchen. She pulled a warm pot from an insulated bag she had brought with her and poured him a bowl of her famous pumpkin soup. When he had eaten enough, she looked him in his eyes and spoke for the first time since she had arrived.
“I wasn’t really sure about you and your mother when you first started working at the store. People in this town have a way of disappointing over and over again. But when your mother came to the house that night after Percey…” her voice trailed off as she remembered her son. Elijah saw her drifting so he moved closer and placed his hand on hers. She smiled before continuing on a new thought.
“You know James told me what you said to him that night on the porch.” Ms. Eloise was the only one who called Jim, James. Even the funeral program had read Jimmy Hargro.
“You should know that he always meant for the shop to be yours.” Elijah looked up at her for the first time.
“James left the shop to Earnest for the same reason your mother said what she said on the first day you came to work for him. This town don’t take to change fast, but just like the rest of the world it’s got to learn you can either fight it and die, or take it and run with it.”
She pressed her hands to Elijah’s cheeks “Willie’s is your place now and that’s how James wanted it. Now, you got it, what you gone do with it?” She stood from the table and kissed Elijah on the forehead.
“Finish all that soup. I’ll be back for the pot tomorrow.”
Elijah smiled, “
Guess I have to call you Ma Eloise now, huh?”
“Might as well.” She winked and let herself out, closing the door behind her.
Elijah was back in the shop the next day and at the bursar’s office the day after that. The hollow wasn’t gone, but purpose had returned and three years later, with his bachelor’s degree in hand Elijah was building more than just furniture.
CHAPTER 8
The Me You See
After Clint, Molly had subconsciously taken a break from dating. Her focus changed. There were a few guys here and there, but no one ever stood out. A sea of grey was all she kept thinking to herself, a haze of black and white. After a while she decided that the best thing to do would be to build up her own life. She focused on work and eventually on buying her house. Now she was focused on the renovation of the house. She had systematically made herself too busy to think about dating. She was, at least, too busy to admit the improbability of such a statement.
He was cute, not just tilt-your-head-and-sigh cute. The contractor Elsa recommended was make-you-lose-your-train-of-thought attractive. He stood about six foot three and his thick wavy brown hair with small flecks of gold made her think of ocean waves reflecting sunlight. His light brown eyes held a sadness so deep it made her want to dive in and save him. That was the first strike she noted. Men who seemed to need saving usually did and were always more trouble than they were worth. They were usually mean too. She pulled her eyes back from his strong arms in just enough time to hear the tail end of his question to her. Something about time, time limit, time table…oh, for the renovation.
“I’d like for everything to be done by the beginning of September.”
He looked up at her in surprise or maybe it was agitation with her zealousness. Whatever the reason, his look was definitely rude. Mean, I knew it she boasted to herself.
