Simple Gifts

by Lori Copeland

  Ah yes. I’d forgotten the bubble gum and the massive pink bubbles he used to blow. “Did you like him?” For some reason it was imperative for me to know. If anyone had sound judgment, it would be this woman.

  “Of course I liked him. Herman was a special boy. I believe you were too close to the situation to fully understand, but he had a gentle personality. He was always eager to assist.”

  “Whether you needed help or not.”

  “Yes, sometimes. I understand your feelings about the statue, but I do wish you’d give it more thought. It means a lot to the town.”

  “That’s what I don’t understand. Why would anyone care one way or the other?”

  “Because he was one of us. And that shelter is a wonderful building we could never have afforded if it weren’t for Herman. It didn’t cost us a thing.”

  Part of me said go ahead and build the statue, but something within me hung back. If only I knew which argument to listen to. God, I need guidance and wisdom, more wisdom than I have ever possessed. I glanced at my watch. “Ingrid will be wondering where I am.”

  “I’ve enjoyed our visit.” She cocked her head, grinning. “Remember, Marlene. You can live your life acting your age, and be bored to tears, or you can do something silly once in a while, just for the pure enjoyment of it.”

  “Age is just a matter of mind.”

  “You got it. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”

  I laughed and turned to go.

  “Marlene?”

  I turned back to see what Lily wanted.

  “The swings are usually empty this time of night if you want to come back.”

  “Thanks. I might do that, Lily, I just might.”

  Halfway across the park, I turned and looked back. Lily was climbing the ladder of the slide. I slipped behind a tree to watch. When she reached the top, she carefully positioned herself and shoved off, hands lifted to the sky, unbound hair flying. Her laugh rang out, as joyful as an enchanted child’s.

  I walked to my car, thinking hard. Lily was onto something. From now on, I was going to enjoy every moment God gave me. Live life with gusto.

  Just one problem: true gusto and joy came from a clean heart and soul.

  What are you going to do about that, Marly?

  Seven

  I scrambled eggs and bacon Tuesday morning, in lieu of the birdseed cereal. At this rate, Ingrid’s cholesterol would be off the chart, and that would be my fault too.

  She spoke around a mouthful of bacon. “Heard any more from the homewrecker?”

  “Not a word. We’ll probably hear from her attorney nephew though.”

  That seemed to give her pause. “Well, he can talk to J R if he has anything to say. That’s what I pay him for.”

  Lawyers. I could live on the man’s pocket change. Ingrid held out her empty cup, and I rose to fetch the coffeepot. I had to get her back on her feet, but short of tipping her out of that wheelchair, I didn’t see how I could accomplish it. Woman was as stubborn as a cockeyed mule.

  The phone rang and I reached to answer it.

  “Mrs. Queens? R J Rexall. I’ve been doing some research into the…uh…alleged foot ownership.”

  “And?”

  “Well, it’s a complicated issue. I don’t believe I’ve ever run across one like it before.”

  Trust Ingrid to come up with an unsolvable quandary. “So who owns the foot?”

  He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Moss can contend that the foot is not an asset of the estate but rather a completed gift. However, the third Mrs. Moss, Prue Levitt Moss, given enough money and time, can continue to fight the case. I do believe, though, a judge will reach the conclusion that Ingrid owns the foot.”

  R J Rexall had done his homework. I appreciated his effort, and the conclusion was sure to make Ingrid happy. I glanced at my aunt. But by the preset scowl on the woman’s face, it appeared unlikely this would end the dispute, and a judge could rule for Prue Moss.

  The attorney continued. “Ultimately, I would say we can take this matter as far as your aunt wishes to pursue it, but in all good conscience, I must warn that it will be a long and costly fight. Perhaps the two women should sit down and try to reach an amicable solution, even if it means moving the deceased body and severed limb to a common grave that both parties could visit.”

  Ha. He didn’t know Aunt Ingrid. Or for that matter, Prue Levitt Moss. Both women had enough money to burn a wet mule, and at their ages, they had nothing to lose by spending themselves dry just to prove a point.

  “Thank you, Mr. Rexall. I’ll talk to my aunt and see what she wants to do.” I hung up and turned around to find the room empty. Ingrid could move that wheelchair when she wanted to. She was seriously starting to get on my nerves, but she couldn’t run forever; she had to face the truth sometime.

  So do you, Marlene.

  I was caught between two selfish, self-centered women—-Sara and Aunt Ingrid. Three, if you counted Prue. But Prue Levitt wasn’t my problem. Sara and Aunt Ingrid were, and right now I wanted to shake both of them.

  What a lovely Christian attitude. Still, I had a feeling God understood my dilemma since he’d put me here.

  God did? He’s not the one who made Sara overly dependent. Or who made promises that should never have been made about only being gone a week. Or who caused Aunt Ingrid’s maladies. And he’s certainly not the one who has lied to everyone all these years.

  Right on every count. Sorry, Lord. I’m getting as bad-tempered as Aunt Ingrid.

  Speaking of whom, I found her in her bedroom thumbing through a magazine. I squinted. Cat Fancy? Since whe had she been so interested in cats?

  “That was R J Rexall.”

  She turned a page, ignoring me.

  I cleared my throat. “The man knows his business. Perhaps you should listen.”

  “Don’t need to listen. My mind’s made up. I’m keeping the foot.”

  “You know Prue won’t give in that easily. She’ll take it to court.”

  “I can handle it. Bring it on.” She glared at me, as if the whole thing were my fault. “Woman thinks she can just send a telegram and I’ll bow and scrape. If that’s what she thinks, she’s way off base.”

  “This could get very expensive. Lawyers don’t come cheap, you know.”

  She shrugged and turned the page. “It’s for a good cause.”

  “Sure it is.” Besting the homewrecking hussy would rank right up there with giving blood. I sighed.

  My cell phone rang, and I stepped out on the porch for privacy.

  “Mom?”

  “Yes dear, what is it?” What minor crises had her in a snit now? What would she do if something bad ever really happened? Didn’t she have friends? One other brave soul to help her out?

  “Mom, I just thought of something.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Wouldn’t it be cute to paint a mural on the nursery wall? It would make the room absolutely special.”

  Sure, if she had someone who could do it. I was a nurse, not an artist or a seamstress. And with my job, a new baby on the way, two small grandchildren, one full-grown, helpless daughter, and a paralyzed aunt, I had all I could handle, thank you.

  “Exactly what did you have in mind?”

  “I’m praying for a girl. A pink and white castle set on a hill, banners flying, and clouds overhead, and a long, winding road with a knight on a white horse riding up it. Wouldn’t that be the most fabulous thing?”

  Possibly, and completely out of my talent range. “It does sound adorable, Sara, honey, but be realistic. I’m not an artist. If you want something artistic, you’ll have to hire someone to do it.”

  “But, Mom—“

  “I’m serious Sara. You may have to get by with something simpler.”

  “Oh, Mom! When are you coming home? I need to talk to you.”

  “We’re talking now.”

  “You know what I mean. When will you be here?”

  I hesitated. “Well, that will depend o
n Ingrid.”

  “Mom! I need you too.”

  Oh, honey, think of someone else for a change.

  “Marlene!”

  “I have to go now, Sara, Ingrid’s calling.”

  “Mom! Don’t hang up.”

  “What is it, Sara?”

  “Promise me you’ll be home by next week.”

  I sighed. “No promises, Sara.” I ended the call.

  Progress, Marlene. Maybe next time I’d see if I could get by without answering the phone or responding to Ingrid’s summons. I was getting a little tired of being pulled apart like a wishbone.

  The plumber finally arrived when I was cleaning up breakfast. I’d almost given up hope. I followed him around as he checked the ancient plumbing, jotting notes in his tattered spiral notebook. Finally he stopped. I held my breath, waiting for the final verdict.

  “Faucets need to be replaced.”

  “All of them?” That couldn’t be right, could it? Water came out of them.

  “Yup.”

  “They still work.”

  “Yup. Won’t for long though.”

  “Why not?”

  “Getting old.”

  Well, so was I, and I was still serviceable. “The faucets stay. What about the hot water heater?”

  “Yup, that needs to be replaced too.”

  I sighed. I figured the faucets would be overlooked in lieu of decent linoleum, which the kitchen didn’t have. I would receive the sum of Beth’s estate, but a lifetime of pinching pennies had left me with a master’s degree in Thrift. Besides, I still had to do something about the rocks in the living room. It made my back hurt to think of them.

  We finally agreed on what needed to be done, and he left in his old pickup truck with Kelo Plumbing written on the side. He promised to be back tomorrow. I wouldn’t hold my breath.

  During the early afternoon, I left Ingrid napping and drove to the local tile-and floor-covering store. I picked pretty blue and white linoleum for the kitchen, patterned in squares, reminiscent of Dutch tiles. The clerk checked her schedule. “Let’s see, we can be there on Friday, will that be all right?”

  “You can’t make it sooner?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry, we’re booked until then.”

  I sighed. “Sure, Friday will be fine.” I wasn’t sure how that would work out, but anyway, I’d still be here. I paid for the purchase and left.

  Driving by the covered bridge on the way home, I noted frenzied activity. I slowed the car and watched a carnival crew set up concessions and hoist heavy cables. The carnival had arrived early this year! A stiff wind blew from the north, ruffling the workers’ thin Windbreakers. On impulse, I rolled down the window and sniffed the air, thinking I could smell cotton candy, candy apples, and popcorn.

  Right then and there I followed Lily’s advice. I promised myself a treat—the first I’d had since coming to Parnass Springs—unless I counted the flowers from Vic. Tomorrow night I’d go to the carnival. By myself. I’d eat one of those candy apples and a bag of popcorn and maybe a corn dog lathered with thick mustard, and I’d remember the good God had put in my life, because the good far outweighed the bad. I’d take care of Ingrid’s immediate problems. Get her settled with a home companion, list Beth’s house, then return to Sara and my life in Glen Ellyn. It should be easy enough. I just had to focus.

  Right, Marlene, focus. Like I was good at that.

  Rain fell overnight, and by the following evening, the soggy ground had turned into a swamp. A cold wind blew off the pond adjacent to the bridge. Late April in the Ozarks. Warm one day, cool the next. April showers brought May flowers.

  Ingrid sat in her wheelchair, crocheting after dinner. “You surely don’t intend to go to that carnival in this kind of weather,” she said. “And what about evening service? Joe will wonder where you are.”

  “I thought I’d go after services.” I didn’t know why she was so concerned with my plans.

  She’d been suspiciously absent all day, and I figured she was hatching up some new plot to hinder Prue. The phone had remained silent during the afternoon; Rexall was awaiting Ingrid’s next move, and even Ingrid didn’t know what she’d do, but she’d have a plan soon. I knew there would be no lastminute reprieve, no phone call from Sara inviting me to stay until my work was completed.

  Like I really expected one. My daughter was waiting me out, and I knew it was a matter of time until I caved in to do whatever she wanted.

  You’re a big pushover. I knew it and resented it, but I hated confrontation. Maybe that was why my life had taken a downward spiral when Noel walked out the door. Not that it had been perfect until then, but I’d gotten away from Parnass Springs and its memories, which was what I’d thought I wanted at the time. Now that I was back, the accomplishment only sounded pathetically immature, but I’d made a lot of foolish mistakes.

  Living a lie had hardened my senses, but I was scared at the time, insecure, wanting to avoid confrontation with Vic and Aunt Ingrid at all costs. Neither reason was good enough to continue the ruse, but how do you undo a lie of such proportions? Every year it had grown and taken on a life of its own. Every year I’d dug myself in deeper until I was in a bottomless shaft and couldn’t see daylight.

  Aunt Beth was gone, but Aunt Ingrid was still in good verbal condition. I didn’t want to hear what she’d have to say about my deception. Her words would be caustic and to the point. Even worse, I’d have to face Vic and Joe and their knowledge that I’d lied.

  Rain pattered against the kitchen window. Bent over the sink, I wiped steam off the pane and peered out. Everything drooped with moisture. Raindrops glistened on the forsythia bush, its shiny green leaves soaking up the spring shower. Shivering, I rubbed warmth into my forearms. Ingrid’s house was also damp; she refused to turn up the heat, fearing large utility bills. Outside the temperature was chilly, but not uncomfortable.

  Ingrid still refused to discuss Rexall’s advice; she ignored me when I tried to talk about it. Then again, maybe she’d gone deaf. She didn’t mention it, but by now, nothing would surprise me.

  I put on a heavy coat and gloves, and wrapped a scarf around my neck. I glanced in the mirror for a lastminute check before taking a twenty out of my purse, then letting myself out the back door. Mist, as fine and light as a bridal veil, created a circled haze around the streetlights. The night seemed cloaked with mystery—a good night to be out, even if I had no one to share my adventure.

  After services, I made the brief drive to the carnival ground, the colorful lights reminding me of my high school days when we skipped classes to watch the brightly lit rides go up. Teachers looked the other way or were busy themselves, gawking at the activities that gave the small town a holiday-like atmosphere.

  This was a first for me: attending a carnival alone. I’d felt alone many times in my life, but never so much as now, walking through the near-empty grounds. Huddled vendors beckoned from concession stands, inviting me to throw a ball or break a balloon and win a stuffed toy. The rain, falling in a light mist didn’t seem so mystical now, just wet. I huddled deeper into my jacket. Most folks stayed home tonight.

  Most folks were smart.

  Loud music blared from the roller coaster but few occupied the metal cars. I fished in my pocket and took out the twenty. I wouldn’t ride. I’d eat.

  A couple of minutes later, I bit into steaming batter smothered in mustard, letting the exquisite taste of grease and cornmeal bolster my spirit. I’d forgotten how much better things tasted outdoors.

  “Marlene?”

  I looked up, my mouth around the corndog, and saw Vic and Lana Hughes coming toward me. I choked, removing the batter-fried dog from my mouth. I wiped mustard off my lips and swallowed. “Hey guys.” I’d assumed since he wasn’t in church tonight that he’d been working. Instead, he’d played hooky.

  Vic grinned, busted. “What are you doing here on a night like tonight?”

  I held out the dog. “Eating!” I grinned and greeted Lana. Her ha
ir was a lovely shade of blonde, carefully styled, makeup just right—not too much, not too little. I had a hunch she looked the same going to bed or getting up.

  Perfect.

  We engaged in typical small talk, but I couldn’t keep my mind on the conversation. What was the extent of Vic and Lana’s involvement? He hadn’t mentioned her in our talks now or over the years, but likely there were many things he’d not mentioned. I wasn’t the only one who neglected to say things.

  “Where’re you headed?” Vic lifted his Stetson and ran a hand through thick hair. He’d matured—gotten so ruggedly charming. In his youth he’d been cute. Now he wore his forties like a fine suit, his pure masculinity drawing women’s eyes.

  He was successful and focused.

  My seesawing personality resembled a balloon, whipping willy-nilly, hither and yon, to and fro.

  I’d been certain that when Julie died, he’d fall apart, but eventually he’d risen to the tragedy and overcome it. How did he do it? How did he stay calm in the middle of life’s storms?

  His faith, Marlene. He’ d always been steady in his belief that all things happened for a purpose. What ever happened to your faith?

  I returned to the question at hand. “Oh, I’d not planned to stop, but I saw the lights—”

  Another lie, Marlene!

  And it was time to stop. Now. “Actually, I saw them setting up yesterday and decided to come. I think I’ll eat one more corn dog and then go home.”

  Lana laughed “You can’t go home! There’d be nobody left. Come with us.”

  I glanced at Vic. “I shouldn’t…”

  “Why not?” He reached into his shirt pocket and drew out a handful of jelly beans. “Bean?”

  “Thanks, no.”

  He popped a couple in his mouth. “Better come with us. We were on our way to ride the Ferris wheel.” He extended an arm, and as quick as that, they talked me into staying. With Lana on his right and me on his left, Vic ushered us to the big wheel with the multicolored lights and the blaring music. The deserted ride looked like it needed a customer.

  We marched to the base of the ride and waited while Vic purchased tickets. A blue metal car jerked to a halt, and the operator loaded us into the wide seat he’d wiped clean of rain.