by Diann Hunt
Wild roses gather along a trellis in front of the office building at the end of the path. I’ve always loved roses. Rob used to send me roses every month to celebrate the day we met. I shake my head to get rid of the memory. If only it were that easy. As much as I say I’m over him, that I’m not going to think about him anymore, he keeps creeping back into my thoughts—my heart. As weak as I feel tonight, if he called, I’d probably answer.
Stooping down, I pick up a fallen oak leaf. We all have to move on with our lives. Lydia without Greg, Millie without Bruce, and me without Rob. Life can be so unfair. We have lived very different lives up to this point, and yet we’ve all arrived at the same place. Now that we’re here, I’m not sure any of us know what to do about it.
In my younger days I thought my life would be so different, and I’ve had plenty of dates along the way. Still, becoming a wife and mother was never my number one goal. Until Rob came along, I had never allowed my heart to get involved with anyone. Business kept my mind and heart pretty much occupied. My dad drilled into me the importance of being able to take care of myself. He wanted me to be self-sufficient, and maybe he pushed a little too hard. A slight breeze rustles through the trees and brushes against my face before moving on, and I can’t help thinking how life is just as fleeting.
So here I am, a successful businesswoman at forty-nine—okay, so I’ll be fifty in a few days—just what Dad wanted for me. But after being with Rob and seeing what life could be, well, I’m not convinced that this is the only life I want for myself.
In my mental wanderings, I don’t pay attention to where I’m going, and I end up walking past the office building toward the street. Lydia and Millie would have a fit if they tried to find me and couldn’t. Quickly I turn around and head back for the motor home. Upon hearing a car’s motor coming up behind me, I step farther into the shadows so as not to be seen. The driver has his elbow tipped out the window, and I get a brief glimpse of him. Though he doesn’t turn my way, he looks familiar.
Please, God, don’t let it be Rob.
Somehow I manage to keep Millie and Lydia from lingering at the campsite the next morning. Just in case that man was Rob—and I’m not convinced that it was—what’s the point of hanging around?
“Why are you in such a hurry, DeDe?” Millie asks. “Usually you’re the last person to get up, and here you are, dressed and ready to go. What’s up?” Millie’s eyes tell me she knows me all too well.
“My walk last night and my Pilates workout this morning must have done me some good,” I say with a big smile.
“Where did you do your Pilates?” Millie asks incredulously.
“On my mat outside. Hardly anyone was up except me and the crickets.” Of course, all the while I was looking around to make sure Rob was nowhere in sight.
They both look at me as though they’re trying to figure out my brain. Shouldn’t take them long. I shift on my feet. Need I mention I’m concerned about the middle-aged spread taking over my body?
“Well, anybody want some breakfast?” I start pulling bowls from the kitchen counter.
Lydia places her hand on my arm. “All right, something is up. You don’t eat breakfast, remember?”
Oh, doggone it, that’s right. Well, if you don’t count the chocolate, anyway. “I guess I’m just anxious to get to the camp,” I say brightly.
They still don’t look convinced, but Millie’s cell phone rings, cutting off further discussion. “Hello? Well, good morning, Bob. You’re sure calling bright and early. Oh dear. I’m so sorry to hear that. Oh my.”
Lydia and I exchange a glance.
“How wonderful!” Millie says with a full-blown smile. She winks at me, then heads toward the bedroom and pulls the door closed behind her.
“Well, whatever it is, it’s good news,” I say.
“We could use that after all that’s happened with Waldo and Cobbler.” Lydia starts the coffeemaker while I put the bowls on the table.
“How is Cobbler this morning?” I ask, settling into my seat at the table.
“She seems a little better today. Not as fluffed up as she was before.” Lydia hands me a coffee cup and places the creamer and sugar on the table. “And to think it’s all my fault she caught cold.” She sits across from me.
“You mean with the air-conditioning?”
She nods and stares at the gray Formica tabletop. “Who could have guessed my hot flashes were that bad?”
Um, me.
“Guess not everyone else felt the same way.”
Now there’s a news flash. “My woolen mittens and hat should have been a dead giveaway.”
She looks up, and we both laugh. The coffeemaker perks and rattles, causing the deep scent of coffee to permeate our home away from home.
“If you owned a pair of mittens, I would worry, you being from Florida and all.”
“That’s true. It’s hard to surf wearing all those clothes.” I smile. The coffeemaker plops the last bit of the brew into the carafe. “Let me get our drinks,” I say, grabbing both of our mugs when Lydia starts to get up. Pouring coffee into them, I carry them carefully back to the table.
“What do you suppose is keeping Millie so long?” Lydia dumps a pack of cream and sugar into her cup.
“I don’t know, but whatever it is, she seemed happy about it.”
Just then the bedroom door pulls open. Millie steps into the room to join us. Judging by her expression, her conversation dipped downward. Can we say South Pole?
Without saying a word, Lydia jumps up and pours Millie some coffee.
“Thanks, Lydia,” Millie says, joining us at the table. She rests her hands on the table and stares at her palms. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
I touch her arm. “Millie, what is it?”
Lydia places the coffee in front of her. “After all these years,” Millie says, ripping the top off two cream packets. She turns to me, eyes flashing. “After all I’ve done.”
I’ve seen that look before. If memory serves me, it was when we got into trouble at camp. Picture charging bull.
“What’s wrong?” Lydia asks. “You sounded happy when you were talking on the phone.”
Millie takes a couple of long, deep breaths. “Gertrude Pendleton, a longtime friend of the library, has passed away. It seems her attorney called Bob Greenley, the president of the library board, and informed him that Mrs. Pendleton has bequeathed a large sum of money to the library.”
“Isn’t that good?” Lydia asks, both of us clearly confused.
“Well, yes, that part is good.”
“And the bad part is?” I press.
She turns to me with wild eyes. “They’re calling a board meeting next week to discuss installing a computer system in the library.”
So that’s what this is about. Poor Millie. She lives in the Dark Ages. She still owns the manual typewriter her parents gave her in high school. Not only that, but she uses it.
“It was bound to happen sooner or later.” I mean, hello, her small Indiana town has yet to convert from its card catalog system.
“Well, I say, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” Millie snaps, lips pursed, eyebrows pulled into a sharp frown.
If there was any doubt before, I have none now. Millie is upset, pure and simple. She never uses the word ain’t. It’s like a four-letter word to her. Oh, wait. It is a four-letter word.
“I understand how you feel, Millie,” Lydia says as if she’s tiptoeing through the tulips, “but I’m afraid the world forces us into its way of doing things.”
Am I the only one trying to stay current here? “Come on, you guys. It’s not the end of the world. The computer is a wonderful invention,” I say.
“You don’t understand. I’m the head librarian. I will have to oversee this project. Entering all the books into the system, setting up the cataloging, retrieving holds on books that people have placed online. I will have to know how to run the whole thing.” Millie’s voice is tight. She puts her hand to he
r forehead. “That Bob Greenley has been pushing for this ever since he visited that fancy-schmancy library over in Cleveland, Tennessee.” Millie gets up, grabs the whipped cream, sprays enough to spill over the top of her coffee cup, walks over to the refrigerator, and puts it away. She sits back down and carefully picks up her cup.
“Millie, you’re in your early fifties. Don’t act old and set in your ways,” I say, bracing myself for the hurricane that’s about to hit.
Lydia cuts in. “The computer is not an easy thing to learn. My boys tried to teach me, but I finally gave up.”
“Yes, but you don’t use it on a regular basis. Millie will work with it every day.”
“Not if I can help it,” Millie says with a stubborn edge to her voice.
“You surf the Internet once in a while,” I remind her.
“Once in a while is key here. I don’t have to do everything on that computer,” she snaps.
We grow silent.
“Maybe they’ll vote against it at the board meeting,” Lydia encourages.
“Fat chance. Bob will schmooze everyone with his big computer talk, and I won’t be there to counteract it.”
“When do you think this technological takeover will happen?” Lydia asks as though we’re being invaded by Mars.
“Who knows? Knowing Bob, he’ll try to get it in place as soon as possible. Though I’m sure these types of systems take a long time to get them truly up and running online and all that.” She shrugs. “But who knows? That computer stuff is beyond me.” She fingers the handle on her coffee cup. “I can only imagine how overwhelming it will be.”
My heart softens. This really is a big deal to Millie. My personality drives me to keep up to date on things, so this type of attitude is hard for me to understand. “I’m sorry, Millie, that this is difficult for you. I’m not all that familiar with how libraries work, but I’ll be happy to help you with computer questions in any way I can. Just e-mail me when we all get home if you need my help.”
Millie rolls up the sleeves on her short-sleeved tee and pulls her fan to her face. Her jaw is set, but fear lurks in her eyes. “It’s better if we stop talking about it for now so as not to spoil my vacation.” Millie pulls a napkin from the holder and blots her face and neck. She pushes her coffee cup away from her. “This is just too hot to drink now.”
Lydia and I lock eyes.
“It’s hot in here.” Millie pushes through the kitchen and steps up to the passenger’s seat without saying another word.
Guilt washes over me about that whole air-conditioning thing until I remember they’re suffering because of Cobbler, not me. “Why don’t you bring Cobbler’s cage out here, Lydia? That way you could crank up the air-conditioning a little more and she wouldn’t be so enclosed with the cold air. It’s more open out here.” Well, as open as you get living in a two-by-four. “We could put her cover around the bottom half of her cage to insulate it a bit.”
Millie and Lydia both brighten, and I have to wonder what’s gotten into me. Just when I’ve thawed out, I have to go and say something stupid.
“We can’t have her in the kitchen, and there’s no other open area, but that’s a great idea to cover the bottom half of her cage,” Lydia says. “Though I must admit I’m surprised that you would make a suggestion so we could turn up the air-conditioning.”
“Yeah, what’s gotten into you?” Millie chimes in.
“Just had a Pollyanna moment. Don’t get used to it, though.”
Lydia chuckles. “Guess it’s time to get going,” she says, picking up the cups. She stops at the counter. “Oh dear. DeDe got the bowls out, but I forgot to offer oatmeal. Is anyone hungry?”
“I’m fine,” I say, already making plans to eat some chocolate from my secret stash in the bedroom.
“I lost my appetite,” Millie calls over her shoulder while flipping through her book.
Lydia tosses an “oh dear” expression my way.
Something tells me we haven’t heard the end of this.
14
“Sorry to bring this up, but”—my eyes turn to Millie since she’s the one who always gets mad when I ask this—“I was wondering—”
“Omaha, Nebraska,” Millie interrupts. “We will be at Aspen Bible Camp in a couple of days, right around the time you turn the big five-oh, barring any unforeseen circumstances.” She turns to me and throws a head librarian glare.
The sound of that “barring any unforeseen circumstances” thing isn’t real comforting, but it’s probably better if I don’t comment on that—or rise to the birthday bait. “What? Since when is it a crime to want to know where I’m going?” I ask.
She ignores me and turns back around. Lydia switches on the radio, and we’re soon on our way. As we head out of town, we stop at a local grocery store to gather some needed items. Just before we leave, I pick up a copy of the local newspaper. The fact that I have no idea who the latest Hollywood couples are tells me that I’ve lost touch with reality.
We settle into our seats once again and into the familiar whir—okay, clunk, bang, rattle—of the RV’s engine.
About an hour into the trip, Millie turns to Lydia, then me. “Do you girls ever wonder what your lives might be like if your choices had taken you down a different path?”
Reluctantly pulling my gaze from the Crabby Road cartoon in the paper, I have to wonder if I’m up to this discussion.
“Oh, I know it’s a crazy question,” Millie admits. “I just look at my life and realize it’s more than half over.”
“Excuse me? Can we just skip this little talk for now? You might be old, but I have a little time left, thank you very much.” Millie and Lydia exchange a glance and a smirk.
“A few days, Dede,” Millie spouts with far too much triumph. “There’s no time at all before you’ll be old just like the rest of us.” She cackles here, reminding me of Grandmama on The Addams Family.
“A lot of living can be done in a few days, Millie. Need I remind you all of creation took place in seven days? There’s still a little time to kick back, thank you.” They’re struggling with the fact that I’m the youngest of our group. Still, I glance at the crusty old woman in Crabby Road and realize that’s me in a few days.
“Sometimes I wonder what things would have been like for Greg and me if we had traveled more. If we had made more vacation memories,” Lydia says.
I’m thinking there is only one direction for this discussion to go—south. I fold the paper and slip over to the floor at the top of the two steps between Lydia’s and Millie’s seats so I can hear their voices over the motor home’s groans. Why I’m listening is beyond me.
“I’m not talking about regrets, Lydia. We all have those. Just in general. For instance, had I gone to a different college, I never would have met Bruce. I might have stayed single, or quite possibly married someone else altogether. Or what if I had gone into teaching music like my dad wanted—how would my life be now?”
Stop the presses! Hold your notes! Millie’s dad wanted her to teach music? Is the man tone-deaf ? I love Millie. I really do. But anyone who has heard her play the trumpet knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“Remember what Greta said about the words what if ,” Lydia reminds us.
Millie looks at her. “I remember, but I can’t help but wonder anyway.”
“And I wonder what life would be without chocolate. Men, I can do without, but the dark candy? No.”
Lydia laughs. “Just think if things had all been different, we wouldn’t be taking this trip now,” she says in a burst of pure wisdom.
“Meaning?” I ask.
“It would be a real shame,” Lydia says, “not to go on this trip together.”
“Oh yeah,” I say sorrowfully, attempting an appropriate shudder. Hello? Camping. Closed-in spaces. Getting locked out of the motor home, having the drawer handle come off in my hand, and I won’t even mention the radiator problem. Real shame? Forget that burst of pure wisdom thing.
“Sometime
s I just wonder about my life, that’s all.” Millie sighs. “It’s probably my age. Don’t they say old people spend more time in reflection?” A sharp gaze my way warns me not to comment. “I guess that’s what I’m doing.” She fidgets in her seat. “I’m not ready to be old yet. I’ve given my life to my work, and look where that’s gotten me. No husband, no children.”
What she says strikes a chord in my own heart. All those years I struggled to succeed, refusing romantic entanglements for fear they would get in the way of my career. But when push came to shove in the business, I wanted out. Let the real estate moguls have their way, I had decided. Who needed the pressures associated with selling commercial real estate? Not me.
“Chocolates can do a lot of things, DeDe, but they can’t warm a cold bed,” Millie says as though reading my thoughts.
Her words get my full attention. She’s not fooling me. She’s pushing for information.
“We don’t have to have a man in our lives to be happy, Millie,” I say. “Besides, chocolate is good for you. It contains compounds called flavonoids, which might protect against heart attacks.”
“It might have some medicinal qualities, DeDe, but it doesn’t cure loneliness.”
“We do need people in our lives,” Lydia jumps in. “If we shut everyone out, we have no life.”
Don’t I know it.
“You still have plenty of friends at your church, right?” Lydia asks me.
“Well, honestly, I haven’t gone to church in a while.” I don’t have to tell her I was too ashamed to go back and face my friends after dumping them for Rob. Couldn’t face God, either.
We fall silent a moment.
“The people who are really happy have a faith that carries them through the tough times, and they also have a community of friends,” Lydia says.
“Like the Red Hat Club?” Millie asks.
“That’s one group,” Lydia says.
She’s right about the friends. Aunt Darcy with her old lady friends, my neighbor Irene Conley, and some others pop into mind. They do have a community of friends and a faith that shines through the worst of circumstances.
