by ML Gardner
There was nothing to say, nothing to ask. They just sat and stared at her toes, studying together every detail.
He hated himself for being mute in her time of need. She had done so much for him, for all of them, and now when she needed those words and actions returned, he was stupid and helpless. Feeling self conscious he forced himself to say something. Anything.
“Maura, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if she heard him until a moment later when she slowly let her head fall to the side, resting it on his shoulder with a deep exhale. She went limp against him. He tightened his arm, holding her close, and sat with her for the longest, most quiet hour of his life.
The door opened slowly and Jonathan looked with only his eyes to see Ian step inside. An elderly, pudgy doctor stood behind him in his black suit, black bag at his side.
“Maura, love, the doctor would like to take a look at ye.” He was concerned; not only for her, but also knowing she’d be angry at the expense.
She sat up with tired eyes. Strands of auburn hair hung in her face and she limply brushed them away as she pulled from Jonathan’s side. He gave her a kiss on the top of the head.
“We’ll wait downstairs.”
∞∞∞
The coffee had just finished brewing and Ian was pouring mugs when the doctor made his way downstairs with short, panting side steps. His hips having lost their full range of motion after age seventy, he grunted with each stair.
Jonathan and Ian met him at the landing.
“She’ll be okay?” Ian asked. The old doctor nodded.
“She will. It was a clean loss and she seems to be dealing with it well. I told her to stay in bed for a week, and take it easy for a month after that.”
Jonathan dug in his pocket for payment while Ian anxiously shifted from foot to foot.
“Tell me, Doctor…is there any way to know why? I mean, this was our first together, ye see, and I’m afraid it might be me…a problem with me. I don’t want to put her through this again.”
“I highly doubt it was you. Sometimes these things just happen. There’s no way to know why. Try to get everything back to normal as quickly as possible and you can start trying again in a few months, if you’d like. I’ll come back in a week or so to check on her. Come get me if she spikes a fever, alright?” Ian nodded and opened the door.
Jonathan sat on the couch with his coffee and stared at the floor in front of him.
“I’ll take care of letting folks know.” Jonathan sighed. “I’ll also organize some people to come help out until Maura’s feeling better.”
“Not Ava, if it’s all the same, Jon. That might be a bit too hard on Maura just yet.”
Jonathan nodded. “There’s no helping Claire being here, but I was actually thinking of some of the older ones.”
“Oh?”
“Aryl’s mother.”
Ian nodded slowly.
“I haven’t seen much of them since Aryl died, but I know Kathleen. When she finds out, I know she will volunteer to help.”
“Their loss is similar enough to be of a comfort. But different enough not to stir old wounds. You think?”
“I do. I’ll stop by tomorrow.” He stood and put a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry, Ian. Why don’t you take a few days off and be with Maura.”
“I’d like to. But I don’t have the funds to do that.”
“I’ll cover your lost wages.”
“No offense, Jon, but yer shellin’ money like yer still livin’ yer old life. I don’t want you hurtin’ yourself or the business for the charity. With everything that’s happened in the last few months, what little savings the business had, it has to be close to gone.”
“I’ll work it out,” he said and saw himself to the door.
Sept 7th 1930
Caleb took a deep breath, bracing for the rant. Downing the last gulp of whiskey, he turned to face Arianna, to apologize again and go through the heated exchange they had at least twice a week.
“I was just headed inside, honey,” he said with a huff as he turned.
“Well then, I'm glad I caught you, sweetheart.” Marvin removed his hat with a grin.
“Oh, Marvin. I thought you were my wife,” Caleb said with relief as Marvin motioned for permission to sit down.
“What brings you out here?” Caleb sat back down a little too quickly and swooned, batting his eyes.
“Well, a few things. First, a gift.” He pulled a whiskey bottle from behind his back.
“Second, just to chat and third, I need a small favor.”
Caleb reached for the bottles. “Well, let's chat.”
“How've you been?”
Caleb gave a sloppy shrug and looked away.
“Still having a hard time?”
Caleb tilted up the bottle.
“Listen, I know how you feel. I lost a buddy in the war. Harder than hell to walk around, wishing your best friend was by your side.”
“I thought you said it was your brother.”
Marvin shoved a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Brother. Buddy, same thing, you know?”
“He was my best friend,” Caleb whispered. “More than that even. Jonathan...Jonathan's everyone's damn hero. Always has all the answers. But me and him alone...we're not so good.” He shook his head slowly. “Aryl was the balance between us. From the first day we starting running together as boys, he was the balance.” He drank again.
“I've tried talking to Jon but he's closed himself off. Won't talk about it.”
“He won't. And he doesn't like me talking about it either. Says I'm feeling sorry for myself.”
“You're not.”
“It's just not fair.”
“It's not.”
“I'd trade places with him, if I could.”
“I know you would.”
There was a long silence and Caleb willingly handed Marvin the bottle. He took a drink and handed it back.
“Don't listen so much to Jon. He talks about it plenty.”
“Oh yeah? To who?”
“Vincent. He's been in his office several times trying to get him to look further into it.”
“Oh. You mean Victor,” Caleb scoffed.
“And you don't think he did it?”
Caleb raised his head, his face ragged. “Does it matter?”
After a long moment, Marvin shook his head. “I suppose it doesn't.” He looked all around. “Nice spot you've got here.”
“Yeah, 'bout the only place I can get any peace.”
“No one else comes in here?”
“No. Well, Arianna comes to yell at me, but that's only a couple times a week.”
“Maybe you can help me out.”
“How so?”
“Well, the store room at the office is getting full. Been catching a lot of runners lately. I was hoping to find a spot to keep stuff in until we can get around to destroying it.”
“You mean hooch?”
Marvin smiled. “Yeah, hooch. Bathtub gin, moonshine, homemade brandy. The whole gamut. You wouldn't believe the amount.”
He saw Caleb's eyes widen with interest. “Of course, times are hard, the Sheriff’s office couldn't pay you for storage space, you know, with cash.” He smiled and winked.
“I think I could make some room.”
“And we'd need you to keep it strictly confidential. I wouldn't want it to get out that it's being kept here. You'd find yourself with more friends than you ever knew you had!”
“No, no. I'd keep it quiet. How about right back here?” Caleb rose and walked unsteadily to the back of the barn. He opened the gate to an empty horse stall.
“This would be great. Appreciate it, Caleb. I really do.”
“Not a problem.” He wobbled back to his seat. “Say, I'd love to have you over for dinner sometime. Think we can get the women together without a cat fight breaking out?”
Marvin laughed. “I doubt it. We'd better stick to a poker night with just the guys.”
“Yeah, that might be better.”
“I'll just go get a few boxes and put them in the back, okay?”
“Okay. And Marvin...thanks. For talking.”
“Anytime, Caleb.”
Sept 10th 1930
Jonathan’s old car sputtered and died alongside the curb in front of Aryl’s parent’s house. He took a long, deep breath as he reconsidered. He hadn’t been to visit Kathleen and Michael since the memorial and the longer he waited to go see them, the harder it was to actually do it. He always found an excuse to not go. Deep down, the excuse was, it would hurt. It would be hard on all of them. He saw traces of his best friend in their face and mannerisms, and they saw the empty spot where Aryl always stood next to Jonathan growing up. Getting into trouble, having a grand time and causing general childish mayhem. Even Claire had told him it was hard to look at him. He wondered if Kathleen and Michael would turn him away as well. For Maura, he had to at least try.
He knocked on the door and thought about running. Something he and Aryl used to do for fun as kids. That spurred flashing memories and misty eyes and just as he was about to abandon his plan, Michael opened the door.
“Jonathan, hello!” He smiled, looking a lot older than the last time they had seen each other.
“Hello, Michael.”
“Come in, please. Can I get you some lemonade?”
“That would be great, thank you.” He stood awkwardly in the living room. Not sure what to do with his hands, he tucked them behind his back and looked around, somewhat surprised. Kathleen had always kept a spotless house. But today it was neglected. On the fireplace mantle a few pictures of Aryl were clustered, mingled with several well used candles. Jonathan blinked hard and moved his eyes quickly. Michael returned with two glasses and a smile.
“I’ll have to apologize, it’s not too sweet. Running low on sugar lately.”
“No, that’s fine.” He took a sip and tried to find somewhere safe to set his eyes.
“Haven’t seen you in a while, Jon. How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been fair.”
“And Ava’s doing well?”
“She is. Once she got past the early sickness she’s done alright.”
Michael’s eyes dropped, and he gave an apprehensive smile, and spoke quietly.
“And how’s Claire?”
“She’s alright, I suppose. I haven’t visited with her in a while. Last time I did, she sent me away.”
Michael nodded. “We had a similar issue.”
“She won’t see you?”
He shook his head. “No. Not after the last time Kathleen went over there to bring some of Aryl’s baby things.”
“I guess that would be hard.”
“It wasn’t so much the visit, or the clothes. It was the things Kathleen said to her. I guess it got very heated and didn’t end well.”
He nodded for Jonathan to follow him through the kitchen and into the back yard. They sat on the swing, safely shaded from the overbearing summer sun.
“I’m really glad you came over, Jon. I’ve needed someone to talk to about this, and you might just know what to do.”
He crossed his arms and leaned back, wondering if this was the same quiet frustration that Maura felt when folks ran to her, one after the other with their problems.
“What’s the trouble?”
“Well, it’s Kathleen. She’s not been right lately. Of course Aryl’s death was hard on all of us and I don’t think we’ll ever get over it. The first few weeks Kathleen did everything you’d expect a grieving person to do. We were in town one day and she stopped in this little shop…the kind that sells potions and fortunes, all lit up with candles. It’s run by some gypsy. Anyway, she stepped in and paid for a fortune. I waited outside thinking it all hogwash, but I hoped this woman would tell her something that would help her get over the loss, even just a little bit.”
“What happened?”
“Well, when she came out she was very quiet. Very deep in thought. But she seemed to be at peace. I figured this gypsy lady told her Aryl was at peace on the other side, all the typical stuff. But later that night she lit the candles around Aryl’s pictures, like she does every night, and sat me down. She said she had something very serious to tell me. She didn’t seem herself at all. It was really kind of strange, Jonathan. It’s like, my Kathleen walked into that shop but a different woman walked out.”
“How is she different?”
“She’s never been one for superstition, charms and chants and all that mess. But she goes to see this woman a few times a week. Financially, it’s bleeding us dry. It’s why we can’t afford sugar.” He seemed ashamed. “I know I should put a stop to it, but it seems to be the only thing keeping her from going into that dark, sad place again. The biggest problem...what I need to figure out how to prepare for, is when she realizes that all this is bull puckey. Smoke and mirrors and all that.”
“What’s smoke and mirrors?”
“Well, she sat me down and in all seriousness told me…well, this gypsy has her believing that Aryl is alive, Jonathan.”
The words slammed into Jonathan’s chest like a punch. A cold, hard shiver ran from head to toe and he dropped his head a little.
“And this is what she told Claire the last time she saw her?”
“Not only that. When Claire told her about Gordon, that she was considering seeing him more regularly for the baby’s sake, Kathleen got really upset saying that she was making a huge mistake, that Aryl would be so angry when he got home and found another man in his bed, raising his child.”
“Oh, boy.”
“Yeah. It was ugly. Claire threw her out and forbade us to ever come back. And with our first grandchild on the way, too.”
“Where is Kathleen now?”
Michael tossed him a look that told him exactly where she was and took another sip of his bitter lemon water.
“When will she be home?”
He shrugged and sighed.
“Well, I have something I need her to do. It might take her mind off this gypsy nonsense.”
“Wonderful. What is it?”
“Well, Maura miscarried this morning.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Jon.”
“She’s going to need some help for the next few weeks. With Ava expecting, I thought it would be a little insensitive to have her go over and help. So I was going to enlist some of the older generation.”
“I’m sure Kathleen would love to help out. And who knows. It might help bring her around.
“Well, I can come back tomorrow and talk to her about it.”
Just then, Kathleen’s voice echoed from the house.
“Michael! I’m home!”
She stuck her head out the back door, saw Jonathan and waved with a big smile. She didn’t look deranged or too terribly detached from reality, besides an aura of overwhelming happiness that seemed to radiate from her. But Jonathan did notice a rather large ugly rock charm hanging around her neck.
“Oh, good! I needed to talk to you!” She hurried over and wedged herself in between them on the swing.
Before Jonathan could get to asking her how she was, and for the favor of looking after Maura, Kathleen turned and took his hand in both of hers. “I have some exciting news, Jonathan.” Her eyes were alive and shining, with joy that went deep down to her soul. “Aryl is alive.”
∞∞∞
Jonathan walked in and sat down at the table with Ava and Jean, who were just finishing dinner. He nodded and whispered thank you when Ava handed him a plate of potato casserole and green beans.
Ava gave him a few minutes to eat and take a long drink of cold tea before asking the obvious.
“What’s wrong?” If I only had a dime for every time I have asked that, she thought wearily.
“Well, a lot, actually. Maura’s going to need someone to help her out for the next couple of weeks. She’s lost, well,” he glanced at Jean wanting to be discreet, and gave a pointed nod at Ava’s growing stomach. “
She’s going to need a little help. And I don’t think it should be you, for sensitivities sake.”
She half stood out of her chair, as if ready to bolt out the door and to Maura’s side. “Oh, Jon! You don’t mean—” He gave her a sharp glance.
“Jean, if you’re done why don’t you go turn on your radio show.”
He nodded and wiped his mouth, placing his napkin on his cleaned plate, and slid off the chair.
When he was gone, Jonathan spoke freely.
“I know you want to rush over there. But she needs to rest and heal and I don’t think that anyone expecting should go over there for a bit.” He read her apprehension and felt her need to be of support to Maura. “I know. I know how you feel. But I think she needs some space right now. Let her and Ian have some time.”
“Who will help her then?”
“Well, I thought maybe Kathleen and my mother. Some of the older ones. I think this needs the delicate wisdom that only they have.”
Ava opened her mouth to protest. What was needed right now were friends that knew Maura to the core. That loved her fiercely and wanted to protect her. She closed it, however, knowing that Jonathan was most likely right.
He omitted details of Kathleen’s sudden obsession with the gypsy and the belief that Aryl was alive. It would hurt to recount it…to say the words. A small part of him wanted to believe her, despite her lack of any proof beyond that of a small town fortune teller trying to string money out of a desperate woman. But still, it was tempting. He found refuge for just a moment, closing his eyes and indulging in her delusion. Aryl’s alive. Her words echoed in his mind, stirring a ridiculous hope and a selfish longing for it to be true. He raised his head, cleared his throat, taking a firm grasp on reality and stopped the illusion before it had a chance to spiral out of control.
September 20th 1930
Kathleen, Margaret, Ethel and June all descended upon Jonathan like a small army. He was in the garage with his head stuffed under the hood of an old truck his father had acquired. He was taking pointers, learning basic mechanics from his self-taught father. He didn’t enjoy it, but he was determined to master it.
