A Little Romance: Stories for Hopeful Hearts

by Marilyn M Schulz

  Eva came back home again, taking a job as an elementary school teacher. It was like she had never left—except now Ella was not there, but most of the boys still were, and Eva found she liked it better with her sister only a fond memory.

  The boys were young men now; some worked in their father’s businesses, but others with jobs that had nothing to do with their family’s concerns. They’d all ask about Ella though, and Eva answered them politely, and then asked about them. Men like that, their mother had always said.

  It wasn’t long before Eva met up with Rodney Bloom too, who had not only been quarterback and a star athlete in track and field, but he’d been Ella’s high school sweetheart too—well, as much as Ella ever had one. They started dating, and it wasn’t long before they were engaged.

  Eva often forgave him because he clearly didn’t realize that sometimes when they were kissing and doing the hot-and-heavy that he called her Ella. It was probably just habit, she reasoned. After all, in the end, Rodney would be her husband, and then he could call her whatever he wanted, because they’d be in their home together.

  Meanwhile, Ella, with her technology degree, got a great job in a big city that was on the West coast, but in a different state. Their father was a little sad at that, as he’d hoped that she would come back home to work with him. She said perhaps later, after she saw a bit of the world.

  Ella soon excelled—everyone knew she would.

  Eva had three kids rather quickly, the first one only six months after they were married, but the old ladies in the town always said the first one could come at anytime.

  All this while, they had never really known much about their mother’s family, except for their mother’s sister, their Aunt Hope, was what people called an old maid. Also, that the woman hadn’t worked a day in her life (according to their mother, and usually when their mother was doing some particularly unpleasant chore, like mopping floors or scrubbing toilets).

  Seems being unmarried meant something quite different to the generations of women who came before them. And yet the twins were never inclined to feel sorry for their mother and her choices, or for their Aunt Hope either, as the woman was clearly quite happy with all that she did or didn’t have—at least, according to their father, who claimed their mother was the more beautiful sister, but sadly not the happier one.

  Aunt Hope never ever hovered near them, but she had promised to take them in and raise them if something happened to their parents. Aunt Hope took the promise seriously, and so always wrote to them, and on their birthdays and Christmas, she also talked to them on the phone.

  But she never met them in person.

  All their lives to that point, they had never been to Aunt Hope’s home, which had been their mother’s childhood home as well. It was hard to picture their mother as a girl. Instead, they imagined just a miniature of what their mother had always looked like to them—not ever a child; she was like a little-doll-version of the woman to come.

  Clearly thinking the same thing, together, the twins murmured, “Creepy.”

  ~~~

  Ella and Eva were sitting on the top stair of the main staircase that led from the front door to the second and third floors. They were grand stairs, curving up and bending instead of using flights with landings and sharp-cornered turns like other stairs would.

  Windows in the house were topped with curved half-moons too, and other decorative openings were round—some with colored glass depictions of scenic views, figures or flowers.

  This house must have been quite expensive in its day. Someone had loved and cared for it too, and except for the thin new layer of dust from recent neglect since their aunt’s death, it seems to have been well tended, even in the nooks and corners that all old houses have.

  Eva said, “I wonder how much time she still spent here.”

  Ella said, “I didn’t notice any pictures of her in older years, so I think probably quite a lot.”

  “Or she didn’t have pictures taken of her travels, like Mother—maybe they were more alike in that way than they knew.”

  They both sighed.

  Ella said, “So what are we going to do?”

  Eva said, “What are we going to pick, do you mean? I wish I could take that staircase, it’s wonderful.”

  Ella said, “Who is watching the kids?”

  “Mother and Dad, of course, but I assume mostly Dad. He comes to the house and stays on the couch. He said it’s easier than moving all the kids’ stuff to their house, but I figure Mother just doesn’t like the mess.”

  Ella said, “So if you want to stay here a night or two, you could?”

  Eva thought for a moment. “I suppose, I would have to go back to town and get a few things . . . clothes too, I don’t have anything with me.”

  “I do, I packed for a week—habit, I guess. You can borrow something; we’re still about the same size. And I bet there’s a laundry somewhere in the house or in town. Come on; let’s go find the kitchen. I’m getting hungry.”

  The executors had cleaned out the kitchen—more likely had paid someone to do it. The usual commodities were still present: silverware and such, plates and cups, glasses too, along with a gourmet cook’s collection of pots and pans.

  But there was no food in the cupboards or the refrigerators. There was nothing in the canisters labeled coffee, tea, flour and sugar either—they had even been wiped clean of any residue, though some smell remained.

  There were a few cans in the pantry—soup mostly, the kind with red and white labels they had as kids when they were sick in bed—chicken and stars and the standard tomato. Their mother fixed them that because she didn’t want to cook something that might just be thrown up.

  Eva said, “We need to do some shopping.”

  “I wonder if the power is on, and the water.”

  They gave them both a go—success. Good thing too, because evening was coming, and they still hadn’t chosen what they wanted.

  “I suppose we should look in the other bedrooms too, and see where we could stay.”

  Eva said, “You don’t want to sleep in Aunt Hope’s bed?”

  Ella challenged, “Do you?”

  “Yeah, I’ll give it a try. Clearly she had an interesting life, and there’s no sorrow or regret or . . .”Ó

  Ella said, “You mean, she didn’t die in that bed.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

  Ella said, “And the place isn’t haunted either.”

  She clearly was trying to get a reaction from her sister, but Eva wasn’t going to take the bait. She’d seen enough of that as a schoolteacher and as a mother to know that the best way to deal with it was to ignore it.

  They decided to go back into town to get enough supplies for a few days. It would give them time to do their aunt’s memory and her wishes justice and say goodbye properly.

  Maybe it would make up for all they had missed.

  After, they both drove to their Aunt Hope’s house with their own cars, so they could leave when they wanted. But the twins ate in town, as they couldn’t agree on what to have for dinner at the house.

  Even though the power was on, they now sat on the floor of the living room with the fireplace burning and the lights off. It was like camping again, only no bugs and no bears and no boys allowed.

  Ella said, “I meant what I said about trading lives for a while.”

  Still in that ignoring mode, Eva said, “Look at that library, those book might be worth quite a bit—I wonder if there are any first editions there.”

  She got up and went into the large alcove off the living room. It was lined with bookshelves, with one big old desk and a few leather chairs. On closer inspection too, they noticed that it had sliding double pocket doors, and so might have served as some ancestor’s den.

  Eva went to the corner and pushed at the big old globe. It spun with a bit of a groan.

  She murmured, “Robbie would love this.”

  “What about the girls,” Ella said from the do
orway.

  “They wouldn’t like being so far from the mall.”

  Ella smiled. “That will only get worse as they get older. There are stables way out back, did you notice? You could get horses, girls like that.”

  “How much would that cost?”

  “Look, the house and the contents are our legacy, instead of selling them and setting up some sort of long-term fund, why not just live here instead, and that would be free, right? No rent, only utilities.”

  “Pull up our roots? What about their father? He’s supposed to have visitation rights.”

  “Wonder how long it would take for him to notice that his kids moved to the other side of the county. It might take him a whole 30-40 minutes to get here. That is, if he didn’t end up driving into another ditch.”

  “That was cruel.”

  “Sorry, Evie, but you should know by now that you have to plan for you and yours, not for him. He’s unreliable at best, and at worst, he’s—”

  Ella stopped. She had made her choice in life, and Eva had made hers. She had no need to pour salt in any wounds, including into her own. Regrets were about as useful on the road of life as a flat tire—Aunt Hope had said that once, and Ella thought about that picture of their aunt with the racecar driver.

  Ella changed tactics. “Aunt Hope had given you another option than just continuing the way you have been.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with—”

  That wasn’t true. Eva sighed and sat in one of the big leather chairs. It was overly comfortable, and she pointed to the other. Ella sat in that and put her head back to exam the rest of the room.

  Regularly dusted too, except for the last few weeks of neglect. But those weren’t windows on the outer wall, but French doors that led out to what looked to be a patio. Out there were a small wrought iron table and chairs.

  She got up and opened the doors. The evening was cool, but the moon was already full. It was lovely.

  From out on the patio, another door to the side seemed to lead to the mudroom off the kitchen. This would catch the morning sun, she bet, and would be wonderful.

  It’s a shame their mother never let them come visit. They probably would have loved it. Maybe one of them would work up the nerve to ask her what had made the rift between the sisters . . . probably not.

  Ella said, “I’m going to call the executors’ law firm in the morning. If you don’t want this house, then I’m going to take it.”

  “What about your career?”

  “That’s why they have phones and Internet fiber optic cables. Besides, I can travel back and forth once in a while—that’s the advantage of calling the shots now. Half my people work from home, and some even live in other countries. The rest are traveling, and we still manage to get some work done.”

  A bit shy, Eva asked, “So tell me again about switching for a bit.”

  Ella said, “It’s not like we’d be purposely fooling anyone, but if they make assumptions based on how we look, well . . . It’s more like we were each other’s surrogate. In town, they couldn’t tell he difference from a distance.”

  Eva snapped, “I’m not your clone.”

  “No, but you could act like it—just ask some of the guys you dated in high school and college.”

  That should have been insulting, but Eva found herself laughing instead. After all, she did that to prove that she could hold onto a man that her sister couldn’t, but when it finally stuck, Eva ended up with Rodney Bloom, and turns out that her sister was right all along.

  Eva said, “I give up.”

  Ella said, “People wouldn’t even know if it was me or you, all you have to do is show up. I can do the work through remote access. Just check out the corporate lifestyle, and spend some time in the city.”

  “I’ve been to the city before.”

  “When was the last time.”

  “College, of course, and . . .”

  Eva knew that her sister was right again. It was getting to be annoying. She said, “What about the kids, think you can handle them for a week or two?”Ó

  “You can tell me what to do, and you’re only a phone call away. Besides, Mother and Dad are still around, if I need reinforcements . . .”

  Eva said, “Just make sure the place doesn’t burn down.”

  ~~~

  Ella went back home with Eva, and together, they explained to the kids.

  The girls said, “Whatever.”

  But Ella was not sure they were really listening. Robbie didn’t seem to care one way or another, and Ella could tell that hurt his mother a bit.

  The little boy only said, “Can we still go to Grandpa’s workshop this weekend?”

  “Of course,” the twins said together.

  When they took Eva to the airport, the kids waved goodbye and then asked to go to the mall.

  Ella said, “It’s a school night.”

  “Mom would have let us.”

  “But I’m your aunt, I might look like your mother, mostly, but really I’m meaner.”

  After that, the precedent had been set, and the kids were well behaved . . . enough. Ella noticed that while there was a lot of work being a fulltime mom, it was just a matter of routine: Kids up and fed, lunches packed, then off the school. Next came afternoon snack when they came back and homework before dinner. Some TV or Internet time, some chatting on the phone with their girlfriends and then bed again. In between there were chores like cooking, cleaning, laundry, and the random tasks of taking them to flute or piano lessons, or soccer or T-ball—things like that.

  The routine was kind of boring, but she didn’t have much time to herself, given all that had to be done. It turns out that Eva was quite a stickler for cleanliness, and she did it all herself. Ella found herself trying to outdo her sister, and re-organized some shelves, but then stopped herself.

  One night, she was making tacos for dinner—a compromise, as the kids were rather picky—when a knock came at the back door. It was her father.

  He kissed her on the cheek and then put his head in the fridge. He sat at the kitchen table with a beer and said, “You get a haircut or something? You look . . .”

  “Oh my, Ella, what are you doing?”

  This time he got up and hugged her.

  She told him the plan. He slowly nodded. Finally he said, “Good for her, good for you too. I never thought you’d come back here though.”

  They talked about her work, and his, as she finished making dinner. He said, “Got enough for the old man?”

  “If we make some nachos too.”

  He agreed to help with that.

  They called the kids and had dinner together, and afterwards, they sat listening to the dishwasher as the kids finished their homework. It reminded Ella of when they were kids, and she sometimes still thought about their brother.

  They chatted until the kids went to bed, and Ella hadn’t realized how much their father had expanded his ‘workshop’ to be a think tank for inventors and their inventions. He had rented some offices too, enough for fifty employees, though he only had about thirty-five employees now.

  Only, she thought, quite proud of him; it had always been the other way round before. Now she was old enough and experienced enough to understand just what he had accomplished.

  He still called it his workshop though, and Ella suspected that their mother didn’t have a clue as to what was happening now. Ella knew enough not to ask about that, because that would lead to other questions, like: “Why don’t you go see your mother? She’d like to show you off.”

  More like show off Ella’s nice car and expensive clothes. It dawned on Ella then that she had no stones to throw—after all, she was the one who bought them all.

  Finally, he said, “What about if you came back? Would you consider working for me?”

  “I’m not an inventor, Dad, I just . . .”

  Just what? Baby-sat now? She hadn’t done anything original in almost a year. Her career path wasn’t heading in that direction either—just the o
pposite.

  He said, “You’re in management now, and I need someone to take over that stuff. Besides, I don’t want to work for the rest of my life, and what would come next after I die.”

  Ella flinched.

  He said, “Think on it, would you, El? It wouldn’t have to be full time, you could be a special consultant until you are ready to take the helm.”

  She promised, but wanted to change the subject.

  She said, “What happened, Dad? I mean with Eva and her husband.”

  But then the phone rang. It was a bar in town, calling her (because she was supposed to be Eva), to come pick up Rodney, as the bartender took his keys again.

  Speak of the Devil . . .

  She said, “No. Keep the keys, let him figure out how to get home on his own.”

  The bartender said snidely, “There was a football game tonight, and he was the only one here. I want to close up early. Guess I’ll just have to call the cops instead, and they’ll toss him into the drunk tank.”

  That might have worked with her sister, but Ella knew better. Not only did Rodney clearly still take advantage, his buddies were helping him do that to her sister.

  Time for that to stop, she thought.

  She said, “Sounds like a good idea. Call them, and let them watch him sleep it off.”

  She hung up, and then checked on the kids—the phone hadn’t woken them. Ella explained to her dad, but he wasn’t commenting on that. Her father said goodnight, but just as Ella was finishing up a few emails, somebody pounded at the front door.

  Swearing under her breath, she grabbed the only thing handy—a bottle from the kitchen. She held it by the long neck and carefully opened the door. The chain was still on, and she caught the taillights of someone driving off. On the front porch was slumped the man Rodney Bloom had become.

  Ella thought about leaving him there, but it might get cold out this time of year. Eva didn’t need the father of her children freezing to death. Ella sighed and set her make-do weapon aside. Then she opened the door and grabbed under his arms and did the best she could to drag him inside. But she had just managed to when one of the kids called, “What’s wrong with Daddy?”