Myrtle, munching on a piece of toast, winked at her friend. When she’d stopped chewing, she answered. “Got those tickets for the cruise right here in my purse.” She gently stroked her bag with her other hand’s fingers. “Ha, and we got seventy-five percent off them...big discount they were having. Something about the last cruise not going so well.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Myrtle mumbled something beneath her breath.
“What?” Irma repeated.
“Uh, I think there was some sort of food poisoning or something.”
“Food poisoning!” Irma’s voice rose to a high pitch.
“Nah, it’s nothing,” Myrtle reassured her friend, dismissing Irma’s alarm. “They’ve fixed it all. Don’t worry. Our food will be perfectly fine and delicious. No food poisoning.
“We even got a deluxe balcony room for the same low price. Two queen size beds. We leave in two days for a five day cruise down the river. I can’t wait. Need to get packing, though.” On this auspicious occasion the old woman was wearing an attractive sky blue sun dress that hung to her feet. The blue was subdued; the material a soft chiffon. It was way too big on her. Abigail had the odd notion the sundress belonged to Glinda. The two were about the same size, except Myrtle was so much shorter than Glinda, the psychic’s dresses would have been way too long. The old woman also sported a wide-brimmed sunhat with miniature silk roses around the rim. She looked good. She looked happy.
“Oh goodie.” Irma clapped her hands together. “I can’t wait, either.”
“Just be sure you don’t end up dying on the cruise, like my last cruise mate.”
Irma grimaced. She knew about Myrtle’s old friend, Tina, who’d died on their Caribbean cruise a couple years before. “That was murder, right? She was thrown overboard for her land, if I recall correctly. No, I don’t expect to be murdered. My shop ain’t worth enough for anyone to want to knock me off. So I think I’m safe. I’m ready to go.”
Their heads down close together, both old women continued to plan their getaway. They were like two kids preparing for Christmas.
Glinda smiled as she ate her muffin, drank her tea and spoke aside in whispery tones to her fiancé Kyle. Probably making wedding arrangements. Their wedding was a month away and they’d already received two wonderful wedding gifts. One from Myrtle and one, unexpectedly, from Doc Andy.
As she’d offered before, as her wedding present to the couple, Myrtle was paying for the wedding ceremony, the food, and the now scheduled luxury two-week honeymoon to Jamaica. She’d insisted and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
The second wedding present was that Doc Andy was staying another two weeks in his practice before retiring so the couple could go on that luxury honeymoon. They wouldn’t have to wait. Glinda and Kyle were thrilled and everyone was thrilled for them. During those two honeymoon weeks it had been agreed that Myrtle would be visited often by either Frank or Abigail. They would have preferred Myrtle stay with them, but Glinda and Myrtle had too many cats for them to be left alone. Someone had to be at their house to care for the creatures. Myrtle had volunteered. Boy, Abigail pondered, how things had changed.
“Hey, Glinda,” Myrtle abruptly switched her attention from Irma and the cruise, “I talked to Kate yesterday. She showed me a picture of the wedding cake she wants to bake you and Kyle. I love it. Chocolate inside, five tiers high, with the creamiest white icing, and beautiful delicate icing roses in a rainbow of hues with swirly green leaves all over the top three levels. It looked so good I wanted to eat it right then. Too bad it was only a photograph. Guess I have to wait for the real thing.” Her lips formed a familiar pout.
“Oh, yeah,” she threw in, “Kate told me to tell you and Kyle to stop by the Delicious Circle today to see the picture yourself before you toddle home. She wants an approval on the cake as soon as possible. She likes to plan ahead. You have to pick the bride and groom topper, as well. I think you ought to pick one with a witch and a doctor on it.” She chuckled. “In their costumes, so to speak. Wouldn’t that be a hoot?” Another chuckle.
“We’ll stop by Kate’s today, Auntie,” Glinda replied, ignoring the crack about the topper. She and Kyle were holding hands and touching shoulder to shoulder. They were so cute. Abigail, as Frank, was always tickled seeing the two lovebirds together.
Abigail was half way through eating her scrambled eggs when Frank nudged her, directing her attention to something outside the diner. “Look who’s here.”
“Oh, my, it’s Silas.” Abigail stood up, her eyes glued on the sight outside. Silas Smith had pulled up in front of Stella’s on a brand new three-wheeled scooter, the kind old people had embraced as their new form of transportation.
She and Frank went through the front doors leading out to the sidewalk where Silas and the scooter were now parked.
“Wow, that’s some ride, Silas,” Frank declared, eying the scooter, walking around it to get a better view. It was stream-lined and had an extra seat behind the driver’s seat. It had a roomy basket on the front.
Silas, getting off the scooter and turning it off with the key, retrieved his cane from the side of the machine where it was attached, and faced them. His eyes swiveled to the window and all the people inside Stella’s busy eating and talking. Some were waving at him. “It is some ride. Goes up to twenty miles an hour. That’s faster than I can walk. One of my friends has one and after I rode on it, I decided I had to have one for myself, since walking these days is so difficult for me.
“This little baby,” he patted the scooter’s handlebars, “now gets me into town and all the other places I want to go just fine. It’s fun, too. I can go almost anywhere now. It can even go over bumpy ground or gravel. Goes into the woods, too. I got the top of the line scooter. The best my treasure money could buy.” The elderly man was dressed in his normal drab clothes with the black fedora on his head. There was the customary leather bag hanging from his shoulder. But these days his fedora and clothes were new, didn’t have holes in them, and the soft leather bag was a high-ended man purse Frank had ordered for him over the Internet. His eyes were still a brilliant blue, but, again, these days they reflected contentedness. Silas was enjoying the treasure money and what was left of his life. He was generous, too. He and Myrtle often visited the nursing homes and helped the poorer or sicker residents get what they needed.
Myrtle took that moment to come outside. “Woowie,” she exclaimed, gawking at the scooter and then at Silas. “I want one of those for myself.” She rapped her cane against the scooter’s side. “Is it hard to operate?”
“Not at all.” Silas bent over and turned the key. “Here, Myrtle, take a little ride on it. See how you like it. It’s not hard to operate. Easy, in fact.”
“Okey-dokey. I’m game. I’ll give it a go.”
Silas took her cane and attached it to the side of the scooter as had been done with his cane. He helped Myrtle get settled on the seat and showed her how the controls worked. “It’s ready to go. This handle makes you go forward, this one backwards. This is where you can make it go slower or faster.” Myrtle listened and before Silas was done explaining, she was off, hollering in glee as she and the scooter raced at its top speed down the sidewalk.
“Wow, look at that old woman go!” Silas declared. The scooter veered off the sidewalk and bumped over the curb, slightly tipping to the right, and continued down the road. “Hope she doesn’t wreck it. I just got it yesterday.”
Abigail and Frank laughed.
“Come back now, Myrtle!” Silas yelled. “That should be enough.”
Myrtle and the scooter, way down the street now, careened around and rushed back. Twice she nearly ran into the side of a building or a sidewalk bench. When she was feet away from the three of them, Myrtle squealed the scooter to a stop. Got off all by herself. “Wow, that was fun. Did you see how fast I went on it? Like the wind. It’s easy to steer. That surprised me. I’m positively getting me one of those. I should have gotten one years ago.�
� Myrtle’s eyes were twinkling, her cheeks flushed.
“I’ll give you the name of the place I bought the scooter, make and model, price, everything,” Silas told Myrtle as he took the key from the machine.
“Good.” Myrtle nodded. “I’m getting one tomorrow.” She glanced at Frank. “You should get yourself one of these, too, Frank. Until you’re feeling stronger, that is.”
“Thanks for your concern, Myrtle,” Frank responded in a gentle tone, “but I think I’m okay. I don’t need a scooter yet. And I am taking it easy. Abigail is making sure of that. So don’t fret about me.”
“All right,” Myrtle grumbled, “but if you really need to you can borrow my scooter anytime. After I get it. If I’m not using it myself.” She bestowed on him a playful grin.
The group of them reentered Stella’s. Silas wanted breakfast with them before everyone separated and hit the craft booths and then the concert in the park. So he sat down and ordered. Stella, smiling, waited on him right away. Over the last year or so, now that Silas could afford to come in and eat often at the diner, the two had become friendly. Abigail often saw them chatting away in the restaurant at night when the place wasn’t busy.
THE FRIENDS LINGERED at Stella’s longer than they should have, Silas included, finishing their breakfasts and their animated conversations. Myrtle was going on and on about the scooter to Silas and about the cruise to Irma. Glinda and Kyle continued strategizing the wedding and the honeymoon; excitedly making a wish list of what they wanted to see and do on their two weeks away.
The townspeople were still coming by their table to express to Frank and Abby how happy they were they’d both escaped the curse of the Theiss house, what occurred there, and how they had lived to tell people about it. Many of them inquired about Lucas Theiss and what had happened to him since he’d gotten out of prison. Frank let anyone who asked know that he was free and living with his cousin. He was trying to rebuild the life that been stolen from him.
Everyone was having such a good time no one wanted to leave Stella’s. After all, the festival would last through the day and into the evening. When night fell the park would be lit up with twinkling lights outlining the crafts and artists’ booths, and strings of them would be stretched from one tree to another. The park would be a magical place. Abigail suspected she’d have a hard time getting Frank to go home early, but she’d worry about that later.
THEY WERE GETTING READY to vacate Stella’s to head in the direction of the park when Abigail observed Irma staring out the windows as if she was seeing a ghost. By the shock on the woman’s face, and the way her hand covered her mouth, Abigail guessed there was someone or something unusual outside.
Abigail’s eyes went to the window. The face gazing in at them was of an older man, perhaps around sixty, with short gray hair, a sad face and eyes to match. His arms were covered in faded tattoos. The man was tall. His clothes were a simple T-Shirt and blue jeans. He stood there, hands in his pockets, hesitantly watching the people inside. It struck Abigail he was trying to decide if he should come in or not. And, oh, could she sympathize.
An old memory of hers surfaced. The first day she’d driven into Spookie so many years ago, she’d done the same exact thing. Stood outside Stella’s bay window and stared in, not sure if she should enter or not. All the people inside, perhaps like to him today, had seemed clannish, unwelcoming. She’d gone in and her life had changed forever. Now that moment felt so long ago.
His eyes seemed to meet Irma’s and recognition sparked between them. Irma’s face broke into a big smile. She rose from the table and went outside. When Abigail looked again, the old woman was outside hugging the tall man as if she knew him. After they were through embracing, they exchanged words, heads lowered. Then Irma grinned up at the man and, taking his arm, pulled him into the diner. They stopped in front of Abigail, Frank and the others.
“Abigail, Frank, everyone,” Irma announced, her hand still on the stranger’s arm, “I want you to meet Lucas Theiss. An old friend of mine. I knew him and his sisters when they were children. They came into my shop all the time. Lucas has been...away...for a very long time, but is now staying with his cousin. She lives in Spookie, about a mile from here. Lucas came to Stella’s hoping Frank and Abigail might be here. He wanted to meet them. Thank them. His cousin told him about the Summer Festival and how most of us gather here for breakfast. So he thought he’d take a chance and stop by.”
The minute Irma had uttered the man’s name everyone around them fell silent, but they were all watching, listening.
“Hello everyone,” Lucas mouthed in a deep sounding voice, as he turned and waved at the townsfolk around him in the diner. “As Irma said, it’s been a very long time since I was last here in Spookie. The town has really changed. But it’s still as pretty as ever. I love the new park and everything you’ve all done with it. And there are a lot more people.” He modestly glanced down and then back at the diners around him. It was easy to see he was shy around other people.
“There are. The town’s been growing like a weed.” Irma didn’t have to tell anyone sitting at the table where Lucas had been the last four decades. They all knew.
Irma nodded at her and Frank. “Lucas, these are the two people you were looking for. The two people who are responsible for clearing your name and gaining your release.”
Frank stood up and shook the newcomer’s hand. “I’m Frank Lester and this lovely woman beside me is my wife, Abigail. Welcome home, Lucas.” Then he introduced him to the others at the table. Everyone shook Lucas’s hand and welcomed him home. Myrtle jumped up and gave the man a hug. Glinda smiled warmly at him. Kyle was silent, but he sent a friendly nod toward Lucas. Lucas nodded back.
“Take a seat, Lucas.” Irma gestured to an empty chair. “Have a cup of coffee with us. So we can get to know you and you can get to know us. We want you to know you’re welcome here. The whole town does.”
Sitting there, exchanging conversation, they got to know Lucas a little better and he got to know them. Frank plied him with questions and, in between, Lucas asked Frank and Abigail about Bradley Weaver and the day he died at the Theiss house. What the man had said and done. Abigail had been smart enough to take photos on her cell phone of the letters she’d found in the house before she turned them over to Sheriff Mearl. She let Lucas read them. When he was done it looked as if he might cry, but he didn’t.
Instead, he couldn’t stop thanking them for what they’d done for him. “And my family thanks you, too. Now they finally have their justice. They’re in heaven smiling down at us right now.”
Glinda, Myrtle, Kyle and Silas took turns talking with Lucas. Glinda offered to do him a reading for free. Myrtle told him he was welcome after that reading to have coffee and cake with them. Everyone tried to make him feel welcome. It was sweet to see, it touched Abigail, and it had brought tears to Irma’s eyes.
Abigail found, as a person, she liked Lucas. He wasn’t bitter about the time he’d spent in prison; sad, yes, for the family and years he’d lost, but he was happy to be free and to have his name cleared. He hadn’t wasted the years in prison. He’d gotten an education, a master’s degree in psychology and social work. He told them he’d like to help people in any kind of social work he might be able to obtain. The state, before he’d been released, made sure he had a valid driver’s license so he’d be able to get around, find a job, and fit back into society. “I’m still trying to adjust to the real world, get my head straight,” he confessed to her. “The advances in technology alone–computers, cell phones, and so many other amazing devices–makes my head spin. Oh, I had access to some of that in jail, but not all. I have so much to learn.”
“I might be able to help you find a job.” Frank seemed serious. “I have connections.”
“He knows a lot of people,” Abigail interjected.
“I can use all the help I can get.” Lucas smiled and Abigail had the idea he didn’t smile much, or hadn’t before. Possibly now he’d smile more
often.
It was Myrtle who had the nerve to ask about the house. His family’s house. “I checked with Martha Sikeston, our realtor friend who’s been off visiting another friend of hers in California the last month, over the phone, and she said you still own the house. That it had belonged to your family, no mortgage when they died, and that your cousin–Gertrude is it? –”
“Yes, Gertrude,” Lucas inserted.
“Yes, Gertrude...she’s been paying the taxes this whole time you’ve been gone. So it’s yours. What are you going to do about the house? It has plenty of ghosts. And you know it’s falling apart?”
“I know. To both things. The ghosts, if there are any, don’t bother me. They’re my family, after all, and they loved me. They’re no danger to me.” Lucas gave Myrtle a timid smile. “And a house can be repaired.”
Abigail was listening attentively. She’d also showed Lucas photos from her phone of the six portraits she’d painted of his empty house. He’d been despondent at the state it had fallen into. But he’d thought the paintings were amazingly haunting. He’d stared at Abigail as if he couldn’t believe she’d created them.
Lucas then surprised all of them. “I’ve been out to the house and have made a decision. I’m going to renovate it. Fix it up and live in it. It’s not the house’s fault what happened there. I have many, many fond memories of my childhood and my family living there. I don’t want to walk away from those. It’s all I have left of them. Memories.” He gave them a hopeful smile. “I know it won’t be easy. I don’t have much money, but I’ll do most of the work myself. Take my time. Scrubbing and painting doesn’t cost that much. It still has all the furniture. All of it needs a good cleaning, but I can handle that, too.”
Myrtle then spoke up. “Lucas, the town owes you something, I believe. We should have believed you back then. We didn’t. We’re sorry.” Then a grin spread across her face. “And I have an idea how we can make some of it up to you. Glinda and I will set up a Go-Fund-Me page thingy on the Internet to raise money for your house remodeling. Facebook loves helping someone wronged as you’ve been. We’ll start a donation fund here in town, too. All the businesses will donate, as well, I bet. It’ll raise more money for you. To live on and make that house habitable again. Hey, we’ll even help you ourselves, and anyone else we can draft, with the clean-up. Won’t we, Abigail? Frank? Everyone?”
All Those Who Came Before Page 25
