Chapter 35
Safely inside the condo, Edwina knew Cecelia was not expecting her. They had already said their good-byes. She should have called and explained that she had not gone home as planned. It was late, so she wrote a note and stuck it on the refrigerator. Her sister would find it and her in the morning.
“Ed, I found your note.”
Edwina heard her sister’s voice from the doorway and lifted herself slightly.
“Sorry I didn’t call you and let you know I was coming back. Things happened too fast.”
“What things?” Her sister was donning her earrings. “Oh, I’ll talk to you later, Cece. I got in late.”
“Okay, gotta run. Two meetings this morning, two later
on. Will you be here tonight?”
“No. I’m going home. Thanks for letting me stay.”
“Of course, Ed. Why would you think that bothers me?”
“Oh, I don’t know... just... I don’t know.” Her sister disappeared and then was back at the door again. Edwina could smell Cecelia’s vanilla perfume.
“You’re sounding melancholy this morning,” she teased.
“Nothing to worry about.”
“Ed, you must look at yourself and see what you want in life. Things don’t just come to you, you have to work at it.”
“You’re telling me,” Edwina said grumpily, but again Cecelia was gone. She heard the clip of the door as it shut.
Alone in the Rose Room, Edwina turned to her side and let the tears fall. For some strange and awful reason she felt like crying. So she did.
Where had her resolve gone? Her life had been completely rearranged by some hand out there. God was in his heavens. Had she missed something important He was trying to tell her? What now? How could she accept the Scot’s offer? How could she refuse it? And she had until 8:30 this evening to make up her mind.
Suddenly she knew what she had to do. Go home.
Throwing back the covers, she showered, pulled on her comfy black jeans and an old T-shirt, slipped on her Birkenstocks, and set her suitcase by the door.
A quick note of thanks to her sister and she was off, sorry to have missed Spencer. She could hang with him. He laughed. He moved. He made her feel important.
Smiling at the thought of him, she pressed down her woebegone emotions and thought about Spencer. What would he do in her situation? He’d take on the challenge. She knew it. He’d blast right in and start doing... something.
She walked, hit the elevator button, and mused. Perhaps it was what she needed to do. She could march right over to Scotland, meet the Scot’s daughter, and make something of her life... or she could stay here and find a job worthy of her skills and make something of her life that way.
Of course, her practical nature chose staying. But those hills and Bertie... they called her like a mourning dove calls its mate. Where did that come from?
Her mind was deviating from making a decision. She could feel the pull. Her practical nature screamed, Don’t make waves! Take the sure thing. But her new adventurous spirit, if you could call it that, was saying, Why not?
“I could always stop and come home if it doesn’t work,” she said aloud as she unlocked the door of her Volkswagen and pushed the suitcase into the miniature backseat. But no that wouldn’t work. The Scot said she had to commit to one year.
“Then again, if I never go, I can’t be hurt—especially if Alexander and Cecelia get together.” That brought some- thing else up. She hadn’t realized it until now. The Scot had not wanted her sister to know he’d stood her up. And when would they have time for the date Cecelia mentioned? The Scot was returning home this evening, and Cecelia said she had meetings.
Hmm... something was always cooking in the pot.
What was all this to her anyway? The Scot wanted her services, not her emotions. She knew that well, especially after that comment he made about squashing her emotions or whatever he said. He was not one to mince words.
Actually, that was something she could deal with. Edwina hated it when people walked around the block, trying to relay some problem, but never really stating what it was. She’d rather get to it, so she could apply a sensible answer.
Right at the moment she was powerless to make a decision about her own miserable life. What was she thinking? Condemning others for their lack of life skills when she couldn’t even make up her mind about her own life.
Edwina pulled out of the parking lot. She looked at the paper sitting on the passenger seat. The Scot’s telephone number, in big bold script. She turned the paper over and looked at it. Even without the bold numbers staring at her, it was still there, waiting for her answer.
Music. She needed music. The oldies station. She popped buttons and turned up the volume. Time to sing. The Bee Gees were singing “Alone Again.” Their songs had a peg on life, that was a sure thing. The miles melted away.
By the time she turned into her dirt drive, she felt better. She’d forgotten the paper on the front seat for a time and had just let the wind blow her hair. It was getting too long and heavy down her back. Even pulling it atop her head these days gave her a headache. She needed her friend Peggy to give her a good cut.
Back home, she reveled in seeing the house she lived in. The familiar oak, its branches swaying and shading her kitchen from the morning sun. She stopped under the tree and ran her hands along the bark.
Dragging her case up the stairs, she opened the door and felt the heat hit her face. The late August sun was burning today. After a trip to the bathroom, she plopped in her favorite old stuffed chair, turned on the miniature fan setting on the table and picked up the book she had left lying across the arm.
A classic novel, as usual. Little Women. Louisa May Alcott was another favorite author. She was on her third read. It was an older hardback book. She had access to these older volumes and had begun a collection. Of course.
She stared at the bookcase, which was nearly fainting from the weight, and smiled. She’d read each of the books therein at least three times each. Not to mention all the other stuff she’d read as it came across her desk. Voracious. And insane.
Life was too short. That’s what Spencer said, didn’t he? Thus far, she’d read about every adventure possible, but she’d never lived one. Except for the unplanned trip to Scotland. And look where that got her.
“Into deep trouble,” she murmured and resolved to unpack, make a walk to the grocery store, and then... what?
She called Peggy and made an appointment for early afternoon. Peggy always cut her hair in exchange for the loan of two or three of her books. Today she would pay her.
Stashing away her worries for another moment, she finished the task at hand and walked down the stairs. The grocery was only eight blocks away. Peanut butter, jelly, bread. Nothing more. She had to save money. Money. She had a bit of savings set aside, but promised herself she wouldn’t touch it. She rather liked living on meager means just to see how far she could stretch a dime.
Then she thought of the two hundred dollar dress she had just hung in her tiny closet. The black crepe had looked too elegant hanging on the old rod. That dress would never see the Goodwill store.
Edwina came home from the grocery, made two sandwiches, then walked out the door. She wanted to get her hair cut and then take a walk by the river down at the park, so she could think clearly. The hours were going too quickly.
She munched on the sandwich, noting the off-brand peanut butter was not as good as the name brand she’d found in Cecelia’s cupboard. She smiled, wondering what Spencer would say about her choice of peanut butter.
He’d probably stick up his nose and give her a big smile.
Memories. Good memories. Right now she wished she could talk the situation over with her mother.
Peggy thinned her hair and gave her a blunt shoulder cut. “You have the thickest hair. Would you like me to put in some gold streaks? It would look nice with your brown-red color.”
True to her nature, she declined. Streaking wo
uld cost too much.
“Okay, if you’re sure.” They talked about old times.
Edwina pulled cash out of her pocket. She had to force her friend to take the money. Somehow it had pleased her to pay her friend well for all the times she’d saved her money.
Out the door she went with her fresh haircut and her thoughts. She headed for the river walk.
People smiled as they passed. Some politely, some nodding, some calling out, “Nice day, isn’t it?” She acknowl- edged everyone.
As she was meandering by, she noticed a little girl sitting on the old tire sandbox, crying.
She looked around. There were tons of kids yelling and screaming, but all seemed to have a mommy or daddy around. This one didn’t.
“Um... are you hurt?” She stood a distance away from the child.
“No.”
“Why are you crying?” The little girl’s light hair was mussed and her feet were dirty from the sand.
“Cause I want my mommy.”
“Where is she, honey?” The child starting crying again, her dirty fists rubbing at her eyes.
“She can’t come home anymore.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Edwina didn’t know what to say.
Maybe there had been a divorce or, heaven forbid, a death. “Would you like me to get someone for you?”
“Yes,” she whined.
“Who?”
“My daddy. He won’t come out.”
“Come out?”
She nodded. “He’s in the house. Over there.” She pointed. Edwina saw a light gray duplex across the street.
“Should I go get him?” The girl nodded again.
Oh boy, what should she do? She couldn’t leave the child alone crying with no one to look after her.
“Want to go?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“I’ll go. You stay here and don’t go anywhere, all right? I’ll be right back.” She leaned over and caught the brown eyes with her blue ones. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
Edwina walked away, but kept turning back to make sure the little girl was safe. Still within sight, she knocked on the screen door. A man came. He looked tired and sad.
“Sir, your little girl is at the park.”
“Yeah, I know. She likes it over there.” His eyes looked past her.
“Did you know she’s crying?”
“Yeah? She won’t stop. Her mother left two weeks ago and she . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t know what to do.”
Edwina had no clue about children, what they needed.
“I’ll go back and talk to her. If that’s okay with you,” she added.
“I’d appreciate it, ma’am,” he said tiredly. “Girls, you know... I don’t know how to handle ’em. My wife, well she . . .” He stopped.
“I’ll go.” Edwina turned back. “Lord, please help me,” she whispered, and with a new sense of purpose walked back to the park.
She sat down on the old tire. “I talked to your daddy. He loves you.”
“I know.” The girl cried.
“What is your name, sweetie?”
“April.”
“April, what a nice name. My name is Edwina.” The little girl looked up. “Where do you go to school?” Edwina had her attention.
“Northside.”
“I went there when I was little.”
“You did?” The child’s face brightened.
“Yes, and I had a wonderful teacher, Miss Murphy. She was my favorite.”
“Miss Dovey is my teacher.”
“And is she nice too?”
“Uh-huh. She lets me draw stuff.”
“She does? What do you draw?” The girl’s face twisted again.
“My mommy.” Edwina couldn’t help it—she put her arms around the child. She missed her mommy just like the child did. Tears fell on the little head as it lay against her chest. Edwina’s hands held the little girl to her, and she rocked. April whimpered and broke Edwina’s heart in two pieces.
They sat for many minutes. “I can go home now.”
“You can?” Edwina wiped the tears from her own face.
“We moved with my grandma. She can be my mommy, right?”
“She sure can, April. Anybody can be a mommy but only if you want them to.” The child seemed perfectly happy to be on her way. “Remember that no matter what happens, God will always love you,” Edwina called.
“I know,” April said, her blonde hair blowing in the wind as she ran. Edwina sat on the tire until her backside reminded her she needed to get moving. Changed by the episode, she began to wonder what the Scot’s daughter looked like and what her mother was like. She didn’t even know the child’s name.