A short woman with a round face, pale skin, intense eyes, and curly black hair cut to her shoulders climbed out of the cab parked at the end of the long drive at the end of the cul-de-sac and told the driver to wait. She walked up the drive, down the long stone walk to the ornate covered entry, and rang the doorbell beside the mahogany door with stained glass upper panels one couldn’t see through.
A young man in his late twenties in a wrinkled T-shirt and with uncombed hair and unshaven face opened the door. “Can I help you?”
The woman said, “I need to speak with Leah Monroe.”
The young man frowned. “She’s busy.”
“Ask her please. I’ll wait till she’s free.”
A male voice from inside the house asked, “Who is it?”
The young man turned and said, “Someone wants to see Aunt Leah.”
The door opened further and an older man, equally disheveled, stood beside the younger. Even in their disarray, perhaps because of it, it was clear the two were son and father. “Why do you want Leah? Who are you?” the elder asked.
The woman smiled politely and said, “I’ll explain to her.”
The elder man studied her a moment then said to the younger, “Go ask your aunt to come out here.”
The younger man disappeared into the recesses of the grand entry, shaded and dark in contrast to the sunlit front portico.
The father stood in the doorway gazing down on the small woman. Several times he started to say something, but each time his words faded to an unintelligible mumble. But his intense and sad eyes never left her, as if seeking refuge there.
After a few minutes, a tall dignified middle-aged woman came into view beside the man. The woman had blond hair showing a few strands of gray gathered in the back in a loose bun. She was neatly dressed in pressed jeans and floral print blouse and navy canvas flats with no socks. It was clear the man and woman were not related. It was also clear they were quite comfortable with each other despite their divergent degree of refinement in appearance.
“She says she needs to talk to you,” the man said. “She won’t say who she is or why she’s here.”
The dignified woman smiled warmly at the visitor, an expression that transformed the sorrow coating her face into something approaching a welcome of lifelong familiarity, though the two had never met.
The visitor said, “Can we speak alone?”
The man said, “What the hell? This is my house.”
Leah touched his hand lightly. “It’s O.K., Dave. We’ll talk on the porch.” She stepped out alongside the woman.
Dave glared at the visitor and hesitated for a minute before shaking his head, turning into the foyer, and shutting the door.
The two women stood for a moment in silence. Out in the yard the morning was cool, still retaining some of the previous night’s chill that had produced the season’s first frost. But in the sun up close to the house, the air was comfortably warm.
The shorter woman with curly black hair asked, “Are you Leah Fulcher Monroe?” though she already knew she was.
Leah managed a chuckle. “Last I checked,” she said, then added, “though nothing seems certain lately.”
The shorter woman nodded and extended her hand. “I’m—.”
“Andrea, Jodie’s roommate,” Leah said and took the offered hand but to hold it in her upturned palm, not shake it.
The woman nodded. “Andrea Turner. But how did you know?” She left her hand in Leah’s gentle grasp.
“Jodie couldn’t not be here. After a lifetime of fleeing family responsibility, she’s rushing to make amends.”
Andrea nodded. “She takes a long time to come around; but when she makes up her mind, watch out!”
Leah laughed. “Amen to that!”
Andrea pressed Leah’s palm lightly then withdrew her hand. “But I have two small corrections to make in your summary.” She looked at Leah earnestly.
“Yes?”
“I’m here for you, not for your sister or her family. They have each other.”
“But I’m not the one in need.”
“Jodie thinks you are.”
Leah tried to see her way through to the bottom of that but couldn’t. The flagstone patio felt like it was shifting beneath her feet. “The other correction?” she whispered in a feeble attempt to right her world.
Andrea took Leah’s forearm and gently led her to the teakwood bench to the left of the door. After they’d sat, Andrea waited for Leah’s gaze to settle on her then said, “I’ve graduated from being Jodie’s roommate. She wanted to tell you when she was here but never got the chance.”
Leah grinned, bringing some of the color back into her face. “I saw the change in Jodie and guessed the reason. I’m so glad for her, and for you. Congratulations.”
Andrea actually blushed and looked away. “Thank you.”
Leah liked this woman already. “I understand that commitment was a long time in coming.”
Andrea shrugged. “I would’ve waited my whole life for Jodie. And as long as her name was on the lease and her clothes in the laundry, the wait wasn’t that difficult.”
“LA?”
Andrea looked toward the front yard. “I missed her body desperately.” She hesitated, blushed again, looked down. “I mean the sound of her voice, the rattle of her spoon in the cereal bowl, stuff like that.”
Leah laughed but compassionately. “It’s O.K. Andrea. I know what it is to miss someone’s body.”
Andrea nodded then continued, looking at Leah for this last. “But the thing is, I think LA was when Jodie began to realize how much she missed me. She needed that break to get perspective on her feelings, on what mattered.”
“And Brooke’s illness.”
Andrea nodded. “Strange how that works.”
“Yes.”
Out in the road, the cabdriver honked his horn once then got out of the car and waved in their direction.
“Can I stay?” Andrea asked abruptly.
“I’m sure Dave wouldn’t mind.”
Andrea shook her head once firmly. “No, with you. Can I stay with you, your guest?” she said, then added with a little shrug. “Jodie’s orders.”
Leah gazed for a long time into the big round eyes of this newcomer angel then nodded slowly, accepted her niece’s gift of care.