The Placentia Bay Post

Photo by Samuel Ramos on Unsplash

I shifted a little to the side to relieve an ache I was feeling in my ribs. Just lying there, the last night of my life was emblazoned in my mind. He’d punched me hard there, just before I must’ve lost consciousness. Opening my one eye, I scanned around my room. My other eye had been covered with a heavy bandage.

My mind returned to what had happened on the day before they’d attacked me. Things had been peaceful, not very many people wandering about. I think it was Sunday, so there was a relaxed air about the place. I’d just been playing a favourite piece on my guitar when they’d arrived. I’d always been aware of what was going on around me, those whom I knew meant me no good. It was always a matter of keeping out of their way. Still, I knew it would only be a matter of time with that lot. No worries I’d thought.

I’d been out on the street, now, for a about a year. Hannah, my sister had joked with me, professing how surely that was long enough for me to have paid for the ‘crime’ I’d committed. She’d used those words intentionally, suspecting how I felt.

But she’d been wrong. I couldn’t say I felt I’d committed a crime, per se. Although, when I thought about it, my decision to distance myself from the world in which I’d existed for so long was an attempt to somehow rectify certain unforgivable actions. I’d played too significant a role in those actions. It was merely a wish to somehow right an horrific wrong.

My mind immediately returned to the final day of the court case in which I’d been defending the father against charges he’d killed his wife. There was no assurance how the court would decide. I’d actually been preparing for a guilty verdict. Although, when we’d learned my client was deemed ‘not guilty,’ the court erupted in a jubilant roar. I looked over to the father and smiled. His four children, there with their grandmother ran to the front to hug their father. All smiles and tears of unabated delight.

I confess throughout the whole business, I’d been guided by a feeling of the rightness of my actions. And on that day I’d never felt more right about my role in pleading for this man’s innocence.

“How’re you feeling today?” the nurse said as she checked my bandages. The wound was still somewhat sensitive, although largely endurable. I looked at the nurse and managed a slight smile. “Not to worry. You’re on the mend, so you should be getting outta here pretty soon.” With that, she left.

When I closed my eyes, an all encompassing emptiness filled my entire body, flashes of the case piercing into my mind. At the time, a close friend, a police officer, had contacted me on the day they’d found the bodies. “You gotta get down here. You won’t believe it, man. Christ, I tell ya. This is inhumane.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at your man’s family home. You won’t believe this, man.” With those words, my heart sank. What on earth had happened? I expected the worst, but it didn’t come close to what had actually happened.

I quickly slid into my jacket and drove over. By the time I got there, the medical examiner must’ve already finished. I’d spotted them placing what I surmised was a body bag into the ambulance. My innards tightened at the sight of it. I spotted my friend and jogged over.

“What’s going on?” I said, as I scanned around the front yard. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Slowly, my comfortable world of understood rights and wrongs was crumbling.

“It’s unbelievable, man. We got a call. It was actually his sister who found them.” As my friend spoke, he led me into the house. “They were all in here,” he said. The crime investigators were still working.

“Who was all in there?” I said, although I already knew.

“His kids. And him. He must’ve shot ‘em and then did the honours to himself. That’s from my cursory look. But we’ve gotta wait to hear from the medical examiner. Still, that’s my hunch.” His voice was fading in my ear as my heart and mind were desperately trying to take in what’d happened.

Driving home, I was bludgeoned by my role in the horror I’d seen. I’d defended that man, foolishly believing what he’d said. How could I have been so stupid? All along he must’ve truly been responsible for the death of his wife. There I was, masterful in the courtroom, proving a guilty man innocent. I thought I’d had a hand in reuniting a man with his children, regaining his freedom. But what had I done?

“Matt,” I heard, a slight melody added to my name. “Mattie.” My eyes shifted to the door. It was my sister and someone else in behind. “Hey, how’re you doing? Hope you don’t mind, but I found someone hanging around your little spot on the street. She told me the two of you were friends and so, I thought you wouldn’t mind. At that moment, Dandie poked her head out from behind Hannah. We stared at one another, somehow conveying the pleasure in seeing one another.

“Hey, Matt,” Dandie said. I managed a smile and I could see she was a little surprised, but pleased. “You can’t know how glad I am to see you. It was just by accident your sister came to your spot when I was there looking for you. You hadn’t shown up for our usual meal, so I came looking,” she said, stoking my arm. Dandie smiled when the tension in my face relaxed.

I listened to them chatting, their gentle voices eventually lulling me to sleep. When I opened my eyes, they were gone. They’d left brownies which I began to eat.

“Here’s your supper. Those look good,” the nurse said as she raised the top of my bed, looking at what I was eating. “Enjoy.” I smiled, pecking away at the food. My mind wandered back into the past. I remember trying to coming to terms with what I’d actually done. Increasingly, it was impossible for me to reconcile it in my mind. I hadn’t been able to focus on any of the cases coming across my desk. So, heeding the suggestion of a colleague, I decided to take time off work.

What I’d done defending that man was to me heinous and unforgivable, the blood of his beautiful children on my hands. So, in response, I’d somehow wanted to turn my back on the comforts of my world. I began to wander along the streets, sitting down every now and then to play my guitar. I just wanted to be close the door on the world.

In time, I found myself spending more and more time on the street. I placed the ring my parents had given me when I’d graduated from law school into a pillow on which I’d sit. Perhaps all I wanted to do was right a grievous wrong. I’d been living that life for a while when Dandie entered my world.

I remembered her from the time she’d worked in our law office. I was always a little too hyper focussed on my work, so, I often came across as aloof. It was unintentional, just the approach I took to my work. I gave everything to my cases. Her image fluttered into my mind and just then the door opened.

“Hey there, soldier,” she said, poking her head in the door. I smiled. The person with whom I was sharing the room was fast asleep still. “How’re you doing? Here’s the usual grapes. I’m never sure why everyone gives grapes as a gift when folks are in the hospital. But you know, I have a feeling it’s got something to do with keeping you regular,” she said, laughing. “No kidding.”

She pulled the chair over to my bed and sat down. “Well, if your ears were itching, it was likely because your sister and I were talking about you. All good things, I assure you,” she said, holding her hands up in defence. “Hannah was just explaining what had happened with the case you’d worked on. I hope you don’t mind.” I shook my head trying to indicate it wasn’t a problem.

“I’m sorry all that happened,” she said. “I really am. I’d heard about it at the time in the news. Sounded hideous what Hannah explained. I confess, I could see how you needed to distance yourself from it.” She looked at me, her face heartfelt and genuine. “Still, you know, I think you’ve paid the price. You know, the price you felt you needed to exact from your soul. It’s done, I think.” Her words calmly rippled over me, penetrating my very essence.

Dandie stayed for about an hour. But after a little while, I grew tired, finding it difficult to resist the pull to sleep. She took the cue, promising to be back tomorrow.

Over the months I’d known her, Dandie had become a comforting panacaea for me. It had just happened. Every week, I’d meet with her at the restaurant and after getting settled and ordering our food, she’d rabbit on about this or that, wholeheartedly sharing her views on any number of concerns. I’d just listen, increasingly finding her words and phrasing gratifying to the ear.

She’d sometimes ask a question hoping to secure a comment from me. Although, I hadn’t spoken with anyone for several months, by then. To my mind, speaking was simply a signal I was a part of the world again. I still didn’t want that.

I was only lightly sleeping and woke up when the Doctor came in. “Well, we think it’d be okay to discharge you tomorrow. We spoke with your sister and she should be here to pick you up.” He looked at the papers at the end of my bed, appearing satisfied with what he saw. “I believe you’ll be staying with her for the next little while,” he said, his eyes shifting upwards, expecting a response. I just smiled.

On the next day, I was actually sitting in the chair, my mind largely absent and focussed on the water dripping from the roof. There’d been a heavy rainfall in the early afternoon. “Hiya,” I heard, recognising the voice. Dandie smiled broadly. “Isn’t it exciting? You’ll soon be free of this sad ol’ place. Well, it’s not always sad, I suppose. A lot of happy things happen here, too, I guess. Like you soon getting outta here.” She clapped her hands, giving me a hug to which I tentatively responded—something she noticed. I’d never done that before, yet it felt right.

“Hannah’s going to be here in an hour or so,” she said looking curiously at me. “I thought I’d pop around a little earlier. It’s so wonderful you’ll be staying with Hannah for a bit. Give you a chance to maybe get back on your feet.” Her words couldn’t disguise the smile that was impossible to remove from her face. “I’m not sure if you’ll be returning to your little spot on the street. Although, why bother, now? You’re well on your way, I think. There’d be no reason for …”

“Thank you,” I said quietly. Dandie stared at me, her mouth slightly open.

“What did you say?” she said.

“Thank you,” I said again, a little louder, touching her hand. She put her hand over her mouth in surprise.

“Matt,” she said. “I haven’t heard you speak, in ages, it seems.” I smiled, not really wanting to make another comment. Although, it seemed like that was enough to say I was ready to return to my life. It was at least a start.

Photo by Jonathan Kho on Unsplash

I swear to you, I barely recognised him. It was only when I looked more closely it was impossible to miss those eyes. They were a crystalline brilliant blue. He was wearing a somewhat tattered scarf wrapped roughly around his neck. It matched his eyes magnificently. I don’t think he recognised me immediately. So, here sat Matthew Greenley, a half opened book just off to the side.

It was all very strange. I remember when he arrived at our office, with no small affair, I can tell you that. His presence preceded him, like a parade call ahead of his majesty. No surprise, he quickly rose, admittedly, being very good at what he did.

At the time, I worked there as part of the clatter of office workers, dashing around, sometimes working miracles as we attended to our masterful leaders. If they needed anything, it wasn’t tomorrow or next week, it was yesterday. He was amongst the dynamic, smart-thinking, risk-taker elite lawyers in the office.

And I always knew we underlings were all well below his regard. The only time I was ever noticed by him was when he was looking at me with that casual disdain. Like, ‘I’m amazed someone like you even has the temerity to exist.’ I didn’t like it—who would? But you could cut the arrogance with a knife. At least that’s what I thought.

Never mattered to me, though, as it wasn’t like office work was my calling. I’d always been an artist at heart and actually, soon after he’d left seeking ever grander plateaus, my future was also sealed. I and a friend had then opened a guild shop that has done very well. And this was close to a couple of decades ago. I was now in my late forties and I suspected he’d be around that age, too.

So, here I was with a great mystery. It seemed impossible, almost like this man was some sort of dopplegänger. Anyway, here he was, clearly feeling the rougher edges of life. It somehow seemed so raw and at odds with all things sensible in the world.

I knelt down and when he looked up, I noticed a change in his eyes—one of recognition. When I’d first seen him, I’d been dead set on going to a favourite café, you know the kind with the real fireplace and quiet little nooks where one can disappear into a book.

“Hey,” I said. “How’re ya doing?” He just kept looking at me, blinking periodically. “Do you remember me?” He raised an eyebrow. I just decided to keep going, not sure if I’d get anything out if him. “Anyway,” I said, sitting down cross-legged in front of him, “my name’s Dandelion Green. And yes, my parents were jokesters, bless their souls,” I said, laughing at the thought of my parents who were no doubt tickled by the thought of the name. He didn’t respond much, except the ever so slight hint of a smile, which was encouraging.

My parents had both been latter-day hippies, born in 1960, both of them. We kids were born much later in the day. I think my mom was already forty when I was born. Although, I was actually reared by my grandparents after Mom and Dad were sadly killed in a car crash. That was when I was in high school. Anyway, for the longest time, everyone’s known me as Dandie Green. I was okay with that.

“Are you hungry or anything?” I said. Looking around, I wondered what had happened to him to land him here on the street. By now, I would’ve expected him to be part of the halls of power—a top lawyer in a preeminent firm, close to or having even achieved at least part or full ownership of the firm. Although, here he sat—seemed preposterous.

Even though we were around the same age, he looked older and a little more worn. I had a bad feeling. And at that moment, my eyes scanned around and I spotted what I’d feared. Poking out amongst the discarded wrappers and tired old bits of plastic and such were a few needles. I didn’t know if they were his. Yet, looking at him, I suspected they were.

It made me think how anyone looking at him now would’ve never imagined how he’d started,. One wonders when it was he’d taken the first step down the wrong path? What had he done?

“We could go get something to eat?” No response. “How about that?” Despite the quiet, I decided I wasn’t going to walk away. Didn’t feel right.

“Come on. Why don’t we go get something to eat?” I said, hoping to cajole him. He closed his eyes obviously pondering. His mind was alive. I waited.

After a few minutes, he started to move. I guess he must’ve realised how maybe going with me might be the only way to get rid of me. I smiled broadly as he picked up the little pillow on which he was sitting, grabbed his guitar and started to get up. “There ya go.” I’d forgotten how tall he was until he stood up. He was rail thin though. Not at all the way I remembered him.

“It’s just about a block away. It’s the place where I was heading, one of my favourite places to eat, gotta say.” We walked to the restaurant. I still had to walk a little faster to keep up with his stride. I mean, he wasn’t walking quickly, but for someone over 6 feet tall—I’d put him at around 6’5”—it didn’t take much to outpace a humble five footer.

“Here we go,” I said, as we reached the door. I walked in, beyond happy that I’d gotten him this far. To my surprise, he actually held the door open for me. I thought I was getting somewhere. “Why don’t we just sit over here, by the window?” We were getting a few looks, but I just smiled, not really caring what anyone thought. I’ve always felt people are a little too quick to judge. We sat down and I handed him a menu. “Get whatever you want, no worries.” He took the menu and gave me another sense I was on the right track—a slight smile.

I watched as he perused the menu, paging back and forth. He just laid it aside, not really looking up. “How’re ya doing?” said the waitress. I knew her as she’d been at the place I think since I’d first started to come. “Made up your mind? I’m pretty sure I know what you want,” she said, looking at me. I smiled.

“Guilty as charged.”

“Did you want blueberries in them? We just got some in this morning.”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” I said.

“And what are you having, sir?” He picked up the menu and pointed to some soup.

“Oh, you can have a little more than that,” I said. “How about a small sandwich?” I looked to the waitress, “Are there any small sandwiches?”

“Well, there’s the havarti on kalamata olive bread. We just made it.”

“Come on. How about that? Sounds delicious,” I said to him. “Come on.” He looked at the menu again and then he actually smiled, nodding his head. I brought my hands together like I’d just discovered an immense treasure. To me, it wasn’t only wonderful he’d agreed to the sandwich, but that he’d smiled again—there was life in there yet.

While we ate, try as I might, there was no way to get him to utter a word. Most of the conversation was largely my little soliloquy.

We got up after finishing and ever the gentleman, he even helped me on with my jacket. I confess, I was shocked as this was a different man. When I’d first encountered him, I don’t think he would’ve ever deigned to help me. Never. What had happened, I wondered? Obviously something had gone wrong.

We walked back to his little place on the street. No one had commandeered his spot. He sat down without a word, like he was reclaiming his rightful place. I didn’t know what to do, a fifth wheel all of a sudden.

“I’ll come by and see ya next week. I promise. Is there anything you wanted me to get for you?” He just looked up at me, almost serenely and I felt somehow I was being gently dismissed. There was no arrogance or pomposity apparent, just a quiet yearning for peace.

I turned around and headed home. Looking back, he’d picked up his book and was reading, an image of tranquillity.

For the next few months, I kept my word. I felt I didn’t want to hem him in, imposing on his peace. He was always the same. Silently accompanying me to the restaurant, always opening the door for me. One time, he even poured my water for me. I think I was simply in awe. Although it always perplexed me, that he was even there in the first place, I never came close to determining what had happened until one day.

I’d arrived at his little place. But he was gone. I looked around, left and right, in a near panic. What was going on, I thought? He was always there. And then, to make things worse, things were scattered around. His special pillow was off to the side, his guitar splintered on the ground.

Tears filled my eyes as I knelt down, sure that I spotted some dried blood on the ground. “Oh my God.”

Abigail hurriedly turned the engine off. She quickly looked in the mirror to check her hair. It was all askew, but it was most of the time, so shrugged her shoulders. No matter. She then darted to the door, as her brother and his wife were already there waiting to go in.

“Hey, loser,” she said to her brother. It was always a game with them, since they were young. He was older than she was and usually brushed it off as the usual from his kid sister. That he didn’t respond, was no surprise. Her mother opened the door and welcomed them in.

“Oh, Geoffrey,” she said, her arms open wide. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t want to miss Easter. Not now, anyway.”

“Thank you, my love,” her mother said, giving him a long hug, then turning to Amy, her brother’s wife and giving her a hug. The two of them chatted while Geoffrey became reacquainted with the dog, Bark, who was also eager greet the new visitors.

Abigail was all smiles, but her mother then turned, she and Amy walking further into the home. A little dumbfounded, she disregarded it, thinking, oh, well.

“Mom?” Abigail called out. “Geoff?” she said to her brother who was then taking off his boots. But he didn’t respond, just getting up and walking into the sitting room. “Geoff?” she said again, sing-songing his name. Nothing.

Then, she laughed, sure that everyone must be ignoring her on purpose. Some sort of joke, she was sure. Still, it was odd. She went into the sitting room. All her family were there, chatting. She could smell the meal. Her mom had found a local farm from whom she’d begun buying their meat. It was always delicious. The aroma of the turkey filled the air, mixed delectably with the smell of seasoning her mom always put into the dressing.

Everyone kept chatting, just pausing when her mom came in to briefly let everyone know, it’d just be another fifteen minutes. But everyone they expected was here. Abigail then came to sit on the couch next to her sister. No one was paying any attention to her. It was getting really strange. “Hello,” she said. “Hello.” A little louder. Still, nothing.

Abigail went a little closer to where her brother was sitting, close enough to hear the conversation he was having with her oldest brother.

“I don’t know,” Eric said. “You knew her best. There was just no getting through to her in the end.”

“Yeah. She’d just let it take hold of her and in the end, she had nothing in her left to fight.”

“I went to her place about two months ago,” Geoff said.

“How was that?” Geoff rolled his eyes, looking at his brother.

“Well, she wasn’t high, at least. But the place was a mess, things all over the place. Complete disarray. I mean, whatever. All we know is she was so lost. Abby should never have gotten together with that guy. I don’t even remember his name.” Abigail frowned. “What?” she thought. Then it slowly came to her and the world started closing in. “It can’t be.”

“Samuel. And I heard he’s gone, too,” Melissa, Abigail’s sister said as she was walking past. Abigail sank down onto the seat, but her leg seemed to disappear into her brother’s leg. She wasn’t even totally there, she thought, looking up in shock. “I can’t believe this,” she said to herself. Abigail looked up when her brother began to speak.

“I mean, I tried to reason with her. Geez, I told her I’d pay if she’d only go into rehab.”

“Well, you know Abby. She was always stubborn,” Eric said. “I’m not stubborn,” Abigail said immediately, obstinate they’d misjudged her.

“Yeah, for sure.” Geoff paused for a moment. Still, ya know, I actually thought I’d convinced her. I left having told her I’d be back the next day and we could start to get things organised,” Geoff said.

“O, man, really?” Eric said, draining his wine.

“Yeah,” Geoff said. “Then, the next day, of course, we heard.” He looked up meeting Eric’s eyes. “I tried so hard to, I don’t know, make her realise she was worth something.” Abigail stared at him, her eyes moistening. “I listened. I heard what you were saying. I know I’m worth something. You were right,” she said, her voice breaking. “Didn’t I go?” she said to herself, like it was coming back to her. “I’m sure I went,” she said to herself, quickly patting herself on her chest. “I’m not dead,” she said. “I’m not dead!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

She looked up as her mother came into the room. “Supper’s ready,” she said, clapping her hands.

“Time to put the feed bags on,” her husband said, giving her a hug and a kiss. Abigail sat back on the sofa in disbelief and anger. How dare they say I didn’t go into rehab.

But for the life of her, she wasn’t completely sure that she had. And she was maybe more angry that she distantly remembered resisting Geoff’s pleas. I can’t believe this. “I can’t be dead” she said, her head down, tears trailing down her cheeks.

Abigail heard them talking and laughing in the dining room. All she wanted to do was get out of there. With tears were in her eyes, she could barely see, everything was so blurred …

“Abby? Abby?” she heard a familiar voice. She knew that voice. Yes, it was her brother, Geoff.

“I’ll go get a nurse.” That sounded like Amy, Abigail thought.

“Abby?” She blinked, but everything was so blurred. “Abby? Come on, girl. You can do it,” he said excitedly. Blinking again, she could just make out Geoff’s face.

Someone else appeared, checking things. It was the nurse who began removing tubing. Abigail met Geoff’s eyes. He smiled, stepping back to give room for the nurses. They finished and after checking to make certain everything was okay, they left the room. Geoff sat down next to the bed.

“Oh, Abby. I’m so glad you’ve woken up. It was touch and go there for a while. I wasn’t even sure you were gonna make it,” he said, holding her hand. Abigail smiled as best she could.

“Am I okay?” she said, faintly.

“Yeah, girl. You had an overdose.” Their eyes met, neither saying a word. “But hey, look at you. You made it through,” he said, brushing her hair from he forehead. “You scared the life outta us. I’ve already rung Mom, Dad and everyone else. They should be here soon.

“Did I go to rehab, like you’d said?’

“No, girl. The plan was for you to start this week. Remember? But then, I guess things happened. As I say, we just heard you must’ve overdosed. He looked away, not saying another word for a moment. “But you still can, though,” he said, his words filled with hope. “Is that what you want to do?” She nodded her head slowly. Abigail shuddered, remembering the hollow feeling that had travelled throughout her body when she realised she’d actually died. It was raw fear.

“I will. I promise I will,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Oh, Abby. That’s music to my ears. We can get things organised in a few days, I’m sure,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I love you Abby. We’re gonna do this together aren’t we.” She squeezed his hand.

Image Source: Young Shanahan Wikipedia

Harper inhaled a couple of times, trying to shield her cigarette from the rising wind.

“I can’t believe you’re lighting a smoke,” Dia said, nervously looking around

“Why?” Harper said. “There’s no one here except that old man over there and he’s not gonna notice. Likely couldn’t care less anyway. Not like anyone really does,” she said as she blew some smoke into the wind.

“I’m just saying.”

“Who cares.” She plunged the spade into the soil and started digging. “I mean, why worry about it? This is just a temporary thing to teach ‘you teens how to take responsibility for your actions.” She mimed the last part, pretending to quote the words of the social worker, assigned to their case. Dia laughed at Harper’s words and continued to also dig her holes.

They continued to work until their dinner break. Dutifully, Harper and Dia walked over to the picnic tables where they usually take their break.

“How’s it going girls?” Mr. Oldfield said, giving them their bags. “If you need to fill your water bottles, it’s best to use the water in the shed. The water from the hose is just meant for the plants.” Dia smiled.

“Thanks, sir.” Mr. Oldfield smiled and then walked away, picking up the tree saplings and moving them to where they’ll be planted.

“Why’re you sucking up to him?”

“What’ya mean?” Dia said, turning to look at Harper.

“Thanks, sir,” she said, imitating Dia.

“Just being polite,” she said, taking a bite of her sandwich. Harper rolled her eyes.

“He’s an old man who’d much rather be lawn bowling or whatever, than making sure two rowdy girls don’t destroy his beloved community garden.”

“Well, all I know is he seems really nice.” Harper rolled her eyes, each bite an expression of her aggravation.

After they finished eating, Harper and Dia headed back to the area of the garden they were working on. The idea was to extend the community garden and prepare it for planting.

Harper dug down again, everything floating through her mind, remembering her dad was coming to see her at the weekend. She hoped he didn’t bring his new wife. Harper couldn’t stand the woman who was just about ten years older than herself. It was stupid and really kinda pathetic.

But her mind went to her mother who was currently away with her girlfriends to some amazing card game or something. She was sure it’d just be an excuse to drink and squeal and whatever they do. I mean, act your age. What a waste of time. Sinking her spade into the ground with some added strength, fuelled by her assorted grievances with life at the moment.

“What’s that,” Harper said as she scraped away some dirt from something in the hole she just dug. Kneeling down she reached down and identified some sort of chain. Pulling more at the dirt, she was finally able to reveal what appeared to be a pendant.

“Hey, Dia. Come look what I found.” Dia dropped her shovel and came over.

“What’s that? Was it in the dirt?” she said, as she scrutinised the pendant Harper was holding.

“Yeah. I was digging in the ground and then this was just in the dirt. Weird, eh?”

“Yeah. What’s on it, Harp?” Harper started to scuff off the dirt. There appeared to be a three part spiral design. “It’s weird. But it’s cool, hey.” She smiled and gave it to Dia who turned it around, polishing it a little.

“What’ve you found girls?” Mr. Oldfield said. Harper looked at him warily, the same way she viewed all adults.

“Harper found this when she was digging,” she said, holding it up for Mr. Oldfield to see. She looked at Harper, ensuring it was okay to ask, but Harper just stood there with her arm resting on her shovel and looking at Dia and Mr. Oldfield.

“Oh, isn’t that interesting,” Mr. Oldfield said, taking the pendant and turning it over and around.

“Do you know what it is?” Dia said, taking another quick look at Harper.

“Most certainly. You’ve got yourself a nice little find. Looks to be gold, too. Someone must’ve been wearing it and it came loose. Is the tie broken on it?” Harper looked.

“Doesn’t seem to be.”

“Oh, well, who knows. Maybe it was meant to be,” Mr. Oldfield said, smiling. “I’m not sure how this place was used before they decided to use it for the community garden.” He looked into the sky, trying to think. “Although I seem to recall it used to be an old residential area. But they fell into disuse decades ago. I think I was only a boy at the time.” He laughed.

“But do you know what that symbol is?” Dia said.

“Well, yes. It’s very well known. It’s called a Triskelion. Thousands of years old,” he said as he held the pendant up to see the symbol more clearly. “It’s beautiful. But yeah, it’s often termed a Celtic Triskelion. But as I mentioned, it predates them. Although, it’s something they adopted to adorn many of their objects. I mean, it’s a symbol used across Europe, really. How it travelled from one place to another isn’t known,” he said. Harper came and looked again at the pendant.

“That’s pretty amazing,” Harper said.

“And it’s actually really amazing because in a few months, we’re going to have midwinter.” Harper and Dia furrowed their eyebrows. “Well that’s when we officially enter winter. It’s the longest night. And actually the Triskelion is one of the images carved into the rock at Newgrange.”

“Where’s Newgrange?” Dia said.

“It’s in Ireland. And with at sunrise, a shaft of light enters a roof-box over the entrance and then shines down the passage-way.”

“Wow,” Harper said. “Imagine that. They must’ve really had to work to make sure everything was lined up properly.

“Oh yes. They were a clever lot, that’s for sure.”

“So, every winter, this happens?” Harper said, turning the pendant around in her hand.

“Every winter. You figure out what the sunrise is in Ireland come winter solstice and that’s what’ll be happening.”

“How do you know all this Mr. Oldfield,” Dia asked. “You’re pretty smart.” He smiled.

“No, no. I just read a lot, I guess. If you go to the library, I’m sure you’d be able to find several books on the Triskelion. You could even just look it up on the internet. No doubt, there’ll be a good bit on all of these things.”

“Seems really special.” Harper said, mostly to herself.

“Well, it is very special. Things like the Triskelion and all the beliefs centred around it remind us of our connections with this world.” He raised his hands, gesturing all around. “It’s our connection with the universe. It gives us a chance to put things into perspective a bit.” He looked at Harper, their eyes meeting. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” Harper looked away. “These people worked from dawn until dusk. The most important thing to them was the returning of the light because that’s all the winter solstice meant to them. More than anything, it meant their continued survival. Do you understand?” Harper looked again at him, slowly nodding her head.

“Ah, Mr. Oldfield, that’s just beautiful,” Dia said. “I just want to give you a hug.” She hugged Mr. Oldfield, her eyes closed as she smiled brightly. Harper looked away, off into the horizon somehow gathering her thoughts.

“Anyway, girls, I think we’re done for the day. I’ll see you tomorrow. That’ll be your last day, won’t it?” Dia nodded her head vigorously, smiling.

“But it’s been fun, hasn’t it Harp?” Harper shrugged her shoulders, picking up her knapsack. Mr. Oldfield smiled at Dia.

The next day, Harper and Dia came with the social worker. Mr. Oldfield was already there puttering around the garden. Harper and Dia got out of the car and walked over to Mr. Oldfield.

“How are you doing girls?” Mr Oldfield said.

“Not too bad, Mr. Oldfield,” Dia said.

“How about you, Harper?” She just gave him the thumbs up, her hand involuntarily going to her neck. He smiled, their eyes meeting. “You understand what I said about your pendant, don’t you?” Harper nodded her head slowly, being fairly sure he knew she was wearing it. It didn’t matter. She’d cleaned it up last night and felt the urge to wear it.

“Yeah, I do. It’s important to always be strong and to know your place in the world, to know your have a place in the world.”

“That’s my girl. You’ve got it.” Harper smiled. She and Dia took their shovels and, knapsacks on their backs, went off to further extend the community garden.

Madrona cast her eye around. He’d been there since they’d started work in the park. This’d be their last day and so, she was hoping she’d see him. But she’d better get to work. The attendant wasn’t always in the best of moods.

She was glad to be able to get onto this work assignment. Anything would be better than staying inside the prison. Maddie had gotten into a fight two days ago. It had been bloody, but because she clearly hadn’t started it, they hadn’t taken away her privilege of the work assignment—thankfully. A few other prisoners had spoken up on her behalf.

Life inside Photo by Carles Rabada on Unsplash

Maddie was just defending another woman who clearly didn’t know the ropes, so to speak. “If you’re gonna survive inside, you gotta know the rules of the game and always, always show respect to your fellow inmates. Don’t look at anyone. And trust no one,” Maddie had stressed with her afterwards.

“Hey Maddie, have you got any extra trowels?” Maddie looked up and gave Pettie a thumb’s up. “Thanks. I can’t seem to find mine.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a couple extra here.”

“Oh, great. It’s looking really great now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. “Many hands make light work, my nan used to always say,” Maddie said. Pettie wasn’t on the work assignment, but she worked with the nursery who was sponsoring the work at the park. Before she put her head down to work, Maddie quickly cast her eye around to see if he was around. And across, by the fountain, she saw him pushing his trolley towards the benches. She smiled, relieved he was here.

Maddie worked steadily, but as soon as the time struck 10:30, she hurriedly put everything away before making her was across to see him. She’d only learned his full name a couple of days ago—Spencer Bartholomew Crispin. Apparently, he was named after his father who’d fought in the first world war, someone whom Spencer held in very high regard. And the Bartholomew was from great grandfather who’d done the family proud in some manner. Spencer hadn’t elaborated on that just yet. But she loved listening to the stories he’d tell.

They’d been working there for almost a few months. The nursery was essentially refurbishing a place where there used to be a store. Maddie thinks someone said it was once an old Woolworth’s store.

When she first started working here, that’s when she’d met him. He always wore a hat, like men used to wear in the old days. It’d fallen out of the trolley he always pushed. She’d picked it up and given it back to him. He used to proudly say all his worldly possessions were in that trolley. From that moment, they’d become fast friends.

At her dinner break, she’d always go and sit down by him and he’d tell her stories. They’d be spell-binding, speaking sometimes of the well-to do folks back in England, from where he obviously must’ve come. There’d be stories to of an old fisherman whose life had transformed when one of the daughters of a lord had fallen in love him and she with her. Every day she came to work at the park, Maddie would look forward to meeting him. Although, he seemed to be limping a bit just now. Maddie hoped he was okay. She’ll have to ask him.

“Hey there,” she said as she walked over to his bench. She through herself down onto the bench and gave him a small peck on his cheek. “What’s wrong with your leg, old man?” He smiled.

“Oh, it’s nothing, my sweetie. Just a bit of old age. We can’t last forever can we?”

“Well, no. But you’re all right, aren’t you?” He nodded his head, a smile on his face.

“I think this is our last day here. I’m not sure, but I heard one of the women who works for the nursery saying so.” She sat down and started to eat her sandwich.

“I’ll be sorry to see you go. Still, like everything, I’m afraid nothing lasts forever. Not even us.”

“Yeah, I know, but …,” Maddie said.

“No buts about it, my girl. Besides, as they always say. It’s always darkest before the dawn. Never forget.” Maddie offered him a cookie which he gracefully accepted.

“I’m not going to be able to see you any more,” Maddie said, putting her head down. She looked up at him, sorrow in her eyes. “And I’ll only get out in a few months or so.”

“Well, the most important thing is that you’re getting put soon. We met one another and now we can both enjoy knowing we have a loyal friend. I thank you again for sticking up for me when those young fellows were making my life a misery. I’ll never forget.”

“O, it wasn’t a problem. Believe me, I’ve seen worse,” she said, rolling her eyes. “They had no right.”

“I’ve always known the importance of knowing you have a friend on whom you can count to be there when you need them. I know, in my heart I can count on you.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” she said, her hand gesticulating with assurance and determination. “The minute I get out, I’ll get a job and wherever I live, you’ll be more than welcome there, I can tell you that! Then, if you want to come to the park here, you can, but then you can go home afterwards because you’ll have a home!” Maddie said, beaming, her hands clasped together. Spencer smiled at her confidence. “And I’ll work to get a job somehow. I’m not saying it’ll be all fancy living or anything like that. But I’m determined to try.”

“That’s wonderful. Life is full of second chances. If we look, we’ll always find them.” Maddie nodded her head.

“Well, for me, I’ll never steal anything again. I used to make a living from that,” she said, laughing. “And I’m off the drugs, now. I’m sure of it. Thanks to you. When you told me about your grandfather working in that mine and what he put up with, I thought, no, I can do it.”

“Well, we can look back at our forebears and take a bit of the strength their lives left behind. Oh, I have no concerns that can do anything, once you make up your mind.”

“No question. Anyway, I better get back to work. I’ll pop by before we go.” She held his hands, her eyes sparkling and fixed on him. He smiled again.

“You better get going, you silly girl.” She through her things in the bin and ran off to finish her work.

When they got done, Maddie looked up, but couldn’t see Spencer. She put everything away, ready to be put back onto the truck. Then looking up again, she spotted him coming out of the toilets. She hastened over to the bench and sat down next to Spencer.

“Well, that’s it for us.” Looking over the grounds, she smiled. “It looks so beautiful, now. Mirabelle took a photograph of it before we started and then now, again, and it’s miraculous.”

“Well, I was sold as soon as you put these benches here,” he said, patting the bench.

“Yeah, it’s like night and day. It’s hard to believe the change.”

“You should all be proud of yourselves.” She smiled brightly at him.

Photo by Jan Canty on Unsplash

“And I just learned there’s another place where we’re going to be working. It’s on the other side of town, though.”

“The time you have left will go by like that.” He snapped his fingers, smiling. Maddie smiled, but then her face became serious.

“But I won’t be able to see you. And I’m not sure, but will you be around in these parts when I get out?” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Who know’s what’s going to happen. As I said to you, what matters is we know one another now. What’s in the past doesn’t matter and frankly, what lies in the future doesn’t matter much to me either. Right now, I’m sitting in beautiful park chatting with one of my dearest friends, for you are.” Maddie put her head down. “Now, none of that.” She raised her head and he smiled. “You’re precious and you have so much yet to give to the world. I know that.”

“Come on Maddie. We’ve gotta get going,” one of the guards said, calling from the bus.

“Well, I gotta go now. Oh, it was the most wonderful gift I was given when I met you.” She gave Spencer a long hug. “I’ll never forget you. Thank you,” she said as she got up and then started to walk away. Maddie turned around again and gave him another wave, blowing him a kiss and then turned around and jogged to the bus.

Maddie ran her hand along the curtain. It was nothing special, but it was furnished and she at least had a roof over her head. She’d contacted numerous places to ensure she had a place when she left the prison. This one was the only one that got back to her. It was good, as it seemed they were in the business of providing at least a temporary home once someone left prison.

The goal was to see if she could find Spencer today. Although, who knew if she’d have any luck. Later, she set out, catching the bus across town to the park where she first met Spencer.

“Thanks,” she said to the bus driver, who’d clearly chosen well when deciding to go into public service. One the first bus she’d taken, the bus driver had clearly not chosen well. But Maddie shrugged her shoulders. Didn’t matter anyway. She walked to the park and headed over to the bench where Spencer always sat. She looked around, but no Spencer.

Image by Sharon Ang from Pixabay.

Maddie sat down on the bench and took out the books she was reading. She decided she might as well wait around for an hour or so because he might have just stepped away.

She had no luck on the first day and tried again on the next. But Spencer was also a no-show on that day.

“Excuse me,” she heard from behind as she walked away from the park bench. Maddie turned around and she saw a middle-aged woman walking and then running and then walking towards her. Maddie smiled.

“Yes. What can I do for you?” The woman caught up to her and then took a breath.

“Oh, my goodness. I’m not used to that much exercise,” she said, laughing. She was only a little over weight, but was obviously not in the habit of jogging.

“No worries. How can I help you?”

“Just to explain who I am. I used to watch you chatting with Spencer. I work in the shop over there.” She pointed across the street. “It’s a café and Spencer used to come over every now and then and use our facilities, so to speak. Anyway, I saw you here yesterday and now today and, well, I just wanted to tell you why he’s not here.”

“Oh, my goodness. Don’t tell me …”

“Yeah. I’m so sorry to say he passed a few weeks ago actually. You obviously were a good friend. You always used to chat with him.” Maddie lowered her head.

“O, that’s too bad, y’know. I was so hoping he’d still be okay.”

“I know. It’s always horrible to learn about things like that. He was such a fine man.”

“I know. He was full of stories and it always seemed so sad he was homeless.”

“Well, in the winter, he used to stay at the mission on Hanover Street. And when he came to the café, we’d always give him a cup of tea and a sandwich. But yeah. Hard times ‘n all.”

“Yeah, well thanks for letting me know.” Maddie headed home, her mind awash with memories of her friend. Maybe she’d try to find where he was buried and at least leave some nice flowers. She could secretly plant some crocus bulbs. He’d like that, she was sure.

Over the next few weeks, Maddie spent her time looking for work. She went to the library to prepare and print her resumé. She just decided to give it in to as many places she could find. One of them was bound to be looking for a worker.

Her family had always been on social assistance. It had always become a way of life. But she couldn’t wait to get off it. All that chatting with Spencer, it made her feel there was more she wanted to give to the world—more she could give to the world.

On Friday, she went to the post office to pick up her post. In the pile of mail, one seemed official-looking, but the other one was obviously from one of the places where she’d applied for work.

When she got home, Maddie, buoyed by hope, ripped open the letter from the potential employer. But the minute she spotted those well worn words, “We regret to inform you …”, there was little reason to continue. Maybe out of spite, she made sure to rip it into pieces before throwing it into the recycling.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said to herself. Spencer always used to say, it’s darkest before the dawn.”

She threw herself onto the sofa and opened the other letter she’d received. Reading it through, her heart began to resound in her ear, suddenly the world closing in on her. She read aloud: “I trust this letter finds you well. I am reaching out in my capacity as the Executor of the estate of Spencer Bartholomew Crispin. Following the fulfilment of all legal and financial obligations of the estate, it is now time to proceed with the distribution of remaining funds to the designated beneficiaries as per the deceased last will and testament.

Distribution Details

Total Funds Remaining in Estate: $113,478,012.83

Your Entitled Share: $1,000,000”

It went on about the distribution and how the funds would be transferred to her. But Maddie was in utter disbelief. Spencer was homeless. How could he have been worth so much money. She looked on the letter for contact information. This can’t be for real.

It had to be someone having a bit of fun at her expense. Maddie found the contact information and rang the number, not really sure of what to expect.

“Hello,” Maddie said. “Hi, my name’s Madrona Sykes. Everyone just calls me Maddie.” She laughed nervously. “Um. I think I just received a letter from Spencer Crispin’s estate and, I guess, I’m just ringing to see if this is for real. I’m not sure if you’d know anything about that. You’re Malcolm Digby,” she said, looking on the letter for the name of the Executor of the Estate.

“O yes. I’m Malcolm Digby and yes, I’m the executor of Mr. Crispin’s estate. Your question is more than understandable. I’m also Mr. Crispin’s lawyer and he made the changes to his Will only last month or so. But no, the letter you received is indeed genuine.”

“O, I see. I mean, I just don’t understand. I met him a few months ago and I thought he was homeless. And I just …”

“Yes. Sorry to interrupt. But in a way, he was homeless. For him, though, it was by choice. His business is still doing exceptionally well. He was in IT support and technology and I guess he’d had enough of it. He happily handed things over to his children and just decided he wanted to experience another part of life. He’d always remark on how it’s so common to miss the sheer richness of life from 40 floors up. So, in the latter part of his life, that’s what he was determined to experience and savour, I dare say.”

“Sorry. I’m at a loss for words. Y’know, it’s like everything’s upside down. Things for me aren’t in place anymore.” Maddie laughed nervously. “Please don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean I’m not beyond grateful. It’s just difficult to understand.”

“Well, I’m not surprised it was a shock. But there’s no question you made an impression on him, given his desire to add you to his will.”

“Yes, thank you so much. He was a beautiful person. No question. Thank you very much, sir. Good Bye.” Maddie put the phone down and picked up the letter and closed her eyes, still not able to comprehend.

Over the next few months, Maddie spent some of the time not always worrying about being able to afford things. Not that she went on a spending spree. It was more a matter of not always saying ‘no’ to things such as fresh vegetables which she could now afford. She’d always tended to avoid that section of the grocery.

She’d done as would be expected, sharing her new wealth with her family and friends. Maddie also made an effort to find Spencer’s grave, not to mention, secretly planting a few crocus bulbs.

And last night, Maddie’d had an epiphany. It seemed impossible to conceive of it as being possible. Still, she’d begun looking through the programmes at university. Fancy a member of her family actually going to university. Even finishing high school was an achievement. But she would attend adult basic education classes to get the grades to finish her high school and than apply to university. Her plan was to go into social work.

She got off the bus. “Thanks,” she said to the bus driver. Walking to the park she was keenly looking for it. It was only when she got a little closer that she could she see it, there, front and centre—the Spencer B. Crispin Memorial Park. She’d written myriad letters making the suggestion they name the park after him. Maddie hadn’t known it, but he’d been a big supporter to the community against homelessness and their various other efforts over the years. So, it wasn’t that difficult a sell. Afterwards, she’d given them a big donation, sort of a thank you. It was the least she could do.

Maddie stood there looking at the sign, thinking. People are often never who you think they are. Despite his riches, Spencer spent the latter part of his life giving honour to the men and women who lack what so many take for granted—a home. She clasped her hands together, “I’ll do you proud Spencer Bartholomew Crispin. I promise.”

Photo by micheile henderson on Unsplash.

Misty gazed at the open road ahead of her thinking how it may well be very different for her now she was out of work. It’ll remain to be seen how much of an “open road” lay ahead for her. She still felt irritated by that man. But for better or for for worse, it was all over. She drove along, finding a little joy in the empty road. It was Thanksgiving weekend and so everyone who had some place to go was no doubt already there. She shifted a little, getting a little more comfortable in her seat.

Misty was sure most of the people at the office where she worked probably thought she was mad. Although, no one could say he didn’t have it coming. The writing was on the wall. Anyone with eyes to see would know she and her boss were not on the same page, as it were. They weren’t even in the same book, never mind the page.

So, her actions weren’t so surprising. Misty smiled when she thought of what she’d called him—a stuck up loudmouth with more money than sense. She’d explained in detail why he was being such a fool and before he could sack her, she’d quit. She was livid. It was the first time in her life she’d ever said anything like that. Misty thought, it may be the first time she’d really ever stood up for herself. And boy, did she do a good job. Sure, she hadn’t a clue what she was going to do now that she was out of work. But there was no sense worrying about it now.

Misty had tended to be quiet and unobtrusive. Everyone had always called her the little mouse in the corner. That’s where her little spot was located, all of them with their own space separated by a sea of dividers in a windowless room. The place had no heart. Besides, folks had always told her she was wasted there. Well, enough of it all.

Spotting a gravel road going off to the left, Misty thought, why not explore a little. There were little spots of grass here and there on the edge and so she knew it wasn’t a well-travelled road. It was beautiful, the trees were fairly dense, some spruce, some larch and bits and bobs of everything else.

Image by Olavi Anttila from Pixabay

She was lost amidst the beauty of the woods with its motley shades of green, stumps of trees partially shrouded with a mantle of moss. Through the trees she could see the sun shining on what must be a lovely meadow.

Just up ahead, she spotted a car off to the side. Seemed strange that anyone should be stopped along the road. Misty hadn’t expected to see anyone. Pulling in behind the car, she could see there was a driver. Guessing at the hat, it was likely an older gentleman. “Hello, sir?” The man was just staring ahead and only after she repeated her words, did he notice her.

“Oh, sorry, my dear. I didn’t quite catch what you were saying.”

“That’s all right. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. You’re stopped and so I just wasn’t sure.” He smiled at her, his eyes red and glazed.

“Not to worry, my dear.” She looked into the woods, but she wasn’t quite sure why he was there.

“I don’t mean to pry, but is there anything with which I could help you? I there something wrong with your car. I might be able to help you.”

“O, no dear.” He paused for a moment and then looked up at her. “It’s no matter. I’d planned to go to the meadow … you can probably see it just on the other side of the trees.” he said, point towards it. “There used to be more of a pathway there, years ago. More people used to use it before.”

“Yeah, so it’s kinda grown in more,” she said, looking at the woods.

“I was going to take these,” he said, showing her the bouquet of flowers.

“O, they’re beautiful. May I ask what’s the occasion?” she said, smiling at him. He looked at her and then quickly glanced away, like he was somehow ashamed or embarrassed about something.

“Well, it’s nothing. I was going to lay then at the big rock.” He looked towards the meadow. “There it is,” he said, pointing. “It’s not easy to maybe see from here, but that’s where I used to always meet Abigail.” His eyes sparkled as he told Misty.

“Who’s Abigail?” Misty said, even though, with heavy heart, she was fairly sure she knew who she was. “Is she your wife?” He nodded and smiled, his eyes moistened.

“Yes. Yes. Well, was.” He looked down for a moment, wiping his eyes. “When we were first courting, that was always a favourite place. She passed away just this past August.”

‘O, I’m so sorry for your loss.,” Misty said, her eyes meeting his. “So, you were going to take the flowers and place them near the rock where you used to meet the love of your life.” He nodded, looking away. “Hey, it may not be as meaningful, but why don’t you let me take the flowers to the rock in the meadow?” He looked at Misty and then turned to look at the meadow. “I can at least place them there in Abigail’s memory.” He looked again at Misty. She could see he was giving it some thought.

“Well, okay, if you don’t mind. It’d be most kind of you.”

“It’d entirely be my pleasure. I even have my hiking stick in my car and that should help me get through any tangles I might find. She went back to her car and grabbed her hiking stick. Coming back, he’d gotten out of his car. He was a tall fellow, but he’d clearly dressed for the occasion. “My, don’t you look smart. Abigail would be most pleased.” He smiled, bashfully lowering his head with a touch of a smile.

“Here are the flowers. You take care going in there.”

“Not to worry. I’m a volunteer with the Wilderness Rescue Team and so I know more than enough about being careful,” she said, smiling at him.

“Just so you do.” She took the flowers, wading into the brush. Walking, Misty realised she could actually make out where the path to the meadow had once been. So, that made things a little easier. At one point, she turned around and waved to him, realising she hadn’t even introduced herself and asked his name. Then she thought how names aren’t always as important as many might think. Making it to the meadow, it opened into an expanse of wildflowers interspersed with an array of bushes, some floral, others not.

After the day she’s had, being in the meadow was like a moment in heaven. She raised her head to the sky and twirled around. She could see what drew everyone to this place. Giggling, she made her way to the rock where budding love had blossomed however many decades ago. There was a little overhang on the rock where she placed the flowers. She took out her phone and took a photograph so she could show him. He’d be pleased.

When she made it back to the road, he was waiting. She smiled at him.

“O, that’s a beautiful spot,” she said.

“Yes indeed. It was a very popular spot decades ago,” he said.

“And here,” Misty said, taking out her phone. “I took a photograph for you,” she said showing it to him. He took the phone, smiling, eyes glazing over.

“Thank you so very, very much. My Abigail will be so very pleased. We loved this place,” he said squinting as he looked up into the sky, sunshine cascading down. “Thank you.”

“Come here,” she said, opening her arms to give him a hug. “You can’t believe what a horrible day this was before I met you. But y’know, if it hadn’t been so horrible, I wouldn’t have been here to meet you and give you a hand. So, thank you for all you’ve done for me. Funny the way the world works.”

“That’s why we never do know in the end. Sometimes it’s just a matter of waiting and the most unpleasant of days will yet transform.”

Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay.

Sidney roughly folded the clothes, throwing them into his bag. He didn’t have a lot of time. Charlie said he could help him move, but he’d told him not to bother. His head shot up when he heard the sound of a car on gravel. Gently pushing back the curtain, he realised it was just the neighbour pulling into their driveway.

Carefully, he wrapped a few photographs he wanted to keep, placing them in the side-pockets. She’d not miss them anyway, likely wouldn’t even notice they’re gone. He zipped up the bag and put it on the bed next to the other things he wanted to take.

Frannie had gone out to a restaurant with some friends, so he’d decided to make his move as soon as she’d left. Quickly checking his watch, he knew she’d be home soon. He’d better get moving.

Scanning around the room to see if there was anything, his eyes rested on a photograph Charlie must’ve taken of them. Sid picked it up, looking at the laughing faces. His eyes moistened. If he remembered correctly, it was taken soon after they’d first been married.

Where were they, he thought. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping to urge the memory. Then, it came back to him and he smiled. Yes, he distantly remembered the day. He seemed to recall they’d been on a camping trip in British Columbia. They’d gone with Frannie’s brother, Charlie and his wife. It’d been wonderful.

He stared at the photograph, his mind roaming the memories regarding his life with Frannie. Most would’ve considered them the perfect couple—beautiful home, two cars, annual vacation. They even had a dog for a while, but she’d passed away a year ago or so. Sid had been in banking until he’d packed it all in about a decade ago for a new life working as a Park Ranger. Commuting every day, he loved where he now worked.

Frannie was still in banking. She’d just been promoted in the bank where she worked. downtown. Their friends had laughed at their various work places, commenting how they couldn’t be more disparate. Still, it hadn’t been a problem.

When they lost their second baby, everything had changed though. It was another miscarriage. Sid had grieved the loss, but recognised maybe it just wasn’t to be for them. But for Frannie, it was different.

It was like someone had flipped a switch. He’d tried to empathise, as it was no doubt hard for her. But she’d just become angry and there was no hope to try to explain anything. Suddenly, there was no end to the hateful comments she’d make about him. It seemed like nothing he could do was right any more. He flinched when he thought of her words.

“You’re such a loser. You’ve always been a loser. There’ll never be any hope for you. Why do you bother?” Then he remembered what she said about his father, that Sid was exactly like his father—had always been. “You’re no good….” It’d been a year of unrelenting abuse. He closed his eyes, a hollow feeling growing within.

As far as Frannie was concerned, he was never enough of anything. Sid shoved a photograph of him accepting another award from the city into the side of his bag. He’d been damned proud of the work he’d done and he wasn’t about to leave it.

And it was when she threw the little solid wood award he’d been given for organising the tree-planting that he knew. He can’t take this any more. Still, he looked at the photograph. Maybe there’d be a way to get her to understand.

Sid heard the clock chiming, jarred from his reminiscing. Coming downstairs, he was alerted to headlights in the driveway. Hurriedly, he grabbed the two bags, hoisting them onto his back and left the bedroom. He thought was too late. He’d thought for sure he had until nine. That’s when she always left the restaurant.

Maybe he could dart out the back door. Suddenly, the front door opened and he thought, Christ, this is all he needs now. He braced himself, holding his breath, his body tense. In walked Charlie.

“G0d, I thought it was your sister.”

“No, man. I thought I’d come around to see if you needed any help. You said you were likely going to do it tonight.” He took one of the bags from Sid. “How are you?”

“All right, I guess. I confess I’m wondering if I’m over-reacting.”

“No, geez. I heard what she was saying to you a couple of days ago. She doesn’t realise I heard, but she’s completely flipped. As I said, why should you put up with it? You’re too soft. I mean, she seriously needs help. It’s been close to a year and we both know from where this is coming.” Sid looked at him. “I mean it. What she said to you was harsh, man. I mean, you’ve got a heart of gold. But I wouldn’t put up with it. I think everything from when we were growing up has come home to roost for her. I really don’t know. I mean it was bad, but geez, I survived. Well, I shouldn’t say that. Everyone deals with things their own way. Anyway. Come on, we better get going.”

“Yeah,” Sid said as he looked around.

“Don’t worry. You’d know best, but it’s not like it’s forever. She just needs to have some time to herself, I think.” Charlie opened the front door. “Did you leave her a note?”

“Yeah. I put it on her pillow.”

“Good. Come on. I’ll take this one in my car and I’ll meet you at home.”

“Yeah. For sure. Thanks, man.

“Not a problem.”

Frannie opened unlocked the door. Sid must’ve gone somewhere since his car was gone. She wishes he’d tell her he was going somewhere. He never tells her anything. Throwing her things onto the chair by the door, Frannie went into the kitchen to check if anyone had rung the line in the house.

Anyway, she was tired, so she thought she’d just change into some of her house clothes and then go watch a little television. Maybe Sid’ll be home then. On her way to her closet.

She spotted something on the bed and went over to take look. Maybe it was a note from Sid about where he’s gone. She picked it up and reading it, the hair on the back of her neck prickled. Putting it down, she was livid. How dare he? O, the poor baby. Run to her brother for protection. Christ!

Sitting on the bedside, her leg tapped nervously. Anger swelled up inside her, she just wanted to throw something. Picking up the cushion, she whipped it at the mirror across the room.

Frannie picked up her phone and rang her brother. I’m sure she’ll get some song and dance about how much he’d been suffering. From what?! From nothing!? He just wants attention. He always wants attention.

And her brother. “Give me a break,” she said. “I mean, trust the two of them to get together. My brother also just craves attention. It’s always been that way.” Determined now, she was going to just ring him to ask what the hell was he thinking.

Ringing the number, she waited.

“Hello?”

“Charlie. It’s Frannie.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Don’t ‘uh-huh’ me like you don’t know what’s going on. Is Sid there? Let me speak with him.”

“Uh, I don’t think that’s a great idea right now.”

“What? Whaddyamean you don’t think it’s a ‘great idea right now’? What are you his keeper, now? It’s not like he’s scared of me.

“No, it’s not that. I don’t think he’s scared of you. I think he just needs get a break from you for a while.”

“What do you mean? I haven’t done anything.”

“Come on Frannie. Even you must know the things you’ve said to him.

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Really? I mean, I was there when you said he’s no good or a waste of space. You likely didn’t realise I’d heard, but there ya go. How long do you think someone wants to be told they’re useless?” Charlie waited for her response. “I assume by your lack of response that you get what I’s saying. Well, he’s not here anyway. So, maybe ring back tomorrow.” He waited for a moment. “Anyway, bye.”

Frannie put her phone down, staring around the room. All the anger she’d felt had ebbed and now she just felt empty. Charlie was acting like she was some kind of bully. “I’m not a bully,” she said to herself. Her eyes moistened as she stared into the mirror.

Over the next few days, Frannie grew more and more irritable. She’d hit out at a few of her colleagues at work and was actually reprimanded by their manager. Her manager was pretty good and so had just suggested she take a few weeks off.

Because Frannie was never the sort to waste time, she took the opportunity to clean the house from top to bottom. She was scrubbing the laundry room floor.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Charlie said. Frannie only heard him now. “You didn’t hear me calling, so I started looking.”

“O, hi. Yeah, I was just really going at it I guess. So, I didn’t hear you come in.” Charlie sat down on the bench.

“So, how’s it going?” Frannie shrugged her shoulders.

“Sure. I’m okay, I guess.”

“I confess I was driving by and was surprised to see your car here.”

“Yeah, well.” She put her scrub brush down and sat on the bench with Charlie. “I had a bit of a run in at work.” Charlie looked at her, frown on his face. “No, it was all my fault I’ve gotta admit. But my manager kindly said she thinks I need some time away from things for a bit. So, I guess I’ve just been given leave for a while.”

“Ah.” Both were silent for a moment, the sound of the spring birds filling the vacuum. “So, it’s not great right now.” Frannie looked at Charlie, her eyes moistening. She shook her head. He leaned over and gave her a hug.

“How’s Sid doing?”

“O, he’s okay—getting by and all that.” She glanced towards him. “He’s not loving it. It’s just as I said, he needed a break from you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Well, I think I do. I’m no psychologist. But I saw it happening when you had your second miscarriage.” She glanced at him. “Well, understandably, it just threw you for a whirl. Out of control. And we both know that’s not a place you like to go.” He met her eyes. “So, you kinda hit out. As far as you were concerned, someone was going to pay. And I guess Sid just happened to be in your line of fire.” Frannie looked away. “Think about it, I guess. Best be off. We’ll talk later, okay.”

Sid’s stomach tightened when he drove in, spotting her vehicle. He wanted to see her and yet he didn’t. Charlie had said he’d gone over and spoken with Frannie several times and he said, it might be worth going for a visit. Knocking on the door, he tried it and it was open.

“Hello,” he said, calling out. He saw movement at the top of the stairs. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, continuing down the stairs. She went out onto the back porch and he followed. This was his house, but he felt distanced from everything now. They sat down at the table. “Sorry, did you want something to drink? I didn’t ask.” He shook his head.

“I just thought I’d pop by to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m okay,” she said, smiling.

“Charlie said you’re off work for a bit.”

“Well, I’m headed back tomorrow.” He nodded his head, tapping his finger and looking around the back yard.

“The flowers are coming up nicely,” he said, knowing they were caught in the usual evading-the-issue pleasantries. She likely knew it too. But he wasn’t going to push.

“Yeah, they’re nice where you re-planted them.” They sat in silence for a few moments, Frannie looking around until their eyes met.

“Well, I better get going,” Sid said.

“O … okay.” Sid started to get up, not really sure what to expect, if anything. “Wait. I’ve been chatting with Charlie for a bit. As you may know.” she said, looking at him. “And I just wanted to say I’ve been going through a rough time. I know you know that.” Sid sat down again. “And y’know, I think I was msybe taking things out on you.”

“Yeah. It’s hard.”

“So … sorry, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Their eyes met. “I get it. And I’m really glad you’ve been able to mull it over—be more at peace with things. You’ve always been so hard on yourself—for no reason.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. But he wanted her to know he understood what she was saying. It was hard, though. “Well, I’d better get going,” Sid said, getting up.

“Yeah,” Frannie said, her eyes averted as she got up and followed Sid to the door.

“I’ll pop by again, maybe on Thursday. How does that sound?’ Sid said.

“Sure, that sounds good.” She smiled at him, Sid returning the smile. He wanted to give her a hug, but she was standing at the door and didn’t look like she’d be too keen. Maybe later.

Frannie watched Sid’s car drive away. She’d hoped he’d give her a hug or just give her an idea he was still interested in being her husband. She’d said sorry. She closed the door. “I mean, what’s the point?”

Frannie walked to the kitchen and brewed a cup of tea. Sitting down, she looked out the window and was astounded by what she saw. The darkened sky was bejewelled by collection of silver-lined clouds. Frannie got up, the sky was utterly beautiful—breathtaking.

Standing there gazing at the sky, her mind wandered. He didn’t say it was over. And he’d said he’d be returning. After all, he did say she’d see him in the week.

Frannie knew she’d been horrible. Charlie was right. But she looked at the sky again and smiled. Regardless, there’s always a silver lining.

Chrys slammed the door behind her, the loud bang an oddly satisfying expression of her anger. Why had he told that woman about the file? He had no bloody business. She’d told him in confidence. Just to earn points, that’s what it was. She walked briskly onto the path, her steps determined and unyielding.

Chrys knew full well that’s what he was doing, telling their line manager so he could get into her good books. She had no idea why they called them line manager. Stupid. She rolled her eyes, the collection of spruce and firs silent witnesses to her ire.

I mean, it’s not like they were in some damned factory putting together some widget, for God’s sake. She couldn’t stand that woman, one of those upstarts fresh out of university climbing the corporate ladder. Vigorously, she waved away the cloud of insects clustering in the shade of a tree. She tripped, soon regaining her footing. “Damned bugs.”

Image by Hands off my tags! Michael Gaida from Pixabay

It had to end. That’s all she knew. Chrys had come to intensely dislike where she was working. It was useless. They worked to all hours with meeting after meeting. And her life was not that much better now that Marigold was gone. Thinking about the accident was like a sharp knife in her heart. It was still difficult to believe she was gone. She kicked at a rock propelling it into a bush.

Face stern and dispirited, Chrys walked along the path, extending her hiker’s stick just in case she ran into a stupid dog. That’s all she needs. After the last time, she thinks it was a couple of years ago, she never walked without some sort of pole. People are forever walking their dogs and more than half of them couldn’t control the bloody dogs if they tried. She swiped at some brush on the side of the path. The small dogs are the worst.

Keeping her head down, she walked past a couple of other walkers coming the other way. She never bothered to greet anyone any more. Sure, some might find it off-putting. Still, Chrys reckoned they’d only be saying hi because she was looking up. Otherwise, they wouldn’t say anything—obviously. So, why bother bugging them in the first place—better that way. She took another swipe at the brush.

“Excuse me.” Chrys heard a faint singing voice from behind. She turned around suddenly, scanning to see the source of the voice. There was nothing. She rolled her eyes. ‘I must be hearing things,’ she reckoned. “Excuse me.” This time she could swear she heard something. But it was up ahead. Chrys swung around and she just caught sight of something just off into the woods.

‘What is going on?’ she thought, walking to the place where the person had gone into the woods. Should she bother, was her first thought? Sounded like a kid, though. What if they were in trouble? So, she pushed the tangle of branches apart.

“Hello?” she said, trying to raise her voice. “Hello,” she said more loudly. She heard a giggle from up ahead. She walked a little further. “Hello,” she said, slight irritation entering her voice.

“Over here,” she heard, then more giggling. When her head swung around, she encountered the two little twin girls. Twins?

Image by Jacek from Pixabay (twins at sunrise)

“Wait a minute,” she said, her voice just barely a whisper. They were looking very familiar and all of a sudden Chrys realised at whom she was looking—herself. And Marigold, of course. They were dressed alike, as they always were. Their mother doted on them and had only stopped when they reached six or seven. It was her mom who named them after her favourite flowers—Chrysanthemum and Marigold.

The two of them were holding hands and skipping in a circle, first one way and then the other. ‘I must be dreaming,’ she said to herself. She couldn’t believe it. They were singing “The Rainbow Connection” at the top their lungs.

It hurtled her back in time. She remembered how she and Mari used to constantly sing that song. It was their favourite, accompanied, of course, by their total and unmitigated adoration for Kermit the frog. Their dad would play the guitar and they’d sing it at the top of their lungs.

Chrys’s mind returned to the present.

“You’ve gotta come join us,” the one sang out.

“Yeah, we know you you’d love to come. Right,” the one sang to the other. Both held their hands out, welcoming her to come.” Chrys stood there, unable to move, thoughts of what’s gone wrong in her life flooding to the surface. Feelings repeated in her ears—it’ll always be this way. There’s no hope. Give up. What’s the point.

But then, she looked up and met their smiling eyes which were just begging her to forget, to let it go. And like a break of sun through thick impenetrable clouds, finally Chrys couldn’t resist the urge to smile.

She walked towards the two little girls, herself and her sister from another time and clasped their hands. The three of them began to dance in the circle, all to the tune of “Rainbow Connection.” Round and round they danced.

Finally, when she unclasped her hand with young Mari, in her hand was a locket she remembers losing years ago.

Image by Esther Chilcutt from Pixabay

“Oh my God!” she said, startled. “I lost that years ago,” Chrys said, clasping her hands around the locket. She knelt down next to Mari who was beaming. “Mom gave them to us and I was so heartbroken when I couldn’t find mine and then … at the funeral, we made sure you had yours for wherever you were going.” She put her hands around her face, tears flowing. “I felt so torn apart. When I couldn’t find my locket, I felt for sure I’d lost you.” She hugged Mari, her hand tight around the locket.

Chrys opened her eyes, squinting at the light. She didn’t know immediately where she was. Upon looking around, though, she realised she was on the sofa near the big window in her front room. Putting her head against the cushion, she couldn’t help but smile. It was astonishing.

Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

Chrys remembers vividly thinking in the dream how it must be a dream and not real life. She wondered if that’s what people call a lucid dream. She’d heard of those, when the dream is particularly real.

Regardless, Chrys felt like a new person. It was phenomenal. She remembers how she felt when she was dancing and singing. Laughing aloud she thought of the locket. Maybe now, she could finally forgive herself for having lost it.

Chrys went to go put on her jacket because she thought she really would go for a walk. It was like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Grabbing her sunglasses, just in case it cleared up as they said it would, she placed them in her pocket. There was something else in the way. Pulling it out, she couldn’t at first believe what she was seeing.

There dangling from a chain was her locket. Chrys looked at it with complete disbelief. “It can’t be,” she said in hushed tones, plunking down on the bench by the door. “I mean, I thought I was dreaming. But here’s the locket Mari gave me.

She opened the locket to make doubly sure it was the right one. When she did, sure enough, there was a picture of Mari. That’s what they’d done for fun. Being twins, nobody would know that Mari was in Chrys’s locket and vice versa. So, does that mean I really did go for a walk and meet them? Because Mari sure as heck did give me a locket,” she said looking down at the locket. “It just can’t be.”

Chrys sat in the porch, trying to make sense of what had happened. Holding the locket in her hands, she remembered meeting her young self and Mari, thinking of how wonderful it had made her feel. She hadn’t felt that good in years, to be honest.

Image by Milada Vigerova from Pixabay

She got up from the bench, placing the locket around her neck. Chrys pondered, “I suppose, in the end, what does it matter whether it was a dream or reality or a little bit of both,” Chrys thought. Seeing her young self and Mari was like a sign. Everything was still the same and yet it was not. In its reconciliation was the peace for which she’d been searching.

Even through the broken windows, the waning sun bestowed a sense of elegance to that old hollow-eyed factory on the corner. It always surprised Gilly how a place so wearied and worn could still be given just a touch of grace by the light of the sun.

Photo by Daniele La Rosa Messina on Unsplash

Gilly was half walking, half shuffling, her hands jammed into her jeans as she neared home, just a couple blocks away. It was a hard part of town, a forlorn place that had seen its fair share of good times and very bad ones, too.

Gilly paid no attention to the never-ending thrum of noise in the background, people yelling, a few laughing. Horns honked in the distance as she walked along the garbage-strewn road. Further ahead was the park dedicated to some faceless person now long dead. Who cares, she thought. What a little bit of nothing, this place. Well, she could cut through the park and get home faster.

As she got closer, Gilly could see some commotion up ahead. Someone was standing there and a bunch of kids were grabbing things from him. Oh yeah, Gilly knew that lot. She picked up her speed and yelled …

“Hey!! Leave him alone …! Hey, I’m talkin’ to you … I said leave him alone!!” They’d looked up by then, realising who it was.

“Oh, don’t worry Gilly, my love. It’s just this stupid old man … geez, what a stink!” as he kicked one of the bags that he’d grabbed from the man.

“I said get outta here now!” While Gilly was no doubt small and wiry, the other kids in the neighbourhood knew well enough not to mess with her. So, fun over, they reluctantly began to turn to leave, some still laughing, others clearly relieved that they were moving on.

“Fine! We’re outta here anyway … better go help grandpa over there.” And with a laugh, they wandered on.

Gilly turned around and started to gather up some of the bags that they must’ve pulled out of the old gentleman’s trolley. It was just one of the shopping trolleys that always seem to be left on their side, often on the edges of roads, waif-like and alone.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” Gilly said, as she handed him his things. “They’re idiots and don’t have a clue most of the time … Most of them are okay. Just one or two are the lead idiots I guess.

“Thank you very much” the gentleman said as he carefully placed the bags back into his trolley. “They didn’t do too much harm really,” he said as he sat back down on the bench.

“No, I know. It’s just not right messing with people like that,” Gilly shared, as she plunked herself on the bench.

“Well, I owe it to you for lending me a much-needed hand,” he offered, nodding his head slightly to her and giving her a gentle smile. “You must’ve been heading home and it was just my luck that you decided to come through the park when you did.”

“Yeah, I was headed home I suppose,” she said, a bit of a wry laugh as she looked up at him.

“Home,” he repeated.

“Yeah, home …” she added with a sigh. “Where do you live? Or is that a stupid thing to ask …?

Source: Photo by Paul Arky on Unsplash

“Oh no. By no means. No, ma’am. This is my home …” as he gestured half-grandly at the surrounding park “ … for the moment.” He patted the bench and his trolley, “I can usually just sleep on this bench and come morning, I have nature’s best and most perfect alarm as the birds never fail to sing me awake with the first light,” he laughed at her, his eyes sparkling with the pure joy of it!

“Geez, the way you make it sound, it’s not half bad,” she said, smiling widely. “It’s nice what you say,” she continued, looking up at him. “You say I was heading home, but that’s a bit of a laugh.”

“What do you mean,” said the old gentleman as he straightened another one of his bags.

“Well, it’s complicated. I mean, for sure, my mom may be there. Likely not though. Never know when she’ll be in or in what state,” she scoffed. “She’s tried to quit, but in the end, she just starts drinking again. I’m sure my little brother’s asleep right now … he’ll be okay.”

The old gentleman nodded as he listened, looking ahead as the sun’s rays were dwindling. “That must be difficult at times, I expect,” he shared.

“Yeah, well I can handle myself …. I don’t know why I’m telling you this!”

“Oh not to worry. I have all the time in the world,” he smiled.

She was a little uncertain, but went on. “Well, I don’t know … it’s just that I always have to keep an eye on my little brother to make sure things are okay for him. No one else’ll do it, that’s for sure,” Gilly explained. “It’s no big deal. It is what it is and all that. But sometimes, geez, you just wanna get outta here. Forget it ever really existed.” She looked at him and added, “I’m thinking I’ll head into the city next spring.”

“Yes, certainly. But forgive me for saying this … you don’t seem the sort to cut and run. There’s a strength you seem to have … a strong will. Sorry. I don’t mean to pry. It just seems that way. You definitely helped me just now,” he added.

Gilly smiled, almost shyly, like he’d somehow peeked under her armour. “I s’ppose. It’s just sometimes you run outta energy and just feel kinda empty. Sick of it all … tired … you know what I mean?” she said looking into his eyes.

He smiled and began to unwrap one of the packages in the bottom of his trolley. “The sun’s going down,” he said. “Look out over the hills over there. They say this is actually the longest day of the year.”

“Geez, I’ve never thought about things like that … a day is a day is a day … whatever” Gilly laughed. “Don’t know anything about that!”

He began to play his instrument, “Uh huh. It’s the longest day and it’s a time they say when there’s apparently magic afoot … isn’t that interesting!”

“What’s that …???” Gilly said looking at what he was playing.

Photo by Carlos Araujo on Pexels.

“Oh, it’s an accordion. I’ve had it all my life. Have to protect it … when I run into a bit of trouble … like earlier,” he smirked.

As he spoke the light of the sinking sun began to paint the sky an elegant mosaic of reds, pinks, purples, and blues and all the while the achingly melodic strains of his music floated into the air.

“So there you go,” the old gentleman assured Gilly. “If it’s energy you need, you can come here, any day of the year, but especially now. Take this energy and drink it in and most of all, you must always believe. Do you believe Gilly … in your place in the world?”

Gilly listened attentively, not really sure of what the old gentleman was saying. “Well I’m not sure, but you know, somehow there’s a part of me that does I think. Believe,” she said hesitantly and then began to smile.

“That’s my girl,” he said, beaming.

Gilly laughed at him, “but I’d better get going now. Maybe I’ll come by tomorrow, eh! See how you’re doing. And let me know if those kids are bugging you. If they are, I’ll set them straight.”

“Oh, I know you will, Gilladrea.”

It was nothing that Gilly ever does, but she quickly gave her new friend a peck on the cheek. “Okay, gotta go” and she smiled, turning to leave.

Gilly pushed her hands deep into her pockets and began walking home, a slight skip in her step. She quickly turned to wave a final good-bye, but to her amazement, he wasn’t there any more. That’s weird. Where’d he go? She cast her eye around, but she couldn’t see him anywhere. Ah, well, maybe she’d see him tomorrow. She looked around again to check. But maybe not.

She kept walking, sure that she could still hear the ever so faint and haunting music of the accordion.

Source of Image: Joe from Pixabay (castle …)

“What’s that mess by the back door?” Harry’s wife, Abigail, said sharply, as she placed the bags of groceries on the kitchen counter. Harry smiled knowing it was a jibe and figured he’d take his time to respond. What do they say? Count to ten before speaking. It’s something he’d come to do whenever she made that kind of comment.

To be honest, he wasn’t in the mood to get into another parry and riposte right now. He’d been doing a bit of work outside on what was once their dream solarium. It was no longer a dream, just a reason to get out of the house. Harry had finished all the writing he’d wanted to do.

He’d been working all afternoon and so, he thought he’d come inside, grab a bite to eat before continuing. And after finding the box, he could take some time to think. Harry had no idea what it was, although he was curious.

“What is it anyway? I mean, just throw it out.” Abigail said, as she took more things out of the bag.

“It’s nothing. Just something I found while I was digging to lay the foundation.” He could tell by the way his wife was taking the items out of the bag, set movements, each thudding on the counter, like little bursts of anger, that she was peeved about something. It was the box, this time.

“Well, I’ve got some friends coming over and it’d be great if it weren’t in the way.” He thought, should he question it being ‘in the way’ as it was just a small box.

“Come on, it’s not really in the way.” But the moment he said it, he knew he shouldn’t have. It only made matters worse. He remembers how things blew out of proportion the last time and it led to nowhere good.

“It’s an eyesore and that makes it in the way,” she said, her words terse. They locked eyes.

“No worries. It’ll be out of the way after I open it.” It was best to appease now.

Abigail stopped putting things in the cupboard. “Whaddyamean, open it? Why do you want to open it?”

“Well, I was curious because you don’t often dig up a box. Rocks and other stuff, sure, but not a box.” Harry shrugged his shoulders. He drank the last of his coffee and got up. “I haven’t a clue what it is, to be honest. If you’re interested, I’m gonna open it now.” He thought he’d throw out an olive branch and hope for the best.

Harry walked to the porch where he’d left the box, unsure of whether she’d be at all interested. These days, half the time, he really wouldn’t be surprised if she just walked out on him. It’d been going on for a year now. Harry tried his best not to get into anything with her these days. The one time, he’d really regretted. He was sure the neighbours must’ve wondered. Afterwards, he vowed to never let it reach such a fever pitch again.

He knew it all stemmed from the problems with her family. Her parents were breaking up with a divorce looming. They had created a wasteland for their children while doing battle, dragging the entire family through the muddy trenches of what was appearing to be a pretty sordid life. He wasn’t surprised. Money had a way of dragging people down to never-before-seen levels.

Of course, Abigail would be the last to acknowledge it. She’d always been the peacemaker. But it had even exceeded her attempts, leaving her adrift. He’d tried to allay her fears for herself, their own children and so on. But nowadays, he just left things alone. Still, the past year had been pure hell.

Harry dusted some more dirt off the box. He looked up as his wife came into the porch. “Just thought I’d take a look at what you’d found.” She shrugged her shoulders as she sat down. He’d put it on a bin bag. Lifting it, he turned it around and around.

“It’s pretty light.” He shook it and they could hear something was inside. Abigail sat on the bench paying little attention, looking out the porch window, immersed in some turmoil within. Harry wasn’t entirely sure why she was there, but he figured maybe there was some ember within her that could still be ignited. “I can’t imagine it’d be too complicated,” Harry said as he fussed with the lock. “Let’s see if the internet can give us a bit of help,” he said as he pulled out his phone. He looked for a moment. “Well, here we go.” He showed her the website he’d found on how to pick locks.

“Nowadays, you can find the damndest things on the internet,” Abigail said, rolling her eyes.

“Pretty good someone decided to share, though.” Harry thought it was best to stay positive to keep things on an even keel. He read the instructions while Abigail was lost in her thoughts. “That doesn’t sound impossible.” Harry started to get up. “I’ll go and collect some of our tools. It’s not too much we’d need. Just a paper clip, I think,” Harry said. Abigail picked up the box, scrutinising it.

Harry returned with a paper clip. He was pleased she seemed to be at least somewhat interested, even though he was sure the troubles hounding her still rattled and boomed in the background. He began inserting the paper slip, jiggling it around for a few minutes. “I don’t know if this is the best approach,” he said, laughing. Meanwhile Abigail read through the instructions on the website Harry had found.

“Here, let me try,” Abigail said. Harry looked up.

“Sure, here ya go.” He handed the box to her. She placed the clip into the lock and while jiggling it, she pulled it in and out. Abigail worked at it for about ten minutes. Harry watched, his back against the wall. He thought how nice it was for her to be so completely distracted by picking a lock of all things.

Smiling, he wasn’t sure if he’d seen her give such rapt attention to anything in the past year or so. “I think the keyway just turned.” She smiled at him, looking like she’d just won an unexpected prize. Continuing to apply pressure, the keyway finally rotated and they heard that magical click as the lock disengaged.

Harry laughed and clapped. “You did it! I don’t know. I think you may have some hidden talents we need to talk about,” Harry said. Abigail smiled. And that was like an unexpected light, something Harry hadn’t seen gracing her features for a long while.

“I’ve been thinking about shifting careers,” she said. Harry smiled as he opened the box. Inside, there were a wide assortment of letters primarily. He opened one of them.

Source of Image: Felix Lichtenfeld from Pixabay

“Well, the date is 23 January, 1916. It says ‘To my Dearest Penelope.’ And it goes on talking about what the writer’s doing in England and their training. They just talk about how it’s going and when they think they’ll be going over. I assume they mean mainland Europe.”

“O, my God,” Abigail said in a sudden gasp. “Is the person who wrote it a William Morris Turner?” Harry flipped to the next page. He nodded.

“Yeah, that’s what it says. ‘With all my love, William Morris Turner.”

“And was the person to whom it was written Penelope Ann Harcourt?” He looked at the envelope.

“Right again. It’s addressed to Miss Penelope Ann Harcourt. How did you know that?”

“Well, the land we’re on, pretty much all of the homes in this subdivision, used to belong to the Harcourts. I mean this is going back decades. When we were growing up, our mother told us about the family and how they eventually sold their land. Then it just became a part of the town. Their house is still standing, actually.” Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

“O, of course. That’s the community museum on whatchamacallit street.”

“Yup.”

“Well, I’ll be darned. So, what’s the story here?” Harry said as he picked up the box and began looking through more of the letters.

After getting some more coffee, they spent the rest of the afternoon reading the letters. Harry didn’t say a word about Abigail’s friends coming over because clearly it hadn’t been that important. Maybe she’d just said it. He thought it was best to just let the afternoon flow.

“The one thing that’s different is this letter,” Abigail said, lifting up a letter. “It’s not from William Morris, either. It’s from Penelope. And it’s not even in an envelope.” Harry looked over. “To be honest, it doesn’t even look like it’d been posted, actually.

“What does it say?” Abigail opened the letter and began to read, a look of enlightenment touching her features.

“Ah, that makes sense.”

“What makes sense?”

“It says, “My dearest love, I received your letter with the usual anticipation and joy. Rest assured, I was overjoyed with the question at the end of your letter! My response is an undeniable and emphatic YES! I would so love to be your wife!” And the letter talks about a few other things. But that’s the main part of it, I think. It’s utterly beautiful,” Abigail said, her eyes moistening.

“I mean, yeah, it’s beautiful, but why did I find this buried. It doesn’t make any sense,” Harry said, furrowing his eyebrows and taking the letter from Abigail.

“Well, that’s the really sad part about it, isn’t it” she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You see, from what my mother explained, they never got married. William Morris was killed in 1916 and so it was never to be.” She looked at Harry, her voice cracking. “It’s horrible because you know why she buried all his letters and her letter. She must’ve been so thoroughly heartbroken.”

Harry touched her shoulder, gathering her into his arms. It was the first time in a while that Abigail had expressed any emotion other than anger or frustration. She’d become tightly bound over the months. So, he wasn’t sure if she were crying for Penelope and William or the sadness enveloping her own life. In any case, something had clearly broken.

Harry gave her a tissue with which she wiped her eyes. “It’s awful because this place was sold around that time, after the war. I mean, it was sold and they started to break it apart. It’s just makes you realise the horrible things people have had to endure.” She sat looking at the letters, straightening them and placing them back in the box. “I mean, can you imagine how it would’ve been when she got word he’d died. She would’ve been absolutely lost. I’m not surprised she buried the letters. She didn’t want to destroy them. She just wanted them gone.”

“Where did she go? Do you know?”

“I’m not sure. She had family in England. They were originally from there and so that’s likely where they went.” They sat quietly for a moment.

“Well, there’s a sad story. You can only hope it ended happil,” Harry said.

“Yeah.” Abigail got up from the floor and sat on the bench. “It just makes ya think of the big world out there. Myriad sad stories to go around, eh,” she said, looking at Harry.

“Absolutely.” He didn’t want to say anything, as he thought he’d rather give her the floor to maybe speak her mind.

“It kinda makes you realise the world’s full of sad stories.”

“Happy stories, too. Don’t forget that.”

“I know. It’s just, you forget,” Abigail said, closing her eyes.

“Yeah, but the most important thing is at some point, you remember,” Harry said. Abigail looked at him, their eyes meeting. She looked down.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been. How long, I don’t know.”

“No worries. It’s in the past.” Their eyes locked again, with Harry and then Abigail smiling. “Well, how about we say, in honour of Penelope and William, it’s time to turn the page.”