Talk about knocking the air out of a body. All of a sudden if seemed as if there wasn’t any gravity and he was floating from the porch. When indeed had he lost his faith? He had to be honest with himself, he knew.
“Come to church tomorrow.”
“Are you gonna sing?” He studied her face for a moment.
She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if I can.”
He wanted to pick her up and hold her in his arms. In his mind, he could see himself reaching over, picking her up and sitting her on his lap. He wanted to feel the slight pressure her tiny body would exert on his lap. He wanted the scent of her perfume to flood his senses. Stop it! Stop it! He warned himself. “I left all my numbers on the fridge. If you need me, call me.” He fought the lump in his throat. “Even if you hear bats in the attic.”
She laughed. Every laugh no matter how big or small was always genuine. “I’m not afraid of bats. Neither is Bessie.”
“Bessie?”
“My 22 pistol, it lives under my pillow.”
“What pillow?” He playfully questioned.
“Oh,” she gasped, “you’re right.” As if he had told her something she didn’t already know and continued laughing.
He watched her laugh. Oh it pained him to think about how much he’d missed her. That was why he was angry with God, among other things, because God let her leave some 30 years ago and he’d been too scared to stop her.
“Please call me, for anything.” His voice was full of emotion.
“If you get worried about me, call me. You have my number.”
“Very well,” he got up to leave.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” She smiled, “Dillon,” she called after him. The sound of her voice caused his heart to skip a beat. He turned to face her. “Thanks for the vine.”
I’ve been asked to teach a class at a conference. Class size; unknown. Time: 45 minutes.
First timed project:
Looks like fun. List of supplies: canvas, sharpies, rubbing alcohol, spray bottle. Instructions: use sharpies to do what you want to a piece of canvas. Draw a picture. Or just go hog wild with scribbles. Your choice. Picture from Pinterest.First layer of marker. Sprayed with rubbing alcohol. Dry time 10 minutes.Second layer of markers. Splashed rubbing alcohol straight from bottled. Dry time 10 minutes. Third layer of markers. Splashed rubbing alcohol from bottle. Dry time 10 minutes.
Concerns: messy. This is being done inside. A lot of dead time and I’m not a Chatty Cathy.
Night had fallen as they put the last box where it needed to go. She had taken all the pictures from the album that she wanted. Even cut out a few of the people she either didn’t know or didn’t like.
He had loaded all the garbage in the back of the SUV.
“I need to have this on file at your office.” She handed him an envelope. He knew what was in it. He took it to the SUV so that he wouldn’t forget it.
When he returned, he found her stretched out on the front porch swing. With the scoop of one hand, he picked up her legs, sat down on the swing, before resting her legs on his lap. She didn’t protest. So he slipped off her house shoes. Her small feet fit perfectly in his hands. She moaned slightly as he caressed those tired little feet. He remembered all the times he had painted her toenails for her and wished he had the stuff to do it now.
“That feels really nice.”
“I’m glad.”
“Someday you will have to allow me to return the favor.”
He was doing this because he wanted to be close to her. Why couldn’t he tell her how he’d missed her? “Evelyn, I’m really sorry about what happened.” He stopped short.
“But?” She picked up on his dropped sentence.
How was she able to read him like a book? This is what she was referring to when she spoke of their connection. He stared down at the floor, “I’m glad you’re home.”
“I never thought I’d say this but it feels good to be back.”
Dillon couldn’t stop the smile that crept across his lips.
“Dad tells me you haven’t been to church in a long time.”
His smile quickly faded away. “Can’t,” was all he could say.
“When we were little, you were the first one there when the doors opened and the last one to leave. Some times Pastor Sam had to run you off.
“Not little anymore.” He had to change the subject off of himself. “I don’t like it that you’re out here all alone.”
“I’m not all by myself.” She grinned.
His head shot around as if she was lying to him. “Is your dad comin’?”
“No, I have God to protect me.”
God! He thought, how’s God going to protect you? Dillon said it before he could stop himself, “Where was God the last time?”
Evelyn sat up in the swing; her feet still in his lap. “He was with me. He warned me something was going to happen, I just didn’t know what. This happened to me for a reason and in his time, I will find out why.”
What was she saying? “You’re not angry with God that you almost died?”
“Should I be?”
“How can you not be?” How’d she do that? Come to think about it, she’d always been able to see right through him. He couldn’t face her. He just stared at her tiny feet.
“The hand of man struck me Dillon, not the hand of God.”
He was getting more aggravated by the minute. “God could have struck him dead. God could have caused him to change his mind.” He was about ready to cry.
“Then I wouldn’t be here.” Came her calm reply.
He rubbed his fingers through his hair. Why was she able to get under his skin so?
Once he was behind the house where no one could see him, he started pacing. Long breaths escaped from his lungs in a failing attempt to regain control over his emotions. His lungs and his heart were burning.
It seemed like hours before he could compose himself. When he went back to the porch he found her sitting on the swing with a book on her lap. “Sit.” She patted the swing beside of her.
After a long moment, he sat down. She rested the book between them. It was a photo album. “I thought about throwing this away.” The first picture in the album was of her and her husband? Ex-husband? They looked so happy. And at that moment in their lives, who was to say they weren’t.
“Where’d you get married?” He was trying to seem interested in an attempt to hide his true feelings. What he really wanted to ask her was how she could have married anyone but him?
“We got married on a yacht. Mama said she’d never seen so much water in her life.” There in the album was a happy picture of Jack and Lily. At least Lily got to see her only child happily get married. She didn’t have to see the horrors this beast inflected upon her baby.
She took that picture out, placing it on the floor. As she flipped through the album she talked, taking out every picture of her parents. “Our happiness lasted for 5 years. As time passed, he became silent, isolated. Not the man I married at all. He made one bad decision after the next. One day God told me to prepare myself.” She stopped turning the pages. Her eyes fixed on something. Maybe a blade of grass in the yard. “I sent dad a letter to tell him something was wrong. For eight years, I set him every dime I could spare. I started getting shared responsibilities out of our names.” She scoffed. “I wouldn’t even drive the car that “we” bought. I bought my VW. I was preparing for the day God warned me about. One night I came home late from work, laid my keys on the table like every night before, and got something to drink. He was watching football so I didn’t bother him and proceeded to take a shower. As I was walking to the closet from the shower, he grabbed me from behind. The next thing I remember was waking up in ICU.” She stopped talking. The album slid out of her lap onto the porch. Her eyes were closed as she spoke and her lips quivered. “I spent six months in the hospital Dillon. Six months.” Her voice was a whisper. “I had to learn everything all over again. Like a baby. I had to relearn everything.” Her hands began to tremble. He held them steady for her. It just felt like the right thing to do. She hugged him with the force of a bear, a scared timid bear. But she didn’t cry. Maybe, he thought, she was all cried out.
“Evie,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I would have been there for you. Please know that.”
His confession broke her heart. She allowed him to wrap his arm around her shoulder.
“I often wondered if you knew. We had such a connection growing up. I often wondered, if by the grace of God you knew.”
It was all he could do not to cry. “I swear to you Evie I didn’t know.”
Have you heard the saying, “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks”? I have. All of my life. Well, I’m here to tell you, you can – with work.
My Chico is 11 years old this year. The king of the castle can go pretty much wherever he wants to. There are exceptions. He can still jump with ease in the chairs and on the couch. But the bed was a little too high. Love him, he’s getting old. Of late he would sit on the floor and cry ‘cause he couldn’t make it. Oh, this had to stop.
You’ve heard of people who get hangry? I get slangry. Angry because I didn’t get enough sleep.
Picked up some boxes from work and placed them on the side of the bed he used. The cardboard was too slick. So, I covered them. He still wouldn’t use them. Plus, there wasn’t enough space for the boxes and me between the bed and the wall. This wasn’t working. I needed Chico to use the new platform at the same time, I didn’t need a broken ankle or a busted nose.
As much as I didn’t want to do it, I completely rearranged my bedroom. Cheekie only had one way to access the bed.
Preacher gave me a set of dog steps. I kept one covered box. He uses the box, no longer whining for help. And I get much more sleep.
The next step is to remove the box so he uses the steps.
After rearranging my bedroom, it dawned on me. I have a lot more open floor space. Not only was this good to teach Chico that he needed to use his new platform. But I got a clean room and more space.
Sheriff Pace watched her. He held his voice to a whisper. “Evelyn?”
“Are they gone?” Her voice cracked.
“Yes,” He continued to speak softly.
“Pinch me.”
What? No, I won’t! His mind screamed. “Why?” Was all he could say?
“Because if this is a nightmare, I so desperately want to wake up.”
A lump caught in his throat, he wanted to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. At the same time, he wanted to shake her and say, look at what your dad has done for you. Aren’t you grateful? Plus, you’re home. When he gathered his wits about him, he just said, “no.” The sight of her standing they’re looking so lost and alone was more than he could bear. His arms began to shake at the thought of holding her. His heart kept telling him, this is your Evie; she’s here. Don’t be mean to her. With one giant moment of courage, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
It took her a while to realize he was holding her. She wanted to fall apart in his arms. What a wonderful thought. It was too hard being strong. But she had always been the strong one. Instead of falling apart, she just laid her head on his arm. He was trembling. God what was happening to her? She knew all of this was part of God’s master plan. What she didn’t understand was why it had to hurt so much?
She took a deep breath slowly letting it out. “I’m okay.” She gently broke his hold. He followed her to the porch. She surveyed the boxes and bags that surrounded her. A defeated sigh crossed her lips as she sat on the top step. He sat down beside of her. “I’m sure you have lots of work to do.”
“Are you asking me to leave?”
Again she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and whispered, “no.” She stood up. The scent of her perfume hit him like a bullet to the chest knocking the breath out of him. “The trash bags are clothing.” She said picking one up and taking it into the house.
He grabbed one bag following her. “Evelyn, talk to me. I’m the last person you have to pretend around.”
She busied herself hanging up her stuff. “You have called me Evelyn more times today than you did our entire childhood.”
He knew she was avoiding the issue. Oh well, he would just go back to the porch. He knew the bags were clothing. The least he could do was open the boxes to see which room they went in. She and a handful of people from her church had packed in such a hurry that no one had labeled anything. Box number one; he cut the tape on top. It looked like things that would go in the bedroom. As he set the box down in the corner of the room, it fell apart. Pictures and papers spewed all over the floor. They made him sick. Were they autopsy photos? What was she doing with autopsy photos? This body was black and blue, covered with blood, and broken. His heart raced out of his chest. He couldn’t breathe. These pictures were horrifying. He had been around blood and his share of death in the last twenty years.
As he collected the mess, he discovered the papers were hospital reports, EPO’s, DVO’s, and police reports. And there, there in black and white was her name Evelyn Rose Rice. These pictures were of her! This broken body was her!
All Jack had told him was that Evie was in trouble. And that’s all he knew to tell his closest deputies. Evie’s in trouble. But this? How could a man that loved a woman do such a thing to her? Why? Why? Why? God why? How could you allow this to happen? In all his years as sheriff, he had never witnessed anything so cruel.
His Evie! Now it all made sense. Why Jack brought Evie’s returning home to his attention. Now he just felt really really sick.
“I see you found Pandora’s Box.”
Evie’s voice cut through him like a knife. Chills danced down his spine. “He did this to you?” He still was struggling to breathe. His face was pale and his hands were visibly shaking.
There was no expression on her face.
“Evelyn,” he gasped. “Why?”
She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. The thought crossed her mind a million times of if he knew and why he never came? His reaction to the pictures answered her questions. Jack hadn’t told him.
“Evelyn,” he almost screamed. “Why?”
She stared across her yard at the white picket fence. “That would be the $64 million question.”
“No,” he flailed his arms against the air. His face was now flushed with color. “No, I will not accept that answer.” He wanted to hurt something and hurt it badly.
She curled her eyebrows as his body tensed up. “I don’t know why.” There was no point in getting mad. It was over. Maybe. Nothing more could be done about it.
“But there has to be an explanation.” He was visibly upset.
“Must there be?” She wrapped her arms around her waist.
“Yes,” he roared. “Drugs, women, money; you name it.” He pounded his fist against his hand. “Take your pick but give me something concrete.”
She whispered, “I can’t give you something I don’t have.” She had already spent her upset time. Too much upset time. Her anger had been transformed into a will to live. A drive to survive. Now it was time for her to heal.
He bolted out of the house. No! This didn’t happen. Not to Evie.
I told myself I wouldn’t look. That it didn’t matter. Don’t read the reviews (if any on your e-book). To be honest, I was terrified. Still very gun shy. Imagine my surprise and delight when I read my first review. 🎉
Rebecca shut the drivers side rear passenger door with a trash bag in her hand. “Volkswagen.” She answered.
“Well,” Simon stretched. “I’ve never been up-close and personal with a Volkswagen.”
Rebecca and Simon put the last of the bags on the porch. They could hear voices inside the house.
“So you said the whole town got together and did this?”
“Several of them. Jack has many friends.”
Rebecca noticed Sheriff Pace’s voice wasn’t so mean. She was shocked. Did he have the ability to be nice under that cold exterior? She elbowed her husband whispering, “I told you this house was for a woman.”
“What part did you play?” The
conversation continued inside the house.
“The roof.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“What’s that suppose to mean?” His voice was almost playful.
“You always did things that other people didn’t want to do.”
“I see.”
“What did you think I meant?”
Simon pulled Rebecca into the house. “Hello,” he called. Rebecca gave him a stern look. She was happy on the porch ear hustling.
“Coming.” The lady soon stood in the doorway of the little hall. Sheriff Pace loomed behind her. His head touched the top of the doorframe.
“All finished.” Simon reported.
“Thank you both,” she smiled.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to help you unpack?” Rebecca asked.
“No,” she continued smiling. “It will give me something to do later.”
“Well now if you need us, we’re just across the road.”
The lady peered out one of the living room windows. Rebecca wasn’t sure if she saw anything when she looked out or not. Sheriff Pace touched her arm. She took a deep breath before turning around.
“Thank you,” she put on her bravest smile.
Sheriff Pace watched them walk away, as the little lady returned back to her empty thoughts.
Once they were in there own house Rebecca couldn’t stand it any more. “What do you make of that?”
“My big question would be why would you need three sheriffs officers to help you?”
“Maybe they’re just friends?” She offered.
“Right.” Simon rolled his eyes mocking her.
“Well you work for the man sometimes.”
Simon laughed, “you think Mr. Rice is private. Try getting more than two words at a time out of Pace.”
“Speaking of working for him, why didn’t you ever tell me he was the sheriff.” Rebecca glared at her husband.
“Because I didn’t know.”
“How can you work for someone and not know what they do for a living?”
“I go to the house, there is an envelope on the door with instructions. I do my job and leave.”
“But you get paid.”
“Direct deposit.”
She just huffed, “you have an answer for everything.”
He laughed, playfully tapping her butt with his hand.
Poetry & More 