Idlewilde: Introduction

I opened my eyes but I couldn’t see a thing. I heard her voice. She was running away from me, but her giggles carried on the air. My hands felt along the walls, the twists and turns until there were no walls, only bright light. I could smell the lilacs in bloom. I was in the garden. Kat was running barefoot in the grass, laughing and giggling, calling to me to chase her. I tripped as I fought to see. Her voice floated loud and quiet around me. I reached out for her, but I could not find her. Then, tiny hands touched my face. I looked up and saw her face blocking out the sun. 

Get up, silly. Come chase me. 

My eyes focused on her and I watched her dance around the grounds. I floundered to my feet and ran after her. Her sweetness continuously slipped though my hands, but she ran back to me to give me quick hugs, and then she was off again. I never could catch her. She was too quick, too young and impulsive. If I ran one way she went another, always one step ahead. Her laughter was infectious, and I laughed with her. It was all a game, wasn’t it? Just something to do so we wouldn’t have to do anything else. Just run and chase, see how close you can come to let it all slip through your hands and watch it all fall away. It all fell away. She ran farther from me and I panicked. She ran so far from me that I couldn’t see her anymore. I couldn’t hear her laughter. She no longer came back to me. The smell of lilacs vanished with her. She was gone. 

I woke up in cold sweat, knocking two cats off my legs as I sat up. A soft rumble of snoring came from Tam. He was still asleep, completely oblivious of my sudden movement. The cats are used to it by now. Why they still sleep on me, I will never know. Why Tam has stayed with me, too, it still a mystery, but that’s not about waking him up in the middle of the night. I love them all so much. But as the dream has reminded me, all that I love doesn’t always stay, nor does it always come back. I suddenly felt very defeated. 

I write my characters as though they were me: i.e. Obsessed with food... sort of...

I woke about an hour later to the sound of Tam trying to be quiet in the kitchen. Kat was gone. I sat up and saw a wrinkled note lay on the coffee table, slightly draped over my journal. “Gone to get Donuts. Be back soon. XO Kat.” I tucked the note in the journal and slowly steadied myself for the trip to the kitchen. Tam’s back was to me. It looked as though he was cooking. Ah, he did love me. 

“Hi,” came a scratch from my throat. 

He spun around with the knife still in his hand. “Hi, How are you feeling?”

“Okay.”

“I got your pills. They’re there on the counter.” He pointed the way with the knife. 

“Thanks.” 

“You’ll want to use them. I’ve broken many bones in my day, and boy, the pain can sure be a bitch.”

I was surprised that he swore. He never swore, not any of the big ones anyway. I was the one who had the potty mouth. 

“Are you hungry?”

“A little. What are you making?”

“Your favorite.”

“My favorite favorite? Or just my favorite?”

“Your favorite favorite.”

“I adore you.”

“I know.”

I took a whiff and immediately sucked in the scent of meatballs in tomato sauce and buttered mashed potatoes. Oh god, I was in heaven. It was the modified version of stuffed peppers, without the peppers, that my mom used to make for me. Peppers made me burp. I liked them, they just didn’t like me.

“I want to apologize...” Tam started to say. He kept looking down at the pot of potatoes he was smashing with the hand masher. “I didn’t mean to get curt with you. I was just...was preoccupied. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll accept your apology if you tell me what is going on.”

He sighed. “I think we may have a rabid coyote on the lose.” 

“Is that all?” I nearly laughed, but tried to keep it in. 

“It’s enough,” he said calmly. “You don’t need to be worried about something like this. I can handle it.”

“I know you can, and I appreciate it, but seriously, you could have told me that!”

“I wanted to get you home first. I just got confirmation about it this morning and when we were driving home, I thought I saw a dead animal in the field. Turned out to be nothing. Just a pile of brush.”

“Oh,”

“Anyway, I’m sorry. Here, taste this.”

Tam’s food was like an elixir; one taste and all of your cares and worries melted away; for a while anyway. But I had to forgive him. This was delicious. 

“Mmmm. Fantastic.”

He smiled. “I was going to make spaghetti, but I thought that would be cruel.”

We both laughed as I wiggled my cast in the air. My laugh was not really a funny-ha-ha laugh but rather a sardonic ironic laugh. “Yes, that would have been hard.”

“Can you mange to get some plates?”

“Sure.” I tried to find the humor in my cast, but it just wasn’t there. I really did rely on my right arm for so much. I laughed to myself thinking that Tam was like my right arm man. I secretly hoped that he would never get broken. 

Chapter One: The things that come back to haunt us...

“Molly? You out there?” Her voice was mixed with static on the radio.
“Yeah, Colleen, go ahead.”
“Could you go around to the school house? Charlotte needs you to look into something.”
“Did she say what was wrong?”
“It’s one of the kids; Kylie White. Charlotte said that she never made it to class, but Betsy said she dropped her off a little late, but she made it there.”
“Did Charlotte say if Betsy was drinking?”
“Ah-I don’t think we should discuss that over the C.B.”
I blushed a little with embarrassment. “Okay. I’m right around the corner.” I hung up the C.B. and I pulled into the playground. I parked at the south end of the school, near the edge of the pavement that looked over the steep hill. We used to roll down the hill in summer and sled in winter. It led right down to the highway, a dangerous ride, but fun nonetheless. Trees have since grown. Kids didn’t do that anymore.
David Johnson met me at the door. He had been the school’s principal for almost sixteen years. He and his wife Shelby, the school secretary, started working here the year I was trying to leave. My senior year in what they called a high school was the worst year of my life. It didn’t matter if I was seventeen; they treated everybody as though they were seven. But that wouldn’t fly anymore; I was the Chief of Police of this sleepy little town. Finally, I was no longer considered a kid. I was a peer.
“Hi Dave. What’s going on?” I asked.
“Kylie White is missing.”
“I heard. Has she ever skipped school before?”
“No, never. Betsy swears that she dropped her off, right here at 7:24 a.m.”
“She knows the exact time?”
“That’s what she said.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“No, she just talked to Charlotte, and it was over the phone, not in person.”
“Is Charlotte free yet?”
“In about twenty minutes. Recess is at quarter after.”
“Any way I can talk to her sooner?”
“I don’t want to alarm the students.”
“It might help...”
“It’s twenty minutes, Molly.”
“It’s twenty minutes that may be needed to save Kylie’s life.”
He turned a little red. “I thought you took an oath to keep the peace.”
“So?”
“Do you really think that there will be peace in this school with the police crawling around? We have a lot of small children.”
“They’ll hear a bout it eventually.”
“Not now, not on my watch.” He turned his back to me and headed back into the school. He had used that same intimidating crap on me when I was in school. I hated to admit it, but it still worked.
I rolled my eyes away from him and gave a huff. What bullshit, I thought. This place is so slow moving. Why the hell did I ever come back? My eyes glided over the snow like a newly waxed pair of skies.
“Dave? “Could you do me a favor and keep the kids inside today?” I called after him.
“Sure, Molly. No problem.” He called back to me without turning around.
Next, I called the office for some backup.
“Colleen? Is Tam there?”
“Yes, he’s here. You need him?”
“Please. Colleen, could you also call in over to Wausau? We’re going to need some forensics here.”
“Did you find something?”
“Yes, I’m afraid I did.”
“Do you want Kelly too?”
“No, tell him to stay at the office. I’ll need him free to cover us. We might be here for a while.”
“He’ll be mad.”
“That’s just too bad. I need him to cover the town. There are only three of us...”
“Molly? There’s another call coming in. Hang on-”
I looked over the edge of the hill that began at the end of the playground. My eye fell back on to the small pink shoe laying helpless in the snow about twenty feet from where I stood. A bottomless pit appeared where my stomach used to be. I’d seen my share of homicides while I was on the police force in Milwaukee. When I moved back here, I hoped, no-prayed, that I would never have to see another one. Five years and all was well. Until today...
“Molly?” Colleen called over my radio.
“Yeah, go ahead.”
“Tam's on his way. Tom is already in the area and will be there in about 15 minutes.”
“Thanks, Colleen. Tell Kelly I’ll call him in an hour to check in.”
“No need. He’s headed down there with Tam.”
“What? I said I needed him there!”
“He said not to worry; he’s not staying. He’ll drop Tam off and bring the squad back. Tam's truck is still at Bob’s.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.” My two part-time officers pulled up just as I disconnected.
The one nice thing about being in a small town was that no matter where you needed to go, it only took you less than five minutes to get there. The school was on one of the hills in town, the church and cemetery on the other. To the South was the Highway that led into Brent, another small town about forty miles away. I could see most of the town from the playground; to the North was Will’s Coast to Coast store, the General Store next to that and my apartment above the General Store. I could also see my Police Station’s back parking lot, Jill McCreeny’s house, and the roofs of several other buildings. The bad thing about living in such a small town was that everyone knew what everyone else was doing. The good thing about living in such a small town is that everyone knew what everybody else was doing and I prayed that someone knew something about all of this. I wrote in my notebook a reminder to talk to Jill and find out if she had seen anything up here this morning.
I walked over to Tam as he stepped out of the car. Kelly glared at me. I leaned into the car and told him that he would be watching the town. His face lit up. He gave a wave and headed back to the station. Tam immediately roped off the area. We took a closer look at where the shoe lay, and found something else that I wasn’t expecting; two sets of footprints, one large, the other small. I had a tiny twinge of hope and a large pang of despair.
Our FBI man, Tom Weatherfield, from the Wausau agency, arrived just after Tam. He told us that his forensic team has been alerted and will arrive in a half hour. We gathered around the vehicles and tried to speak in low voices. I saw out of the corner of my eye that some of the students had opened some windows. Rumors spread like wildfires around here. Even though they didn’t know exactly what we were talking about, the police gathering on their playground was still something worth talking about.
“Tom, it’s good to see you.” I stretched my hand out and he shook it.
“What kind of trouble are you in?”
“Big trouble. There was a young girl reported missing this morning.” I looked back to the shoe on the hill. Tom followed my gaze. I think he could tell what I was thinking.
“Let’s take a look,” he said.
We walked over to the edge and peered down. I pointed to where the shoe was found. He nodded and then grunted.
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Down there, past those small trees...see that?”
I squinted and stared until an unusual reddish lump came into focus. “What is that?” I asked rhetorically.
“It looks like someone sitting in the snow,” replied Tom.
I looked to my right and caught Tam’s gaze. I felt sick. Tom and Tam made their way down the slippery hill to the figure. They reached it at the same time, looked at it, and as Tom studied it, Tam stood straight up and gave me a very grim look. I knew instantly that it was Will. I was thankful that there were no windows on this side of the school. Then again, if there were windows, we might have found him earlier.
10:25 a.m. approached and Charlotte came out of the building. I motioned to Tam to come up and join me while Tom examined the body; Will’s body.
Tam stretched an arm out to me as he reached the top, “You all right?”
I smiled weakly at him. I nodded over to Charlotte and we walked over to meet her before she could see what we had found.
“Charlotte.”
“Hi, Molly, Tam. You talked to David?”
“Yes. He told me what you said about Betsy.”
“She didn’t sound drunk, Molly. She was coherent and alert. She said she dropped Kylie off and the voice on the radio had said 7:24. That’s how she knew what the time was.”
“Okay. Did she say if she had watched Kylie walk into the school?”
“No, I don’t think she did. She would have said if she did.”
“So, basically, between here and that door, Kylie disappeared.”
Everyone nodded. Tom had called to me from down the hill. Charlotte looked over my shoulder in curiosity. She wanted to ask, but I gave her a concerned look and a slight shake of the head. She took a step back. The bell signaling the end of recess startled all of us. Charlotte excused herself.
“I’ve got to get back.”
“Right, thanks, Charl. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Yes, please. Good luck.”
I gave her a reluctant smile.
“Molly,” Tom yelled slightly as he ascended the hill. We quickly walked over to meet him at the edge of the ice covered black top. “I just got a call from my group and they’re pulling into town now. I’ll have them canvass the area, follow those prints, and see if we can’t get this guy out of here.” He glanced at me. He lowered his voice as we approached each other. “You know him?”
“It’s Will.” I wanted to add, ‘my friend’ but didn’t. “What the hell is he doing down there?” I said out loud.
“He’s dead Molly. He ain’t doing nothing.”
I gave Tom a fake laugh. It wasn’t funny. I had known Will for all of my life. I remembered when he gave me a lollipop when I was a kid, going with my dad to pick up supplies at his store. He and my dad had been friends. I haven’t even told him that Will was missing. I didn’t want to ruin his holiday. I’ll have to tell him now.
Tam looked down at Will with an expression of real sadness. Tam had worked in his store when he was quite young. No one in the town would give him a job. He always believed that it was because he was only half Native American, with a father whose reputation ran over the edge of his own life and stained his son’s. I told him it was just because he was a punk kid. “Will gave me a chance. Turned my life around. Helped me make something of myself... I know we’ll find him eventually. I hope he’s still alive. I just wish...” Tam said when we learned of his disappearance.
“It’s okay, Tam. We can put this behind us now.” Will’s red checked flannel was what Tom had seen from the top of the hill. He was half buried in snow with his frozen fingers rapped around a bottle of Jack Daniels. There was no blood on him that we could see. His skin was grey, with tracings of blue around his mouth and eyes. Tom concluded that he must have passed out and froze to death. One mystery solved, sort of, but it didn’t help with our other missing person’s case. Tom and his team were in the process of scouring the area looking for clues to Kylie’s disappearance. We couldn’t move Will until the area was completely searched, in fear that we would disturb evidence while moving him.
It was a cold day. It had started out sunny, 15 degrees, but by the afternoon it turned cloudy and the wind seemed to be picking up. None of us were too glad to be out there, but we had to do what we could. Shelby was kind enough to bring us some hot coffee after she prepared the lunches for the students. It was almost one o’clock in the afternoon. I couldn’t feel my fingertips. Tam thought it would be best to go over to the Brown’s house to tell his wife that we had found Will. Later, I said. I needed him here right now. A small woman, Mrs. Brown had always appeared to be a calm person. Yesterday, after she had attended mass, she approached me while I was heading towards Carole’s Coffee Shop. She told me that she had a dream the other night about Will. She said that he told her to not be sad, to be happy every time she thought of him and their life together. She said that he wanted her to be happy because he loved her. She also said that if I never find Will’s body, she knew he was in heaven, warm and safe. I wish I could have felt that way.
Colleen, my dispatcher, came with sandwiches and more coffee. I asked her about our ‘boy.’ “Kelly’s fine,” she said. “He pulled over an out of state license running a red light. He’s still beaming with pride.”
“He didn’t put the guy in jail, did he?” I asked with a full mouth of sandwich.
“No, but I’ll bet you that he wanted to.”
“Or shoot him,” I mumbled.
Kelly was so young; twenty-three years old, right out of the academy. He wanted to join the army and “see some action” but his mother scolded him and told him that if he moved away, she’d never speak to him again. If my mother had said that, I would have gone anyway. Kelly’s mother was gone now, died last year in the spring, but Kelly kept his promise to her that he would stay near his dad and take care of him. His dad made more money than Kelly, so, in fact, it was his dad who was really taking care of Kelly. But Kelly was a good boy and a great sport when we make fun of him. Truthfully, he was like a little brother to me; a little brother I never wanted. Kelly O’Flannon: his father was one of the first babies to be born in the town. His grandfather was the first Mayor. He was very Scottish, with red hair and blue eyes, genes passed down to every generation so far. Before I moved away, the O’Flannons would lead the Fourth of July parade; Kelly, his brother Sean, his father and his grandfather would walk down the main street through the town center in traditional kilts, playing the bagpipes. When most people complain about the “noise,” I just laughed. I loved watching them, acting so regale, somehow holding tight to an ancient heritage. I admired that.
“Molly, when you’re done there, I need you to take a look at a few things we found.”
I nodded my head ‘yes’ as my mouth was full of turkey on whole wheat. I had to excuse myself first. Nature called. I went around to the door at the back of the school. I knew this place so well that I had once found my way to the girl’s bathroom while studying for a geography test, not having to look up to find my way around the hallway corners. I sometimes walked the halls in my sleep, dreaming about all those days spent here, all those days not spent here and wondered how the hell I survived. I ran my hands under the hot water for a few minutes. I could feel myself thaw a little. I closed my eyes and listened to the water dripping on the tiled floor. It splashed, hitting the other droplets that had also fallen. I slowly blinked my eyes open and glanced at the floor beneath me. I was standing in a pool of red liquid. The stench of old blood burned my eyes.
I saw something move in the mirror and turned around. There was nothing. The only sound was my own heart beat, ricocheting off the walls. I saw something from the corner of my eye and I turned again to find my self in the mirror and a man behind my reflection. I didn’t blink. He was a man my age, maybe a little older, a little taller, and dripping wet. His face was smeared with mud and he looked at me with growling blue eyes and a snarling mouth. He wore an overcoat that was dark from being wet. His hair was stringy, hanging in his face. He raised his fist, gripping a large knife with blood dripping from it. His mouth opened to let out a chilling cry as he lunged toward me. I fell sideways, sliding on the wet floor. I drew my gun, aiming it at the spot I had just occupied, but there was no one there.
There was no blood on the floor; there was no water dipping. Everything was clean and dry. I couldn’t breathe. The sound of giggling girls grew loud in the hallway. I scraped myself together and stood again at the sink. The girls walked in as I splashed water on my face. They went on talking and giggling as I finished. They weren’t looking at me; they ignored me altogether. By habit I looked into the mirror but filched as soon as I saw my own reflection. There was just me. No one else. I wiped my face and left.
I walked over to Tom who was crouching by the edge of the pavement and a row of bushes that led to the building. There was a sheet of plastic laid out with some items placed on it. I glanced down. First there was the shoe, then a piece of tan and maroon plaid material, maybe a part of her dress, a pink knitted mitten, a piece of lined notebook paper, a gum wrapper, a twig with some strands of blonde hair tangled with it, another piece of material-same color, and a torn and bloody pink Hello Kitty backpack. That empty pit in my stomach grew a little bigger, and heavier.
“We found some tracks heading southeast down that hill. Large prints and small prints; until that tree-the oak. Then there are just large prints, deeper, though, and labored, as if he picked something up and carried it.”
“You think it’s a ‘he’?”
“Yeah, size 14 and a half shoe. Same as Detective Jacks there.” Tom pointed to a tall, heavier set man photographing the prints in the snow. “There’s no woman who could fit that shoe.” Or wrestle with a six-year old girl and win. Tom pulled me over to a smaller tree near where we stood. “This is where the backpack was taken off. There was a bit of blood here, lying lightly on top of the snow.” Tom shook his head. “Poor kid. He, whoever ‘he’ is, hit her against the tree.” He pointed to a spot where there was blood and pieces of hair imbedded in the bark. Detective Jacks came up behind me. He gave me a slight startle. I was still a bit jumpy from before, and finding all of these “clues” weren’t helping to settle my nerves. I tried to shake it off. There was no time for melancholy feelings at the moment.
“Where do the tracks lead?” I redirected.
“They head to the river. Down by Stalva’s cottage,” replied Tam as he reached us. “Are we going to search it?” asked Tom.
“When we get a search warrant,” I said.
“It’s a summer cottage. How are we going to get in contact with Stalva?”
“Call Europe, I guess. You get long distance with that?” I pointed to Tam’s cell phone.
“No, not until 7 p.m. Just Local for now,” replied Tam.
“Call Judge Baker. I’m sure he won’t object.”
Tam nodded and began to call up the judge when Tom’s walkie-talkie went off. We could hear him mutter into the receiver as he took a few steps away from us.
“No need,” Tom called to us.
“What’s the matter?”
“My guys went down to the cottage. There’s no sign of entry. The tracks lead over to the Highway but they stop there. There’s a set of skid marks on the road going east. They... uh... found a woman...” He became silent.
“Oh, no.” My heart skipped.
“She was strangled and has a head wound towards the back of her skull. There’s no I.D. on her. Medical Examiner John Grimily is on his way over. He’ll take her to my morgue for a thorough investigation. We’ll have access to missing persons there, too. I’m sorry Molly. For now, we have nothing.”
“We have much more than nothing. This has been quite a morning.” The sky turned a strange blueish grey color. The clouds showed their affection for us and opened a soft snowfall onto our crime scene. Tom turned his face to the sky with a scowl. “Now?” I asked the sky.
“I guess we’ll have to call it a day,” sighed Tom.
“You go ahead. I want to look at something here. I’ll come by the morgue tomorrow morning and check on Mr. Brown- and the Jane Doe.”
“Sure, Molly. I’ll wait for John. He shouldn’t be long.”
“Thanks, Tom. I’d appreciate it.”
Tam and I headed back up the hill. To be honest, I didn’t think there would be anything unusual to find on Will, but with everything going on, I didn’t want to miss anything, no matter how small and unimportant it may turn out to be. I looked up into the sky and felt the chilly snowflakes fall on my already chilled face. The snowflakes stuck to my eyelashes, keeping their form until I blinked them away. I watched them flitter to the ground, directing my gaze to something I needed to find.

Introduction: Idlewilde

The winter had been especially cold this year. Since Christmas, we’ve had over 60 inches of snow. There has been no chance of some melting relief with the temperatures constantly in the twenties or below. We all felt the chill; it was in our bones, freezing our blood, our minds and our emotions. Some found comfort in the arms of a lover in front of a fireplace; others found solace in the warmth of alcohol, while others, myself included, found it easier to just freeze with the weather.

A six-year-old girl was reported missing Monday morning, January 8th, at 9:37 a.m. The school called the missing girl’s mother at approximately 8:00 a.m. to find out why she hadn’t arrived. It is not uncommon to have a child sick during the cold winter, however, it was uncommon that Mrs. White hadn’t called to let the school know that she was keeping Kylie home for the day. The story turned suspicious when Kylie’s mother claimed that she had dropped her daughter off at the side entrance of the school at exactly 7:24 a.m., six minutes before the bell would ring and signal the start of the school day. Her teacher claimed that the child wasn’t in her seat, nor had anyone seen her before the start of class. The girl was easily missed; blonde hair, blue eyes, blood red lips and snow white skin-a child like this would be common in any other school, but here, out of only 237 grade school and high school aged children taught together in the small school house, little Kylie was the only one who fit that description. Everyone in the town would eventually hear of her disappearance, but they printed it in the local paper anyway.

Kylie also stood out in the town of 1354 people, most of them from Native American descent. Everyone knew each other’s name. It felt like a large extended family. On summer holidays, everyone gathered in the park. On the Fourth of July the children would put on a play before a display of bright and exciting fireworks. The Christmas pageant was the same every year with same songs and the same dances. This last Christmas, however, one person was missing from the festivities. Will Brown disappeared three days before Christmas, most likely during the snowstorm. Some think that he will appear after the snow melts in the spring. I was hoping we would find him before that, but as each day passed it was increasingly unlikely that we would find him alive.

Will wasn’t anything extraordinary to most people, but he was a part of the town. He ran the hardware store off of Hwy. 51 and Main Street. It was a small Coast-to-Coast Store; barely had any stock, but it had enough for what folks needed around here, and not much more. His wife reported him missing Thursday, December 21st at 9:24 p.m. Will closes the store habitually at 7 p.m. and when he hadn’t shown for dinner, Mrs. Brown became worried. His car was still parked in the employee lot behind the building. For some reason, I didn’t think Will made the attempt for home that night. I didn’t think he was alive either.

Christmas came and went. New Years came whether I wanted it to or not. It was off of vacation and back to work in a town where hardly anything ever happened. Then the call came through to the dispatcher that Mrs. White couldn’t find little Kylie.

Rain

The raindrops stopped falling as soon as they noticed the man looking at the woman across the street. Every drop of rain stopped falling in the sky, frozen in the space around them, suddenly afraid of falling any farther than they already had. They dared not to move even one of their H20 molecules until the problem was resolved between the two lovers.

“Carrie!” he shouted to her, but she pretended not to hear.

Ben, as he tried to dodge suspended drops of rain, ran across the street to where she stood, staring blankly into a shop window of some store he knew she would never go into. She saw him walk towards her in the reflection of the glass. She watched his body move around the raindrops, his damp shirt showed off the curves of his strong shoulders. His light brown hair, dark from the rain, clung to his beautiful face. She felt her heart pound as her desire for him grew, but her fear grew faster. It’s too late, she thought to herself. I’m hopeless. Carrie noticed that he was still far enough from her so that he would have to make a strong effort to catch her. She turned to make her getaway but a rather large raindrop positioned itself in front of her face, halting her movement, giving Ben the opportunity to catch up with her. She frowned and saw the raindrop frown back at her with her own reflection.

“Carrie!” he called to her again. “Can I talk to you?”

“It’s not a good time, Ben.”

“We need to talk.”

Reluctantly, she gave in. She had no choice; she lifted a foot to find that a puddle had moved under her feet and held on to her shoes, refusing to let her go. The rain that had fallen on her face before the story began looked like tears around her eyes. She knew that she had to talk to the man, she just didn’t want to talk about what they needed to talk about. Lay low on the defensive, she thought. That might work. “About what?” she finally said.
Her words caught him ruff around the edge. He didn’t want to say anything either; he didn’t want to say the words that would make everything real instead of keeping it all safe in the imaginary.
Before he could get out the words that were stuck at the bottom of his lungs, Carrie quickly said, “It’s not going to work, Ben. I have things I need to sort out before I get into a relationship...”
Her words trailed off in his ear; those were not the words he was going to say...
“... and I think I just need time by myself...” she continued.

It was obvious that she was trying to let him of the proverbial “hook” she had hung him on. He didn’t understand; he wanted to be with her. He had thought that perhaps, she wanted to be with him, too. He wanted to brush the curls of her red hair out of her eyes in the morning like he had done only once before. He was addicted to her face, to her round soft cheeks, spotted slightly with freckles. He wanted to kiss her, press his lips against the lips that had oddly formed words that seemed too foreign for him to understand. His heart beat fast in the dreaded anticipation that he may never see this woman again.

Carrie placed her hand over her heart, tapping her fingers on her skin. “In here...” she began, “it just hurts too much to try again.”

“But we haven’t even tried for the first time-”

“I don’t know if I am ready for you...”

Her round blue eyes caught their reflection in the millions of the surrounding raindrops. (They couldn’t wait to see what happened next...) Carrie dug her fingernails into her skin; her fingers pushed past her ribs and the left lung, and with a deep breath and a soft tug, she pulled her beating heart out of her body. It lay in her open hand, unprotected and vulnerable. The heart had many cracks in it and it beat irregularly. Several quick, silver sparks sprang from it, like a shorted circuit. “It’s fragile, and I am afraid that any more damage may cause it to break entirely.”
They both stood facing each other, examining the heart.

“Can you handle something like this?” she asked him.

Without a word, a look or a smile-without any warning whatsoever-Ben reached into his chest and pulled out his heart, too. The raindrops, meanwhile, though they found this all very romantic, felt tired of holding their spot in the sky and thought that perhaps it was finally time to let go of their fear and fall again; this time, with the intention of washing away the blood that had seeped into the cracks and crevasses of the hearts that still lay in the silly humans’ hands. Carrie could see the deep wounds that Ben’s heart held; some healed, some still fresh. She looked at her own; they looked the same.

“I guess I’m not the only one.”

Ben shook his head no. He gave her a slight smile. “The question is, are we ready for each other?”

The rain began to come down light at first, then harder, fusing with the blood that had pooled in their hands, diluting it to make the liquid overflow and tumble onto the sidewalk; it splashed into the puddles at their feet, spilled into the water gathering in the street and mixed with the water that flowed in the gutters. The blood was no longer red by the time it reached the sewer; it had all become one with the water, indistinguishable and unfamiliar as a separate entity.
As eyes watched the water flow under the city, the two people who had stood on the sidewalk, wondering whose heart was damaged more, began to melt under the weight of the falling rain.

When the Rain Stopped Falling... A Short Short Story

It was raining, but when the man saw the woman across the street, the drops of rain stopped in the sky, frozen in space, suddenly afraid of falling any farther than they already had. They dared not to move one molecule until the problem was resolved between the two lovers.
“Carrie!” he shouted to her, but she pretended not to hear.
Ben, trying to dodge suspended drops of rain, ran across the street to where she stood, mesmerized by a shop window of some store he knew she would never go into. She saw him walk towards her in the reflection of the glass. She watched his body move around the raindrops, his damp shirt showed off the curves of his strong shoulders. His light brown hair, now dark from the rain, clung to his beautiful face. She felt her heart pound as her desire and for him grew, but her fear grew faster. It’s too late, she thought to herself, I’m hopeless. Carrie noticed that he was far enough from her so that he would have to make a strong effort to catch her. She turned to leave but a rather large raindrop positioned itself in front of her face, halting her movement, giving Ben the opportunity to catch up with her.
“Carrie!” he called to her again. “Can I talk to you?”
“Now is not a good time, Ben.”
“We need to talk.”
Reluctantly, she gave in. She had no choice; a puddle had moved under her feet and held on to her shoes. The rain that had fallen on her face before the story began looked like tears around her eyes. She knew that she had to talk to the man, she just didn’t want to talk about what they needed to talk about. Lay low on the defensive, she thought, that always seems to work. “About what?” she finally said.
Her words caught him ruff around the edge. He didn’t want to anything either; he didn’t want to say the words that would make everything real instead of keeping it all in the imaginary.
But before he could get out the words that were stuck at the bottom of his lungs, Carrie quickly said, “It’s not going to work, Ben. I have things I need to sort out before I get into a relationship...”
Her words trailed off in his ear; those were not the words he was going to say...
“... and I think I just need time by myself...” she continued.
It was obvious that she was trying to let him of the proverbial “hook” she had hung him on. He didn’t understand; he wanted to be with her. He wanted to brush the curls of her red hair out of her eyes in the morning like he had done only once before. He was addicted to her face, to her round soft cheeks, spotted slightly with freckles. He wanted to kiss her, press his lips against the lips that had oddly formed words that seemed too foreign for him to understand. His heart beat fast in the dreaded anticipation that he may never see this woman again.
Carrie placed her hand over her heart, tapping her fingers on her skin. “In here...” she began, “it just hurts too much to try again.”
“But we haven’t even tried for the first time-”
“I don’t know if I am ready for you...”
Her round blue eyes caught their reflection in the millions of the surrounding raindrops. (They couldn’t wait to see what happened next...) Carrie reached into her chest, pushed past her ribs and the left lung, and with a deep breath and a soft tug, she pulled her beating heart out of her body. It lay in her open hand, unprotected and vulnerable. The heart had many cracks in it and it beat irregularly. Several quick, silver sparks sprang from it, like a shorted circuit. “It’s fragile, and I am afraid that any more damage may cause it to break entirely.”
They both stood facing each other, examining the heart.
“Can you handle something like this?” she asked him.
Without a word, a look or a smile- without any warning whatsoever- Ben reached into his chest and pulled out his heart, too. The raindrops, meanwhile, though they found this all very romantic, felt tired of holding their spot in the sky and thought that perhaps it was finally time to let go of their fear and fall again; this time, with the intention of washing away the blood that had seeped into the cracks and crevasses of the hearts that still lay in the silly humans’ hands. Carrie could see the deep wounds that Ben’s heart held; some healed, some still fresh. She looked at her own; they resembled each other’s.
“I guess I’m not the only one.”
Ben shook his head no. He gave her a slight smile. “The question is, are we ready for each other?”
The rain began to come down light at first, then harder, fusing with the blood that had pooled in their hands, diluting it to make the liquid overflow and tumble onto the sidewalk, splashed into the puddles at their feet, spilled into the water gathering in the street and mixed with the water that flowed in the gutters. The blood was no longer red by the time it reached the sewer; it had all become one with the water, indistinguishable and unfamiliar as a separate entity.
As eyes watched the water flow under the city, the two people who had stood on the sidewalk, wondering whose heart was damaged more, began to melt under the weight of the falling rain.

A Break from the Novel: "Changing My Mind: A short story"

I don’t like being old. It isn’t working for me. I wish I could have a younger body again. I’ve forgotten how to move without these aches and pains, creaks and moans, the oohs and ahhs and oh nos. But at least I can move; I can swim. Every morning, I wake up to my internal clock that drives me to the pool in the darkness. I slink into the water and feel its coolness surround me, lift me, stretch me, welcome me back to life. I glide, I flutter, I float. It’s wonderful. Then back to gravity. Ooh.
After swimming, I drive out to my daughter’s house. She lives close to my youngest daughter. Today it’s Julie’s house, tomorrow it’s Abby’s. Julie’s vegetable garden is on the south end of her property, in full blazing sun. Her forty acres stretch from the road to the creek. Half of the property is rented out to one of the local farmers who had decided to plant alfalfa this year. When he plants corn, you can sit out on the back deck and listen to the wind breeze across the tops. Close your eyes and you’ll think of the lake; the big vast blue of Lake Michigan that lies only ten miles east of here. It’s so quiet here, unlike my house. It used to be quiet, nearly 40 years ago when we first built. But now, with the near by expressway getting busier and the new developments popping up everywhere, the peaceful sounds of the countryside have slowly turned into the sounds of a growing city. I suppose we could move, but the house is paid for and the gardens are in bloom. Where else would I want to be other than my home?
I pull up the long gravel driveway, twisting this way and that way, listening to the stones pop up underneath the tires. The crickets are deafening as I step out of the car. I reach for my gardening box before I shut the door, a sound that ricochets off of the garage and wakes up the dog. A large yellow lab starts to howl from his kennel several yards always from the house. I take a deep breath of the sweet fresh air. With my box in tow, I head for the kennel to say hi to Ollie and make my way to the garden. The dog’s tail is waging so fiercely that his whole back-end moves, his hind feet slightly lifting off the ground from the rapid movements. His tongue is lapping at his lips and I know that if I open the door, his tongue will be all over my face. My back is aching and I decide to spare myself the unnecessary discomfort of trying to bat his paws off of my shoulders.
“Hi, puppy,” I call to him, wave my fingers at him which sends him into more frenzy, more excitement, and more waging. Just two of my fingers fit comfortably through the wire fence and he greedily licks them like he hasn’t seen another soul for months.
“Whas-a-matter, puppy? Don’t they love you here?” A question I already know the answer to. Ollie is never want for anything. His toys litter the cement floor of his kennel, plastic containers of treats and goodies line the outside of the fence. His round, golden tummy jiggles a little as he jumps up down. Oh, yes. He is loved. I wave to the dog again and reassure him that I will stop by later when I am finished in the garden. Ah, the garden. I couldn’t count them among their wild branches, but I know that somewhere in the jungle there are about 40 tomato plants growing. I smile to myself. Oh, heck, there’s no one around so I laugh loudly. I could just taste the juicy sweetness of a red, ripe tomato, dripping down my chin. We used to eat them like apples when I was little. My dad’s little garden producing the most wonderful tastes with the most unconventional methods, like old leather shoes buried in the asparagus patch. Fertilizer, he had called it. I’m glad to see his passion for gardening is being passed down to my children. Hopefully, when Julie’s girls are older and more settled, they’ll love it too. I laugh again. Julie is now the proud owner of an empty nest. Her youngest has been gone for two weeks now to the university. I wonder how she’s coping. Me, personally- I couldn’t wait to get them all out of the house. After six kids and countless baseball and football games in the back yard, I am finally able to have my garden. My flowers, finally, have a chance to live.
Ooh. My back stiffens slightly as I bend over, readying to pull weeds. Ahh. My legs shake as I stand back up. I don’t how she does it, that Julie. She’s been a dancer since she was little. So much energy. Now she’s a fitness instructor and coordinator at a posh, upscale health center. She teaches, yoga, pilates, spinning, aerobics, some other classes I could never take, and her newest fad, Zumba. She said it was like salsa dancing. I said I eat salsa, not dance it. I’m too old for those kinds of things. I’ll stick to my swimming. But what she really loves is biking. She’s already rode in several century rides this year, and is always looking for more. I wish I had her energy. I wish I had a young body again. Not that I would go bike riding, mind you. But I might be persuaded to take a Zumba lesson or two. I giggle at the thought of my 5 foot round frame boogieing to beat of the salsa drum.
I set my eyes on the reddest, roundest tomatoes I have seen in a long time. My mouth starts to water. I can’t wait to get home and sink my teeth into them. Oh, my teeth. That’s another thing. With three pulled within this year alone, the rest are not looking too good. I think it’s next Tuesday that I go back to the dentist. We’ll see what torture he has planned for me next. I place the weeds in one pile outside of the garden boarder and the tomatoes in my handy basket. Julie’s husband, Matt, told me to just leave them there and he’ll pick them up with his tractor. With this size of yard, he needs one, but I think he wanted this size of yard just to be able to get one. Not to mention the 4-wheeler and the go-cart stashed somewhere on the property. Boys and their toys.
I make my way back up to the house, and Ollie starts to bark. His hind is facing me, so it’s not me he’s barking at. As I come up over the hill, I see the always smiling face of my third oldest. “Well, hello there!” she calls to me.
“Look what I got!”
“Don’t you want some more?” she seemed to beg rather than ask.
“Oh, I’ll be back.”
We meet at the top of the hill a ways away from the dog. He’s doing his frenzy dance again. Julie ignores him and walks me back to the house.
“Ooh,” I say as I place the basket on the cool garage floor.
“Stiff?”
“Yeah, it must the weather changing.”
“Getting cooler out.” We both nod our heads in agreement.
“I was just thinking how nice it would be to have a younger body like you again. No aches and pains.”
Julie laughs.
“Not to say that you don’t have your share, but it’s not like mine.”
“True. But do you know what I was just thinking?”
I shook my head.
“I was thinking how I would like to be you for a day, to see first hand what some of my clients at the club go through. I have so many that are older, and to know how they move, what their aches and pains are may help me to understand how to help them better.”
I was shocked. I never thought that a younger woman would want to try out my body. I always thought they were wishing that they had the bodies of their 20 year old daughters, not the body of their 73 year old mother. It was my turn to laugh.
“Well, if you want to switch, by all means. I’m game!”
Julie shrugged. “Ok.” She took a step back and cocked her head to the side. She gives a slight nudge to the left and crack, she was loose. She twists her head to the left, all the way around her self, and lifting it up and off of her body. I shrugged and followed her lead. Tilt, crack, twist, twist, twist. We looked at each other through floating eyes. Gently, our hands held out our heads to each other, and just as gently, took them back again. Julie placed hers on top and gave a nudge to the right. “Remember, righty tighty, lefty loosey,” came out of her mouth that was now on top of my body. Twist, twist, twist, and I was on too. We look at each other. If it wasn’t for the different body shapes, I would have never know that she is me and I am her. Or am I?
“I don’t feel any different.”
“Neither do I.”
“Bend- do something.”
She bent over to pick up the basket of apples. “Ooh, yeah. I can feel it.”
I smiled. So I wasn’t crazy. I took the basket from her and immediately felt a twinge in my lower back. “Ow! What was that?”
“My back has been bugging me for years.”
“Really?”
“Yep. And my feet ache a lot too.” I could feel it.
“Behind the calf?”
“Yes, that can turn into Charlie Horses if I’m not careful.”
“What’s that pain in the back of my neck?”
“I pulled that painting one year. Never been the same since.”
“And the shoulders?”
“I rode 50 miles this morning. Still a little sore. But wait until tomorrow! That’s when it really hits.”
I suddenly felt very disappointed. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yeah. Nothing unusual. Pretty much the same.”
“Knees?”
“I have the same creaks.”
“Hands?”
“Mine hurt, too, sometimes. After I pull weeds or fold laundry.”
I could feel the pain within them. “What about your energy?”
“I feel good. How do you feel?”
“Tired.”
“You should! You just rode fifty miles!” she laughs.
“Well, you just swam a mile and a half!” I retorted.
“Want to come in for some breakfast?”
“Sure, but can I have my body back?”
“Are you saying you don’t want to keep the younger body?”
“No, I guess I’m doing pretty good after all.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“So, what did you learn?”
“I learned that my clients are bunch of whiners."
“I don't think they're going to like hearing that."
"Tough. If my mom can do it, so can they!"
I smiled. I can do it, can’t I? I can soldier through the aches and pains to live another day. But why complain about it? I’m not the only one in the world who is old... I held out a tomato in my smooth, young hands. "There are some advantages of being younger," I say. We compare hands. They both look so familiar.
Julie shrugged. “They won’t last. Soon, they’ll look more like your hands.” They are like my hands.
They are my grandmother's hands, my father's hands, my mother’s hands, they are everyone’s hands. A warmth came over me as I think of Julie's girls and how their hands must also have this look. Perhaps that is where my youth lies. "Tomatoes for breakfast?" I ask her.
"What else is there? And don't forget to take some salsa home with you. I've made about 50 quarts already,” she says with a slightly disgusted and exhausted tone.
I suddenly remember all of the canning we used to do at home, when I was young and with my own daughters. All of the jars we had to sterilize, all the produce we had to gather and clean and peel or mash. All the futzing, the bubbling over, the spills, the messes...Ooh. I giggle slightly. Now that I'm older, I don't have to do that anymore. I'm able let the young ones do it and take a share in their bounty. I let the young ones do what young people are supposed to do. I don't have to do any of that anymore. No more shuttling around kids, no more basketball games or girl scouts, no more moving kids into apartments or dorms. Their on their own now. No more full time job. I especially like that one. I enjoyed doing some of that, being able to have my kids and to help them when I could. But it’s my time now. I have the time to do the things I want to do, to plant my gardens, to read my books, to enjoy my day where ever I want to be.
I change my mind. I like being old.