From April to May [FICTION]

Every teacher I had in grade school reassured me that April showers bring May flowers. I couldn’t doubt it when the gloominess of April led into warmer, sunnier May days filled with green grass underfoot and beautiful blossoms peeking out from every corner. I usually only ruminated on this old adage once a year, but when I moved into my new neighborhood, it frequented my head more and more.

It started the day I moved into my tiny cottage. My husband hadn’t arrived yet as he had details to clear up at his old job. I unlocked the doors and directed the movers single-handedly for hours. They finally deposited the last box in the living room and wished me a good day. After closing the door behind them, I sank down into my oversized sofa and let it envelope my body.

Seconds after the sound of the moving truck disappeared, my doorbell rang. I nodded my head to the pleasant tune for a few bars before realizing what it was. I opened the door to two elderly women holding trays of cookies as they argued in hushed tones.

“I got here first. You have to stop copying me.”

“No one would copy you, even if you are two years older.”

“It is one month and you know it.”

My appearance ended the argument, at least momentarily. Two snarls became beautiful smiles as two sets of wrinkled hands held our trays to me. I accepted the cookies, one plate for each hand and returned their smiles though apprehension settled around me.

“I’m sorry ladies. have just arrived and most of my stuff…” I gesture toward the piles of boxes, "I’m afraid the house is not presentable.”

Before I could finish, the younger of the two women shushed me with a raised hand. “No problem, dear. I can come in and help. If you want. My name is May and I live across the street in 504.”

Not to be outdone, her companion offered. “I am April from 502. I would love to help if you need it.”

“That is so sweet, ladies, but I was about take a nap. Thank you so much for these delicious cookies. I look forward to sharing them with my husband.”

“Yes, dear, that sounds lovely. Moving is so tiring.” April said. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you.” May added.

“Thank you. I look forward to getting to know you both better.”

They continued to beam at me as I stepped back inside and pushed the door closed with my foot. I could already hear them arguing as I placed the cookies on the kitchen counter and made my way upstairs, where I realized I needed to make the bed. I threw a comforter over the bare mattress and grabbed a pillow. Soon sleep engulfed me.

~~

I woke to my phone ringing relentlessly. I picked it up, squinting at the screen as my eyes adjusted to the twilight gloom seeping through the curtainless windows. My husband’s handsome face smiled back at me.

“Hi, honey,” I answered.

“Oh, thank goodness, Pearl. I was so worried about you.”

“I’m sorry. After the old ladies dropped by, I forgot to let you know we arrived safe.”

“We?”

“Me and all our earthly possessions.”

“Oh good. I thought you picked up a stray dog on the highway.”

“Nope. No such luck.”

“What is this about old ladies?” 

I briefly filled him in on our new neighbors and their apparent feud. As I mentioned the cookies they brought, my stomach grumbled loud enough that he encouraged me to get off the phone and find food. He assured me that all was well on his end and he should be with me in a couple of days, and I promised to find out a little more about our feuding grannies across the street.

I honestly considered eating the cookies before dinner. After all, a taste test of the competing cookies could help me crack the case, but my body insisted I start with real food. A quick search on my cell phone revealed that a small pizzeria produced delicious pies, pastas, and pastries about a mile from my house. I decided to walk the short distance.

As I reached the sidewalk, I heard two screen doors squealing across the street. I looked up to find April and May racing down their front steps to catch me first. I considered making a run for it but figured I might miss something interesting or cause a broken hip by doing so. Instead, I stopped at the edge of my yard to let them catch up, which they did at the same time, breathlessly greeting me.

“I forgot to ask your name.” May admitted.

“You must be starving. I wanted to make sure you knew about the lovely little pizza place near here.” April offered at the same time.

“My name is Pearl, and I was on my way to the pizzeria. You are both welcome to join me.”

They looked at each other awkwardly. I almost felt like I was missing a telepathic argument of epic proportions as they stared each other down. Finally, they frowned at each other and turned back to me, offering apologies for not being able to join me. Then they stomped off to their respective homes, leaving me amazed at how such tiny women in soft-soled shoes could stomp their feet through lush grass.

~

In the following months, I got a chance to witness the rivalry between April and May firsthand. Of course, as we left winter, the tension between then grew. April would shower her neighbor’s bushes with a questionable mixture using an old Miracle Grow canister at dusk on the evenings that May had Bible study at the Baptist church.

Suspicious about the poor growth of her prize rose bushes, May waited for April to visit her sister across town and unleashed boxes from the local pet store through a window left ajar to let the fresh spring breeze flow through her house. The whole neighborhood could hear April’s shrill screams at three in the morning when one of the new residents of her house ran across her face. As a night owl, I enjoyed these dramatic prankster moments. As a good neighbor, I didn’t share my observations with either victim of unkind hijinks.

It wasn’t that I didn’t get opportunities. As my house sat halfway between theirs, it seemed the two ladies were competing for my attention. My husband laughed that they courted me more ardently than he ever. Otherwise, he didn’t take much interest in their feud. I tried to ask each of them about it when they showed up alone with cake or pie, but their lips reminded sealed on the nexus of their hatred. They weren’t as silent about each other’s shortcomings, so I got to hear some biased local gossip spanning back many decades.

It all seemed rather harmless until the night that all three of the cop cars in the local police department’s car pool screeched down our street with lights on and sirens blaring. My husband followed me out onto the porch, trying to pull me back inside the house.

“I have to know what is happening.” I informed him as I pulled free.

I watched in horror as the cops raced up the stairs of May’s porch. They didn’t bother knocking. They slammed through the door like it was wet paper instead of sturdy oak. Soon, they came back outside with May in handcuffs. As they lead her down the steps, her voice carried across the street.

“She had it coming. You all know she had it coming. She killed my rose bushes. My prize winning rose bushes.” The officer to her left interrupted her, loudly reminding her of her rights. When he finished, she continued loudly proclaiming, “I know my rights. I don’t need a lawyer. I did what I did. April ruined everything. Just because she was a whole month older than me and got to use our father’s name, she thought no one would ever pick me over her. Well, someone did. I did. And that, officer, is why I had to murder my sister." 

 

~~Someone out there was thrilled by my murderously funny pun. Hope you have wonderful plans for May. Right now, I have cake and Star Wars on my agenda for the month. Okay, maybe just for that first week.~~

Sing Into Your Love [FICTION]

 “Now that you’ve moved up in the world, you better join us for one last night out before corporate advancement sucks out all of your cool,” Molly laughed.

“Sounds good. Where are we going?”

“Katie’s.”

“The karaoke bar?”

“You know it.”

“Sing you there.”

“You are losing your cool already.”

‘What? That was funny.”

“Nope, but you thinking it was is more proof that you are becoming lame.” She laughed again and walked away.

~~~

“So here is the rule of the night,” Molly said with a grin as we gather around our table with one of the song binders. “No one picks their own song. Someone else will pick for you.”

“And since it is your night,” Troy winked at me, “I know the perfect song for an old lady like you.”

He flipped through the book and turned a page toward me.

“”Islands in the Stream’” I grinned at him, “It’s a duet. Are you planning to sing it with me?”

“Nope. I want to hear you sing both parts. Anyone who is management material could do it.”

“I don’t think so.” I looked to Molly for support.

She shrugged. “Rules are rules. Get up there.”

As our table cheered me on, the disc jockey called out my name and the song name. I gave my alleged friends an annoyed look but no one noticed. I stepped up to the stage and looked at the screen, which informed me the first part belonged to Kenny. I sighed, took a deep breathe and prepared to sing. The first few notes floated through the air. A stirring in the crowd caused me to stop focusing on the butterflies in my stomach. I looked up to see a man hurrying through the crowd. He grabbed the second microphone and winked at me as the bounding dot prompted me to sing. My mouth dropped open but no words came out. Instead, the man began to sing in a perfect time to the music.

As he sang, I drank him in. He stood about a foot taller than me with short-cropped dark hair with hints of salt and pepper soon to come. The light stubble on his chin already exhibited those specks of silver and grey. As I gazed into his dark brown eyes, he smiled and nodded his head at the prompter where a pink dot now bounced beside the blue one.

I opened my mouth, surprised as our voices blended together perfectly. He leaned closer to me as we sang. Then he reached out his free hand and turned me toward the audience. His voice faded out and I turned back toward him to read the words over his shoulder as I sang solo. He smiled at me, nodding his head in time with the music.

“Making love with each other.” I felt my cheeks flush and the left corner of his mouth twitched as his eyes lowered to look at my lips.

As we belted out the last words of the song, he wrapped his arm around my waist and gently led me into a synchronized bow. We replaced our microphones to another round of applause and he kept his arm around my waist.

“It was a pleasure to sing with you,” he said. “My name is Logan.”

“I appreciate it. My friends thought it would be funny for me to sing a duet with myself.”

“I’d never let such a pretty woman sing alone.” He smiled sincerely at me.

I couldn’t find a response to that as the butterflies began bouncing around in my stomach again.

“So since your friends would, how about we ditch them and go somewhere quieter?” He offered me his hand.

I accepted it.

~~I hope that Earth Day brings you joy and opportunities to enjoy some sunshine and spring flowers. I traveled through a snow storm earlier this week, so I am valuing those lovely blooms and golden rays more than usual. Also, I realize I owe you another post of poems for National Poetry Month. Wish me luck and keep smiling.~~

A Truly Good Friday

Every year, the mixed feelings about Good Friday overwhelm me. I am so grateful that Our Savior loves each of us enough to suffer through the agonies of hanging from the cross, not to mention feeling every pain or sorrow that we have ever felt. At the same time, guilt creeps in and reminds me that he suffered more for every sin I ever committed. How do I balance these two pieces of knowledge?

Christ focused on the good in those He encountered and so should we. 

He refused to condemn the woman caught in adultery.

He healed all who showed faith and even some who didn’t.

He didn’t turn anyone away. He multiplied what they brought to Him and used it to feed their bodies and their souls.

And then, on a Good Friday so many centuries ago, He hung from a cross, feeling every hurt that would ever touch us and knowing that many of us would not accept the love so freely given or the salvation offered. 

This leads me to wonder what we could do each day to make every day as good as that Friday long ago.

We are not asked to hang on a cross. We are merely asked to look out for each other while looking to Him who loves us most.

We are not asked to give every drop of blood and breath of life. We are asked to give what we can to those in need, even if it is just a smile or a kind word.

We are not necessarily asked to behold the face of our mother as her heart breaks for the pain we are going through. We are asked to honor our parents and teach our children to be the good they want to see in this world.

We are asked to do little things whenever we can to leave this world better than we found it. I think even those who don’t believe in a higher power can agree with that.

What are you going to do throughout your life to honor that Good Friday so long ago?

~~~I had the best of intentions, but I was traveling on Good Friday and then I was at someone else’s house with two toddlers, so here is my belatedly posted thoughts. If you have faith, every day is a good day, right?~~~

A DOSE OF POETRY

DAY 5

Believe I loved you from the moment we met

Or would you think it makes no sense

To love someone who lost a bet

That this one was indeed a girl

Not a man trying to take the world

Because a real women in bytes is rare

And now we meet again somewhere

And you don’t believe the history we share

Because monsters outside imagination prove

Too real, too strong, for us to move

Does it make sense that a million miles

Can’t dull the warmth of your smile

When you forget and think once more of me

As the true love you claimed me to be

But the present returns and we wrench free

From illusions that we could only see

When the the sun sinks down, the moons reveal

The dreams we hide behind the real

~~

DAY 6

Lost in the dream where old friends can meet

Without wearing out our slightly aged feet

Lost in the dream of time truly cherished

Reassured that friendship hasn’t perished

So if I tell you I thought of you today

Know that I mean it in a loving way

And I remind you I want to see you again

Know that I mean it and we will both win

If we join forces to take a moment together

~~

DAY 7

I can never get too much of you

Though I know you don’t feel as I do

Drunk on love, wrapped up in your eyes

Being lured in by little white lies

Yet too little exists

Too much is a myth

I take all you have to give

And yet need more to live

In this dream, illusion of two

Locked in an embrace, me and you

~~

DAY 8

They tell you that you aren’t enough

But don’t tell you that life is tough

To make you stronger, force you to grow

They try to tell you that you just don’t know

Yet somehow wisdom creeps in

And you won’t give in again

When they tell you to give up, become their doll

So you laugh, break free of their thrall

And you’ll be the one to finally confess

That you were more though they called you less

~~

DAY 9

What is broken can not be fixed

Even when the harmer has been nixed

Though they deny your denial

They never accept they are on trial

So the egg once broken remains apart

Much like a shattered, untamed heart

Yet when you breathe deep, build anew

The broken pieces can help to renew 

And create perfection from cracks and scars

For we are made better by what is ours

~~

DAY 10

Sweetness on my tongue

Warmed on the vine by the sun

I reach past the thorns to claim

A love with a well known name

Let your juices flow through

Erasing any pain I knew

As nature’s nectar briefly heals

The darkness that so often steals

The strength to enjoy moments like this

Given one sweet blackberry kiss

~~

DAY 11

Where do you find it, this power

Do you find it in the witch’s hour

Is it in the flame that lights the fire

That warms the heart, stokes desire

Is it lost on us as we are lost
Do we seek it no matter the cost

Or is the power in humble hearts

Turning down more vaunted parts

In this great play of life

Or is it sharp like the edge of the knife?

~~I made an executive decision to post more poems at once. That way I only have to remember once a week to poem you up. I also took some inspiration from Emily Dickinson and decided to give numbers instead of names.~~

Phone Swaps [FICTION]

“We should have the evidence we need tonight, Barbie,” Peter beamed triumphantly at his partner.

“I hope so. This is the last case I ever have to work with you,” she glared at him, which somehow made her stunning blue eyes darker.

“You can’t mean that. We work so well together.” He leaned forward, inhaling deeply to catch hints of floral notes from her long, blond hair.

“No. I work. You watch and try to flirt with me.”

“I can’t help it. You’re every man’s dream girl.”

“Every man except John O. Hindman,” her mouth softened into a satisfied smile as she said the name.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that yet. One  more date to swap phones again and we’ll have him.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. We have to get the phone back or our evidence is heresy.” 

“You’ve got this, Barbie.” 

She snarled at him and turned away. “I better go get dressed for my date.”

~

“Is the setup set up?” Peter’s laughter tickled his partner’s ear as she stepped out of her car.

“Yes.” Her tense voice demanded professionalism in that single syllable.

“Understood.” Peter sullenly replied.

She stepped quietly toward the door. Her blue eyes tried to take in everything. Nothing set off that alarm in her gut that had saved her life on more than one occasion. An attendant opened the door for her. She bobbed in a gentle curtsy, internally cursing the tightness of her dress. 

As the host raised his head to greet Barbie, a tall man in a perfectly fitted suit stepped forward to take her arm. She smiled up at him, taking in the stubble darkening his chin and cheeks as he leaned in to kiss her smooth cheek lightly.

“I’m so sorry that I couldn’t pick you up, Barbara. CashCreation has been working me like a dog this week.”

“I can tell,” she gently ran her index finger along the rough stubble on his face as his dark eyes tried to gaze through her.

“If you keep that up, I’m going to have to fire you.”

“I thought you liked it.”

“I do, but I can’t be married to one of my employees.”

She drew in a sharp breath and stared back into his eyes. “I think you just might mean that.”

“I do. If I had met you before human resources hired you, I would have forbid them to do so.” He took her arm and gently guided her toward the host, who was watching them with bored eyes.

“Mr. Hindman, your table is ready,” he grabbed two oversized menus and motioned for them to follow.

John wrapped his arm protectively around her waist and she leaned into his shoulder. She looked at him quizzically as the host lead them through the main room and toward the private dining rooms at the back of the restaurant.

“Enjoy your meal,” the host said as he opened the door and waited for them to step inside.

The small dining room held a table for ten. Only two place settings marred the pristine white table cloth. Barbara looked to John curiously.

“You’re worth it. I just know it.” He whispered.

Her cheeks rouged. He smiled, licking his lips. His gaze traveled from her flushed cheeks to her lips. She turned her head and stepped toward one of the chairs. He rushed to hold it out for her as the waitress appeared in the doorway. She looked at the mostly empty table with disappointment before she got her face in check and smiled pleasantly.

“Good evening. I am Erica. I will be serving you this evening.”

John ordered as Barbara smiled bemusedly. Behind that smile, her mind processed the situation, wondering how she could switch the phones. The original plan involved a distraction from another member of the bureau, but causing a distraction in a private room would be too suspicious even to a smitten megalomaniac who thinks no one will ever catch him. She unconsciously touched the phone strapped to her inner thigh as she leaned in to listen to something he was saying.

John noticed and smiled, placing his own hand over hers. “Let’s not talk about work.”

She demurely moved their hands to the edge of her chair and shifted her legs to better conceal the phone hidden there. As if the focus of her thoughts somehow influenced it, the replacement phone rang inside his blazer. He pulled it out to turn it off and place it facedown on the table.

“I don’t want to be interrupted. It is rare to spend time with such a beautiful woman.”

Barbara blushed and pulled her hand away. John leaned closer, wrapping an arm around her back. She gasped as he kissed her, gently at first and then hungrily. She almost blurted out a thank you as the waitress returned with their drinks, giving her a chance to breathe. While John tried to charm the waitress, Barbara took a chance and swapped the phones. As she slipped the replacement phone into the special holster under her skirt, John turned back around.

“Where were we?” He leaned back into her.

As their lips touched, Barbara pulled away. “I’m sorry. I can’t. You’re the boss.”

“You’re fired.” He whispered and pulled her back into him.

“Do you need backup?” Peter’s voice whispered. “Use the code word…”

“You can’t fire me for refusing to kiss you.” She smiled into John’s eyes. “I’d have to sue you.”

He laughed and ignored her struggles to free herself from his surprisingly strong embrace. Luckily, footsteps pounded behind them as he reached for her thighs, his fingers inches from grazing the phone hidden there.

“John O. Hindman, you’re under arrest for fraud,” a familiar voice declared.

John finally released Barbara, turning to face Peter. “Fraud? I am just kissing a beautiful woman, who clearly wanted me to kiss her.”

“Did you want him to kiss you ma’am?” Peter managed to keep a straight face, but Barbara could discern the twinkle in his eye.

She feigned disdain. “That isn’t your business, is it?”

“Not unless you wish to press charges, but I think this man has enough troubles.”

“I’ll get this worked out, Barbara and then I will give you a raincheck on our romantic evening.”

“Might not want to wait for that phone call, ma’am.” Peter edged his way between John and Barbara, winking at her as he handcuffed John.

~~

“So?” Peter asked as they debriefed with their director later. “Did we get what we need?”

“Yes. The phone contained every conversation he had over the last week. If it is any indication of how he always conducts business, we aren’t charging him with enough counts of fraud and counterfeiting.” Their boss said.

“And?” Barbara asked.

“Barbara, your transfer went through. I hate to break up this team, but it’s time.”

“Past time,” Barbara grinned.

“I am glad you pulled off this last case together. No one else could have pulled this one off.”

Barbara and Peter looked at each other and nodded their agreement though Peter met Barbara’s triumphant smile with downturned lips.

~~Another exciting Friday night tale to ease you into the weekend. Though some people think that reading on a Friday night is no fun. I am clearly not one of those people. Either way, have a great weekend.~~

Poetry for Day 3 and Day 4

SCENT OF YOU

What is this carried on the wind

And where will this end

When the scent of you reaches me

And I look up and long to see

One who longer stands at my side

Will my tears need to hide

As I realize this is a memory

Of a love that used to be

And the soft scent clinging there

Is the not the same infused somewhere

In my mind and heart so long ago

I breathe deep, not yet ready to let go

Of this scent, forest, sea, and sand

Mingled and I feel your hand

Once more upon my face

Though neither of us is in this place 

~~

KEEP RUNNING

Keep running, keep them at bay

Keep running from what they say

They can’t catch up and pull you down

Tackle you to the cold, hard ground

Unless you stop and let them pass

Close enough to catch this lass

Keep running, you deserve better

Keep running, before they fetter

Your hopes and dreams, tie you down

So your own tears make you drown

Stretch those legs and run

Even if you must race the sun

Two poems for two days. Somehow I never found the time to post yesterday’s poem, so you get a two for one deal today.

SECOND CHANCE [POETRY]

You lost your second chance

When you took that second glance

At tears and red-rimmed eyes

And still responded with lies

Thinking I would never know

That true love would show

Forth in more than a caress

Or words that mean much less

For having been declared in vain

So no second chance to pain

My heart or rip my soul

Step away, you chose another role

Day 2 of Poetry Month brought you this small offering. Hope you enjoyed it.

FLUID [POETRY]

Fluid hearts seeking out the future

A different one for each feature

They ever admired in face or form

And when one fails to keep you warm

You seek another, moving on

As if love never bloomed for the gone

Fluid lies flowing from practiced lips

Never once does the truth slip

Because the lies have more power

To keep close for one more hour

The one we don’t really want to keep

When night ends and we rise from sleep

Fluid forms never commit to a self

So take that scalpel from the shelf

And make the old into someone new

And yet, no matter what we do

We always become ourself in the end

Maybe we should learn to be our own friend

The first poem of National Poetry Month. Will one arrive every day? Only time will tell, so feel free to check back and weigh in....

Loan Lunacy [FICTION]

Becoming a mother comes with a million checks and balances. Six months with a newborn has left me blissfully happy despite being broke and tired. I try to hide the weariness under a thin layer of makeup and a cheerful smile. Checking my hair one last time in the glass of the door, I enter the bank.

A lovely young woman with dark eyes and darker hair greets me with an energetic smile, “How may I help you today?” 

“I am here to see the loan officer, Ms. Pettit.”

“Of course. She is expecting you. Just wait right there.”

I sink into one of the cushy chairs in the waiting area and hope I won’t be waiting long. Otherwise, I might lean into the soft fabric and fall asleep. I double check my phone even though it doesn’t ring to make sure I didn’t miss a message from my sister. This is the first time anyone has watched little Nate and my anxiety won’t stop whispering that a million things could go wrong. 

As I lower the phone, a middle-aged woman with her salt and pepper hair pulled into a tight bun steps out of a nearby office. She smiles down at me over her half rim glasses. 

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Cass, we will be able to help you in a moment. I just need my special new trainee to finish prepping some papers and we’ll all take a look at your numbers together.”

“Okay,” I struggle to keep my smile in place as I wonder how much more time away from my baby will be caused by working with a trainee.

My smile slips as he steps out of the office. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

The tall man’s giant red shoes make squelching sounds with every emphatically awkward step he takes. His pants are large enough to hide two pit bulls wrestling in each leg without anyone being able to tell. He topped that off with a long grass skirt that swishes as he dances over to me. My eyes keep traveling upward, looking for the next terrifying detail. Blue circles and red stars add softer color to his bright yellow shirt, complete with an orange flower. I stifle a sob of concern as my eyes finally rest on his face.

Perfectly layered paint gives him a white face and huge red lips. A golden star surrounds his left eye. He smiles broadly as he makes an exaggerated bow. I find myself staring into a mop top of curly red string as I bite my tongue.

“Ouch.” I taste blood.

“Did I get you with my lovely curls?” He asks as he comes back up from the bow. “I hope not. I am Mr. Wiggles and I would be so happy to help you figure out the terms of your loan.”

I stare at him blankly for a moment and then turn a vacant stare on Ms. Pettit. She offers a sweet smile as if this is all perfectly normal.

“You can’t be serious,” I finally blurt out.

“What do you mean?” Ms. Pettit reaches for my arm.

I pull away from her, making sure I step away from Mr. Wiggles as well. “I think I will be looking for assistance from a different bank. Thank you.”

I continue backing away from them, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I am not walking into anyone. When I finally reach the door without squelching shoes or clicking heels trying to stop me, I turn around and hurry out the door.

I rush to my car, pulling the door closed and locking it. I peer out the window at the bank, relieved to find myself alone except for strangers passing on the sidewalk. As I take a few calming breathes, the oddness of the situation strikes me. The laughter starts in my stomach and rises up and out of my mouth, filling my car with hysteria.

~~This might have been a good post for October. What is more terrifying than having a clown in charge of your money? Hope you have all managed to stay safe from coworkers, family members, and friends who can’t resist the urge to prank you.~~