Letters From the Past [FICTION]

The mail girl slams my mail on my desk with her regular surliness. As I look up, she points her snarl downward to avoid accidental eye contact. I shake my head and pick up the three envelopes that caused so much frustration. The top two are interdepartmental memos that repeat information already relayed in emails. The return address on the envelope belongs to a local correctional facility.

I raise an eyebrow as I open the envelope. A single folded page of cheap paper falls onto my desk. I ponder the vaguely familiar handwriting as I begin to read.

“Norma,

“I know I took it upon myself to tease you every time I could when we were in high school, but nowI need help that only you can offer. If you are willing to forgive me or even just curious, come visit me during visiting hours. Either way, please don’t tell anyone about this letter.

“Yours,

“Amos”

“Wow.” I exhale sharply and place the letter facedown on my desk. “That’s a hard choice.”

“What is?” My cubicle neighbor Minnie peers around the corner of my doorway.

I remember the last line of the letter and gesture toward the piles on my desk, “where to start.”

“You and me both, sister. I always start with the smallest pile.”

“Wise.”

She turns back toward her own cubicle, tossing one final comment over her shoulder. “Just don’t get that desk too clean. That’s when people give you a new pile to shuffle through.”

“Oh, I know,” I force a laugh as I pick up the letter to read it again.

~~~

The conviviality and good will of the holidays leads me to a rash decision. That choice finds me standing in line outside the prison being eyed by a couple of shifty-looking men. Luckily, I dressed like I dress for work and my librarian chic and refusal to make eye contact eventually turns them off.

I continue shuffling forward with my eyes pointed toward the crumbling asphalt under my feet. When I finally reach the door, a gruff guard asks me a series of probing questions and runs a metal detector over me before pointing me toward a female guard. She gently pats me down and then turns me around to look into my eyes.

“First time?”

I nod.

“Don’t worry, honey, the boys act tough, but they are only tough with people who deserve it. They will keep you safe.” She inclines her head toward the gruff guard I had just interacted with.

He offers me the slightest hint of a smile before turning his attention back to the next visitor with his scowl firmly in place.

The female guard taps my arm. “You just go through those doors. That hallway leads right to the visiting room.” She pats me reassuringly on the back and sends me on my way.

The wide hallway features a hard concrete floor painted dark grey and brick walls coated in a thin wash of sickly yellowish green paint. I decide to focus my eyes on the floor. I follow the footsteps of the guard in front of me. When they stop moving, I halt and lift my head. He opens the door and holds it for me as I step inside.

“No touching. Don’t make eye contact with anyone but the guards or the person you are visiting. Let me know if you want to leave at any time.” He intones dully as I step into the room.

After that warning, I find it hard to lift my eyes upward to look for a vaguely familiar face. 

“Norma,” a voice softly pulls me out of my contemplation of my shoes.

I slowly lift my head long enough to glance at the face of the slender man before me. “Amos?”

“Yep. Still Amos.” He grins softly.

The guard at his side gently pulls him toward one of the few small tables dispersed around the large room. “Behave, Amos, or you’ll lose some privileges.”

Amos blushes and sits wordlessly in one of the metal chairs. I try to pull out the one across from him only to realize the chairs are bolted to the table. I sit down, annoyed by the forced proximity.

“Sorry about the seating, Norma, but they don’t trust guys like me. They have their reasons.”

“I’m sure they do.” I clear my throat and take a quick glance around the room

I quickly realize Amos is the least scary person in the room aside from me. Even the woman visiting the man to our left looks like she could take on one of the guards and give him a fair fight. As her argument with her inmate escalates, I begin to worry that I might get to see my hypothesis tested. The guard closest to them makes a soft clucking sound, however, and she settles down.

“So, you said you needed my help?” I ask, returning my attention to Amos.

“I do. Assuming you got my letter at the real estate office.”

“I did…”

He pauses, biting his lip in thought for a moment for before leaning forward to tentatively speak. “So I got a letter from my mom. She can’t take care of her house. I need you to help her sell it and find a new place.”

“Any realtor could do that.”

“But I trust you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Come on, Norma, you are the opposite of bad to the bone. And you always were a favorite of the little old ladies.”

I look at him questioningly.

“Every teacher we had who was close to retirement doted on you. You were so respectful and a bit of a know-it-all.”

“Didn’t you sleep through most of the classes we had together?”

“And yet I still noticed.”

“None of that makes me a better choice than Henry Perkins, who graduated with us and has been working at the real estate office twice as long as me.”

“What? You don’t want a commission?”

“I didn’t say that. I said I don’t believe you answered my question. And you definitely haven’t given me a reason to think this should be top secret.”

“You want the truth?”

“I just said that. At great length.”

He leans in. “Okay, first, my mother told me you work in the real estate office. Second, some people still think I have money hidden in my mother’s house.”

“Do you?”

“No, but that won’t stop a bunch of degenerates from trampling through the house and trying to tear It apart in an effort to find something that doesn’t exist.”

“And how am I supposed to keep that from happening?”

“You’re a realtor. Can’t you think of ways to weed out the treasure hunters.”

I nod my head. “We can skip open houses and I can just suggest private showings to people who are sincerely looking for a home.”

“This is why I needed to talk to you. Will you help her?”

“Give me her address and I will talk to her and let her know if I can help.”

“Thanks, Norma. I could kiss you, but..” He tilts his head toward the guard.

“And I wouldn’t let you.” I grin.

“And that. Thanks again for coming.” He stands up and takes a few steps toward the guard before turning to look at me over his shoulder. “It’s nice to see a friendly face.” 

Amos leans in to whisper to the guard, who nods and pulls a notebook and pen from his pocket. He quickly scribbles something on the first page and then tears out the page and proffers it to me. I tentatively accept and giggle nervously as I realize it is Amos' mother’s address.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, ma’am.” The guard takes Amos’ elbow and leads him away.

I take longer strides exiting the building and quickly reach my car. As I put the car in gear, I decide to go look at the house I might be selling and see what I think.

~~As last submissions of the year go, this one wasn’t too bad, I hope. May the new year be filled with joy and health and delicious treats for all of you…and more fantastic writing…~~

Forgiveness Starts With This [FICTION]

Guilt nags at you. If you don’t find a way to appease it, it will drag you down into the depths of despair. I have just dipped my toes in those depths when I begin feeling absolution. I perform some small penance to help reboot my soul and then my life will be blessed once more.

I pause as I pass through the heavy, wooden double doors. They have seen hundred of years of sins and most of them worse than all of mine put together. So why do I feel so nervous to push them open and step into the interior of the church?

I make my way down the aisle, stopping before the curtain obscuring the confessional to take a deep breath. I step inside and the priest greets me with a soothing voice. I kneel on a worn cushion and begin slowly listing all the wrongs I have done since I last dared to step into a confessional five years before.

The priest clears his throat as I finish. “Those are not serious sins, my child, but they are still sins. For your penance, you need to hug ten strangers every day of the next week.”

“Really?” My eyes scan the confessional booth in case a hidden camera has been placed in the booth.

“Yes, my child. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and those ways are better understood when we understand those different from ourselves. May the Lord’s blessings be on you as you work toward forgiveness.”

And that is how I ended up with seven new friends this week. Ninety percent of the people I hugged were as terrified as I expected, but the other ten percent hugged me back and thanked me for reminding me that ours is a God of love and now we have each other to lean on.

~~I hope you remembered while you read this that this is a work of fiction. My church doesn’t encourage such behaviors and I honestly don’t know enough about other churches to attribute this penance to any of them. Sometimes, my fiction is stranger than truth, but couldn’t we all use the reminder to "be the good we want to see in the world"?~~

[FICTION] Grandma's Greatest Gift

I bury my head in my lap, cupping my hands loosely over my ears to muffle the shrill voices that wash over me.

“Grandma loved me the best. I should get it.” My cousin Stacie’s sharp voice cuts through the thin layers of flesh, bone, and tendon curled around my ears.

“You’re delusional. I’m her favorite.” My sister Kirsten’s equally sharp voice grates on my nerves enough to make me leap from my perch on the edge of the bed.

The movement turns both sets of sharp, greedy eyes to me. I freeze, realizing my mistake as they exchange looks and turn back to me grinning.

“We’ll let Bella decide.” Kirsten offers, stepping toward me.

I shake my head and slide along the edge of the bed toward the door.

“That’s a great idea.” Stacie blocks my egress.

I glance back at the bed, which rests against the wall. No exit there. I sigh and cross my arms, sinking back onto the soft mattress.

“I’m not involved in this. Our mom’s can sort it out.”

“No way!” They exclaim as one.

I sigh again. “Why should I decide?”

The girls glance toward the locked jewelry box that holds the object of their desire, an antique gold chain from which dangles a ball formed of tiny diamonds set in a golden framework.

“Because we all know you don’t want it.”

I frown and stand up. “Why not?”

“Well, you’re not exactly a girl.” Kirsten says and they both snicker.

My lips form a tight line as I push my way through the weak wall of shrill, selfish girls. “I’m going to talk to mom about it.” I fire over my shoulder as I step into the hall.

“Oh come on, Bella.” Kirsten tries to take my arm, offering me a conspiratorial smile.

I shake off her slender fingers. “No. I don’t want to hear it.” I pick up speed as I reach the door. The other girls continue to plead with me as I bound down the steps.

“Girls, stop that. This instant!” My mother and aunt Flora round the corner of the stairwell, glaring up at me.

“Bella, I should have known.” Flora’s thin lips sneer as she glares up at me and shakes her head.

I slow down, taking composed, calculated strides to the bottom of the stairs as my sister and cousin push each other toward the top of the stairwell. Seeing our mothers observing them from below, they step away from each other and hurriedly smooth black skirts with boney hands. They smile angelically and slowly join me. We patiently wait while our mothers survey us, struggling to keep from twitching with the excitement and frustration coursing through us.

My mother is the first to break the silence. “What is this all about?”

“Grandma’s diamond globe necklace.” I blurt out.

Sharp fingers stab into my back on both sides. I glance at my sister who narrows her eyes at me. Her nose flares with suppressed annoyance. I don’t bother to glance at Stacie. I’m sure her face reflects my sister’s unkind emotions.

My mother and aunt exchange looks. My aunt nods as if agreeing with a question asked during their locked gaze. My mother turns her attention back to us, clearing her throat. “Your aunt and I have decided that Kirsten, as the oldest, will get that necklace. We have also already decided who gets each piece of jewelry, so stop fighting.”

My aunt nods agreement, surveying us one more time. “Now go find something constructive to do. There is plenty to clean.”

As they turn away, Stacie gives me a hard jab in the stomach with her elbow. Kirsten pats me on the back.

“Thanks, sis.”

I frown and turn away, making a beeline for the back door. As the door closes behind me, I take in a deep breath and glance over my shoulder. My cousin and sister have disappeared, searching for something else to argue over. Assured that I am alone, I slowly lower myself to the cold concrete stair and let the tears I’ve been holding back cascade over my cheeks.

*

I’m back in my grandmother’s house. She’s not really dead. She can’t be. The rich sweetness of cinnamon crumble coffee cake turns the air to sweet bliss. Only my grandmother knew how to make that particular ambrosia. I inhale again and step forward to offer her a hug. She turns toward me and puts up her hands. Blood runs down them, dripping on the floor.

I scream and turn away.

“Don’t worry. You can help me clean it up.” Her voice cracks bust her smile remains as gentle and sweet as ever.

She reaches for me. Even before she touches me, streaks of blood spread across my skin. I stare down at them as my flesh seems to melt away, revealing black ooze undulating along my bones. As unbearable pain sinks into the core of my being, I scream. My grandmother laughs and I scream again. Her laughter turns to a cackle and I look up to see the same viscous darkness consuming her features.

I scream again. Silently.

*

I sit up and open my eyes. One hand reaches up to touch my moist cheek, but I keep the other where I can see that pale flesh still stretches gently to cover bone, sinew, and muscle. After a few seconds, I lower both hands. I take a few deep breaths as my eyes adjust to the gentle glow coming through the thin curtains of my bedroom.

“You’re alone. Everything is okay.” I whisper softly.

I open my eyes wider, filling them with the reassuring images of my room. “It was just a dream.”

“Yes. It was.” My grandmother’s voice reassures me and I swear my heart stops beating.

I close my eyes and open them again, turning toward the voice. Standing at the side of my bed, my grandmother smiles down at me.

“You’re not real.” I tell her.

“Of course, I am.” She continues to smile.

“That can’t be.”

She nods slowly, understandingly. “It can only be because I need your help.”

“My help?” My jaw tightens as I force out the words.

“The globe necklace that you girls all loved so much has to go to my best friend. She’ll know why.”

“But my mother said…”

“I know who has it, but she shouldn’t have it. It was meant for Jeannie.

“If Jeannie doesn’t get that necklace, I can’t pass over. I’ll have to be with you forever, for everything you ever do.” She smiles that all-knowing smile that could turn even the most hardened criminal to moldable clay.

I nod my head. “I’ll do my best.”

“Her name is Jeannie Lemmin.”

I nod again but can’t find the strength to speak again.

“Thank you.” She disappears.

I continue to watch the place where she stood as I slowly lower myself to the pillow. I think sleep will elude me after that, but I wake up to find my mother shaking me roughly.

“Bella, what is wrong with you? Wake up.”

“What?” I ask groggily.

“It’s almost noon. Why are you still in bed.”

I force my eyes open and find her worried face inches from my own. A million thoughts dance through my head. Should I tell her? My heart leaps inside me, overladen with the loss of my grandmother and last night’s dreams. I decide to tell her if only to hear her tell me that it was just a dream.

“Mom, did grandma ever talk about someone named Jeannie Lemmin?”

My mother freezes. Her nails dig into my arms. She scans my face questioningly.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“From Grandma…”

“She would never tell you about Jeannie. She only told me about her once.”

As my mother pauses, I ask. “Who is she?”

“She used to be your grandmother’s best friend.” My mother whispers as she loosens her grip on my arms and settles back on the foot of my bed.

I slowly push myself into a sitting position. I lean toward my mother and whisper. “Then why have I never heard of her?”

My mother purses her lips. “They had a falling out about the man your grandmother loved before your grandfather.”

“Oh.” My breath rushes out of me. Maybe, I hadn’t really known my grandmother.

My mother nods as if agreeing with my thoughts. “Even after your grandmother and grandfather were married, she never spoke to Jeannie again. I think Jeannie must have tried once. That’s when I hear about it, but why are you asking about her?”

I tried to explain. The more I spoke, the paler my mother’s face got. When I ran out of words, we sat in silence.

Finally, my mother took my hand. “I’ll handle your sister, but you’ll have to go alone to speak to Jeannie.”

I nodded my assent, not daring to speak for fear of releasing the tears I saw pooling in my mother’s eyes.

*

“Jeannie Lemmin?”

She smiles at me. “That’s me, dear.” She places a finger gently to her lips as she contemplates my face. “Have we met? You do look familiar.”

“No, ma’am. We’ve never met.” My voice gets soft. “You knew my grandmother, Dotty Lynch.”

The smile fades from her face as she looks at me more closely. She doesn’t speak. She slowly lowers her hand and clutches it tightly with the other as we stand in silence.

I clear my throat and reach into my pocket. “She wanted you to have this.”

She slowly raises her hand and I lower the globe gently, watching the chain gently coil into her wrinkled palms as she gazes down at it.

“She forgave me.” Tears flood her cheeks, sending rivers down the deep laughter lines along her thin cheeks. “She really forgave me?”

I shrug. “She said you would understand.”

She nods, tears pouring more profusely down her cheeks. “I do. I do. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” As the words leave my lips, warmth suffuses my body.

My grandmother’s voice seems to echo her friend. I look around expecting to see her, but I stand alone on the porch.

Jeannie smiles at me. “Would you like to come in?”

I shake my head but my feet lead me forward into the cozy living room.

“Let me tell you about your grandmother when she was young. You have her eyes…”

Forgiveness

I read through this a couple of times to make sure I answered all the questions that popped into my head as I read it. What do you think?

Once, I loved a man with my entire heart and soul. I gave him everything I had. I trusted him more completely than I ever imagined. He took that trust and twisted it around his delicate fingers until it cracked under the pressure. I left him in a fit of anger and never looked back.

Then he entered my life again. I looked up from my order pad to find those soft blue eyes gazing deep into my own. He smiled shyly and raised his hand in a slight wave. My lips could not return his smile and my hand would not return his wave. I jotted down my customer’s order and spun on one heel. Hurried footsteps carried me to the kitchen.

I had enough forethought to grab some empty plates so no one even glanced at me. I slipped into the dimmest corner of the kitchen where our young dishwasher enthusiastically scraped bits of food and soiled napkins from each plate before gently lowering them into sudsy water. He offered me a lopsided grin as he noticed me meditating on his rhythmic cleaning.

“Hey, Karen. You can drop those anywhere.”

“Thank you.” I mumbled, adding them to the smallest pile on a nearby cart.

He glanced at me questioningly as I lingered. “Something wrong?”

“No. Not at all. If anyone asks, I’m taking my break.”

He nodded his assent and began whistling as he turned his back to me and bent over his chore. I pushed open the heavy door into the narrow alley. The overpowering scents of cigarettes and dumpsters overwhelmed me as I peered around the door. I glanced around to be sure of my solitude before stepping out into the chill fall morning. I leaned back against the wall as a single tear slid down my cheek. As more tears followed, memories flooded my mind.

~~

Three years younger and infinitely more innocent, my breath caught as Joel walked me to my door after our third date. He reached for my hand, pulling gently until I turned to face him.

“You didn’t have to…” My words faded as I saw the look on his face.

He smiled a little and leaned toward me. Our free hands sought each other as I leaned into him. Our lips met tentatively. I barely registered the softness of his lips, tinged with the sweetness of unflavored lip balm, before he pulled back to offer me that same sweet smile.

“Sleep well. I’ll see you soon.”

~~

Then my mind stepped forward a few months. I arrived home from a rough day at the diner to find him waiting for me. Snowflakes swirled around him as he leaned against my door.

“There she is.” As his face lit up, he pulled his hand out from under his long coat.

He extended a bouquet of bluebells toward me. Their soft scent flooded toward me. I smiled and reached for them.

“How did you get bluebells in December?”

“I have my sources.”

As I took the bouquet from him, I breathed in deeply. Their sweet perfume washed away the hassles of a day serving ungrateful customers. As my lips twitched, he reached for my free hand.

“I thought they’d get you in the right mood for what I need to say.”

I felt the corners of my lips fall and disappointment crept into my voice. “Oh?”

“Don’t worry.” He wrapped his free arm around me, pulling me close so he could whisper in my ear. “I just wanted to tell you that I love you.”

My face flushed as our lips met before I could assure him that my feelings matched his.

~~

My mind moved forward to about six months prior. My heart raced with the same anticipation as the scene unfolded in my mind.

“You look beautiful.” Joel reassured me, as I looked at myself skeptically in the dark paint of his Toyota Camry.

I smiled as he opened the door and helped me into the car. I reached for the door to close it and he stopped me, leaning over to tuck my skirt safely inside the car. Then he blew me a kiss and closed the door. He kept me laughing as he drove us to dinner. When we arrived at the restaurant, he rushed to my side of the car.

“Close your eyes.” He said, as we reached the door.

“What?”

“Trust me.”

I closed my eyes. The door squealed a little as he pulled it open and guided me inside. As a second door opened, the soft scents of a dozen tempting meals wafted over me. My eyelids fluttered.

“Keep them closed a couple more seconds.” He whispered in my ear.

I giggled as his warm breath tickled me. He stepped behind me to place his hands on my shoulders. Under the gentle pressure of his palms, I took tiny steps to get to our table. I heard the conversations at other tables taper off as we walked past them. Soon his hands tightened on my shoulders. I stopped moving. The smell of bluebells hung heavily here.

“Open your eyes.”

I opened my eyes to find a table covered in bluebells. Nestled among the delicate crystal vases of wildflowers, a large card bore neatly scripted words in gold ink.

“Karen, will you marry me?” Joel knelt at my side as he repeated the words on the card.

~~

The one memory that I tried so hard to shove aside and hide away followed this one into my mind.

The hardwood door of the apartment I would soon share with my new husband gleamed under the fluorescent lights as I transferred the garment bag holding my wedding dress to my left hand. I fumbled for my keys. As the key clicked in the lock and the tumblers began to move, a soft female voice filtered through the door.

“Oh, Joel.”

I froze. The dress fell from my hand. As it crumpled on the floor, my other hand tightened on the flat end of the key. I twisted it until the tumblers finished falling away from each other. Then I used my now free left hand to twist the doorknob. I followed the door into the room. I gasped as tears began to form in my eyes.

Slender, tan legs wrapped around familiar hips. Strong, broad shoulders rippled under equally tan fingers capped in long, red nails. The hands disappeared as Joel’s hands reached up to grip her wrists.

“Janice…” Joel’s breathless voice calling out another woman’s name, my best friend’s name, rammed home the arrow of seeing him tangled up in her embrace.

Usually, my memory fades out there. I vaguely remember the pounding of footsteps as he chased me down the stairs. I remember reaching the door first and racing into the street. I remember Joel calling out to me. His voice and blaring horns caused my feet to move faster.

~~

I never looked back. I never returned his calls. I thought he respected my decision. I hadn’t seen him since he tried to catch me outside the diner on the date that was to be our spring wedding. Three months had passed since then. Why was he here now?

And why did some memory tickle my brain that I had missed something? Was I really ready to remember more horrible details about the day my heart broke?

A faint echo of Joel’s voice filled my mind. “Janice, you are no longer welcome here.” My racing footsteps undercut the last few words.

“She wouldn’t…” I muttered to myself.

The door opened slowly toward me. I hurried to wipe away my tears, hoping my face didn’t reveal that 

I had been crying. I stood up hurriedly as the door opened further.

“Please don’t go.” Joel’s soft voice startled me.

I sagged against the wall. “You let me go before.” Bitter words.

“I didn’t let you go. I gave you time, but I can’t wait forever. It hurts…”

“It hurts to wait.” My chin rose as I rounded on him. “Not as much as it hurt to see…”

He stepped closer. “I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me.”

“That’s ridiculous. She was my best friend.”

“So you can believe I’d cheat with her, but not that she would try to seduce me.”

“I know what I saw.”

“Do you?” He stared at me with those warm blue eyes.

I could see tears forming in them. His eyebrows raised questioningly. Barely remembered words 

echoed through my mind again.

“But why would she?”

“She was your friend…not mine.” He reached out to touch me.

“She always was competitive.” I mused as I placed my hands in his. “What did I do?”

His lip trembled as he sought the right words. He shook his head and spoke softly.

“Gave us too much time apart, but we can make it right. Spring will come again.”

“I should have let you explain.” I admitted as he gently squeezed my hands.

Though I had more to say, I never said it. I didn’t need to. He knew me too well. He leaned down to kiss me, and all my pain and insecurity melted away.