A Broom With a View (19 page)

L
iza had promised Colt to stay put, but it was too damn cold. She wanted warmth; she wanted to wash her hands, and she wanted to be far away from the spot where a man had died.

So Liza headed to town, to her business.

She was singing to herself, feeling joy budding in her heart when she pulled into the parking spot in front of her building. She hadn’t killed anyone. She hadn’t been responsible for his death. It was an accident.

Liza heard the howling as soon as she neared her door.

At first, she thought it was the wind ripping down Main Street. The wind
was
fierce that night. She’d felt it all through her for hours.

But that was no wind crying for help. It was a woman, a woman in terrible pain.

Forgetting the key and using her own means of opening locked doors to get inside, Liza rushed in only to find her business in disarray again. Papers were tossed around, bottles of lotions broken, and a pillow on her settee had been slashed, the stuffing spilled out like snow.

“Damn it to
hell
!” Liza screamed, fury raging inside her.

But then she heard it again, that cry of agony.

Flipping on lights as she went, Liza headed straight to the treatment room. And there, lying on her massage table, was Athalie McClure. Athalie, waitress at the buffet. Athalie, the woman who had refused to take her drink order, instead sending someone else in her place. Athalie, the very pregnant woman Colt said he’d dated briefly in high school before he discovered her servicing two members of the football team behind the scoreboard at halftime.

And now, here she was, bleeding all over Liza’s new sheets from Macy’s. Destroying them again.

“
You
did it last time!” Liza cried. “It wasn’t Cotton at all!”

“You’re a witch! Your kind should be burnt. Your soul will burn in everlasting hell! You need to repent. You need to turn to Jesus and,” Athalie momentarily forgot her sermon and let out a horrendous wail that would’ve shaken Satan himself.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Liza muttered, running to her stack of towels. She looked at her nice expensive ones and then shrugged and reached for the ratty ones instead. She wasn’t
that
forgiving. “Have you called an ambulance yet?”

“No time,” Athalie panted. “Oh my God, I am dying. God have mercy on my–“

“You’re not dying, you’re having a baby,” Liza said as gently as she could.

Still, before she went to work on the wailing criminal before her, she called the hospital and ensured they were on their way.

The poor girl might have cost her thousands of dollars in damage, but at the moment she looked frightened and pained, and Liza couldn’t feel anything but pity for her.

She also knew the ambulance wouldn’t make it in time.

At first, Athalie resisted the words Liza chanted over her, the soothing touch she used on her trembling stomach and shaking legs. But then, as the pain decreased, she pleaded for more and between curses at the man who had done it to her she begged Liza for forgiveness.

And there, in her massage treatment room, Liza Jane Higginbotham delivered a tiny howling, little girl, the daughter of the woman who had ruined the best sheets she’d ever owned not once, but twice.

Liza figured that if the night ever ended and she ever made it home, she’d earned herself a bath of chocolate martinis.

“I
guess we owe you a cup of coffee Miss Higginbotham,” Detective Kroner said, the closest thing to an apology he could muster. “I mean, who would’ve thought it could a happened like that?”

“Well,
I
knew it wasn’t me,” Liza retorted.

The Bluevine girls had come over and decorated her tree, so at least part of her house looked festive. She was even thinking of stringing up some lights outside. But she’d wait until everyone was gone so that she could do that little bit of the work of herself.

Just for the fun of it.

“I've heard trains doing that to a person, hitting’ them and knocking them plumb outta their shoes but…” Detective Kroner trailed off there and shook his head in disbelief.

“And Detective,” a deputy piped in. “He
did
have that Benadryl in him from them bad allergies he had. Probably didn’t even know what hit him.”

“The coroner looked back over the autopsy. There was a large bruise inside his hairline, but it got overlooked because it didn't look like it was enough for a head injury,” the Detective shook his head again. “Cotton always
did
like walking by the tracks at night when he had things on his mind. Liked to hear the night train. My guess is it knocked him into the woods, and he walked a little ways kinda stunned. Got lost maybe and then just dropped over dead.”

Liza was sure that some people would still accuse her of being the one responsible for making him die in the first place, that she’d somehow made the train hit him. There would always be those who believed; always those who wanted to think badly of her.

But there was nothing she could do about that.

“And it was right kindly of you not to press charges on Athalie,” the deputy added.

“She has a newborn. She won’t sleep for a year,” Liza laughed. “That’s pretty good punishment.”

But, the truth of the matter was, that baby (named Glory Nevaeh–or “Heaven” spelled backward) needed her mother. Liza wasn’t going to stand in the way of that.

She was sentimental, too. She’d even sent a gift to the hospital.

“TAFFY” CORNFOOT
was her first customer of the day and Taffy was as chipper as ever.

“Well, I know what all happened here to your business but I gotta say, you’ve done a better job than ever putting it back together. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier place. And right here in Kudzu Valley,” she gushed while Liza rubbed on her shoulders.

“Thank you, and you know what the best part is? With the insurance money, I got to hire help!”

She could still hear Mare out front, ringing up the register and talking customers into things they didn’t need. She was much better at that part than Liza had ever been.

“I’m just glad people are coming back around now that they know I didn’t kill anyone,” Liza said.

Taffy pushed Liza’s hand away, sat up, and looked at her, barely keeping her modesty sheet covering her sagging breasts. “Oh honey, you think we don’t know what you done here?”

“Huh?” Liza asked. "You mean people still think I killed Cotton, and they don't care?"

Taffy snorted. “Oh please. Jessie and her husband’s new money? Well, that uncle of his drank everything away. No way he had an inheritance. And my legs haven’t been swollen in a month. Not since you got here. Whistle getting that gig up in New York City as the replacement Santa at Macy’s? There were hundreds of people in line for that. And poor little Bridle…”

Liza’s cheeks flushed as she looked down at her heavy boots, a far cry from her high heels. Sometimes a girl
had
to make adjustments, no matter how painful they were. “I couldn’t help Bridle.”

“Please,” Taffy grunted, a very unladylike sound. A large rosy nipple slipped out, and she didn’t even bother to cover it up. Liza looked away for the sake of modesty. “We
know
about the rest. That was a different kind of magic. Her cancer’s in remission, that’s for sure, but it was pure old fashioned friendship that helped her. The little gifts? The calls? The visit you done when nobody else was there? And shaving yourself baldheaded to keep her company? That’s magic not even a witch can make–that's friendship. The best
kind
of magic.”

Taffy, finished with her speech, flopped back down on the table. “Now rub, girlfriend, rub the tar out of me. I got four ex-husbands got me stressed. Beat ‘em out.”

F
rom toddlers to the elderly in wheelchairs, the whole town was gathered out in the streets when Liza left, all waiting to see the lights turned on up and down Main Street. Carolers stood on the front porch of the courthouse, singing Christmas songs out of tune and out of synch while elementary school children clogged on the sidewalks, a complicated routine that made it looked like their feet were on fire. Some looked like they were really into it; some looked bored, but all knew their steps.

Dozens of parents knelt before them, tablets and digital cameras videotaping and flashing lights to preserve their little darlings for years to come. Soon, their images and videos would be smeared across social media.

Liza stood and watched, her heart full of love for her new place. Someone walked by rolling a little cart, selling glow-in-the-dark bracelets and inflatable SpongeBob balloons. There was a food stand by the steps, eight people deep waiting, and the scent of sweet kettle corn drifted over to Liza's door and made her mouth water.

It would take a while to get used to the inconveniences.

To not be able to run to a big chain grocery store and buy organic fruit and veggies when she wanted, that could be a problem. To watch a newly released movie at the cinema on a whim, to go with her girlfriends to a bar, or go to a bar in town at all…those were sometimes hard to take.

But it was going to be
home
. After locking the door behind her, Liza walked over to the mailbox on the sidewalk, opened it, and closed her eyes. The thick envelope slid down the chute and landed with a “thump.”

Liza said a silent goodbye to the last vestige of her marriage. It was over for good. The papers were signed. She never had to see Mode or hear from him again.

The feeling was bittersweet. She’d loved him once.

The singing stopped when she reached the end of the sidewalk but then an audible groan went up through the crowd. Someone had apparently flipped on the lights, but the town remained dark.

The lights, all the lights the volunteer fire department had strung up and down Main Street and Broadway were out.

Somewhere, a small child began to sniffle and then another one wailed. Even the older folks flashed looks of disappointment between each other.

With a smile and a wink, Liza raised her hand, waved it around once, recited words that were second nature to her, and the entire town suddenly transformed into a magical winter wonderland.

A small boy, maybe six years old, looked up at her and gasped. Liza gazed down at him, winked, and began to walk away.

B
ridle, looking much healthier with her glowing cheeks and bright smile, was almost animated. She sat on Colt's front porch, wrapped snuggly in a colorful patchwork blanket, enjoying the night sky from the handmade rocking chair when Liza approached the top of the driveway in her truck.

Someone, Colt she’d imagined, had wrapped all the pillars on the porch with white twinkling Christmas lights and had hung a beautiful wreath on the front door. Candles were burning in all the windows, upstairs and down, and an inflatable Santa Claus was filling his sleigh with the help of the elves in the front yard. Animated deer, strung with lights, filled the yard and Liza laughed as she watched them move their heads up and down.

It looked like a fairyland and she knew he’d done it for his sister. And maybe even for himself. He loved Christmas as well.

“I decided to enjoy being outside for a while,” Bridle explained, as Liza neared.

Her voice was still brittle but stronger than it had been the last time Liza’d seen her. A new light burned in her eyes that had nothing to do with the tiny bulbs surrounding her.

“I don’t blame you,” Liza agreed, settling on the stairs by Bridle's feet. “It's beautiful here. The sky looks bigger somehow.”

Bridle nodded. “Colt always knew he’d build his house here. He said he felt close to the gods here. I think he’s right.”

Liza said so as well.

“Thanks for the visits and the little gifts,” Bridle said shyly. “I love the bathrobe. I live in it, which is why it’s being washed. It was starting to stink.”

“I bought myself one after my husband left me,” Liza admitted. “It got to smelling so bad I finally had to trash it. But they don’t make any better.”

“You know, you’re the only one other than family who really came by and visited me through all this,” Bridle confessed. “Thanks for that, too.”

Liza didn’t know what to say, so the two women sat in companionable silence. Until Bridle broke it again.

“Why won’t you give my brother a chance?” she asked suddenly, never missing a beat with the rhythm of her feet as she rocked back and forth. To Liza, the rocking sounded like a song, a melody that was both foreign and familiar to her.

“It’s complicated,” Liza replied. “I was married once before, like you, and he…he was afraid of me I think. It made
me
afraid of me. I was afraid to do the things that I loved. And that made me someone else.”

"Someone you didn't like?" Bridle prodded gently.

"Yes."

"It was the same with me, but for different reasons."

"But Colt loves you, he wants to take care of you. It's different. You're family," Liza persisted, feeling beads of sweat gathering on her forehead despite the cold wind.

"Colt didn't care what I was going through. He loved me. He
loved
me," she repeated vehemently. "He's not afraid of anything. Except for maybe Nashville. But that's another story. He hates the traffic and not being able to get biscuits the way he likes them. He's not afraid of
you
, either. I can promise you that. You won't have to change for him."

“But I thought that before and–“

“Colt isn’t like that. He doesn’t care what you do, or who you are. He can see through those things,” Bridle argued.

“Maybe,” Liza answered, but she didn’t quite believe it. Mode had thought he could handle it. And he couldn’t.

“Let me ask you something else…Everything you do is for someone else. And they’re all little things. Jessie, Taffy, Athalie, me...isn't there something you could do for yourself?”

Liza giggled. “I straightened my front porch. And I fixed some things in my business when they got destroyed. But let's keep that on the down low and make the construction guys feel good about it.”

Bridle waved her thin, delicate hand in the air. “Those don’t count. They’re practical and boring. Be
you
, Liza. Do something for
you
. Something that will make you feel better. Something that will make you feel happy and powerful and wonderful. Isn’t it time to accept you? To make yourself happy? To honor your gift? And not by opening a business or selling stuff or moving but by honoring your talents?”

Something snapped in Liza’s heart then, as she thought of the things she loved, the things she’d missed, and the things she wanted.

Then, looking up at the dark sky, she laughed. With both arms high in the air, Liza rose to her feet and began twirling. She spun so quickly it seemed like it was the world around her moving as she stood stoic in the center.

And then, as dark and quiet as the sky had been, it was suddenly filled with the pure, white flakes of snow. Thick and soft they rapidly fell around her like flower petals, landing on her eyelids, shoulders, and on Nana Bud’s crocheted hat.

Bridle, too, got to her feet and tottered off the porch, reaching for Liza for support. Both women locked fingers and looked up, reveling in the first snow of the season.

And then there was Colt.

Liza stopped smiling then when she saw his scowl. She paused, about to make it stop, when he broke out into laughter and reached for her, taking her into a waltz. “Looks like somebody beat you with a pretty stick,” he said as Bridle settled down on the porch step and continued to gaze at the sky in wonder. “Guess this means I’m going to have to break out the sled now.” But he didn’t look unhappy.

“It’s going to be a good Christmas,” Bridle declared, watching the two of them.

Liza wrapped her arms around Colt’s neck and nuzzled him close.

It
was
.