Moving On (5 page)

Chapter 4

In the morning Anna woke long after the sun had risen in the sky. She turned on the coffeemaker, brushed her teeth and then sat at her kitchen table with her coffee. Out over the lake, she watched the pelicans swoop and glide, counting thirteen of them.

Margaret sang through the screen door, “Good morning. Can I come in?”

“Of course. Would you like coffee on this beautiful day?”

“No, thank you. Just a glass of water.” Margaret opened the summer door and walked to the sink. “Stay where you are. I’ll get it.” She opened cupboard doors. “You’ve moved the glasses.”

“They’re over the sink.”

“I’m glad. I could not understand why John kept the glasses all the way across the room.”

Anna wrapped her plush housecoat around her legs while Margaret ran the water, filled a glass and plopped down on the other country chair. “Patricia set the walking pace this morning and I swear she has legs up to here. I was glad when the end of the trail came into view.” Margaret tipped the glass and gulped down more water. “During our walk and coffee I told the group about you. No one remembers Mr. Good having a niece, distant or not.” Her penciled eyebrows lifted in question.

Anna sputtered, “I’m here and the papers are in order.”

“Our memories might be fuzzy but among us, one usually gets it right in the end.” She chuckled. “I’ll bet Alice pulls out her history book today. She was a teacher so she has a good memory for names and faces.”

“These women must have more important chores to accomplish in their day than thinking about where I fit into the scheme of things.” Anna clutched at her lapels of her bathrobe and pulled them tight around her neck.

“I’m glad you’re not divulging all your details. It’s not like we are Dr. Phil or anything.” The leftover lipstick on the corners of Margaret’s mouth was evident when she smiled. “Our little group likes puzzles. So while they’re busy raking, weeding, and fertilizing they’ll mull it over. Then on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays we’ll pool our information.” She leaned forward and whispered, “How about giving me a little clue?”

Anna jumped to her feet and paced. “No. Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“No one remembers you at John’s funeral,” Margaret pointed out.

Both women turned toward the rap at the door. “Margaret, are you giving Annie—sorry, Anna—the third degree?” Herman’s face was distorted by shadows caused by the brilliant sun at his back.

“No, we’re just having a little gossip.”

Herman came into the kitchen, his teeth firmly in place. “Margaret, Bonnie phoned. We need to pick up Jenny.”

Margaret jumped as if a bee had stung her on the backside. “Got to go. Jenny is such a little dear. We love having her in our house. Talk later,” she called over her shoulder as she shooed Herman out the door.

Alone, Anna watched the pelicans. One of those poor couples was broken; the species mated for life. She could be open about her relationship, but she didn’t want the pity given to a young widow. Technically, she wasn’t a widow, but she and Murray couldn’t have loved each other more if they’d had the license and the ceremony. Just because they hadn’t stood in a white gown and tux hadn’t made the gut-wrenching grief any less. The grief counselor suggested her sorrow was intense because she hadn’t expected their dreams wouldn’t reach fruition. Just one more week and Murray would have stood in his tuxedo while waiting for her at the front of the church rather than lying in the casket while she sobbed in the front pew.

Even with all of her trauma nursing experience and all her love, she couldn’t help save him from the injuries he had sustained when the burning building collapsed. She covered her mouth and breathed deeply through her open fingers, expanding her rib cage. Breathing from her abdomen reduced her lightheadedness, and her rapid heartbeats disappeared.

She focused on the screened, shuttered sunroom with its north and west exposure. One end could be a great workstation for her tools and paintbrushes, and on the other side she’d create a small, comfortable seating area for reading. Books could be stored on shelves under the windows.

Her future would be creating homes for doll people. She had perfected her skills during the past months as she focused her mind and hands on creating a passion out of a hobby. No sick people. No one needed her. Just happy thoughts.

Anna wanted her dollhouses to be works of art. She had recreated her grandmother’s house as a gift for her mother, then her family home, then her dream home. Through word of mouth, a prominent businessman emailed her and asked for an appointment. He hired her to copy their home for a gift to his wife before they downsized.

Now, with a place to live and Murray’s insurance money, she’d survive until she had her business plan in place. She would hire an inspector and determine if the cottage would be warm enough during the winter. Until then, she could get started. If her plan worked, she could be one of those lucky women who made a living at her passion. She’d be an artist.

While she showered, she expanded her idea to include child friendly houses. Delighted faces floated through her mind as she wrapped the fresh scented towel around her hair. Then a darker thought sliced into her mind. Would she build a house so the purchaser could destroy a symbol of sadness and harm? When she ran a business, she’d have to be impartial. Unfortunately her years as a trauma nurse provided many examples of houses where ugly things happened. Anna hugged the towel to her chest and hoped such a request was not made for a very long time.

The town had a post office, a combined hardware and lumber store, and the city of Regina was only forty-five minutes away. As soon as she was dressed tomorrow morning, she’d go to the town office and ask J. Kipfer for the names of contractors and Internet providers in the area. She would make calls on her cell phone and set up appointments. So many details would keep her busy. Nick couldn’t be a temporary contractor in the area, too.

Her heart skipped at the thought.

While Nick performed his early morning inspection on his stump, Molly nudged his thigh. Last evening he had inspected the area after his swim and then again after his shower. By the time he had peddled home, he could feel the grains rubbing against the protective stocking in the socket of his prosthesis. He used a handheld magnified mirror to inspect for any little missed grains of sand that could be an irritant and cause skin breakdown.

Last night, he dreamt about the desert. Slowly, it came to him the doctors could be right. It wasn’t only the physical endurance, but also the living conditions on the base would present a problem. Here, he showered and swam whenever he needed, but the base was in the middle of another kind of environment.

Nick scratched Molly’s ears, then slipped the artificial leg into place. If he came into contact with a bomb again, the fragments would have to penetrate titanium.

The day passed quickly. The cottage owners’ requests were pages long. He watched for a woman with tightly curled hair whenever he drove down Center Street, Green Avenue or Green Lane. By the end of the day, his stump needed relief from the pressure. A swim would help. He must have been in and out of his truck five hundred times. Today, he didn’t question his father’s reasons for building the pool.

As Nick wrapped his robe around him and gripped the walker, he realized he hadn’t had sex since his injury left him with only one foot, and one whole leg to tangle with a woman.
Might break a bit of sexual tension if I hop into a bed containing one who’s willing.

The doorbell rang.
Not again
. He clutched his walker and hopped to the door.

Magdalena stood on the porch. “Hi Nick, can I come in?”

“Sure, Magdalena. I’m running a little late. Please set up your books in the dining room. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t hurry. I’ll dust until you’re ready.”

On occasion, Magdalena saw Nick without his prosthesis when she dusted and vacuumed the house and B&B. During her visits he had mentioned the library literacy program he’d enrolled in to fill the hours while in rehab. He found students trusted him because of his disability and gradually they had revealed their own life challenges.

After his casual conversations, Magdalena had asked if he would help her learn to read. She’d grown up in the colony and hadn’t grasped the concept of reading, but she wanted to be able to read to her future children. Together they had read books for toddlers and progressed to books that would be enjoyed by a preschool child. Magdalena practiced at home and brought a new book to every tutor session.

Nick remembered being read to and hoped one day he would read to his child.

Anna unlocked her car door and then paused, considering. It was three blocks to Center Street and the town office and the informative finger-on-the-pulse of the town, J. Kipfer.
Might as well walk
. She relocked her car and her sneakers crunched on the gravel before she stepped on to the paved roadway. Without concrete sidewalks, everyone shared the road.

Facing the traffic, she strolled past her neighboring houses, no two alike. However, each one had windows facing the lake. Hedges were trimmed and trees planted that allowed unobstructed water views. Many homes on the valley side were situated higher than others and provided picturesque scenes of sailboats and fishers casting lines into the water.

The trees glowed with brilliant new green leaves. Bushy-tailed squirrels jumped from tree to tree. For an urban woman, this was high nature. She looked both ways at the intersection and one car stopped to allow her safe crossing.

On Center Street, cars were parked next to the community building. Here was the street that led from the middle of town, straight to the lake. When she turned around there it went, up the hill and out of Regina Beach.

Anna opened the heavy glass door to the town office. She thumbed through a newsletter at the counter and waited for Ms. Kipfer to complete her telephone conversation and acknowledge her.

The town clerk ended her call and looked up. “Can I help you, Miss Jenkins?”

“Hello, Ms. Kipfer. I thought of many questions on my walk downtown and wondered if you might have a newcomers’ newsletter with basic information. And here it is.” Anna held up the paper. “I realized I didn’t even know when my garbage would be collected or how I will receive my mail. It even advertises house inspectors I was coming to inquire about. This newsletter is terrific.”

Ms. Kipfer rose from her seat. “Please take one home. I prepared it myself for someone just like you. You’re my first new resident this season and I added more information since last year.” She pointed to the header page with its logos of a sailboat, snowmobiles, a recreation vehicle, and bicycles.

Anna tucked the pages in her pocket. “Thank you, Ms. Kipfer. I’ll read this and if I need more information, I’ll drop in later.”

“Call me Jan.” She reached across the counter with an outstretched hand and four silver bangles clicking together at her wrist.

“Thank you, Jan. Please call me Anna.” Their hands firmly clasped.

As Jan turned and glanced toward her computer screen, Anna said, “I’ll leave you to your work. Thank you again.”

“This time of year is exceedingly busy with cottage owners anxious to begin their season. But do pop in whenever you need information.”

Anna left the office feeling she had begun a relationship with Jan as two professional women assisting each other when needed.

The next morning, sunshine streamed across her face and the lake reflected the greening hills and leafed out trees. Anna meandered in the back yard with her coffee cup. As the type of urban woman who saw the outdoors between her destination and her car, she was spending a lot of time in the fresh air since her arrival in Regina Beach.

“Annie, you look like you’re lost.” Herman leaned his elbows on the gate.

“Morning, Herman. I’d like a garden, but I don’t know where to start.”

“You’ve got to get the earth all worked up and ready for a change.”

“Is that the reason you call me Annie? You want me worked up and changed?”

“No, I just like the name.”

“All right then.” She sipped her coffee. “Is there time to plant a garden? I mean, it’s spring. Aren’t things supposed to be growing by now?”

“That’s what greenhouses are for. You buy young seedlings and transplant them into your garden.”

“Where would I find someone to work up the ground? Jan provided a pamphlet with a lot of information. I’m afraid I haven’t read it all, so I don’t want to ask her.”

Herman’s lips curled around his gums. “Jan, is it? She respects you.”

“Yes, I think she does. I understand she has a great deal of knowledge.” Anna kicked at the clumps of crabgrass and dandelions.

“You could dig it up yourself. Good exercise. It would make you strong.”

“I need a shovel.”

He opened the gate. “Have you found the key to that shed yet?”

“There are keys inside the cupboard door. I’ll get them.” She ran inside with another sparkle of hope.
Transplanted and worked up—that’s what I am.

Herman helped her open the rusted padlock. She pulled the string dangling overhead and a solitary light bulb illuminated the small area. Garden forks, spades, hoes and other outdoor paraphernalia lined the walls.

“Okay, girlie. You bring that fork and spade and I’ll bring this chair. You’ve heard about my heart operation, haven’t you?”

“Only in passing.”