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Authors: Frank Pickard

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BOOK: The Weight of Gravity
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Most importantly to Max, Erika called twice.  Both conversations were short.  She wanted to know about Doris’ progress.  During her second call, he asked if she was all right.  She said things were strained at the house, but she was all right and she’d try to call again, but didn’t.

Doris’ hospital room quickly filled with plants and flowers.  The cards and gifts were a testament to Doris’ powerful presence in Cottonwood.  Max was amazed that so many people were affected by her illness, from the butcher at the Piggly Wiggly, to the mechanics at the tire store, to the entire fourth grade class at Cottonwood Elementary.  Max had forgotten that Doris was a teacher when she married Nathan.

             
Dr. Ross sent Doris home on the fifth day.  “Keep her off her feet for at least another couple of days, then get her up and moving with the walker, but remember what the PT people told you about not letting her go it alone.  Someone needs to help her for a while.”

             
“I can do it,” Donny chimed in.  “Hell, I’m strong enough to carry you wherever you want to go,” he told her.

             
“Let her do some of it on her own, Donny.  It’s the only way she’s going to get stronger,” Ross told him.

             
They wheeled her to the curb.  Donny eased her into the Jaguar and everyone headed for the ranch.  Mel was waiting when they pulled into the drive.  She helped get Doris settled in her room, made lunch and they all sat around sharing the pleasure of being back in familiar surroundings.

             
“Feels good … to be … back in my … own bed.”

             
“I’ll bet,” Max said.  “I know I’ll sleep better tonight.”

             
Donny left after dinner, but Mel stayed to clean the kitchen, then sat and shared coffee with Max when Doris was fast asleep.

             
“What are you plans, Writer Man?”

             
“I need to make sure she’s going to be okay before I think about doing anything else.  I’ve hired a nurse to come in several hours each day to help her bathe and other personal business.”

             
“And I’ll be around to help as well.”  She smiled.  “Do you know they postponed the big Pie Paper Ranch bar-b-cue until Doris is back on her feet.”

             
“You’re kidding?”

             
“Doris is well loved in Cottonwood, Max … in the whole county.”

“Why is that, Mel?” he asked.

“A lot of reasons.  She’s lived here a long time.  Lots of adults were her students when she taught public school for twenty-eight years before retiring.  And I don’t mean to be dumping on your father, but Doris had critics when she married Nathan.  People didn’t understand why a woman as good as her would marry a man like Nathan.  He was hard and he had a reputation, as you know.  She stood by him ... defended him when anyone had the guts to question her.  It only made them love her more for being so dedicated to a man many thought didn’t deserve it … just made her more revered.”

Max took a sip of coffee and sat back in his chair.

“When your daddy died, everyone rallied around Doris.  She has a lot of friends.”

“So I’ve learned.”

He suggested that they move to sit in the shadows of the back porch.  Earlier in the evening Max cracked the windows open so the air was damp and cold.  He gave Mel a fleece blanket to wrap around her shoulders.  They sat in Doris’ swing.

“So, Max, have you found what you’re looking for in Cottonwood?”

“I don’t know … maybe.  Seems like there’s more to discover ... that there’s something else I should know or see, but I have no idea what it is.”

“You still sound confused.”  Mel pulled her legs up, tightened the blanket across her shoulders and let Max set the pace of the swing.

“Not so much.  I’m writing again ...or close to it, just raw stuff right now.  That’s something.”

“That’s wonderful, Max.  Can’t wait to read your next great American novel.”

Why am I always comfortable with her?  What a wonderful spirit she has.
  “Why did you stay in Cottonwood, Mel?”

“Because of my daddy’s business, mostly.  But what am I missing out there?”  She gestured toward the open windows and the darkness beyond.  “Tell me.  What’s there that would make my
life any richer than it is here in this provincial hamlet in the middle of the desert?”

“I guess it’s the way you look at it.  I wanted to see more of the world.”

“Maybe that’s where you went wrong in your thinking,” she told him.  “Nothing wrong with wanting to see more of the world, but if you go out there thinking you’ll find something better ...”   Her voice trailed away and she turned to look at him.  “You had it sweet when you lived here as a kid, but you worked yourself into a lather hating it, hating your father, so much that you couldn’t get away fast enough.”

“You think that’s it?”

“I think you had the wrong idea when you left Cottonwood.”

             
“I asked Doris if she thought I’d made a mistake leaving in the first place.”

             
“Let me guess, she told you that you couldn’t make a wrong decision,” she said.

             
“Something like that.  How’d you know?”

             
“Max, do you think you’re the only person who struggles with life-changing decisions.”

             
“You?”

             
“I’ve had doubts about my life and Doris was a very good friend when I was struggling.”

             
“So, you think I should have stayed and that my life would be better in Cottonwood?”

             
“No.  I think you made the right decision.  I didn’t know you twenty-four years ago.  Maybe you fit this place then, but I doubt it, and I know for sure you don’t fit it now.  You wanted a bigger pond to swim in and you did exactly what you promised yourself and everyone else you’d do.  You became a successful writer ... you played the game with all your heart and won.  That’s pretty incredible.  I think you were smart to leave ... and ... I think you’d be a fool to stay.”

             
“But it works for you.”

             
“It doesn’t have to work for everyone, Max.  Like a lot of people here, I don’t really want to change my world.  I have a good life with Grandma Dot and the business.  I have everything I could ever want and more.”

             
The swing picked up pace, and they both rested back and enjoyed the ride in silence.  Max liked how the swing made just the right gentle creaking sound as the chain links moved through the metal rings embedded in the ceiling.  He remembered now that his father liked that sound very much.

             
“Like that McCoy fellow?” he asked finally.

             
“Oooo, are we showing a hint of jealousy?  I’m so flattered!”  She laughed and shook her head.  “Shane is a plaything sometimes, but a business partner first.  Things could never get too serious between us because I don’t like to mix business with personal.”

             
“Remind me never to invest in your company.”

             
“You are a funny man, Max Rosen.  But like my granny says, ‘Looks aren’t everything in life.’”  She poked him playfully.

             
“Mel, there’s something I wrote, just a few notes, that I’d like your opinion on.”

             
“I’m flattered.”

             
Max left the room and returned with two handwritten pages.  She read and then handed the pages back to him.

             
“That’s pretty hot stuff … very political.  I think your facts are right on, but some powerful people are not going to like it.  What do you plan to do with it?”

             
“Send it to the editor of the paper.  I already ran it by him and he says he’ll publish it.”

             
“You’re gonna make some enemies when it comes out.”

             
“Maybe they’re people I don’t want for friends.”

             
“I’m proud of you.  I know Doris will be too.”

Mel left around eleven.  Max locked the doors, turned out the lights and checked in on Doris.  He sat at t
he writing table in his bedroom adding a few pages to his personal journal.  He wrote about his experiences in Cottonwood, about his conversations with Doris and the impact her stroke had on everyone.  He wrote about meeting Mel and Cindy Barker, and even Tommy Five O’clock.  But mostly he wrote about his time with Erika.  His musings eventually focused on his feelings about coming back to Cottonwood. 

September 14
th
-

Originally doubted whether this trip would make a difference, but I’m certain now that it has.  Not sure that it’s solving anything for me, but I’m gaining perspective on my life – when I lived here.  Wish I knew more about Dad, now.  That’s a new feeling! Don’t want to get involved in local politics, but may not have a choice.  Met some fascinating people who will make good characters in my writing.  Wish I could come up with idea for new novel …a new novel …
about … about …a man who’s lost and begins a journey to find … himself.  Shit, yes!

 

Max then wrote the first pages of his new work and it was good.  It was very, very good.  He’d found his writer’s voice and it sounded better than ever.  He put pen and book aside and went to sleep.

             
In the morning he checked in on Doris and then left the nurse to help her get ready for the day.  He made his own breakfast and took his coffee to the porch to wait for Doris to make an appearance.  Standing before the windows Max imagined Doris puttering in the garden below the porch or strolling along one of the well-worn paths that led away from the house.

             
“Hey.” 

Max turned to see Doris standing in the doorway, braced with a cane.  “Look at you!  You’re going to be playing soccer any day now.  I am so proud of you, lady.”

              “Yeah … well,” she gestured over her shoulder where the nurse was standing close by, “Heather helped me get … into this … position, but … I need … to sit down … now.”

             
“Yes, please sit down.  I’m going to make
you
breakfast for a change.”

             
Max scrambled eggs, then mashed them before feeding her.  He tenderly wiped her mouth after each bite and raised the straw to her lips when she wanted water.  Max was grateful that Heather stood by, but mostly he was thankful that he’d been given a chance to repay Doris for her kindness and love toward him.
              After breakfast, he used his laptop to fax his article to the newspaper.  “This ought to shake up a few people,” he said and hit the SEND button.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 31
- Erika

 

              “Will you give Max a message for me?”

             
Cindy turned and looked at her.  “Hey, Erika.  Just doing a little grocery shoppin,” she said, motioning to the meat freezer behind her.  “Trying to find a choice steak for Clay to grill. How’re you doin’?”

             
“I’m fine, thank you, Cindy."  But she knew Cindy wasn't convinced.  Lately, Erika was less interested in having the perfect hair, makeup and clothes before she left the house.  She hadn't been to Cindy's shop since the day Max returned.  Most troubling to Erika was that while sitting in front of her mirror these days even she could see sadness in her eyes.  She was certain that Cindy saw it too.

“Haven’t seen you in the shop for a while.”

“I know.  I’ve been busy … haven’t had time.” 
Liar.

“Well, let me know when you want your nails done.”  Cindy turned and leaned into the meat coolers.

“Can you give Max a message for me?” Erika asked again.

“I’m sorry, that's what you asked me in the first place, wasn't it?  Sure.”

Erika had second thoughts and hesitated.  “Look, never mind.  I’m sorry to bother you, Cin.  I’ll see you at the shop.”  She started to walk away.

“Hey Erika, …"

She turned back to face the younger woman.
  I know I don't look my usual self, so please don't say anything.  I don't need you feeling sorry for me.

"Max once admitted to Clay and me that he was still sweet on you.”  She smiled.

“He did?”

“When he first got to town, you know?  Don’t mean to be gossipin or nothin, but you were kinda the topic of conversation between Clay and Max for a bit.  They told me that you two were an item back in high school.  He’s really a sweet guy ... Max.  We tried to fix him up with a friend of mine, Pauline, at karaoke night, at the
PonyTail Lounge
, you know?  But I don’t think they hit it off.  Her rendition of
Breathe
didn’t impress anyone.  She’s nice enough, of course, but not his type.”

BOOK: The Weight of Gravity
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