Autumn was Emma’s favorite season. She loved being surrounded by all the earthy colors and the crispness in the air which was filled with harvest smells and if lucky a baking apple pie aroma. Days were getting shorter. BBQs and bonfires feverishly sucked up the last warm days and brisk nights. Her father loved football season and sometimes would take Arty to a game. The hills near their home were a painted plethora of color until the leaves began to die one by one and fall to the ground. For some reason that did not leave Emma with a feeling of death and decay as it did some people, instead a she felt a hopeful feeling that all of life can complete its cycle and be renewed. Maybe next year would be better.
The new school year sure hadn’t started any better. Cash was still there, but in none of her classes. Mrs. Dudley had gotten sick over the summer and was taking a sabbatical year off. And Emma was still extremely invisible to the rest of the student population. How could someone live most of their life in one place and no one know their name. Just one smile or “hi Emma” would have made her week, no, her semester.
She and Cash still met for lunch each day which became the bright spot even with the dismal cuisine. He was more confident this year and focused on his future already talking about college, preparing for scholarships, taking entrance exams and filling out applications. She supposed she should be doing those things, but she did not even know if she would be around to attend college at this point. She thought about sharing her possible plan with Cash, but he was a serious, science-minded type of guy and would not appreciate her getting all maudlin on him. She had no idea of the torch he had carried for her since grade school.
Cash had much more to him than Emma gave him credit for. He did love science and figuring out how things in the world worked. He sure wished he could figure out Emma as easily. He considered himself an introvert, not shy, just not social. His peers did not know what to make of him. He was a quarter Indian from his father’s side, grandmother or Nani Anjali, who created a brouhaha in the family when she shunned her arranged marriage to marry his American grandfather, Anjali’s math professor. Try explaining to the non-geographically gifted students at EMH that he was part Indian, but not American Indian. Columbus caused all the confusion by naming the natives in America the same name as the inhabitants of his grandmother’s country in India when looking for a sea trade route to the treasures of the East (mainly spices) and landing on the wrong continent. Cash planned a trip to India to uncover his heritage one day. At least they spoke English there so he could communicate.
His home life was fine. His mother had been a stay-at-home mom when he was young and ran a little day care in their home. His dad was a math professor at the local college in town, Eastern Community College, ECC. Sounded like it should be a medical procedure of some sort. It was on odd name because their state was in the western part of the United States, but their town was on the eastern side of the state. Things like that were not logical to Cash. Both of his parents were supportive and there for him if needed, which he rarely did, but just being present in his life was enough to give him ballast.
He had an older brother and sister who had married and moved away. They came home for holidays occasionally, but not much else. Emma was really more like his family than they were, but not like a sister. No, his feeling were not at all platonic. Cash would walk across hot coals for her, or do pretty much anything even less dramatic, yet she had no idea how he felt. The analytical part of him wanted to solve the problem, but the teenage boy side of him had no idea how. So day after day, year after year, he was there for her in whatever role she would allow. BFFs forever, while he longed for more.
Cash had decided today was the day to go out on a limb. “Emma, I was thinking, maybe we should go to the Homecoming Dance next week. As an experiment you know, just to see how one works?” Ouch, that was awful, he had no smooth genes!
“You mean together, like a date?”, Asked Emma curiously.
“Well, yah, I thought that might be easiest. We don’t even have to dress up or get flowers if you don’t want to.” There he would make it more casual to not freak her out.
Emma did not know if she had a dress to wear and the thought of attending a school dance was about the most awkward thing she could think of, but she did not want to disappoint Cash, “Maybe, okay, that might work.”
And that is how they ended up at the Homecoming Dance together on a Saturday night in October. It wasn’t as awful as she had pictured. They drank punch, watched their classmates dance and even were brave enough to try one dance themselves. Cash was hoping for a slow dance so he would have an excuse to hold Emma close. One song sounded like it was going to be slow and started out that way, but changed tempo shortly after it began and trying to do any kind of coordinating stepping together was not happening, so they separated and flunk their arms and legs around in a fast-dance style to the music. Maybe they were not Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire, but it was nice to have fun together and toss the heavy everyday aside for an evening.
When the music faded Cash convinced Emma to stop for a bite to eat before dropping her off at home in a car he had borrowed from his parents for the night. At the ma-and-pops diner that was open after midnight Cash ordered pancakes, onion rings with a root beer to wash them down, while Emma just ordered a side salad and french fries. As they chatted over the food Cash realized he would not be going in for the awkward goodnight kiss at the door tonight with the onions ringing on his breath.
The night was not a total failure however. Cash and Emma had actually had their first official date moving them slightly past the friend-zone. Their relationship may be unfolding slowly, but some of the best things took time.
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Emma still savored her crane-communion moment and relived it each time she passed the sacred spot. On the way home that night in the nearly dark dusk of night she had crossed the path of a less popular winged creature. A low-flying bat had nearly become entangled in her hair as she hurried home. At first she was extremely grossed out and shuttered at touching that sorely maligned bird, if it could even be considered in the same category as the crane she had just seen. Then her heart softened. Was it that bat’s fault it was destined to live in the dark sleeping suspended upside down. Who decided bats were creepy villains? If they had been designated in vogue or on the top of the bird world in popularity, they would be treated with respect and not reviled. The next time she saw a bat she would remember not to fear it, but give it the chance it deserved and appreciate it as a helpful vermin eater.
Emma did not get to the lake or Lily’s Wildwood as frequently now that school had started, but still escaped there often enough to keep semi-centered. The last Saturday in October one could definitely feel the change in the seasons as the lake appeared. A lone goose paced on the beach. A thin circle of ice was forming around the edges of the water and the bird seemed a little lost. Emma wondered if his flock had flown south without him. He could not winter here. Soon the whole lake would be a solid sheet of ice. How would he survive? Hopefully his posse would return for him or he was just ahead of the rest. She felt a deep empathy for the fowl knowing how it felt to be alone.
She continued on to the cabin almost bowled over by a flash of fur, Hemingway, as she entered. Lily was in the kitchen corner making bread, kneading the ball of dough with rolling firm palm pressure, but wiped her hands on her apron to give Emma a hug. She had caught Lily with an expression on her face she had never seen before, maybe wistful, but it disappeared swiftly.
“How are the dwellers of Wildwood?” Emma inquired, wondering to herself if Arty would like living in this solitary place with Lily when she was gone or if he would be more content staying put in their family home with Joy.
“Just dandy as always”, piped Emma’s woodsy friend. Maybe even Lily wore a mask. Her mind had been far away on an autumn day this same date many years ago.
Lily grew up in the Northeast in New Hampshire on a maple syrup farm. Her family had over 2000 maple trees they tapped in the spring when the sap was running. They would harvest the sugary liquid with a drip system of tiny tubes that drained into buckets and boil what they collected in large vats until they got the high sugar content they needed. To compliment the syrup business her parents opened a Pancake House on their property where she used to work as a server over the summers when she was home.
One spring her father had hired help in the form of a handsome, lumber-jack-looking Liam Waters from out of state who was willing and needed work. Lily had not known much about him before she had fallen head over heels. They had a whirlwind courtship, then engagement and planned to get married on the farm that fall.
The day of the wedding arrived. A few chairs had been arranged with an isle down the middle, leaves of splendid oranges and yellows adorning the simple event. Bishop Somerville was going to perform the ceremony and they had each written their own vows.
Close friends and family began filling the chairs at the appointed time. They resorted to milling around a bit past the appointed time. Then uncomfortably leaving a few hours after the appointed time. Unfortunately the groom had been the only guest to not arrive.
To this day Lily was not sure what had happened. He could have been in some awful accident and not been able to make it. But none of the nearby hospitals she contacted over the next few days had any news. Perhaps he drowned in one of the many nearby lakes, or fell hiking alone, but a body was never found. Certainly he would have left a note if he had just changed his mind. Wouldn’t he? Maybe Liam Watters was not even his real name.
She stayed working the sap harvest and at the pancake house for a few more years hoping to unravel the mystery. Finally she could no longer endure the neighbor’s pity and veiled whispers whenever she was serving a newcomer to the area. She had to make a new start somewhere and that is when she remembered this family cabin out west. She had retreated here over two decades ago…had it really been that long. Hemingway was her second dog so it had been at least twenty years.
There were many great people she had met at the local markets in the area. The librarian was her friend and often recommended a book she would love. Of course Emma visited her at times too. Others came in and out of her life, but she had known she would never marry. Not that she could never trust again, but the unknown held her in this strange state of limbo.
In the past few years she had suddenly not felt as alone. She had shared with Emma how she knew there were others around strengthening her at times, what she didn’t and couldn’t share was there was a presence even more present. It was something she could not make others understand, yet she knew someone was very close to her often. She even thought she could feel them at times and knew they cared about her, even loved her. Okay, maybe she was getting a little batty out here alone. Yet it or he was more real that many things she could see with her eyes. There she had admitted it.
One night recently, when she had been especially melancholy with a sadness that could not be quenched, she stretched out on her belly face down in the meadow under the moon with both arms and legs extended and just sobbed until no tears were left. She was definitely a wretched soul. Yet just when she had been at her very lowest point a phantom, or something metaphysical, had engulfed her and she would swear even elevated her barely off the damp ground. Suspended and surrounded by a riveting warmth that permeated her, Lily had felt a deeper love than she ever knew existed. Since then there had been an internal wrestle going on between what she knew to be true and the things she was experiencing. Her world had new, or maybe even no, boundaries.
Lily was not a fantasy romance girl, she was a hard working farm girl. She had her heart broken, more like dynamite-exploded, pulverized or trampled by love in the past so she was not looking for a man in her life to mend it. When she first moved out west she had to admit she had been a little lonely, but in the past few years she was less lonely than she had ever been in her whole life.
When “he” was in room she knew. All of her senses were heightened, she could see better, hear better and definitely understand on an elevated level. She felt so extremely safe and loved. It was hard to put into words. It was not just her physical being he was attracted to, but every little particle and molecule of her, he loved her soul. He knew every unloveable thing about her, yet he still loved her. It was the most marvelous feeling in the world and it did not matter to her that she could not see him. She could hear him at times, things came to her mind that she knew were not herself and she could feel him at times too. Not how most humans think of touching, but it was a tangible experience just the same.
All these thoughts tangled in Lily’s head as Emma stepped over the threshold. The other presence was there too, she knew it, she could feel it, or him, yes she was pretty sure it was a he. How could anyone not feel him? Did Emma?
But instead of asking her, Lily absentmindedly interjected, “I was just thinking about that story from 2nd Kings in the Good Book where Elisha tells his servant when they were surrounded by enemies to ‘Fear not for they that be with us are more than they that be with them’. Then his companion’s eyes were opened, so he could really see, and he saw the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around them. That story is very comforting to me Emma and perhaps it could be to you too.”
Lily’s far away, lost-in-thought manner abruptly ended and she returned to the real world. They chatted on about Emma’s school and how her mother was doing as the tantalizing smell of bread baking fill the rustic room. After sharing thick, warm slices of Lily’s homemade wheat bread dripping with real butter, and saying their goodbyes with another hug, Emma headed home. Lily was not left alone. There was still always Hemingway and another presence hovering near as well.
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Thanksgiving Day still arrived at the non-festive Lanrete home. Joy added extra duties to her schedule and put a small turkey in the oven for the four of them. Emma was surprised and pleased to not find a tofu loaf. Maggie would not be joining them at the table. Her Thanksgiving meal could be poured down a tube in her abdomen, but Emma, Arty, their father and Joy would consume part of the bird.
Joy considered the Lanrete’s as close to family as anyone else her in life. She had been born an only child to two other only children. Joy had no aunts, uncles or cousins. Her mother, a devote born-again Christian by the time Joy really got to know her, and her father, a professed atheist, were not family material at this point. Animal magnetism had to be the only thing that brought her two parents together because they virtually had nothing in common besides Joy. By the time Joy was ten years old they realized that fact and amicably parted ways dividing all their property including her.
Joy had been left in a theological vortex pulled by two vastly different extremes. By the time she was a teenager when others were experimenting with drugs , she experimented with religious and philosophical beliefs. Her mother and father both found it quite concerning, it seemed to disturb them even more than if she had turned to drugs. They feared she would end up in some mindless cult and lectured her ad nauseam. Her parental figures did not give her enough credit or perhaps just over-parented, maybe because they forgot to split their parenting as well as their time with her in half. Joy found a fascinating spiritual world interwoven within this one.
After a ten year odyssey, she had arrived at a place somewhere between her parent’s two positions where Joy felt she fit. She did believe there was someone or something greater than other life forms like herself who played a part in the creation. Earth was too magnificent a place to have happened randomly, but Joy did not know if he or she was the same God her mother worshipped. There was so much knowledge and intelligence out there and earth itself offered so many healing options both mentally and physically. Joy had studied the religions and healing arts of many cultures and uncovered her own belief system.
Pulled to Eastern ideology she read much of Buddha, Confucius and Ghandi’s writings. People even thought she looked part Asian or Indian with her petite five foot two frame and straight jet black hair. Her hair color was from a bottle, maybe she was subconsciously going for the look, but her eyes were almond shaped anyway.
Joy was fascinated by the study of plants and other items generously provided by mother earth for its inhabitant’s benefit. She combined all things that rang true to her and mashed it into her belief system, thus horrifying both parents, but finding internal peace. She could not say she was at the idyllic place of nirvana yet, or perfect happiness, seeking truth would be the study of a lifetime.
Becoming a nurturer or healer was a natural fit for her and the Lanrete’s were her first job, or laboratory, to practice her alternative medicine after her varied training was complete. Learning is never complete, but she felt sufficient to start.
There had been no “home” to travel home to for the holidays for years. Her mother found appropriate work as the secretary for her current pastor so literally lived at her church in the rectory and her father used holidays as his vacation time to travel abroad. In the Lanrete home she was accepted as she was and being a contributing member to the function of the home made her feel an integral part, like the kooky aunt she never had.
Holidays are traditionally family events, and this was their non-traditional Lanrete family. One set of Emma and Arty’s grandparents had already passed away and the others lived back East not in good enough health to travel. The logistics of going to visit them there, with Maggie in the bed and Arty needing assistance, made it virtually impossible. So today the four around the table construed family.
Arty insisted on setting a place at the table for his mother, at least Emma assumed that was who it was for. She decorated the flat wooden surface with their best dishes and silverware. Seldom used stemware gave a dressy effect and she even dug out the smashed Thankful Turkey that had not been used since her mother’s absence at the meal. She remembered each year everyone present writing things they were grateful for on a slip of paper and placing them in the colorfully-feathered, paper poultry decoration, which her mother then insisted must be read before they could eat. This year the contents could be interesting.
Eventually the classic dishes were prepared. Sweet potatoes with marshmallows and mashed potatoes with gravy, rolls with jelly, scalloped corn and raspberry pretzel jello salad surrounded the turkey her father had carved. Joy must have discovered all her mothers old recipes. The mashed potatoes and scalloped corn were Emma’s favorites. The dinner actually looked appetizing.
Anonymous, but easily guessed, paper strips from the turkey were read aloud… “food, family and adequate finances”, “the earth around us”, “surviving each day” and a semi-decipherable letter “A” with a scribbled stick figure which they assumed was Arty’s and likely stood for his name with a drawing of himself. A prayer was then said over the food before it was passed around the table.
Arty was much more agitated than usual. He was his happy self, but Emma could tell he was excited and trying to communicate something with her. Finally he left the table, rummaged through her backpack and found the wire-winged angel she still stowed there. He carefully encircled his fingers around her and gently placed the cherub near the open place at the table. The angel’s faceless head angled towards Emma. A low voltage electric shock and current spread through her chest. Arty had invited an angel to join them.
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