All Roads Lead Home (Bellingwood) (3 page)

Beryl
waited for
a breath, then said
, "My turn! I'm
single and I love it. I kicked my first husband out thirty years ago and then
when I thought I'd found a great man a few years later, he up and died on me
after only two years. I decided to say 'to hell with it.' I'm
great all by myself and
I'll stay that way forever. If a man wants to hang out with me, fine,
but he can own his own house and live his own life."

Polly couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. "Well,
that's a great way to look at it!"

"You're damned right it is. If I want to run
naked through the house in the middle of the night, there isn't anyone to stop
me or think I'm t
rying to get them all
turned
on
.
"

By now, all of them were laughing, Beryl included.

"I do like living by myself. I have a cat to keep
me company and all that solitude gives me plenty of time to paint
.
"

"You're an artist?" Polly asked.

Lydia answered, "She's a great artist. She even
has art hanging
in a gallery or two in
your little town of
Boston! We're pretty
proud of her."

"I'd love to see your
work
sometime,
Beryl. Maybe
you’d allow me to hang a few
things
here." Polly said.

"Polly, dear.
I'll choose
one
for you to han
g
before you open those doors.
" said
Beryl.

Sylvie had been quietly enjoying the banter of the
other four women. Lydia turned to her. "It's finally your turn, Sylvie. You
have to fess up and tell your life story now."

She began rubbing her right thumb across the
forefinger. "
I
don't have much to tell. I work at the grocery store
and take care of my
two boys, Jason and
Andrew
. They're still pretty young and
need me at home. I spend a lot of time going to their school activities. There's
not much time
for
other things with work and their
lives
. If I
didn't have these ladies around, I don't know what I'd do!"

Polly looked at Lydia, as if hoping for a little more
information, but it didn't look like she was going to get much more.

Andy reached out and patted Sylvie on the shoulder. "We
love your kiddos and are glad you choose to hang out with us old ladies. You
make us feel young again!"

Beryl laughed
again
. It seemed there was always an undercurrent of
laughter in her voice. "That's right, Sylvie.
Us
old, decrepit ladies certainly do like having you
around to make sure we don't drop over into our graves w
hen we walk past the cemetery."

Polly
's puzzled
look
signaled more laughter. "Oh,
you don't know,” Beryl said.
“
Andy lives past the old town cemetery. We tease her
about it all the time. She says the ghosts don't bother her, but one can never be
sure what's going to pop out, can one?"

"Stop it, you crazy person," said Lydia.
"You're nuts.

"So,"
Lydia
went on. "We're your welcoming committee. We'll
probably keep bothering you until you get this place
finished
. Andy,
Beryl and I have known each other forever, it seems. Sylvie was in one of
Andy's last classes at this school ... isn't that right
,
girls?"

Both
women
nodded. Sylvie responded. "
Mine was the last graduating class
. After we left, everyone else
was
bused into
Boone
. I loved
it here and I can’t wait to see what you’re doing with it."

Lydia stood up. She really was in charge. "Alright,
we've
kept you long enough
. I suppose it's time we let you get back to whatever
you were doing." She pulled a 3 x 5 card from her wallet and wrote down
some numbers. "Here
are our cell
phone numbers
. Now that you know us and
have been thoroughly entertained by us, I fully expect you to take advantage of
these and
call if you need or want
anything, even if it's
only
company."

She handed the card to Polly. "And if I don't
hear from you before the weekend, I'm coming back to check on you. My house is
always open
if my car is there
. I drive a blue Grand Cherokee. If it's not there,
well ... who knows where I am!"

Beryl jumped in. "I'm always home, unless I'm
with blue Grand Cherokee here. If you stop by my house and I don't answer the
door, walk around back. My painting shed is out in the garden. I spend most of
the time out there
, even in the winter
."

Andy looked at Polly. "You're never going to find
my house until you've been there a couple of times. It's kind of like looking
for the blue bird sitting on
a
fence post. Hey! I should buy a blue bird and put it
on my fence post. Why haven't I thought of that before! But, once you do find
me, you're always welcome."

Sylvie started to speak and then stopped. Then, she
started again. "I don't ever seem to be home, but when I'm there, one of
these nuts always finds me. I work in the grocery store downtown, though. Stop
in and say hi, ok
ay
?"

Lydia started walking out of the kitchen and the rest
of the ladies stood and followed her out into the main
hallway
. She
said to Polly, "You know, I can’t wait to see what you're planning to do
with all of this. All these painter
’
s cloths aren't telling me a thing!"

Polly said, "I'll tell you what. Give me a few
more days and I’ll have you back over. Everything is going to
come
together
quickly in the next month and it will start making sense
."

Lydia gave her a quick hug. "Do that. We're glad
you're here. This is going to be fun."

Beryl grabbed Polly's hand as she walked past and gave
it a quick squeeze. Andy patted her on the shoulder and Sylvie winked at her as
they all followed Lydia out the front door. There was a blue Grand Cherokee
parked in the front lot beside Polly's red Ford pickup. As the ladies got in,
she waved and watched them drive away.

Polly walked back in, shut the door and returned to
the kitchen. She poured another cup of coffee and sat down again, thinking over
her first encounter with new friends. It wasn't quite what she expected, but
then, honestly, she had no idea what it was she expected.

As she drank her coffee, Polly remembered the open
paint can upstairs. She dumped the rest of the coffee in the sink, sluiced some
water around to rinse it out and took off up the steps at a run. When she got
to the door of the room she had been painting, she stopped to take in its
beauty. With tall ceilings and glass windows,
sun
light streamed in everywhere. The
light grey walls were going to be perfect for her bedroom, and it was time to
finish so Henry could begin working.

She thought back for a moment to her last life. Sunday
afternoons and evenings were usually spent with Joey, doing something in and
around Boston. Since
she hadn’t
grown up on the east coast,
he
loved to act
like tourists and
take her to
see all the
sights
. Whether they were on the swan boats in Boston Common
or out in Concord, or walking through some author's home,
it was always fun
.
Then, when evening came, they would pick up a pizza and carry it back to her
apartment and watch television. Her Sundays had been filled with fun and
relaxation.

This was much better, though
. She worked herself to exhaustion and slept like a
worn out puppy every night. She was glad she'd finally
moved her things to one of the rooms across from her
apartment
. Even if everything but her bed
and a table was still in the basement in storage, at least she was living in
her own place.

She grabbed
the
brush
, climbed back up the ladder and
finished the last of the second coat. It would dry overnight and tomorrow,
Henry would
hang
moldings and begin framing the doors and windows. They'd
talked about
hard wood floors
in this room and she
planned
to check out some old
barn board he had found on a farm south of Boone. If it was what they both
thought, it would be perfect
.

Polly cleaned the brushes and rollers, washed out the
trays and sealed up the paint can, and then walked
across the hall to
where her bed was and stripped down. She took a quick shower to rinse of the
splatter, walked over to a box of books on the floor, shut her eyes and pulled
out a book. When she looked at the title, she giggled. "Anna Karenina,
eh?" she said out loud. "Thanks. This will put me right to sleep."

She set her alarm for six, snuggled under the covers
and opened the book. "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family
is unhappy in its own way ..."

"Well, that's one way to start a book," she
thought and continued reading. After a few short minutes, her eyes
began to droop
and she
mustered up
enough energy to drop the book on the floor and turn
out
the light.

Early t
he next mo
rning, Polly was in the kitchen
when she heard the front door open.

"It's me, Polly!" Henry
Sturtz
's
voice rang through the building. There was no drywall
hung
in the main level yet, so sounds
tended to echo.

Polly walked out. "Hi, Henry, c
offee is made if you want it." When she
had
realized how
much coffee it took to renovate a building, she’d purchased a large 40 cup pot.
Some days it took several of those pots to keep everyone moving.

"I had to stop at Casey’s for a large coffee
already. This weekend must have kicked me around a little!" he said.

"Oh!" she
laughed
. "How was it?"

Henry had told her a little about his sister, Lonnie,
on Friday before he left for the day. She lived in Ann Arbo
r with two of her best friends,
was finishing her doctorate and planned to continue
teaching at the University of Michigan.
The
three loved to torment Lonnie’s older brother whenever possible
. They often ca
me
to Iowa and discovered ways of making Henry do girl-stuff. Then,
after
exhausting
him,
they'd head back to Michigan, knowing it was a job well done.

"I think we saw every antique store between here
and Iowa City. She kept finding things she wanted me to restore. I
told
her
I was too
busy. Needless to say
,
I have a cherry sideboard and hutch sitting in my
shop now. I hate refinishing furniture. I
hate it," he said.

"But, I guess you're going to do
it anyway
?"
Pol
ly snickered
.

"What else can I do? I can't say no to that
girl." Henr
y looked at Polly for
sympathy.

"Oh, you'll get no sympathy from me," she
laughed. "You're a big boy and you know how to put
‘no’
into a
sentence. If you haven't figured
that out
by
now, it's
no one’s
problem
but your own." Polly smiled and t
urned
to head into the kitchen.