Gilda's Locket (3 page)

His wheedling tone was biting on her nerves,
though she wasn’t sure why. Why did she feel so snippy?

“Not now, Scott! I’ve already told you, we
eat first, then you can go sail your boat.”

“Oh, but, Mama-”

“Scott,” it was Eldon, his quiet tone held a
lot of patience, while at the same time a firmness even the child
could not deny.

“Aw, Dad,” Scott’s face fell a bit at the
realization he was not going to get his way, but as with most
children he came around quickly just by the sheer excitement of the
day. Placing the boat carefully on the edge of the cloth, he said,
“Can I help you, Mama?”

“No, I’ve got it under control, thank you.”
Why did she sound so curt?

“Here, Scott,” Eldon rose from his seated
position, “you can help your old dad.” Eldon picked up the camera,
there newest acquisition. It had cost a pretty penny considering
their tight budget, but now, more than ever, Gilda was glad for its
purchase a few years before. She spent almost every night going
through the photo albums, reliving the past.

The two headed off towards the woods, camera
in hand, with Eldon promising they’d return in a few minutes for
the meal. By the time Gilda had everything plated and drinks poured
they had indeed returned, and they all sat to eat. The atmosphere
relaxed a bit, good food has a way of doing that, and they chatted
companionably about this and that, though nothing of any real
importance. After they had eaten and cleaned up, Scott snatched up
his boat and scampered towards the pond. Chuckling, Eldon bent to
grab the camera.

“Come on, Gilda, we’d better keep up with the
boy.”

Gilda dragged her feet (what was the matter
with her?), but eventually caught up with the two of them, if for
no other reason than Eldon had slowed Scott down a bit. Once at the
pond, Eldon decided to delay Scott’s joy just a bit longer, wanting
to get pictures of the boy and his boat, the boy and his mother and
his boat, and then requesting Gilda get one of him and Scott
together. A nearby gentleman who had been fishing upon their
arrival, kindly offered to take a picture of the three of them
together, and Eldon, delighted, quickly handed over the camera.

If the smile on her face felt forced, Gilda
wasn’t sure why, but she dutifully stood by while the gentleman
took their picture. Then, wishing them a good day, he collected his
fishing gear and walked off. Scott promptly took the signal, and
heading to the area the man had recently deserted, he crept toward
the edge of the pond.

“Now be careful, son,” Eldon admonished.

“I am, Dad,” the tone implied he would be a
fool to think otherwise.

Carefully, Scott placed the boat into the
water and watched as it wobbled precariously before up-righting
itself and setting off on a rocky journey.

“Look, Dad! Look! It’s working! It’s
sailing!” Scott jumped up and down on the bank.

“It sure is son,” Eldon smiled broadly at the
boy. “It sure is. She’d a pretty seaworthy boat, I’d say.”

“Come on!” Scott called as he picked his way
around the bank, Eldon followed, with Gilda a few steps behind.

The boat made it about a third of the way
around the pond before it started a tottering turn, heading
straight for the center of the pond.

“No! No!” Scott’s panicked cry echoed across
the pond. “Dad, it’s getting away!”

“It’s all right son, we’ll just head to the
other side. It’ll float over; the pond’s not that big. Let’s see
who gets there first, us or the boat.” He was smart, turning it
into a game that way. Scott’s panic forgotten, he quickly broke
into a run, the natural competitiveness in his nature extending
even to inanimate objects.

Eldon picked up his pace a bit, though
Gilda’s remained the same. A few minutes later, Scott was calling
from the other side of the pond, “Come on! Come on! The boat’s
almost here! You’re gonna miss it!”

“We’re gonna miss the boat, Gilda,” Eldon
chuckled at his own pun.

Gilda barely cracked a smile.

Eldon was the first to catch up with Scott,
naturally. Scott began prodding his mother, “Come on, Mama, hurry
up, you’re gonna lose.”

Gilda picked up her stride a bit, though not
by much, and continued picking her way around the pond, keeping a
watchful eye on the muddy banks. All she needed was to slip in the
mud and fall in; that would put a bright cap on the day.

Less than a minute later she had joined them
and they all watched as the boat wobbled its way toward the shore.
It was only a few feet out when it suddenly stopped, for no
apparent reason. It was as if something they could not see under
the water had anchored it, bringing it to an unbidden halt. The
slight breeze ruffled the sails of the boat, causing it to rock
precariously, but still it did not move on.

Looking to Eldon, Scott questioned, “What do
we do now, Dad?”

Eldon thought for a minute. Then, “No
worries, son. Let’s just find us a long, straight stick. See if we
can’t get that boat unstuck.”

Eager to oblige, Scott galloped off to the
woods and before long came back with the required instrument. “Is
this good enough, Dad?”

Eldon eyed the stick, sizing it up as if he
were looking to make an extremely expensive purchase and wanted to
be sure it was just the right thing. “I do believe so, son, I do
believe so.”

He started to reach for the stick, but Scott
snatched it back. “No, let me!”

“All right, but be careful.”

“I will.”

Scott picked his way to the edge of the pond,
and using the stick, he prodded at the boat. The boat rocked
perilously, in imminent danger of capsizing.

Eldon quickly laid a hand over his son’s
extended arm. “No, not that way. You’ll only tip the boat. Try
going underneath it. See if you can dislodge whatever’s holding it
up under the water.”

Nodding, Scott frowned in concentration as he
took on a squatting position, and tried it his father’s way. “I can
feel it, Dad, I can feel it! I’m not sure what it is, though.”

“Good job, son. Now, try and prod it with the
stick. Be careful,” an intake of breath as the boat rocked
precariously once more, but the tone never changed. That quiet,
calm tone Eldon was always good at. “Be careful.”

“I got it, Dad, I think I got it.” In his
excitement, Scott lunged forward a little. It was only a little,
but it was enough to topple him from his squatting position, and
before they knew it he was plunging, face first into the pond.

“Scott!” Gilda didn’t mean to, but it came
out before she could stop it. The scream sent birds scattering into
the air as it echoed around the pond.

Wordlessly, Eldon plunged in after the boy,
coming up seconds later, Scott draped over one arm, gasping and
sputtering, a bit of plant life hanging from his hair.

Panic, now subsided at least as far as Eldon
was concerned, he cracked a little joke, “Nice day for a swim, huh,
son?” To which Scott, still sputtering, began to giggle.

Gilda wasn’t sure what had gotten into her,
she only knew she was filled with fear and rage. And the rage was
quickly overtaking her.

“It is not funny! Not funny at all! You could
have been hurt!”

“I’m fine, Mama,” Scott began, “really, I’m
fi-”

“You are NOT fine. You’re soaking wet, both
of you! And with this wind (the way she was going on you’d have
thought it was an icy wind straight from the North Pole rather than
the summery breeze that it was) you’ll both catch your death! Just
what I need, the two of you in bed with pneumonia and me trying to
nurse you both back to health at the same time! As if I hadn’t had
my fill of playing nurse at a hospital bedside-!” She was stunned
into silence by her own words.

The two of them just stood there, chest high
in the pond, staring disbelievingly at her.

Turning on her heel, she stalked off, back to
the picnic site, without another word.

Behind her, she heard Eldon instructing Scott
to get his boat, but she paid no mind. She assumed Eldon had it all
under control. He always did. Unlike her. She felt as if her whole
world was spinning out of control, and there seemed to be nothing
she could do about it. Her emotions all roiled up, she felt tears
start leaking from both eyes. Blinking furiously, she stemmed them
back

If she envied anything, it was Eldon’s
control. His steadfastness in accepting fate, in a way she had
never, could never, be able to. All she could do was keep asking
why? Why them? Why Cynthia? Why her?

Feeling decidedly sorry for herself, she
began slamming things back into the picnic basket, uncaring as to
whether or not she broke anything, basket included. Snatching up
the cloth, a cloth she never used again, she marched towards the
car.

Eldon and Scott met up with her minutes
later, and it was a very quiet ride back to the house. No one
uttered so much as one word. Upon reaching the house, Scott, on his
father’s command, headed straight for the tub, and then to bed, the
boat forgotten in the back of the car, where it remained for months
to come. Gilda was never sure if Scott ever played with it again.
She only knew one day it was gone from the car. She never knew who
had removed it, or where it had gone. And to be perfectly honest,
she had never much cared.

Now, as she sat at the kitchen table, her
head held in her hands, she felt an overwhelming urge to cry. Eldon
came in behind her and laid one hand upon her shoulder. “Are you
okay?”

She stiffened a bit at his touch. It hurt too
much to be close to him, to anyone. Especially Scott. And she
didn’t know what to do about it. She only reacted instinctively, as
she always had done. Pulling away, she said, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Eldon disagreed; with that
damnedably calm tone of his. “You haven’t been fine since
spring.”

She suddenly spun on him, fire in her eyes,
and ice in her tone. “Well, I’m so glad Mr. Eldon Butler that you
can get over the death of our daughter so easily! I’m sorry that
I’m not as capable at forgetting as you seem to be. As capable of
moving on as if nothing ever happened. As if she didn’t even
exist!”

Eldon blanched. Apparently, he wasn’t as calm
as he would like one to believe. “I haven’t forgotten. I could
never forget her existence. She brought a joy to our lives I don’t
think we ever had a right to expect. But, the loss of that joy, the
loss of her, is not reason enough to stop living ourselves. We have
a son, Gilda. A son that very much needs us. And I can’t fail him.
I will be there for him. Especially since you‘ve made it so evident
you will not.”

Spoken straight out as it was, so boldly, so
plainly, she could hardly deny it. She said nothing as Eldon, a
look of disappointed etched into his middle-aged features, left the
room.

She collapsed back into the chair, laid her
head back in her arms on the table and sobbed. Sobbed as she’d
never done before, letting out much of the pain and frustration
she’d kept bottled up for so long inside. A few hours later she
crept to bed, sliding in behind Eldon, wrapping her arm carefully
around his waist, hoping he would not pull away, hoping he would
not deny her.

But her Eldon, faithful as always, simply
took her hand, sliding her arm up higher over her, and kissed her
knuckles gently. She squeezed his hand in response. It was
something. It was a beginning. It would be a long road she knew,
pulling her family back into her loving arms, instead of pushing
them away. But she was determined to make the trip, determined to
make up for all the lost time. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but
Eldon was right, it was necessary. She finally drifted off into
sleep, not as worried about the next day as she had been for such a
long time.

When she awoke it was nearly eight o’clock,
the sun was already starting to set, and her face was still damp
with tears. Her hands actually hurt from clutching the locket so
tightly, and it took a few minutes to straighten out her arthritic
fingers. Her bladder was screaming for release (that full glass of
water before such a long slumber wasn’t helping) and her stomach
was growling to beat the band. She had lost a whole day, she
realized as she looked at the clock. Not that it really mattered.
What was so important that she was going to do that day? Nothing
more productive than flipping channels of the TV for eight hours.
Slowly stretching and unlinking her bones, she climbed out of the
bed, and locket still in one hand, headed for the bathroom.

After a less than nutritious dinner of more
toast and coffee (it was the quickest, easiest thing she could
think of), she headed back to the living room to search through the
albums once more. She wasn’t about to leave that picture in the
locket, that was a day she had no intentions of ever reliving
again. She would be more careful in choosing this time. She would
try harder to remember the events prior to the picture as well as
after.

Finally, choosing what she hoped would be a
good memory, and replacing the other in the locket, she popped
another of the sleeping pills and headed off to bed. The picture
paid off, the dream was a good one, the memory happy if not
blissful, and she spent another eight hours reliving a part of her
life long since forgotten.

The next day was much the same, coffee and
toast, perusing the albums, replacing the picture, and then off to
bed, though this time, fully rested as she was, it took two of the
sleeping pills to get to sleep. She spent the day the same as she
had the day before, and before she knew it, it was Monday morning.
The urge to call in sick was great; after all she had never done so
before. Certainly they would forgive an old lady for being ill? The
day was harder to get through than every other day combined, and
throughout the day she was questioned about her health, so much so,
that she began to wonder if maybe wasn’t coming down sick. Her
complexion was a bit off, and she wasn’t feeling all that well, not
that she could ever say she’d had a day in the last ten years when
she’d felt completely healthy. Nevertheless, she began to think
maybe it would be wiser to call in the next day. Upon reaching the
house she forced herself to cook a healthier dinner, complete with
vegetables, though she regretted the time it took both to make it,
as well as to eat it. She was nearly breathless with anticipation
by the time she was able to look through the pictures. Still, she
was wide awake when it came time for bed, and she found it
necessary to take two of the sleeping pills in order to drift off.
But, once again she had chosen wisely when it came to the picture,
the dream was a joyous one, with no regrets. Still, not exactly
blissful, but certainly good.