Seasons of the Fool (17 page)

“Interesting,” said Ms. Elsie.

Julia frowned. “The odd thing is that I went through that box just a few months ago, and I don’t remember anything in any of them that would feed my spirit. Except….” Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Oh?” the older women asked in unison.

“There was one notebook I didn’t open,” she said. “The journal I kept during the summer that my parents died. I wrote a lot of sappy stuff about Dave in there. And I was pretty angry at Mom and Dad for forcing me to go to college instead of letting us get married.” Her eyes refocused on the women, who were listening avidly. “I just wasn’t interested in reliving all of it that day, so I put it away again.”

“So you still have it?” Ms. Elsie asked.

“Yeah. It’s in a box under the bed in Grandma’s….” She grinned self-consciously. “I keep doing that. I can’t seem to stop thinking of that bedroom as hers, even though I’ve been sleeping in it for the past six months.”

“Maybe she’s still there,” Ms. Thea said.

Julia’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “What?”

Ms. Elsie looked first at Ms. Thea, and then at Julia. “Is there anything else under the bed, dear? Besides your box of notebooks, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “That’s a good question. I’ve never actually looked. I cleaned everything else in the house when I moved in, but I didn’t really touch anything in her…in
my
room, other than to put my own linens on the bed. You think she left something behind?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Ms. Thea said. “Sounds like it’s time to do some spring cleaning.”

Ms. Elsie patted her hand. “Finish your sandwich, dear. If whatever’s under there hasn’t moved in the seven years since your grandmother died, it’s not going anywhere in the next fifteen minutes.”

~

With some trepidation, Julia led the way to her grandmother’s bedroom.

“Seems a bit fussy in here for a young person,” Ms. Thea said, eyeing the floral wallpaper and ruffled lampshade as she leaned against the closet door. The delicate pink palette didn’t go with the duvet, with its giant cartoons of elk in bold primary colors.

“Yeah,” Julia said, looking around with fresh eyes. “It’s not really my thing. There’s probably pine paneling under the wallpaper, like there is in the rest of the house. I figured I’d strip it eventually and see about restoring the paneling. But I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“You can’t do everything at once,” Ms. Elsie said, easing herself onto the end of the bed. “But maybe when we’ve gotten to the bottom of this, you’ll feel more like tackling this room.”

“Maybe,” said Julia. She felt nervous, and wasn’t sure why. Maybe because she had an audience. Or maybe because her grandmother had hidden something away and hadn’t meant for it to be found.

But that was silly. Any family skeletons would be buried, not shoved under a bed where anyone armed with a broom might come across them.

Buoyed by that realization, she dropped to her hands and knees and flipped up the edge of the duvet. “Here are my notebooks,” she said, tugging the box out and scooting it out of the way. Then she dove under the bed again. “Hmm. It looks like there’s something in the far corner.” She pulled her phone from her jeans pocket and turned on the flashlight app.

It was a white box, long and not very deep, with pictures of chocolates on the side. “Oh,” Julia said. “It’s Grandma’s stationery box. I wonder what it’s doing way back there?” She got to her feet and dusted off her knees. “I’ll be right back.”

She went to the broom closet to fetch something with a long handle. As she grabbed the dust mop, she glanced around the inside of the tiny closet to reassure herself that all the walls were solid. Exhaling softly, she retrieved the mop and closed the door.

It took a little doing, but eventually she maneuvered the chocolates box close enough to grab. As she pulled it out, both of the older women chuckled. “She grew up in the Depression,” Julia said with a grin. “She reused everything. And she
saved
everything, in case it would be good someday. You wouldn’t believe the junk Jen and I pulled out of this place after she died. We had to rent a dumpster.”

Ms. Thea and Ms. Elsie laughed. “Oh, we remember the dumpster,” Ms. Elsie said.

Julia grinned at them, the chocolates box on her lap. “Grandma would have been mortified.” She looked down at the box. “It must have been Jen who shoved this so far back. I’ll have to e-mail her and ask.”

“How is your aunt?” Ms. Elsie asked. “You never talk about her.”

Julia shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. She’s been in assisted living in Crystal Lake since shortly after Uncle Frank died. My parents thought they were foolish to move so far away from everyone else, but Aunt Sally and Uncle Frank loved it there.”

“It must be hard for her, with both of her children so far away,” Ms. Thea said.

“She did it to herself,” Julia said. She looked up to see the women’s surprised looks. “I know that sounds harsh, but it’s the truth. Aunt Sally and Uncle Frank did everything they could to control their kids’ lives. They pushed Tim toward being a plumber, of all things. And Aunt Sally tried everything she could think of to keep Jen from moving more than two doors away from her. Both Tim and Jen felt so stifled by the roles their parents wanted them to play that they each got as far away as they could.” She chuckled. “I always thought Aunt Sally’s shenanigans made my parents look like saints.”

“What’s in the box?” Ms. Thea asked.

Julia slid the top up and off, and set it next to her on the floor. An envelope lay angled across the contents. “It’s addressed to me,” she said, surprised. “Looks like Grandma sent it to me at my college address, but it came back.” She looked at the postmark. “Well, no wonder. She must have sent it right before she died. Lance and I were living in Evanston by then. I wonder why she thought I was still in college?”

“She got a bit forgetful toward the end,” Ms. Elsie offered.

“I know, but wow. I didn’t know she’d gotten
that
bad.” Julia set the rest of the box inside its upturned lid and slit open the envelope.

Age had not improved Betty Morton’s handwriting, but Julia had no trouble deciphering it.

Dear Julia,

I hope this finds you well. After you read this letter, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for what I’ve done.

Not long before your parents died, I received a phone call from your father. He told me that he and your mother had discussed your relationship with David, and they were coming around to the idea that you two should be allowed to marry, even if it meant that you changed your plans for college. He asked me what I thought, and I told him I thought it was crazy. You had always struck me as a child with her head in the clouds, and one who was too eager to please. I had overheard David pressuring you, and I was afraid for you.

Your father and I argued. You know how headstrong Jimmy could be. He was very like your grandfather in that way. Anyway, the more I advised him against it, the more he dug in his heels. In the end, he told me he and your mother were going to talk to the two of you when they came out at the end of the summer, and intended to give you their blessing.

When they died, I thought it was God’s way of keeping you from marrying David. So when you decided to go to college after all, I didn’t see any reason to tell you their intentions.

But I may have made a mistake. Now that I have met Lance, I am worried for you. He seems like the kind of man who could sell ice to an Eskimo and not be troubled in his spirit at all, and you seem to idolize him. I think you are still too eager to please, and I worry that it could get you into serious trouble someday.

I still might have kept my mouth shut, but I have just come back from meeting David’s wife. She is a pistol, and he is no match for her. I feel very sorry for those poor kids of theirs. And I just could not help remembering how sweet the two of you were together.

I believe we are all put on God’s green earth to learn something, and maybe this is the lesson I was supposed to learn. Please forgive me, Julia, and know that I did what I did out of my love and concern for you. I pray it is not too late for you and David to right the wrong that I have done you.

All my love,

Grandma

Julia folded the letter carefully and put it back in its envelope. Through the open window, she could hear the waves on the lake. Wind soughed through the trees, and birds called to one another. She identified their calls reflexively: cardinal, blue jay, mourning dove.

Ms. Elsie’s voice broke into her reverie. “Well?”

Julia heard the suppressed excitement in her voice, and turned to them. It was another moment before she found her own voice. “Apparently it was Grandma who didn’t want me to marry Dave,” she said. “Mom and Dad were going to give me their blessing when they got here. After they died, Grandma decided their deaths were God’s will.” Her eyes unfocused. “She was right, too.”

“Oh, no, dear,” said Ms. Elsie in dismay. “She should have said something to you.”

“Oh, not about that,” said Julia, returning her attention to the older women. “No, Grandma was right about Dave and me.” She tapped the letter against the palm of one hand. “She had us both pegged. For that matter, she had us
all
pegged. She knew that Lance was a slimeball, and that Nina was trouble walking. She was right that Dave is no match for her. It’s killing him.” Her eyes unfocused again. “And I
am
too eager to please.”
Oh, Grandma. Of course I forgive you. You did what you thought was right. That’s all any of us can do.

“We should tell her,” Ms. Thea said.

Julia’s head snapped up. Ms. Elsie was staring nervously at her hands, and Ms. Thea was regarding Ms. Elsie with what could only be described as love. “Tell me what?” Julia asked.

Ms. Elsie sighed. “It might be our fault that your parents died.”

Julia laughed in disbelief. “
Your
fault? How? Did you break their landing gear?”

“Not directly,” said Ms. Thea.

Julia looked at each of them in turn. “Then what?”

Ms. Elsie let out a bigger sigh, and cut a glance at Ms. Thea. Then she focused on Julia. “Early in that year, Thea and I saw signs that we interpreted to mean that the two of you should be together. So we did what we could to push you in that direction. And when your parents said they were against it, we….”

“Cast a spell,” Ms. Thea said.

Julia stared at them. “You’re witches? For real? I mean, that’s always been the rumor. Well, that and….”

“And we’re not just friends,” Ms. Thea interrupted. “Yes. We know. It’s true.” She moved to stand next to Ms. Elsie and slipped one arm around her shoulders. Ms. Elsie closed her eyes and sagged against her.

Julia shrugged. “Okay. I mean, I had figured the lesbian part was true. I think Mr. Starek is the only person in the neighborhood who still cares.”

Ms. Thea gave her a small smile.

Ruefully, Julia went on, “Come to think of it, I guess the whole thing with the labyrinth should have clued me in. But casting a spell? Like ‘bubble, bubble, boil and’ – wait, I’ve got it wrong, haven’t I?” She laughed at herself. “Anyway, I thought that was just in the movies.”

The women shook their heads. “It’s not,” Ms. Elsie said. “But spells don’t always work, and we thought this one hadn’t.” She looked up at Ms. Thea.

“Apparently, it had,” Ms. Thea said. “But The All had other plans for you. So it kept this knowledge from you until now.”

“The trial,” Julia said instantly. Then a thought struck her. “You think my purpose all along has been to take Lance down?”

“Maybe,” said Ms. Thea. “Who knows?”

“Anyway,” Ms. Elsie said, “we’re very sorry for all the trouble we’ve caused.”

Julia hardly heard the apology. Her brain was whirling as it processed the implications of what the women had just said.

She had never considered herself to be a deep thinker, but she had always thought the idea that everything happens for a reason was too facile. It smacked of a clockwork universe, in which cause and effect had no moral underpinnings: if you do X, you get Y, period. No mitigating circumstances allowed. No appeals granted.

But she had also resisted the idea that a kind and generous deity was in charge. That belief was seductive, she thought; it led to hope, and she had disavowed hope. Again and again, she had been enticed by its bright gleam, only to see everything she’d hoped for go up in flames. She refused to be tricked again.

But what Ms. Thea and Ms. Elsie described was something else – something in between an automaton and a fickle god. A wheel, maybe?
The Wheel turns
, the ochre-robed hermit had told her. “What goes up, must come down,” the pessimist in her replied. But it must also come back up again. All was never lost for good.

Maybe a web was a better analogy. Plucking one strand would have repercussions along the other strands, but it might yield something good, or at least worthwhile, in the end.

If that were so, it would certainly explain a lot. Maybe her parents hadn’t died to keep her and Dave apart; maybe their relationship had been collateral damage in service of some larger goal. And maybe – maybe – the vibrations from that event were finally fading away.