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  Ch.11—Flowers for Daddy a.k.a. Mrs. Butler’s Gift

  “Christina, I wouldn’t do this if I were you,” Tadpole warned with pleading eyes as we both stretched out on our stomachs beneath the huge plants that bordered Old Mrs. Butler’s house. Old Mrs. Butler was best known by neighborhood kids as The Witch mainly because she was decidedly old and decidedly grumpy. Not to mention, she was the only neighbor that did not give us free reign of her yard as our playground. Perhaps we were wrong to expect such a thing but it was the way things worked around here.

  Right now I was not thinking about the close calls we had experienced at Mrs. Butler’s, such as when a stray ball went over her property line or we simply forgot ourselves. I was not thinking about her glaring, hawk eyes that peered out from under wire-rim glasses. They were eyes that were always watching us, that could turn a child to stone. Her gaze and shrill voice reminded me of Dorothy’s evil neighbor that became the Wicked Witch of the West in “The Wizard of Oz.”

  Right now I had only one thought on my mind—I had to bring flowers to Daddy. Tomorrow was...THE WEDDING. I still had trouble accepting it. The day would be here. There was no way to stop time, although I had prayed for such a thing or a natural disaster. These prayers were not meant to be answered. I guessed the show, my mother’s show, must go on. I couldn’t help but think about Daddy. I felt like she was forgetting all about him, shoving his memory and the life we all shared into a tiny box in the furthest corner in the attic of her mind. I still remembered, I still cared, and I had to do something to show no one could ever replace my father.

  The best thing I could think of was flowers. Daddy loved flowers, especially homegrown. Tadpole and I had spent the entire morning scouting out the neighborhood in search of the most beautiful flowers. We’d walked the length of the road in both directions from my house. We had taken a vote and Mrs. Butler’s garden was the winner. She had Daddy’s favorite, roses of every shade, in buds and full bloom. They were an explosion of color around her home, the arbor in the garden and bordering her fence. She also had Daddy’s second choice, daisies, smiling up at the sun in a cheerful crowd.

  Tadpole had tried to talk me into some of the more friendly neighbors’ gardens but Mrs. Butler’s were the best. My daddy would only have the best. If it were anyone else, I would ask permission and they’d be freely given. Mrs. Butler, on the other hand, was a different story. If I asked her, she’d refuse, screaming at me as she did, and she’d probably call the police to escort me home. I had no choice. I had to steal them.

  I took a deep breath, hoping I looked fearless, hoping to make this happen. “I’m going in.”

  Tadpole pulled his hat down and pressed himself flat to the ground. “I’m sorry but…I can’t watch.” I stuck my tongue out at him then whipped my ponytail over my shoulder. I crept on tiptoes toward the flowers. Sweat broke out on my forehead and my heart began to pound. My eyes darted to the windows, searching for The Witch. I reached out and picked a few roses, half expecting to be turned into a toad. When nothing happened, I gathered up enough courage to pick some more, moving form place to place to avoid a bare spot. I had a good bunch, just a few more…

  “Christina Smith, what do you think you’re doing?” Mrs. Butler croaked behind me, her voice rough as if from disuse. After all, nobody came to see her or talk to her.”

  I caught a glimpse of Tadpole’s face. It must have been as white as my own. I couldn’t move, just like in the horror movies. She slowly came around in front of me, measuring me and I’m sure, finding me hopeless. “I asked you a question, young lady. What is the meaning of this? You’d better answer before I call your mother, who I’ll probably call any way.”

  I shook my head, my voice trembling and small. “No, please don’t, Mrs. Butler. Please don’t call my mother…I know you probably won’t believe this but I was picking your flowers for my daddy. You have the prettiest flowers. I know because I looked at everyone’s and I need the best present that I can give him!”

  If it were at all possible, Mrs. Butler’s usually ice-blue eyes thawed and her voice was softer. “You wanted them for the cemetery? Well, why didn’t you just ask me, child?”

  Her turnaround from who we had always known just about did me in. I felt my face crumple as the tears came. “I didn’t think you’d say yes, Mrs. Butler, and I just couldn’t bring my daddy anything less than the best. I had to do it today because tomorrow is my mother’s wedding and Daddy has to have them today!”

  Today was a day of surprises as Mrs. Butler reached out and took my hand. “Enough, child. Stop your crying. Of course you can have those flowers, but we must be clear on one thing. You need to ask first. That is good manners and something your generation is sorely lacking. Why don’t you come in and have a cool drink?” She turned and called out across the yard. “You too, Theodore Stevens. Stop skulking in the grass and come in with us. I won’t bite.”

  I could swear I actually saw a glimmer of humor in her eyes as she led us inside. Tadpole nudged me in the ribs, eyes popping in amazement. We had survived and were in the lion’s den. It was our first time inside her home. It had the same colors as the pale yellow and white trim on the outside. It was bright and airy, well-cared for with special keepsakes throughout. I was sure each one had its special story. I stopped in front of the mantel and stared up at pictures, some of Mrs. Butler and someone I guessed was Mr. Butler. There were some with children as well but I had never seen any visitors.

  Mrs. Butler stopped next to me and smiled with tenderness. “There’s my George. He’s been gone now for twenty years. Those are my babies, Samuel and Kathleen.”

  “Where are they now, Mrs. Butler?” Tadpole piped up with the question I’d been dying to ask.

  Her eyes dimmed. “Oh, they moved across the country years ago and never make it home. Come sit in the kitchen.”

  We sat down at a little table by a window that overlooked her yard. That explained how she saw all and knew all. She set a small silver tray in front of each of us with a glass of iced tea, a slice of lemon hanging on the brim, just like in restaurants. Next to the glass was a paper doily with slices of fresh baked banana bread, still warm from the oven. She sat down with her own tray and the three of us ate quietly. I caught Tadpole’s eye a few times and wondered if he felt like I did. I imagined that we were Hansel and Gretel and expected this nice woman to be replaced at any moment by The Witch. At any moment, she could lock us up in a dungeon, eat us for dinner or worst of all—call our mothers.

  Interestingly enough, none of the above happened. We complimented Mrs. Butler’s treats and she asked us questions about our summer, hobbies and school. Before long, we were giggling, asking for seconds and feeling like old friends. Afraid of wearing out our welcome, I brought our dishes to the sink. “Would you like me to wash these before we go? I have to get those flowers in cold water to Daddy.”

  Mrs. Butler patted me gently on the back. “Thank you, you’re a dear.” She turned and walked with slow, painful steps to look out at her garden. Sunlight streamed through her short, white curls, highlighting her wrinkled face. She seemed so alone. I was ashamed of all of the times we made fun, thinking she was man when she was just lonely.

  Once the last dish was in the drain board, I tapped Tad on the shoulder and we headed to the door. “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Butler, especially Daddy’s flowers. I impulsively turned and gave her a hug.

  I felt her soften in my arms and she gently hugged me back. “You are welcome, young lady. You may take some of my flowers for your father any time as long as you stop in and visit. The same goes for you, young man.” We nodded and walked out in complete shock. Magic lesson learned: expect the unexpected in the show of life. Friends can be hiding behind the most unfriendly faces in the most unlikely places.

  Ch.12—The Wedding a.k.a. My Nightmare

  On
the day of the wedding, God put on quite a display with an unforgettable dawn. The sky was ablaze with every shade of pink, red and orange that you could imagine. It was so beautiful that it hurt to look at it. It was quiet except for the chatter of the birds as I knelt beneath the tree, high on a hill, where Daddy was buried. He had a simple stone with a fish jumping out of a lake. The words, “beloved husband and father” were inscribed beneath his name and the brief period that was his life. The grass was a damp, cool cushion for my knees as I kissed my fingertips and pressed them to the stone.

  “Daddy,” I whispered softly. “I know you’re not really here but just in case this is the place you get the best reception, I want you to know I’m thinking about you. I brought your favorite flowers. I braved Mrs. Butler’s yard for them and found out she’s not so bad. I hope you like them.”

  The wind lifted my hair and pressed it against my cheek the way Daddy always used to touch my face. I tried really hard to believe it really was Daddy saying thank you. I reached out and touched the stone again, its coldness making me shiver. “Daddy, this all feels so wrong to me but Mommy wants it. Could you please send me a sign that you’re okay with this?”

  I waited. A long line of Canadian geese, Daddy’s favorite, flew overhead. I bowed my head, a single tear slipping down my cheek. “All right, Daddy. If you can accept this, than I’ll try…for you. I love you, Daddy, always and forever.” I stretched out on my stomach and pressed my cheek to the grass. I remembered my father and all of the good times we shared. A peaceful feeling washed over me and I drifted off the sleep.

  “Christina, honey, wake up,” a voice called from far away. I slowly awoke to find myself damp and stiff from lying on the ground in the cemetery. My mother stood over me with a smile though her eyes were sad. “Honey, how long have you been here?”

  I sat up and stretched. “I came around dawn to bring Daddy flowers. It was so calm and quiet that I fell asleep. I haven’t messed up your day, have I?” I asked in alarm. Although I had not wanted this day to come, even I had enough survival instincts to avoid anything intentional today.

  My mother shook her head. “No, you haven’t messed up anything. You did something right, something I should have done. Those flowers are absolutely beautiful and just what your father would’ve wanted.” She knelt down and pressed her palm to the stone. Stunned, I watched as tears slipped from her closed yes. She turned to give me a hug. “I’m sorry, Christina. I know all of this hasn’t been easy on you. I promise to try and do better.” I squeezed her back as hard as I could and hoped she spoke the truth.

  The rest of the day was a blur, full speed ahead, as chairs were delivered, a party tent raised, and food and drinks arrived. Soon after, it was time for …the guests. John and I was the welcoming committee. He greeted and seated his friends and family while I took care of mine. Every now and then, Tad would make a face at me to help make it bearable. His being there made the biggest difference of all and kept me from running away in panic.

  The wedding march played softly, signaling the time I had been fighting against was finally here. I watched as my mother stepped out of the front door onto the deck. She had chosen a pale, pink dress made out of a light material that fluttered as she walked towards John. Tiny, pink rosebuds and baby’s breath were tucked in her hair and her face was …glowing. I turned to look at John and saw that he was shining too. Looking at the audience, I could only see happiness beaming back. When my mother took John’s hand, my throat choked up and I had to stare at my feet. I could feel my cheeks flush as I blinked as fast as I could to hold the tears back. It felt like I was standing far away as I heard the words that would change my world forever: “I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. John Collier.” No more Annie Smith. She was now Annie Collier. Out with the old and in with the new. She looked up at him, lost in his eyes and stood on tiptoe to give him his first kiss as his wife. I wondered if she would ever think of her old life again.

  *******************************************

  “Christy, what are you doing?” Tadpole asked me, his voice filled with doubt when he stepped onto my deck that evening. I sat on the end of the dock, my dress hiked up to my knees so that I could dangle my bare feet in the cool water.

  I held up my fishing pole to give him a better look. “What does it look like? Daddy’s pole is in the rowboat if you want to join me.”

  I could see commonsense warring with the urge to join me in the flash of Tadpole’s eyes. It was obvious fun won out because Tadpole’s socks and dress shoes went flying behind him with a plop. That would be the end of those shoes. He rolled up his pant legs, grabbed a pole and dropped down next to me. He swung his legs and blew a strand of hair out of his eyes. It was uncharacteristically slicked back and neat for the special occasion. I couldn’t resist reaching out and tousling his mop.

  Tad grinned at me, his smile lighting his face like always. “Thanks! That feels much better.” We sat side by side, comfortable with being quiet as we snagged sunnies and tossed them back. Tad nudged me in the ribs. “So, it wasn’t that bad, was it? It was short. They didn’t get too mushy. Your mom looked nice and stuff, right?”

  I grumbled as I felt my recently calmed stomach start to churn again at the replayed thoughts of the wedding. My face had always been an open book, showing all of my feelings. I was sure Tadpole read it correctly now because he tried to distract me by playfully jabbing me in the side. One thing let to another and we began to wrestle. I stood up and stepped to the left, finding air where solid wood should’ve been. I toppled into the water. Tadpole took one look, shouted, “Cannonball!” and joined me.

  Our laughter rang out, echoing across the lake as dusk fell around us. We kicked and splashed, letting the magic of the lake was away all the frustration. Who knows how long we carried on when I heard someone clearing his throat on the dock. I turned around in the water to see John standing there. His jacket was gone, his tie loose and his hair wind-tossed. He looked relaxed and very…happy. My stomach clenched in anticipation of a shouting match but there was only laughter. “Having fun, you two?” In answer, Tadpole splashed John, who good-naturedly knelt down and splashed back. His eyes met mine and a look of understanding passed between us. He smiled and spoke quietly. “Why don’t you two head up and get changed? I’ll keep your mom occupied.”

  John reached down and gave me a hand up onto the dock, then Tad, before turning back to go up the steps. As Tad and I walked up behind him, dripping with our clothes stuck to our bodies, I thought again: why did he have to be so nice? It was impossible to be mad at him. He met my mother out on the lawn and swung her into a waltz, making her tilt her head back and laugh. At that moment, I was thankful that he was so nice because she did not see us sneak inside and disaster was avoided. Magic lesson learned: good things can come out something bad. My water adventure with Tad may not have been the best idea but it made me see the good in John. I could never have my daddy back but I could have a true friend in John.

  Ch.13—The Honeymoon a.k.a. Being a Kid Again

  “What do you want to do first?” Tad asked with wide-eyed enthusiasm. It was one of the things I liked best about him. It was 8:00 in the morning and he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready for anything. My mother and John had left first thing for their honeymoon. As a result, I had a week of freedom with the Stevens Family.

  I threw my hands in the air. “Anything! I’m free to do whatever we want!” I did a little, happy dance to prove my point.

  Tad raised a finger in sudden inspiration. “Let’s make a list for this week of everything we’d like to do this summer and we’ll try and pack it all in!” He dashed inside for a pencil and paper and we put our heads together. We concocted a list that would probably be impossible to accomplish in a month but we would give it our best shot!

  We began our efforts with drive and determination that day. Our week looke
d like this: Monday was the water extravaganza day. We rowed, fished, had a picnic lunch on the lake, and swam for ours. On Tuesday, it was our rail side adventure. We walked the railroad tracks near our road and taped pennies to the rails. We waited at a safe distance, hidden in the woods, as a train went by, and then collected our colorful copper treasures. The trains made the pennies look like flattened disks with rainbow swirls trapped inside. On Wednesday, it was pirates ahoy! We scavenged through the woods for all sorts of treasures, from pinecones, to acorns, to bits of glass left behind by a litter bug. On Thursday, it was Ollie Ollie Oxenfree, the ultimate game of hide and seek. Our entire road and every yard were our boundaries. We would go without finding each other for ages until we used our walkie-talkies. Friday night was pizza and movie night, topped off with endless bowls of buttery, salty popcorn. Next was skinny dippin’ Saturday, which had to wait until evening when the night was black and the bats skimmed the water for insects. The week ended with a camp-out. We had hot dogs and marshmallows roasted on sticks over the fire. S’mores and hot cocoa made a perfect desert. Mr. Stevens pitched a tent and we slept in the yard.

  On that final night at Tad’s, I stretched out on my back and stared up at the stars through the open flap in the roof of the tent. Crickets chirped and somewhere nearby an owl hooted. The air was cool, making me snuggle closer to Tadpole. The air mat flattened beneath me and I rolled closer to my best friend. I pulled the sleeping bag up to my chin and smiled in contentment. My stomach was pleasantly full from all of the goodies and my eyes began to droop. I replayed our week and wished it never had to end. It had felt really good to be a kid again. I’d forgotten how. “Tad, you awake?” I whispered softly.

  “Mmmmm,” he mumbled, on the brink of sleep and snuggled closer to me.

  I reached out and gave him a hug. “Thanks for this week. Promise me you’ll never go anywhere so we can always remember how to be the kids that are inside of us.”

  Tad hugged me back. “Okay, I promise. G’night.”

  Magic lesson learned: There is a wonder in childhood

  that only a best friend can help you find.