Adeline Chapter Seven: the walk

Mary Miller’s garden had the largest dinner-plate dahlias I’d ever seen, all in brilliant colors. How could she leave them and move into town? I decided I’d pick me a bouquet on the way back. No sense in letting them go to waste. I’d have dahlias on the kitchen table and out on the picnic table, too.

I walked by Old Man Moser’s place and noticed his mailbox had been knocked over again. It was just in a bad spot, and I’ll never understand why he didn’t move it.

Oh, well. I think he may be dead now, so I suppose it really doesn’t matter.

It looked like someone had been there, though, because the garage door was partway open. No car that I could see. My, but the yard had become overgrown.

His wife—do you remember Lilly Moser, Beanie? She was the sweetest woman and a wonderful gardener. She’d be so sad to see the place looking that way.

The Thompsons’ place was as immaculate as ever. Not a weed to be seen. I swear they’d painted the place again. I’ve never seen any house painted so many times. It always looked so fresh and new.

I wondered if the inside looked like that, too. All those years, and I never once saw the inside of that house. Not the most neighborly, those people.

Well, Stan and Willie’s old cat, Ollie, was sitting on the wicker rocker on their back porch. I assumed that meant they’d only left for a short while and would be back soon. They never went anywhere without that cat.

Maybe they’d decided to stay a little longer and enjoy the fall. Maybe I wasn’t the only person there after all.

If that was the case, I’d pick some dahlias for Willie, too. Wouldn’t Mary Miller be pleased to see us all enjoying her flowers so?

And then there was Henry’s old place.

I’ve always had a special place in my heart for Henry. Did you ever meet his wife, Beanie? You may have been too young.

Her name was Esther, and she was a beautiful woman. There was something unusual about her, something you noticed right away, though I could never quite say what it was. Her family came from more than one place, I believe—part Black, part white, and perhaps something else besides. I never did know for certain, and Esther wasn’t one to talk much about herself.

She kept to herself most of the time. Pretty shy, she was.

Anyway, Henry adored her. You could see it in his eyes every time someone said, “Tell Esther hello for me.” He’d light right up at the sound of her name.

Now, how a woman so loved and adored could up and leave a man like that, and never be seen again, is beyond me.

But that’s what happened.

They never had any children, Esther and Henry. I never knew why, whether it was by choice or by fate. Yet they always seemed happy together.

And then one day, after twenty-five years or so of being married to dear, sweet Henry, Esther packed up and left. She left a note of goodbye, and that was that.

The cabin seemed to take on Henry’s mourning after she disappeared. It became an abandoned shell, forlorn and forgotten. It had always looked a little haunted, built out of rock and hidden back among the trees the way it was.

The wooden table and chairs still sat on the side porch, though they’d warped in the weather and were most assuredly not fit for use any longer.

But that Henry. He wore sorrow like nobody’s business.

I think there was a silent sigh of relief when he finally packed up and left, too. It had become a burden on everyone’s heart just to look at the man.

I heard he sold his house in town and moved back to the Midwest, where he was from, to be with family. Maybe siblings or such. But why he never sold the cabin, I’ll never understand.

Houses need to be lived in. When they’re not, they end up looking just like Henry’s place.

It seemed the cabin was creeping away from the water a little more each year, as if it were retreating into the forest. The giant evergreens had grown so thick around it that you had to look hard to spot the house hidden in there.

The red shutters were barely red anymore, fading into the stone walls.

The whole place was nearly gray.

On a rainy day, you couldn’t see it at all.

That house was disappearing just like Esther did.

Poor Henry. I wondered if he was still alive, and whether his heart had ever found peace.

I do hope so.

There was the nicest scent in the air that day. You know that early-fall scent that tells you Old Man Winter is on his way. It hints at what the future holds, doesn’t it?

Kind of exciting, because we never really know. We only know a change is coming our way, and we have no say in what that change will bring.

I suppose it’s nature’s way of keeping us on our toes, even if they are swollen, old, gnarly toes like mine had become.

It occurred to me then that my feet didn’t hurt.

Neither did my knees or my hips.

I couldn’t remember the last time walking had felt so effortless.

I was so happy and feeling so fine.

And free.

Oh, Beanie, I felt as free as I’d ever felt in my life on that beautiful day.

Well, I rounded the last bend and headed down the little road leading toward the bridge. All the cabins were closed up, everything looking peaceful and content, as if they’d been wrapped in a nice, cozy blanket so they could hibernate for the winter.

The sun was shining and warming my face as I took my time strolling down the gravel road.

I’ve always felt it was more of a driveway than a road. It’s so short and narrow.

The water level was still low, so the boulders on both sides of the bridge were exposed more than usual. I could see sunfish darting in and out of the rocks.

Now, I have something to tell you, Beanie.

When I started across that bridge, the strangest thing happened.

I reached the middle and slowed down.

I don’t know why, but all at once I felt strangely vulnerable. The feeling came over me so suddenly that I stopped walking.

I stood there and stared down into the water.

It was perfectly still.

So still and silent that I felt like I was the only person left on the planet.

My reflection was as clear as if I were looking into a mirror.

And there you were.

Standing right beside me.

I held my eyes steady on the water.

I smiled at you, Beanie.

And you smiled back.

Then I reached for your hand.

And there we were, holding hands and smiling at each other.

That was when I felt my heart break.

The whole terrible day came crashing down around me.

I had to sit right there on the wooden planks of the bridge while my mind played out the whole ugly scene.

Why did it have to happen, Beanie?

Why?

Adeline continues next week with Chapter Eight.