Previously Loved Treasures (Serendipity #2)(75)

At the end of the day the hole that had been a window was covered with wallboard, the cabinets scrubbed down, the floor free of debris and seven bags of trash hauled to the curb. The kitchen, although it would eventually need the window replaced and a fresh coat of paint, was mostly useable.

The smell of smoke was still evident, but after a while no one noticed it. Laricka said it was a pleasant reminder of the house she’d lived in as a child, a house with a wood-burning fireplace. Harriet said it put her in the mood for another cigarette, and Louie said so long as the stove was still working he could live with the smell.

That evening they all gathered around the dining room table, including Calvin and George. Max of course was missing because he was now under arrest and confined to the Rose Hill jail. Doc Payne was still at the Gomez house, and it would be days before he could tear himself loose from Mercedes. Wilbur, although reports were good, was not scheduled for release from the hospital until tomorrow.

~

When everyone was settled at the table, Caroline spoke. “I don’t know how to begin to thank everyone,” she said. She’d thought of a dozen different things she wanted to say, but she before could get started she was interrupted.

“Thanks ain’t necessary,” Harriet said. “We’re family.”

“Yeah.” Louie nodded. “Family.”

“It’s what Ida would have wanted,” Laricka added.

Although Caroline had planned a sequence of lengthy statements saying how much she appreciated what each person had done, the words left her. For the third time that day, tears came to her eyes and she simply said, “I’m so lucky to have a family like this.”

She thought back on the words Ida had once said: Love turns strangers into family.

In the center of the table sat the African violet, looking perked up and happy in its new jelly jar home.

~

It was after ten o’clock when Caroline finally trudged up the stairs to her attic room, and it was the first she’d seen the room since the night of the fire. There had been no damage in any of the second floor rooms, not even in the downstairs parlor or the dining room, but when the explosion shook the house it knocked loose the picture she’d received from Peter Pennington and sent it crashing down. The frame was split apart, and the picture lay on her desk amidst a pile of broken glass.

“Oh dear,” she said.





Caroline Sweetwater





It’s a sad thing to walk into a place you’ve loved and see it torn to pieces. It made me feel like the last little bit I had of Grandma Ida was gone. All those other places I lived I walked away without even a look back, but this house is different. Those places, the places where Mama and I lived, they were just apartments. One was the same as the other, and there was no special significance attached to any of them. But this house is a home. Grandma made it that way.

Calvin, that fireman, he’s nice in a deep sort of way. Not many men would stop what they’re doing to remind a weepy-eyed woman she’s got memories to hang on to. It takes a certain sensitivity to do that, and Calvin, he’s got that kind of sensitivity.

He’s nice looking too. That’s not something I noticed right away, but when we were having pizza I watched how he was handing everyone else a slice before taking one for himself. That’s when I saw the blue of his eyes and the kindness shining out of them.

I doubt that Grandma would think a store-bought pizza lunch was something special, but this one will stick in my head for a good long time. It felt like the start of a good tomorrow. Not just one good tomorrow, but a lot of them strung together and stretching out for years to come. Grandma always said to keep a sharp eye for an omen of things to come. I think her violet coming back to life was just such an omen.





Behind the Picture





Looking at the broken picture, Caroline felt a certain sadness in her heart. For a number of weeks the smiling young man had looked down on her, and she’d come to care for him in a strange and quite unexplainable way. She’d wondered and at times even daydreamed about who he was and what his connection to Ida had been.

There was a connection, Caroline was certain of it. She’d felt it in a number of odd ways. Not things you could touch your hand to but a feeling of familiarity, like a place she’d once been to or someone she’d known in passing. Perhaps he’d been a distant cousin or youthful sweetheart. Caroline knew nothing about him, save this single thing: his picture was intended for her grandma, and now it was intended for her. Peter Pennington had said as much, and Peter was never wrong.

He’d been right about the desk, and he’d been right about the watch. Only the picture was still unexplained.

When she pulled the wastebasket from under the desk, Caroline already knew what she’d do. She’d take the picture back to Peter and ask him to reframe it. She thought back to the happiness on his face when he’d given her the gift. Surely he’d be willing to find a new frame. Caroline chuckled as she carefully lifted the larger pieces of broken glass and dropped them into the wastebasket. She knew chances were Peter could produce the exact same frame, right down to the tiny chip on the right-hand corner. How he did it, she couldn’t say, but it was mysterious and wonderful at the same time.

Caroline didn’t see the large brown envelope until she lifted the piece of cardboard backing the picture. She picked up the envelope and turned it over in her hands.