Silver Bells. Mary Burton
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a spring cleaning once a year.
The front door slid open. Hank walked into the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel, which he carried outside and looped into Churchill’s collar. With his homemade leash, he dragged the recalcitrant canine into the house. The fur ball followed and made herself comfortable on one of the family room chairs. Churchill took the other chair, but not before he lifted his leg on the bottom of it.
Hank lost it then. He marched over to the big dog, who looked at him defiantly. He stuck his finger to his nose and barked, “Do that one more time, and your ass is grass. You hear me? That means you sit out on the deck and look through the window. And I won’t feed you either. Oh, Christ, the twins!” He raced to the door and back out to the car. It took him a good five minutes to figure out how to unbuckle the harness on the childproof seats or whatever they were called. A kid under each arm, he marched to the door and opened it. Alice said they could walk. He set them down and off they went. “I need a beer. Please, God, let there be beer in the refrigerator.” There was no beer. He had to settle for a Diet Pepsi. Did all women in the world drink Diet Pepsi? He counted twenty-four cans. Alice must be addicted.
Hank looked around for a place to sit down. He was tempted to shoo Churchill off the chair, but one look at the retriever’s face squelched that idea. Obviously, the chair was his. Miss Sadie looked at him with adoring eyes and yipped softly. “You just moved in, didn’t you, you little shit?” Miss Sadie yipped again and put her head down between her paws. Yep, she had moved in.
Hank looked over at the twins, who were trying to crawl into the fireplace. He realized they still had on their winter gear and were sweating profusely. He removed it, closed the fire screen, then flopped down on the couch after he dumped a ton of toys on the floor. “I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.”
The sudden quiet alerted Hank that something was wrong. One of the twins, he didn’t know which one, was trying to take off his pants. And then he smelled it. “Please, God, no. I’ve never changed a diaper in my life.” Churchill jumped off his chair, trotted out of the room, and returned with a diaper clenched between his teeth. He let it drop at Hank’s feet. Then he hopped back on his chair. Hank wanted to cry.
The TV suddenly exploded with sound. Churchill had the remote clutched between his paws. A cartoon show appeared. The twins squealed their pleasure.
“Alice Anders, you are a saint,” Hank said as he prepared to change his first-ever diaper.
Chapter Three
Amy Lee, aka Amanda Leigh, walked through her old home. Everything was just as she remembered it. All these years later, nothing had changed. Thanks, she knew, to Flo, who stayed in touch with her parents’ old friends.
Amy was glad now that she’d had the foresight to call ahead to a cleaning service, which had cleaned the house and turned on all the utilities as well as doing a week’s grocery shopping. It was worth every penny in comfort alone. She was toasty warm, and there was even a load of wood on the back porch and a stack of logs and kindling perched on the end of the fireplace hearth. Maybe this evening she’d make a fire the way her parents had always done after dinner.
Her memory of that terrible time when her world had changed forever surfaced. This time she didn’t push the memory away. Flo should have let her stay, at least for a while. She should have cried and been given the chance to grieve instead of being dragged across the country where every hour of her day was occupied so she wouldn’t think about that time. Now, where had that thought come from? Had she secretly blamed Flo all these years for the person she’d become? Did she really want to look into that? Probably not. At least not right now.
It just boggled her mind that everything in the house looked the same. The furniture was outdated, but that was okay. The oak staircase had the same old treads and gave off the scent of lemon polish. The furniture looked comfortable but worn. The house gleamed and sparkled, and it didn’t smell like it had been closed up for years and years. Even the kitchen curtains had been washed and starched.
All the bedrooms and bathrooms were closed. She wondered why. One by one she opened them. The spare bedroom had a yellow spread on the big four-poster and crisp white curtains hanging at the windows. Flo had always slept in this room when she visited back then. A colorful braided rug was in the middle of the floor. Her mother had hooked rugs in the winter. Framed posterlike pictures hung on the walls—scenes from different cities that Flo had traveled to.
Amy backed out of the room and opened the door to her parents’ room. Tears burned in her eyes. How many times she’d run to that bed and jumped in with her parents to be hugged in the middle of the night. She thought she could smell either the perfume or the talcum powder her mother had always used. How was that possible? She walked into the bathroom. All her mother’s things were still on one side of the vanity, her father’s things on the other side. She looked around as though time had stopped and never picked up again.
In one way, Amy was glad that Flo had left things the way they were. In another way, she wished she hadn’t. She ran to the high four-poster and jumped up on it. She flapped her arms and legs this way and that like she was making snow angels.
Amy frowned when she heard a high-pitched siren. It sounded like it was right next door. She bolted from the room, which was at the back of the house, and ran to her old room, whose windows faced the Carpenter property on one side and the Anders property on the other. She watched as frantic EMS workers ran into the Carpenter house. She swiped at the tears forming in her eyes when, a while later, she saw the same EMS people wheel a gurney out to the ambulance. Not too long ago Flo had told her Albert Carpenter was in his nineties and in frail health. Such a nice man. His wife had been nice, too, to all the kids in the neighborhood. They’d always been partial to Hank and Ben. She was about to move from the window when she saw movement through the window facing the Anders house. She walked over to the other window, which afforded her a better view, and stared down at the man getting out of the SUV. Ben? Hank? It was hard to tell from where she was standing. Her heart kicked up a beat as she watched the scene being played out on the ground. Kids. Big dog. Little white dog. She burst out laughing as she watched the man run into the house to return and drag the dog into the house with a towel as a leash. She laughed even harder when she saw him straddle each child under his arms. A novice for a father. Ben? Hank? Her heart was beating extra fast. Not a good thing. So much for hoping that maybe…
Amy walked across the room to the rocking chair her mother had painted bright red because red was Amy’s favorite color. She’d even made the cushions out of red velvet. Amy sat down and started to rock as she let her gaze sweep through the room. It was all just the same. Her boots were in the corner, her yellow muffler and matching wool hat, knitted by her mother, were on the coatrack by the closet door. Her navy peacoat with the gold buttons was still on the rack, too. Guess Flo thought I wouldn’t need winter clothes in California, she thought.
From her position in the rocking chair, Amy could see the photos she’d taped to the mirror over her vanity. Most of them were of her, Hank, and Ben. Several of her friend Libby, who had moved away a few months before her parents’ death.
Amy got up to check out her closet and dresser drawers. Everything was neat and tidy even after all these years. A lifetime ago. Time to let it all go. Time to lay all her old ghosts to rest.
Amy looked outside, surprised that it was already dark and it was only five o’clock. Time to think about a nice hot shower, some dinner, and a nice fire and a little television before she retired for the night. Tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow she’d go up to the attic and get down all her mother’s Christmas decorations. Maybe she’d venture forth and get a real live Christmas tree. Not a glittery Hollywood tree but one that would smell up the whole house. Then she’d have that Christmas that never happened. The one she’d missed when Flo took her to California.
Maybe Christmas would be forever tainted. Maybe she couldn’t get the old feelings back. Well, she’d never know if she didn’t try.
Was it Hank or Ben in the house next door? She wished she knew. Maybe she should go over and knock on the door. People in Apple Valley did things like that. Most times they brought