Heart to Heart Read online

  “You should come to my yoga class. I go every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. It’s good for body, mind, and soul. And you can get neat clothes now. See these pants,” she said, pulling on the fabric. “They’re yoga pants. I pretty much live in them because they fit well and if you throw on a dressy top they work as Capris. It’s awesome.”

  “Maybe I will go with you sometime,” Amy said. She smiled at Millie’s use of the word “awesome.”

  They ate in silence. Millie tried to give Amy seconds but she rubbed her tummy and pleaded fullness. “No more or I’ll burst.”

  “We need to take that rental car of yours back. Did you use Hertz?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good choice, we’ll take it to the one on lower Dorset.”

  What everyone called lower Dorset was the commercial part of town. It lacked the charm of upper Dorset, but it was necessary for grocery shopping, oil changes, fast-food restaurants and the like.

  “You still drive?” Amy asked. She hadn’t noticed a car parked in the driveway.

  “Sure, I drive. I’m sporting 20-20 vision. The car’s in the garage. Harry’s Pontiac runs as great as ever. Gary over at Gary’s Garage loves that old GTO and he does all the maintenance.”

  Amy put her knife and fork down on her plate. “You still have the Judge?” The Judge was the nickname for the bright orange 1969 Pontiac muscle car. It had been Harry Fitzsimmons’s pride and joy. She remembered Harry washing and waxing it every Saturday. Sometimes he’d let her hose it off. She was only allowed to do it on the Saturdays that her mother played bridge because her mother didn’t approve of little girls doing what she deemed “boy things.”

  Amy began to hand wash the dishes as Millie cleared the table and put away the leftovers.

  “I still wash the Judge every once in a while. I feel like Harry’s watching over me and it’s a way for me to commune with him. I wash that car and think of all the good times we had. Make sure to have a lot of good times, you’ll appreciate them later.”

  “Now that’s advice I can get behind,” Amy said. She rinsed a plate and put it in the dish rack.

  “I can still recall you wearing those Levis Harry bought you and one of your father’s undershirts, helping Harry wash that car.”

  “You’d wash those jeans for me and my father would smuggle them and stash them with his pants so my mother wouldn’t know. It was one of our many secrets.” Amy had always felt bad about keeping those kinds of things from her mother. They’d told her they were going to the park, and they’d go fishing instead. Her mother never objected to their outings as long as they were father-daughter appropriate.

  “Now don’t feel bad about keeping secrets from her. Those times you spent with your dad are the good times for you to fall back on. Your mother must have sensed you wanted to be a tomboy and she wasn’t about to let that happen. She didn’t want you to end up like your Aunt Bernie.”

  “Aunt Bernie? I haven’t thought about her in years! I only met her once when I was really young at my cousin’s wedding. I was fascinated by her bow tie.”

  Millie chuckled. “She never was one to bend to public opinion.”

  “You know, I don’t think Mom ever talked about her. She talked about Jean, but never about Bernie. It was if her own sister didn’t exist.”

  “That’s because Bernie’s a lesbian. She and her roommate, as they called it back then, were together for nearly forty years. They were both elementary school teachers and the nicest women you’d ever hope meet. I kept them posted on you and sent them your school photo each year. Bernie is still alive, you know.”

  Amy took that in. Her aunt was alive and she was a lesbian. “So that’s why you always wanted two of my school photos.”

  Millie smiled. “Another secret we kept from your mother.”

  “You think I can visit her?”

  “I don’t know why not. She lives in an assisted-living community over in Scofield. I’m sure she’d be delighted to see you again. Her wife passed a while back. You would’ve really liked Connie. She was a hoot.” Millie sealed the Tupperware lid on the leftover pot roast and vegetables.

  “So you kept in touch?”

  “Oh, sure. Whenever Harry and I were passing by Scofield, we’d stop by. Harry just loved the girls. He always called them that, even when we were all in our sixties. They were still the girls. We’d tell them all about you.”

  Amy finished washing the roast platter and handed it to Millie to dry. “There’re a lot of things I don’t know about, aren’t there?”

  Millie studied Amy’s face. “Yes, honey, I think maybe there are.”

  “I feel like there are great big chunks of my parents’ lives I know nothing about.”

  “That’s the nature of childhood. I didn’t know all sorts of things about my parents until I got older and then the stories seemed to pour out of my mother. My father was taciturn and quiet, but he’d let Mama go on ahead and tell me about them. We’d laugh until we cried. I wish you could’ve had that with your mama.”

  Amy unplugged the sink and watched the dirty water swirl down the drain. If only bad memories could be drained away like dishwater, she thought. Life would be so much easier.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning after dropping off the rental car, Millie and Amy cruised down Dorset in the Judge. Millie revved the engine at stoplights, challenged a few boys who stared over at her in their newer model cars, and generally created a scene. If CB radios ever made a comeback Millie’s CB handle would be “Fast Granny.”

  At one intersection, Fast Granny revved her engine and waved at a parked police car. The policeman blinked his lights at her. It made Amy’s heart pound. The police always made her nervous. It wasn’t like she was a drug dealer or a thief and she didn’t drive whatsoever in New York, so why her heartbeat increased in their presence was a mystery. But there you have it.

  “Don’t worry about that policeman,” Millie said. “That’s only Justin. He wouldn’t dare give me a ticket. Harry used to coach his Little League team. He wouldn’t be able to show his face if he cited an old woman for a traffic violation.”

  When they pulled up in Millie’s driveway, Amy noticed a large green Dumpster parked in front of her mother’s house. She smiled when she saw Parker’s van in the driveway.

  Millie turned off her car and followed Amy’s gaze over to Parker’s van. “She’s a looker, all right. Easy on the eyes,” Millie said.

  “The van?” Amy said, feigning ignorance.

  Millie laughed. “You know who I mean. That Parker is what we used to call a knockout.”

  “I didn’t know you were interested in women, Millie.”

  Millie waggled her eyebrows and teased back, “I’m not dead yet.”

  Amy laughed.

  “Okay,” Millie said, getting out of the car, “We better put our work duds on and start cleaning out that house.”

  “You think those old jeans of mine still fit?” Amy asked.

  “As long as you don’t bend over,” Millie retorted.

  Once inside Millie’s guest bedroom, Amy surveyed her clothing options—she didn’t have anything in the way of grunge wear, not having counted on a fire and a house full of hoarder crap. She ended up choosing khaki shorts and a blue short-sleeved blouse.

  Millie was in the kitchen filling up water bottles. She looked at Amy’s outfit. “That’s a bit dressy for what we’re doing.”

  “I didn’t bring much in the way of work clothes.”

  “I’d lend you some, but I don’t think they’d fit you.”

  It was true. Millie was petite and Amy was five foot seven. Millie’s shirts would be up around Amy’s stomach and she didn’t have the confidence required to show off her midriff.

  “We’ll make do.” Millie handed Amy one of the three water bottles and they headed over to her mother’s house.

  Parker took one look at Amy’s shirt and walked to her van. She returned with a blue T-shirt with her company logo on the ba
ck. She handed it to Amy. Words weren’t necessary. Amy went and changed.

  “Better,” Parker said when Amy came back wearing the shirt.

  “Thanks,” Amy said. She stole glances at Parker’s biceps as she hammered. Amy felt like she could stand there all day and watch Parker work.

  She finally tore herself away and found Millie in the living room poking through boxes. “I think we can donate some of this to Goodwill,” Millie said.

  “That’s something at least.” Amy sat down on a box and took several deep breaths. “This is so big I don’t know where to even start.”

  “How about clearing out all these old newspapers while I install smoke detectors,” Steph said. She walked into the room, wearing a tool belt and holding five smoke detectors tucked under one arm.

  Amy jumped. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Might have something to do with Parker and her hammer,” Steph said.

  “You talking about me?” Parker asked. She came in with a ladder and set it against a stack of papers. “Here you go Ms. Smoke Alarm,” she said, then left.

  “She knows me so well,” Steph said. “Just to let you all know, I packed us a big lunch.”

  “We’ll be needing it,” Millie said.

  Amy and Millie began working, carrying armfuls of newspapers out to the Dumpster. The newspapers were an archive of history. They went clear back to the last century. Twenty years worth.

  “It’s going to take us all day to get rid of these,” Amy said.

  “Might take even more than that,” Millie said.

  Steph came back in looking pleased. “Alarms installed. You are officially safe.” She glanced around. “Well, you all are making a dent. How far do they go back?”

  “Nineteen ninety-six, at least,” Amy said. “I saw a headline about the O.J. Simpson trial.”

  Parker came in from the kitchen. She had a black smudge across her cheek. Amy resisted the urge to wipe it off.

  “1996? That’s twenty-one years,” Parker said. “If she kept a paper from every day, except Monday when the Fenton News doesn’t publish, that’s…” she paused for about two seconds, then continued, “six thousand five hundred and seventy-three papers. If you carry twenty papers out to the Dumpster with each trip that’s three hundred twenty-eight trips. But there’s two of you, so you can do it in one hundred sixty-four trips apiece… approximately.”

  The three women stared open-mouthed at Parker. Parker grinned sheepishly and said, “I like numbers.”

  “I guess so,” Millie said.

  “Numbers don’t lie to you,” Parker said. “They’re black and white. There’s only one right answer. I like that.”

  “I never thought about it like that,” Amy said.

  “People usually don’t,” Parker said. She turned to Steph, saying, “I need you to hold up a cross beam for me while I get it nailed in place. Jose didn’t show up this morning—he’s sick. You’re my help now.”

  “I’m on it,” Steph said.

  “You just want to get out of newspaper detail,” Amy said.

  “You figured me out,” Steph said. She followed Parker out of the room.

  “Parker sure doesn’t talk much,” Amy whispered to Millie after the others were out of earshot.

  “I think she’s the strong, silent type,” Millie said. “Which can be very appealing to some women.”

  “And how would you know that?” Amy asked.

  They each carried a load of papers out to the Dumpster, continuing their conversation.

  Millie said, “It was in an article I read about introverts. I’m certain Parker is one. She’s a hard one to catch.”

  “Do you mean she doesn’t have a girlfriend?”

  “Not yet. Her last relationship ended badly. Her name was Cynthia.” Millie wrinkled her nose when she said the name, like it had a bad smell. “Luckily, the woman left town, otherwise Parker would be suffering even more. The lesbian community is tight knit enough that breaking up with your girlfriend means you still see her around town. I don’t think I could do that. If Harry had cheated on me and I divorced him, I’d make his butt be the one to move away. This town wouldn’t be big enough for the two of us.”

  “What was Cynthia like?” Amy asked.

  “She was a bitch. Everyone in town thought so.”

  “How do you know about all these lesbians?”

  “I have lesbian friends. I hear things. They made me an honorary lesbian.”

  Amy laughed and threw her papers into the Dumpster alongside Millie’s. She climbed up on the Dumpster stairs to look down on piles of newspapers and some of the burnt wood that Parker and Steph had added. “I think this is going to take more than one Dumpster.”

  “It will,” Parker said, appearing behind them. She carried several blackened two-by-fours. “I’ll call them when we fill this one and they’ll haul it away and bring us another.” She heaved her load into the Dumpster. She was filthy.

  “You’re really dirty.” Amy blushed. “I mean, do you know that you’re that dirty?”

  Parker looked down as if seeing herself for first time. “This is normal for me. One time I was downtown on my lunch hour, sitting on a park bench having a coffee, and this woman tossed a quarter into my cup.”

  Steph appeared, carrying a large garbage bag. She shot it into the Dumpster like it was a huge basketball. “Did I nail that or what?” Steph asked.

  Parker nodded. “Nothing but net.”

  “You guys ready for lunch? I’m starved,” Steph said.

  “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Amy said.

  ***

  The four women sat down at a makeshift picnic table Parker had erected in the back yard. It was a sheet of plywood sitting on top of two saw horses with a drop cloth draped over it. Millie had volunteered her metal folding chairs that she used when she had “girl’s night” at her house.

  There was an assortment of sandwiches—turkey, ham, roast beef on homemade bread—on top of the table. There were also apples, red grapes, potato salad, chips, and iced tea. Amy groaned in appreciation.

  “You outdid herself,” Parker said.

  “Thank you,” Steph said.

  “I’ll be waddling around after this lunch,” Amy said.

  “You could use some meat on your bones,” Parker said, refusing to meet Amy’s eyes.

  Amy didn’t know how to take that statement. On the one hand, Parker had noticed her body. On the other hand, she thought she was too skinny.

  No one talked while they ate. It was like their bodies needed food, not idle conversation. Amy couldn’t remember the last time she felt physically exhausted. She was going to be sore tomorrow and they still had a lot left to do. On the bright side, she might be buff by the time she left Fenton.

  “Okay, that was yummy,” Steph said, pushing her plate away. She pulled a bunch of grapes out of the gallon plastic Ziploc baggie.

  “Rosa got a good one with you. I hope she appreciates you,” Millie said.

  “She does,” Steph said.

  “Then why don’t you two say I do?” Parker asked.

  Steph shook her head and looked away, saying, “I ask her to marry me. She says no. I ask again. She says no again.”

  “She won’t marry you?” Parker asked. “But you’ve been together for years.”

  Steph shrugged like she didn’t care one way or the other, but Amy could tell it was a real sore spot with her.

  Millie came to the rescue. “Well, there’s lots of ways to be a loving couple. Marriage isn’t the end-all.”

  Steph picked up the paper plates and put them inside a large garbage bag, saying, “Time to get back to work.” That ended the uneasy conversation.

  ***

  Amy walked back into the living room. The mountain of boxes stared defiantly back at her.

  Millie joined her. “We need a plan.”

  “Definitely. Got any ideas?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think you’re going to like it,”
Millie said.

  “Why not?” Amy asked. She opened a box and screamed. A mouse skittered out and ran over Amy’s foot. She screamed again and scrambled up on top of a stack of boxes. That was a wrong move. The boxes began to topple. Amy grabbed the nearest thing to hold onto—the dusty chandelier that was hanging from the ceiling.

  The boxes fell, leaving Amy dangling from the chandelier.

  Parker and Steph came running in as soon as they heard the screams. “What happened?” Steph asked, looking around the room for possible hazards.

  Parker looked up at Amy. “You’re hanging from the light,” she said simply.

  “I think she’s aware of that,” Millie said.

  “Why?” Parker asked.

  Before anyone could answer the chandelier creaked and pulled away from the ceiling. Thankfully, the electrical cords stopped it from crashing to the floor.

  Amy screamed again.

  Parker stepped directly under Amy and said, calmly, “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you.”

  At that moment, the chandelier’s electrical cords snapped. Amy fell directly into Parker’s outstretched arms and the chandelier fell to the side, smashing into bits.

  Everyone was surprised by Parker’s dramatic catch. Well, everyone except Parker.

  Steph clapped. “Good save!”

  Millie put her hand over her heart. “How romantic,” she said.

  Parker grinned and put Amy down onto her own two feet.

  Amy threw her arms around Parker’s neck, exclaiming dramatically, “My hero! You saved me.” She kissed Parker on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  Parker turned three shades of red and quickly left the room, muttering something that sounded like “You’re welcome.”

  Steph winked at Amy and followed Parker out.

  “Well,” Amy said, looking at Millie, “I guess I scared her away.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Millie said.

  “Really?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Amy looked around at all the boxes. She said, “Would I be a bad daughter if I said we should just chuck it all?”

  Millie grinned mischievously, “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”