Raspberry Tea (short story)

Washboard flat, and that didn’t describe my flabby belly; but, the place where two “c” cup breasts used to be.  I ran my hand over the chest of perhaps a twelve year old girl instead of a forty one year old woman.  Double mastectomy.  It wasn’t like double dipped ice cream or double dare or even double dating.  I could hardly form the words on my lips.  The person in the mirror stared back at me with sad eyes and cropped red hair that seemed too dark for a pinched face washed of any real color.  I watched mutely as the reflection frowned deepening the lines between two newly grown eyebrows.

“Are ye ready?” Marianne’s cheery voice sang out like an annoying bird before sunrise interrupting my otherwise somber mood.  Marianne Sullivan grinned at me her freckles bunching around her cheeks and nose.

“I’m not so sure this is a good idea…”

“Whisht,” Marianne countered in that quintessential Irish brogue.  “Grab yahr bag and let’s go befar I have to tie ye down and drag ye out to the car meself.”

Now that would be something as unlikely as a snowstorm in the desert.  She had to be half my size and about as threatening as a kitten.  I picked up my overnight bag and followed my friend out the door.  Tears burned my eyes.  I don’t know what amazed me more; allowing the world to see me after shutting myself in for months or shedding tears.  I thought I had cried enough to fill both oceans on either side of the continent.

“I got a nice card from John yesterday,” I said casually trying to hide my soggy emotions.

“John?” Marianne’s countenance iced over.  “Ye mean that low life husband o’ yahrs?”

“Ex husband,” I corrected.

“Precisely.  What happened to the vows ‘in sickness and in health,’ and ’til death do us part?  Eh?  Was he out havin’ a beer with his buddies when the priest was having ye speak yahr vows?”

I sighed deeply.  “It was too difficult for him.”

Marianne made a sour face.  “Too difficult!  Ach!  Yer the one who lost yahr cabbages, and nice ones if ye don’t mind me saying.”

Marrianne wore an ‘a’ cup, so anyone who had breasts bigger than hers had cabbages.  I slid into the passenger side of the car.

“Now dohn’t tell me ye haven’t noticed anything different about me van.”

“Okay,” I said shrugging, “I won’t tell you; but, what is it I’m supposed to have noticed?”

“Ach,” she said shaking her head.  “How about no puke or heave odors from Andrew or sticky, gummy gems left behind from Kathy’s lollies?  Or, Kevin’s fishing paraphernalia? I’ve spent a good three days mucking out this sad little pigpen on wheels”

“For me?”  I smiled wryly.  “You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.  Surely we’re not celebrating the loss of my boobs.”

My friend sighed as she turned the ignition.  “Yahr fairly impossible, Jill Fells.”

When she said my name, it sounded almost intriguing unlike the real me.  We drove for almost an hour in silence through the countryside patched with farms and dotted with black cows.  Red barns and twin silos sprung up between fields teeming with young corn or leafy soybeans.

“It’s probably not going to be warm by the lake,” I commented.

“Then ye should have brought yahr fur coat,” Marianne mumbled.

“I’m sorry, Mare,” I told her sincerely.  She had become a truly special friend during this entire cancer thing.  I wouldn’t have really gotten to know her if it wasn’t for a weekly knitting class that met in our town library.  I tried my dead level best to make a pair of socks that didn’t look like leg warmers for a giraffe while Marianne created beautiful clothing for her family.  I told her it must be an “Irish” thing after she had completed a gorgeous cabled sweater for her husband.  I remembered that she had just smiled and said how she hated the smell of beer and couldn’t fix a decent meal from her own country to save her life.  Knitting seemed her only salvation to claiming her nationality.

When I found out that I had breast cancer, I quit the knitting group.  Marianne Sullivan decided it was too important for me to keep knitting, so she came to my home, the hospital, and my endless visits for chemo and radiation.  We knitted even though I had to stop at times to puke out my guts.  I reminded her of that time.

Her honest blue eyes twinkled.  “I’ve never seen anyone rip out rows o’ stitches and start all over agin and agin.”

“I finished those blasted socks, though.”

“Aye.  Yahr stubborn and yahr a fighter Jill.  I weel give ye that.”

“Then how come I didn’t fight to keep Jim?  I just let him walk out of my life.”

She rubbed the side of her nose.  “Perhaps he’s a bit slow and hasn’t realized yahr more than the sum o’ yahr parts.”

“Parts?  You sound like that chicken commercial.  Parts is parts.”

“Well, we are talking about yahr breasts…”

The look of uncertainty on her face was priceless.  I felt myself smile for the first time in a very long time.  She giggled like a little girl.

The lake gleamed like a gigantic sapphire protected by a circle of pine sentries.  The cabins sat back several hundred feet from the shore and to our left.  I expected something more primitive like logs held in place with mud and a thatched roof.  The cabins were more like small white cottages with all the amenities of a nice hotel suite.  Marianne informed me that she had come up a few days prior and stocked the place with food and linens.  Many of the residents lived in the cottages year round and some used the lakeside community as their summer getaway.

“I think ye’ll be okay far a month; but Kevin and I want you to stay as long as ye need to.  I am in no hurry to sell the place.”

“A month.  I was thinking just a few days; maybe a week at most.”

“Trust me,” she said, “ye’ll be wanting more than a month.”

“I doubt that,” I mumbled feeling that gray and emotionless mood descend.

I noticed the “For Sale” sign had been pulled out of the ground and set behind the bushes.  Marianne came inside with me and  took a bottle of water from the refrigerator for the ride home.

“There’s a paper on the counter with names and numbers of me neighbors should ye need anything befar I come back next week to spend a couple o’ days with ye.”

I watched from the screen door as she drove away.

The cabin had two bedrooms, a compact kitchen, a living area complete with a pull out couch and two deep red easy chairs.  Situated between the two bedrooms was a bathroom with a standalone pedestal tub and a shower.  Everything had a nautical theme from the blue and cream paint to the sailboats on the shower curtain and multicolored fish motifs on a three inch decorative strip across the bottom of cream colored towels.  The one frosted window jutted out creating a nook for plants.  The rest of the cabin had Marianne’s checks and plaids of blue, green and red throughout.  The clock in the bedroom that I had chosen was in the shape of the Claddagh.

A lump formed in my throat.  Wasn’t John and I supposed to have had that kind of love? I berated myself for being such a fool.  What was I doing here anyway? This place shouted family and happiness and wholeness.  I had none of that.  I decided not to unpack my bag.  I didn’t plan on staying long.

The cupboards had been stocked with plenty of food.  One cupboard over the sink had nothing but boxes of tea, specifically raspberry tea.  I reached behind a row of neatly stacked tea boxes and found even more raspberry tea.  That irked me.  “What if I don’t like raspberry tea?” I complained aloud.  “What if I don’t like fruity foo foo tea?”

Only a rap on the door responded.  I stood quite still hoping whoever it was would just go away.  The knocking seemed a bit more urgent this time.  I think what astonished me the most was her cherry colored hair.  Tall, slender and clothed in one shade of neon yellow, the sixty something year old woman standing at the door looked like a giant yellow tube of red lipstick.

“Hello, Jill.  My name is Dorothy Plummer, but everyone calls me Dottie.  I thought it might be nice if I came to welcome you to our little lakeside community.  Marianne has told us all about you.  I believe she is very fond of you.”  She gave me a sugary smile.  “May I come in?”

I wanted to tell her no in the worst way.  I wanted to be left alone.  “How about some raspberry tea?” I asked in a tone heavily seasoned with sarcasm.

Her red lips parted revealing perfect and obviously false teeth.  “Why I would love a cup.     It’s my favorite.”

“Yours and Marianne’s,” I said filling the copper kettle with water and setting it on the

stove.

“Oh, that’s all we drink here.”  Dottie found two teacups in the cabinet and placed them on the table.

“And what happens if I don’t care for fruit tea?”

Dottie looked at me in that sweet and sad way that made me want to crawl up in my mother’s lap and bawl.  I forced myself not to.

“My dear, you will learn to enjoy it and find comfort and strength in it.”

“You make it sound like some magical elixir or such that will make everything alright

again.”

She just smiled as I poured the hot water over teabags, the smell of raspberry filling the

air.

Dottie and her husband, James Plummer, had moved to the lake community ten years ago.  They had saved enough to retire when James had turned fifty-seven.  He and Dottie had only lived in the community for five years when James had a massive heart attack and passed.  Dottie’s eyes misted as she spoke of him explaining what a good man he had been and how she wouldn’t have made it without her friends and raspberry tea.

“Thank you for the tea, Jill.  I better let you get unpacked.  You haven’t even removed your jacket yet.”

I watched her walk along the shoreline toward her place located six or seven cabins up from Marianne’s.  Dottie stopped and bent down.  She picked something up in her hand, made a little squeal, jumped and then tossed whatever she had found into the lake.  Too much raspberry tea I thought.

Early evening, marked by a sun descending behind great pines and leaving burnt gold sparkles on the lake, found me still unpacked and standing in front of the screen door.  A cool breeze made me shiver.  I started to close the door when I heard a cat’s meow, then I noticed something blue fluttering in the bushes beside the stairs.  Hesitantly, I opened the screen door.  With haste, I stepped outside, plucked a piece of ribbon from the bush.  I glanced around quickly; but, no cat. I dashed inside shutting me away from any observant eyes.  It was nothing more than a pale blue hair ribbon made of velvet.

After a shower and half a cheese sandwich with orange juice instead of a cup of normal tea I would like to have had, I climbed into bed and purposed that I should go home in the morning.  It rained the next day as if the sky had been torn in two.  I tried calling Marianne’s number several times; but, I heard only that annoying busy signal.

“Hello, “ a deep voice boomed.

I nearly dropped the phone from my hand.  I put the receiver to my ear and said, “Hello?”

“Hello,” the same voice said even louder.

I turned around to see a big face in the door window.  Now who was bothering me?  I opened the door and a large man soaking wet and leaning on crutches grinned at me.  He had only one leg.

“Hi Jill, I’m Sal DiMarco.  Marianne…”

“I know.  Marianne told you all about me.  Does everyone here know about me?”

Sal nodded.  “We’re a pretty tight community.  I wanted to stop by and tell you that phone service gets a bit choppy around here when it rains hard and to welcome you.  I’m sorry I didn’t get by yesterday.  My sister, Lucy, was having a bad day.  Would you mind if I checked the closet in the left bedroom?  Sometimes it leaks when there’s a heavy rain.  Marianne asked me to check on it.”

“Did you talk to her this morning?” I asked suspiciously.

“Yup, around seven.” Sal ran his fingers through his dark wet hair.  “So much for showering this morning.” He had nice brown eyes and they followed mine to his leg.  “Oh, sorry about the crutches and my stump.  I normally put my prosthesis on before leaving home.  Sometimes Lucy forgets where she puts it.”

“What happened to your leg?” I asked feeling that this was someone who could really relate to my pain.

“Infection.  It became gangrened and the doctor said it had to go.  I’m trying to keep from losing the other one.”

“What will you do?”

Sal shrugged.  “That’s what they make wheelchairs for.”  He hobbled off to the bedroom.

I had to wonder at his nonchalance.  Then it occurred to me that perhaps he had been dealing with this for a long time unlike me.

“No leaks,” he announced after about ten minutes.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” I asked.

He glanced at his watch and frowned.  “Well, I think I can spare a few minutes for some

tea.”

I didn’t think it necessary to ask if he liked raspberry tea.  I felt quite certain he did.

“So, how are you adjusting to…?”

“No boobs.” I finished the sentence for him.  “Not as well as you seem to be about your

leg.”

Sal smiled sadly.  “I don’t know that you ever get over losing a part of yourself; but, I’ve realized that living is the most important thing out of all of this.  If all I have to deal with is losing a leg, then I feel lucky.”

“Lucky,” I said wryly, “that’s not a word in my vocabulary.  Besides, your manhood is not threatened by a missing leg.”

He told me that he and Lucy had moved to the lake a few years ago and he lost his left leg only six months ago.

“I can still dance with the best of them.  I couldn’t help noticing that your bag is still packed.  I hope you will stay for awhile.”

I didn’t give him an answer.  I did thank him for checking the closet and lied about possibly coming to visit him and Lucy.

A muffled cat’s meow from the bedroom sent me to investigate.  I discovered no cat again; but, a sketch book propped up against the wall underneath a slightly opened window.  Another blue ribbon was tied around the book.  I peered out from spotty panes and seeing nothing, shut the window and sat down on the bed.  The book contained drawings done by a child; mostly of people.  After leafing through the pages twice, I realized that the drawings were most likely of the folks who lived around the lake. Inside the front cover, a name was written, Kathleen S. One of the last drawings looked very much like Sal on his crutches.  I had to smile at the picture of Dottie.  Kathleen had certainly captured the older woman’s flair for color.

The rain continued through the remainder of the day.  I finally got through to Marianne’s number and proposed to her answering machine that she pick me up in the morning.  Sleep never really came.  It was replaced by memories of my ex and grief for a once perfect body.  We didn’t have children because we were too busy, too absorbed with each other to let anyone else intrude.

The morning sun made the dew covered grass look like a giant cache of expensive diamonds.  I decided to return the book to Sal since he obviously left it to cheer me up.  As I came up to his cabin, I saw him up on the roof.  His hair was curly not plastered around his face.

“What are you doing up there?” I blurted.

Sal took a nail from between his lips and lay down his hammer.  “I think that should be obvious.  I am trying to fix a shingle that blew off last night.”

“How did you get up there?”

Sal smiled.  “Ladders are always helpful.”

His lightheartedness irked me.  “You shouldn’t be doing that in your condition.”

He eyed me for a few moments.  “I’m a contractor.  Doing this kind of stuff is my job.    The lake association pays me to take care of the cabins.  I don’t have the luxury of sitting around and feeling sorry for myself.”

That stung.  “I came to drop off the book you left.  Have a nice life.”

As I started walking away, I heard him say, “I didn’t leave any book and you still look very much like a woman to me.”

When Marianne didn’t show up or return my call by noon, I knew I’d be spending another night.  I zipped up my jacket and headed for the lake.  I sweated in the warm heat; but, I refused to take off the jacket.  As I walked along the shore, I groaned as Dottie’s familiar hair color came into view.  Someone else was with her.  I wanted to turn around; but, that would be a sure indication of my rudeness.

“Yoo hoo!  Hello, Jill.  I want you to meet someone special.”

I waited for Dottie and slender woman with soft green eyes and dark hair streaked with silver to come closer.  The other woman had a perpetual smile and her eyes had a blank look in them.

“I want you to meet Lucy DiMarco, Salvatore’s sister.  We were out taking a stroll on such a lovely day. You must be hot, my dear.”

“Hello, Lucy,” I said ignoring Dottie’s comment.  I stretched out my hand; but, she didn’t acknowledge it.

Dottie patted Lucy’s arm and said gently.  “This is Jill, dear.  She is staying at Marianne’s place.”  Dottie gave me a sad look.  “Lucy had a tragedy in her life and sometimes she goes somewhere else if you know what I mean.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.  I was beginning to think everyone in this community was struggling with some kind of tragedy.  Smack in the face.  So, that’s why Marianne had me come up to the lake.  She wanted to show me that there were others with losses like me.  I became infuriated.  How dare she minimize my own suffering?  “I have to go,” I said through clenched teeth.

Lucy, who had been as stiff and seemingly inanimate as a doll, suddenly grasped my sleeve.  I jerked away and ran off in the opposite direction of the cabin.  A tree root just barely visible under the sandy dirt snatched my foot and I went sprawling.

I don’t know what hurt more, the lump on my forehead or the ache in my chest.  Level with my eyes and half buried in the bank was the perpetrator of my head pain.  A small rectangular box made of wood dared me to pluck it from the roots and dirt that held it captive.  I reached for the box and yanked it.  Clumps of earth showered my face.  After spitting the debris from my mouth, I managed to sit up.  The sun had since fled the sky taking most of the daylight with it.  Surely someone would have seen me fall and tried to help me.  I glanced around and nobody.  So much for Sal’s belief that this was a tight community and with that thought, I forced myself up and dragged my throbbing body back to the cabin.

A nice hot shower and a cup of tea, even if it had to be raspberry, made me feel a

little better.  When I had cleaned the outside of the box, I took it to the table and unscrewed a brass knob that held a clasp in place.  I opened the lid and peeked inside.  A tiny rap at the door and I was out of my chair ready to give whomever a piece of my mind for leaving me injured and in the dirt.  No one stood behind the glass.  Maybe I was hearing things.  Again a tiny rap; but, this time it had some urgency.  I opened the door despite the fact I could see no one.  I looked down.

She stood barely half my height face staring up at me from under a floppy pink hat. Her

penciled thin lips pressed tightly as a somewhat suspicious look filled her green eyes.  “You took my box and I want it back.”

“Sorry,” I said after a few moments of gathering my wits.  I was about to ask her in; but, she pushed past me and seated herself at the table.

“Don’t you want to see what’s in my box?”

“Of course,” I said rather taken aback by her precociousness.

“I’ll have some that raspberry tea, too,” she said dumping the box’s contents onto the

table.  “It’s my favorite tea in the whole world.”

I retrieved a cup from the cupboard and as I turned, she pulled the hat off revealing an egg like head with dark peach fuzz not quite concealing an ugly scar.  I set her tea beside her and then I sat down slowly.

“Mmm,” she sipped the tea.  Her green eyes gazed into mine.  “I’m not mad anymore about you taking the box.  Of all the people that live here, you would understand what it’s like.”

“What it’s like?”

“Having cancer.  That one kind of chemo is the worst.  It makes you feel all mixed up in your stomach like maybe a cat feels when it can’t get rid of a giant furball.”

“Who told you about me?” I asked.

“No one told me.  I just know these things.”

She laid her hand on mine and I stared at it.  Then in a sweet and innocent voice that only children have, she said, “But, I’m lucky No one can see my scar because my hair will cover it.”

A lump grew in my throat.

“You mustn’t give up, you know.  You’re much more than bumpers,” she declared.

“Bumpers?”  I dried my eyes.

“Mommy was always bumping me with hers and I don’t like the word breast.  It sounds like something only grownups would say.”

“How about boobs?”

She made a face.  “No, I think bumpers are best.  Is your head okay?”

I touched the lump.  “I think it will be fine.  My head is probably the toughest part of

me.”

“Good thing your brains are in there and not in your bumpers,” she blurted.  Instant regret clouded her face.

It started as a cough and grew to a chuckle.  The girl covered her mouth as giggles erupted.  Before long, we were both laughing and tittering until our sides hurt.  I wanted that feeling to last forever except I would be in so much pain.

Her name was Kathleen Spears, she was eight years old and she had had a malignant brain tumor removed.  We went through her box of what I considered paraphernalia and she treasure: a tiger’s eye marble from a boy at school, a red clown’s nose that Sal wore at her last birthday party, an unopened tube of pink lipstick from Dottie that her mom said she couldn’t wear, a Cinderella watch that stopped working and showed the time of three fifteen, shells, quartz, a hospital wristband, cosmetic jewelry from a few other lake residents and a blue velvet ribbon.

I fingered the ribbon.  “I’ve seen this before.”

“The ribbons are from my mom.  I had really long hair and she liked to braid it and put ribbons in it.”

“Who’s your mom?”

“Lucy DiMarco,” she answered sadly.  “She doesn’t know that I’m happy now.”

“What is wrong with your mom, Kathleen?” I prodded.

“Everyone who knows me calls me Kat.  You know, meow.”  She sounded like a real

kitten.

“Hey, have you been sneaking around this place?”

Kat’s eyes widened.  “Why would I do that?”

“Never mind,” I said smiling wryly.  “I have your book.  I thought your uncle Sal had dropped it by.”  I reached back and pulled it off the counter and handed it to her.

“Oh, I remember these,” she said giggling as she leafed through the pages.  “I couldn’t draw very well; but, I think everyone here can tell each other apart.”

It started getting dark and I turned on a light.  I was shocked to see how pale almost translucent her skin appeared.  “Maybe you should go home and get some rest.”

“Can I stay here with you tonight?  I don’t want to go.”

“Won’t your mother be worried?”

“She won’t know the difference.”

I felt quite sorry for her and Lucy.  Whatever it was that made her retreat to some faraway place and ignore her own sick child seemed incomprehensible to me.  But then, hadn’t Jim left me for another life during my illness?  I supposed that some people are too weak to hang on in difficult times.

Kat’s favorite meal was spaghetti and meatballs.  We had spaghetti without the meatballs since any available meat happened to be in the freezer.  She didn’t eat hardly anything but Kat seemed really happy that I would cook it for her.  Later, I made us popcorn and we curled up in bed and watched a DVD of Cinderella, her favorite movie.

“I used to feel like that once,” I said wistfully.

“Like her?” Kat asked.  “She looks happy and you can’t really see any of her bumpers.”

“It’s a cartoon, Kat.  They don’t put big boo…bumpers on cartoons for kids.”

She studied me for a moment specifically my chest.  I had changed to a tee and pajama

bottoms.

“You’re still awfully pretty without bumpers.”

“Thanks,” I choked.

Kat scooted next to me and laying her head against my chest, she yawned and said, “I think you would make a very nice mom.”

I heard the shades flutter and the sunlight nearly blinded me as I opened my eyes.

“Come on, Jill.  Time is getting short and it’s going to be a beautiful day.”

“What time is,” I groaned.

“Mmm…eight o’clock, I think.  Do you have a bathing suit?”

“No,” I replied sitting up and rubbing my eyes.  “Why?”

“We need to go swimming.  The water will be perfect for a hot day.”

“It’s May, Kat.  The weather doesn’t get hot yet.  Besides, I don’t swim.”

“Of course you do, silly.  You and Jim used to go swimming in your pool the entire summer.”

Hairs raised on my arms.  “How do you know that?” I demanded.  The room was empty.

I found her down by the water tossing rocks so they would skip across the lake.  With each toss she would jump and squeal.  She was still wearing her pink shorts and ruffled tee.  Kat turned and smiled wide.

“Will you swim with me?”

“Absolutely not.”  I dropped my butt into the sand and nothing on earth was going to

move me.

Kat tiptoed into the calm water.  She squealed then suddenly vanished.  I shot to my feet heart jumping through my throat.

“Kat,” I hollered over the thunder of blood in my ears.  I ran to the water’s edge; no sign of her.  Tossing off my jacket, I trudged into the icy cold water.  “KAT, WHERE ARE YOU?”  I bent over and my footing began to slip.  Before I could catch my breath, I fell head first into the water.  I swam to the surface bobbing up and sputtering like a beach ball with a leak.  I heard Kat giggling.  She stood a few feet away, water up to her chest.

“I forgot about the drop off.”

“You nearly frightened me to death,” I said a bit too harshly.

Kat bit her lip.  “I didn’t mean to.”  Then her face brightened.  “You can still swim.  Let’s race to that tree over there.”

“Are you joking?  I don’t have the energy and the water is freezing.”

Kat looked at the tree a few yards away and then back at me.  “We don’t have to swim fast and it is hot out here.”

She was right.  The morning sun had certainly been working overtime.  “Okay,” I

conceded.

We swam to the tree and back to the shore twice. Funny, I didn’t feel the least bit tired. After that, we sat together on the shore letting the slow moving waves wash over our legs.

“We’re like twins,” she said wiggling her toes.

“How do you figure?”  I raised my face to the warm sun and breathed in the fresh air.

“No bumpers.  I remember when Miss Dottie’s niece, Laura, came to visit one summer.  She was wearing a two piece bathing suit and the top fell off.  Gosh was she ever embarrassed.  I think the whole world saw her that day.  It makes me terribly glad that I can go swimming without having to worry about bumpers falling out of my bathing suit.”

I gazed at her for a few moments.  “Kat, do you know that you are a very extraordinary

girl?”

She nodded.  “Oh for sure.  Lots of people have told me that.”

I grinned.  We stayed by the water for longer than we should have; but, strangely enough, neither one of us had sunburn.  Even more strange, not a single soul in the community seemed to be around.

Kat wanted a picnic lunch.  I made sandwiches and we had some chips, pickles and cherry soda.  We laid a blanket on the grass just beyond the cabin and lunched, at least I did.  I was starving; but, she ate very little.

“Can you do something for me?” Kat asked playing with her pickle.

“For you, anything.”

“Will you tell my mom that I love her and she’s going to be okay?”

“Sure,” I agreed.

“No, I really mean it.  You’re going to be okay, too.  Your cancer is not going to come back.  They got all of it.”

I stopped chewing and stared at her.  “Sometimes you surprise me, Kat.  You talk as if you know these things for certain.”

“I told you that I do.  You have to promise me that you will not let what happened to you stop you from living like you only have a few hours left.”

My stomach felt sick.  “Is that what you’re trying to tell me is that you have only a few months to live?”

She smiled sadly.  “Not months, Jill.”

I had just met this little girl yesterday and yet it seemed like we were connected.  “How long, Kat?”

“Remember when you thought I might have drowned in the lake?”

I nodded mutely.

“I couldn’t have drowned because you see…I’m already gone.”

“What?” I blurted confused and a little scared.

“My cancer never went away.  It spread through my body six months after my operation.  I died a few weeks later.”

Tears flooded my eyes.  “What you’re saying makes no sense.  For heaven’s sake we’re having a picnic.  Dead people just don’t come to picnics.”

“It’s okay, Jill,” the eight year old tried to assure me.  “You fell and hit your head.”  She pointed up at the clouds gathering in the sky.  “It will be raining when you wake up.  I want you to remember me and your promise.”  She handed me the sketchbook.  “You keep this.  What time is it, Jill?”

I glanced down at my watch.  It was too difficult to see through the tears.  “Who cares what time it is,” I blubbered.  “It’s looks like three fifteen.”

Sal DiMarco’s handsome face loomed above me.  The concern in his eyes turned to

relief.

“Hey, Jill, welcome back.”

I tried to sit up and an older man with silver hair and bushy brows, who someone called Dr. Ben, told me to stay put.

“You have a nasty bump on your head that’s kept you out for a few hours.  The doc here wanted to take you to the hospital; but, we got ourselves a real doozy of thunderstorm.  The rain came down so hard it washed out the road,” Sal explained.  Doc and he decided Sal should stay with me until the next morning. Sal took the other bedroom.

Sal had gotten up early and fixed me a cup of raspberry tea and toast for breakfast.  “Doc says you should eat light.”  He appeared sad.

“Are you alright?”

Sal rubbed his face.  I could see a tear forming in his eye.

“When Dottie and Lucy found you by the lake, you were clutching a treasure box that belonged to my niece, Katherine.  We haven’t been able to locate that box for quite awhile.  We called her Kat for short.  She liked to pretend she was a cat.  She had brain cancer and died a year ago yesterday.  Look, her watch still shows the time she passed.  She was very special and everyone here loved her.  I miss her very much.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.  “You know,” I said gently, “I had a dream about your niece.”

“Really?  How would you have known her?”

“I don’t know that.”  I tried to recall having a conversation about Kat or seeing a picture of her and I couldn’t.  “It was a very vivid dream, though.  She wanted me to tell her mother that she loved her and she would be okay.  I think Lucy might like to hear that.”

The man sitting across the table gaped at me as if I had just grown two heads.  “Why would you say that?”

“Isn’t Lucy her mother?”

Sal swallowed.  “Nobody knows that except me and I have never told a soul.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

Pain filled his face and I wished I had not mentioned the dream.

“Lucy was assaulted by a guy nine years ago.  He beat her up and did things to her.  She couldn’t handle it emotionally and she was committed to a psychiatric hospital.  She had a baby; but, she didn’t comprehend what was happening.  My wife Paula and I raised Kat for two years before Paula ran out on me.  I kept Kat and when my sister was well enough to be released, she came to live with me here.  Lucy believes that Kat was born to one of Paula’s teenage sisters.”

“Why would you keep knowledge of her own daughter from her?”

“Because she couldn’t handle it after being done that way by Charlie Spears, who she loved and was supposed to marry.  My sister would always be reminded of that terrible night whenever she looked at Kat.”

We heard something like a cat shriek from my bedroom.

“Someone is by the window.  Trust me,” I said seeing his puzzled look.

Sal, wearing his prosthesis, could move fairly quickly.  He was gone and back in

seconds.

“I think Lucy heard us.  She’s running toward the pines.”  Sal headed out the door and I tried my best to keep up.

He reached her after she fell down twice.  I heard her sobbing.  Sal sat down beside her looking like he had just committed a criminal offense.  I didn’t know whom to pity more.  Lucy glanced up at me, her face shining with tears.

“My daughter came to see you, didn’t she?”

I wasn’t sure what to say.  “Yes, she did.  Kat said to tell you she was happy and that she loved you very much.  You’ll be okay now, Lucy.”  Somehow I knew that to be so.

She closed her eyes and smiled.  At that moment, I could see that Kat was her daughter.  Sal put his arms around his sister.

“Oh Lucy, I’m so sorry.  I’m so very sorry I didn’t tell you.  I was afraid.”

“It’s alright Salvatore,” Lucy said gently, “I’ve known since the first day I saw her.  Don’t you believe a mother knows her own daughter?”

I went back to the cabin to collect the box and sketchbook for Lucy to have her daughter’s treasures.

Marianne came the next day apologizing for not returning my calls.  I was too absorbed in trying to figure out how my brain concocted such a vivid dream exposing the secret of someone I barely knew.  “It’s okay, really,” I said trying to be polite while ignoring her.

“I see ye’ve had my raspberry tea.”

“Hmm?  Oh, yes.  I’m not a fan of fruit tea; but, I like it.”

“Jill, are ye alright?”  Marianne’s eyes clouded with concern.  She knew about my little accident.

“I don’t honestly know,” I admitted.

Just then, Lucy stopped by.  Marianne let her in and fixed three cups of tea.

“I think this was meant for you,” Lucy said handing me the sketch book.  She appeared calmer, more at peace.

“I’ve looked at it already.”

“Not the last page.”

“Sure,” I said, “It’s Sal…”  I flipped to the very end and what I saw made me laugh.  “Okay, Lucy, that’s very sweet of you.”

She kept shaking her head as tears welled in her eyes.  Of course she had drawn the picture.  But, how could she have known?  I didn’t tell anyone about my dream.  I looked at Lucy and tears filled my own eyes.  The drawing showed a woman standing in the water by the lake’s edge in a Cinderella gown with a brilliant smile on her face.  Oh, I almost forgot, she’s was as flat as a washboard.

I now own the cottage that was once for sale in a lovely lake community.  I have taken up swimming every summer with my husband Salvatore DiMarco.  He’s told me on more than one occasion that bumpers are just a nice decoration and it’s the engine that makes him want to keep driving.  So I wear a tee that reads “Beauty is Beyond Bumpers” when I swim and I always make sure to take a cup of raspberry tea with me.