Fellowship & Fairydust

It was a short, silent ride to the Kester house. Papa parked in the gravel driveway that fronted the boulevard, and then walked Emma to the door. She felt angry and humiliated as he introduced himself to Mrs. Kester and briefly explained the purpose of the visit.

“Please…call me Christine,” said Mrs. Kester. She smelled of lilacs and wore a pretty green dress that matched her eyes perfectly. With a gracious smile, she added, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Winberry.”

“Robert,” said Papa.

They went inside. Susan and little Tommy sat on the living room floor, listening to a radio show. The skin cream coating Susan’s sunburn gave off an unpleasant odor. At her mother’s request, Susan rose and came over. Her eyes settled coldly on Emma, making it clear that she refused any blame.

Emma could not help glaring as she choked out her apology. “I’m sorry I dragged you around town in the sun.”

“Is that all you have to say?” Papa asked, obviously expecting more.

After a bit of thought, Emma added, “I should never have told you all those things.” True enough. She was sorry that she had ever confided in the faithless creature.

With a scathing look, Susan turned and walked down the hallway. Papa and Mrs. Kester went off into a corner and had a private discussion while Emma stood alone.

When they came back to Emma, Mrs. Kester touched her cheek fondly. “You certainly have a big imagination.” She looked over at Papa. “She must get it from you, Robert. Emma says you’re a research scientist?”

It sounded strange, hearing her call Papa by his first name.

Papa must have thought so, too. Looking thoroughly embarrassed, he said, “I teach science over at the high school…but I do have some ongoing projects.”

Mrs. Kester glanced at Emma and smiled. “Well, you have a very nice daughter. We love having her around. She’s a big help, and Sue’s been so lonely since…well, since her father passed on.”

The lady actually seemed to blush as she met Papa’s eyes. It was a very awkward moment. Then they all said goodbye, and that was the end of it.

oooo

Emma was forbidden to play with Susan for a week. It meant she would miss Susan’s birthday, but that was just fine with her, because she did not intend to ever set foot on the Kester property again. Several times each day, she stared into her open closet, willing the invisible tunnel to appear. She would show Papa and Aunt Daisy that evil John McCormack was lurking in the foggy regions below ground, and most of all she would show big-mouthed Susan Kester.

The week ended with no sign of a tunnel. Nothing seemed like much fun to Emma anymore. The sunburn on her nose was peeling as she wandered into Papa’s lab and found him alone at his worktable. Slumping into a chair, she watched him scribble notes on a pad of paper. Now and then she let out a deep sigh.

Finally Papa looked up and said, “You seem mighty unhappy, Honeybee. Why aren’t you out playing with Susan?”

Emma frowned. “She’s not my friend anymore.”

“Is that what she told you?”

“I’m not talking to her. She spilled all our secrets. She got me in trouble.”

Deep creases appeared between his eyebrows as he penciled a few notes. Then out of the blue he said, “I’ve been thinking about those ice cream sodas…”

Emma sat up straight. “Really?”

“Wouldn’t it be nice…if we invited Mrs. Kester and her children along? Just to be neighborly.”

Emma groaned. “Oh, Papa…no.”

But Papa had made up his mind. The very next day, Emma accompanied him as he picked up the Kesters and drove down the boulevard. Though she begged to sit up front with Papa and Mrs. Kester, she found herself banished to the back seat. Tommy sat fidgeting in the middle. Doing her utmost to ignore Susan, Emma stared out the side window, utterly miserable.

The soda shop was crowded, but they managed to find two small tables within sight of each other. Emma tried to cheer herself with the thought of a double chocolate soda, but all the joy went out of it when the grownups decided that she would share a table with Susan. A jukebox was playing an Elvis Presley tune. Emma drummed her fingers in time to the music and studied the ceiling fans until their orders arrived. As she slurped soda through her straw, she aimed a quick frown at Susan. Pink and peeling, Susan glowered back.

Emma’s blood began to boil. “You told!” she hissed. “You swore to keep it secret, and you told!”

“You lied!” Susan shot back. “There is no John McCormack or Ypsa! There’s no underground tunnel, either!”

Emma had no ready answer. Picking up her long spoon, she tasted a sweet dab of ice cream. It seemed a shame to let anger spoil a perfectly good soda. Grudgingly she admitted, “I never thought of it as lying. It was more like a story…but a lot more real.”

Susan’s flaky scowl faded. “I didn’t want to tell. I only did it because I was worried about you…and your father. He’s awful nice, you know.”

That was one point they could agree on. Emma knew how much Susan missed her own father, because Emma missed Mama the very same way. They both knew the pain of losing a parent.

Her heart softening, Emma said, “In that case, I guess it’s okay…”

“Then we’re friends again?” Susan asked hopefully.

Emma still found it amazing that someone who had horses and chickens wanted shy little Emma Winberry as a friend. Right then and there she smiled at Susan, and the summer took on a fresh new glow.

oooo

The idea of going to church together came from Susan, but Emma embraced it with enthusiasm. It had not taken them long to discover their shared faith and membership in the parish of St. Germaine. Thinking back to her First Holy Communion, Emma seemed to remember a pretty girl with fiery hair streaming down the back of her white dress — one of the public school children who seemed like such oddities to Emma and her classmates. Why would any child not want to be taught by the good sisters at St. Germaine School? Now Emma knew the answer. At least for Susan, it was a question of money. Emma felt sad that Susan’s mother couldn’t afford the tuition, and told her father about it.

Quickly she added, “But can’t we start attending Sunday Mass together? Susan’s been going at 8:00, and we’re always up by then. We could sit in the same pew.” Full of hope, she pushed on. “Then maybe sometime…you and I could go on an outing afterward, like we used to. Take a drive in the country, have a picnic.”

They were in the backyard, gathering figs from her favorite climbing tree. Papa paused and seemed to look inward. “Go for a drive? Maybe. But I don’t know about church. Christina…Mrs. Kester…might not want us tagging along, sharing a pew with her family.”

Emma didn’t understand. “Why not? We’re all friends, aren’t we? Susan and I can sit in the middle. You can sit next to me. Tommy and Mrs. Kester can go on the other side of Susan.”

Papa gave her an indulgent smile. “I see. You have it all figured out. Well, if Mrs. Kester invites us, I’m willing.”

On Saturday morning the phone rang, and Papa had a pleasant conversation with Mrs. Kester while Emma and Aunt Daisy sat nearby. Emma was thrilled when he hung up the phone and announced that they would all be going to the eight o’clock Mass tomorrow.

Aunt Daisy never went to church, but she sometimes voiced opinions about people who did. She had never pretended to like the Kesters. Sitting stiffly with a lap full of sewing, she warned Papa to “be careful around that widow woman”. When a sharp look from Papa put an end to Daisy’s comments, Emma smiled to herself. It seemed as if he was being unusually protective of Susan’s pretty, sweet-natured mother. Though Emma thought Mrs. Kester was wonderful, it had never occurred to her that Papa might also like “that widow woman”. The notion gave rise to a whole host of marvelous fantasies, but this time Emma kept them strictly between herself and St. Germaine, whose patient ears were always open to confidences.

oooo

Sunday morning dawned warm and clear. In church, Emma and Susan sat side by side in their best dresses, following the prayers of the Mass in their missals. Afterward, everyone chatted as they walked down Arbor Street together. Little Tommy was fascinated with Papa’s fedora hat, and Papa let him wear it. Partway along the street, Papa picked him up and carried him while Tommy reached out to touch the drooping pepper tree branches.

It was the best of days until a sudden new worry struck Emma like a thunderbolt. Susan was talking about her Uncle Lars coming over to the farm later. Emma deliberately slowed down and dropped behind the adults so they could not overhear her softly spoken question.

“Susan, why does your uncle hang around so much? He’s over at your place a lot.”

“Well,” Susan said, “in the spring he runs the tractor and does a lot of the planting. Then all summer, he helps with the garden and picks fruit, too. He uses his truck to drive everything to market. Half the profits go to him.”

“But doesn’t he have a regular job?”

Susan hopped over a crack in the sidewalk. “Sort of. I know he paints houses sometimes, but he’s not married and he doesn’t have any kids, so I guess he wouldn’t need a whole lot of money.”

Not married! Emma thought of big strapping Lars, of how fair and handsome he looked working out in the sun. She had seen him joking back and forth with Susan’s mother, had heard him call her by a pet name, “Tina”. Emma’s scholarly father would not stand a chance against someone like Lars. Unless…

By the time Emma and Papa turned in at their house, she was already hatching a plan. She finished her breakfast quickly, and instead of begging Papa to take her on a drive, she asked to go over to the farm.

When Papa gave his permission, Aunt Daisy frowned in disapproval. “Well then,” she said, “get out of that Sunday dress, or you’ll ruin it for sure.”

“I’ll wear pants,” Emma answered, darting for the bedroom.

“Oh, no you won’t!” declared Daisy.

oooo

In a flowery sundress, Emma squeezed through the Kester fence and deliberately headed away from the house. Keeping an eye out for Uncle Lars, she walked the dirt path that encircled the huge garden. The corn had grown almost as tall as her, but she had only traveled a few yards when she heard the digging of a hoe and glimpsed a straw hat bobbing above the stalks. By the sound of it, Lars was alone.

Her heart pounding with the urgency of her mission, Emma found the row he was hoeing and made her way toward him.

Lars saw her coming. Straightening up, he pushed the hat off his handsome forehead and smiled at her. “Hello there, Emma. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Real beautiful.” Emma did not feel like smiling. Working up her courage, she said, “I bet you think Mrs. Kester is awful pretty, too.”

His blue eyes twinkled with laughter. “Well, now that you mention it, Tina is rather nice-looking, yes.”

Curling a corn leaf around one trembling finger, Emma stared at it and said, “She has a boyfriend, you know. A secret boyfriend.”

Lars was silent. Emma expected him to show some jealousy, but when he finally spoke, his voice was still full of good humor. “A secret boyfriend? Can’t be much of a secret if you’re telling me.”

Emma studied his kindly face. “Well, it’s true. Don’t you care?”

He shrugged and swung the hoe at a couple of weeds. “Not as long as he’s a nice fella.”

Emma was thoroughly confused. “But you like Mrs. Kester, I can tell…and you even call her Tina.”

Lars stopped his work and chuckled. “I’ve been calling her Tina since we were kids…and I should think I would like my own sister.”

It took a moment to sink in. “You mean…you’re her brother?”

“That’s what Mama and Papa told me.”

“Oh!” Relief took the edge off Emma’s embarrassment, but she had to cover her tracks fast. “I…I thought maybe you were related to Susan’s dad. Forget about the boyfriend, okay? Like I said, it’s a secret. Top secret.”

Suddenly serious, he said, “Then maybe you shouldn’t be spreading it around.”

Emma rushed back home and hid in her bedroom, waiting for the telephone to ring. “Hello. Mr. Winberry? Sorry to say, we’ve had another little incident with your daughter…something about a boyfriend…a secret boyfriend of mine…” How Aunt Doris would rant! There would be a week or more without Susan, and Papa might never see Mrs. Kester again.

Alone in her room, Emma anguished. Oh, why couldn’t I keep my nose out of it?

Despite her concern, the day ended quietly. All week she walked on tiptoes, expecting trouble at any moment, but the dreaded complaint never came. As time went on, Sunday mornings began to include outings with the Kesters. There were trips to the seashore, picnics in the mountains, and get-togethers at each other’s homes. Then, one wonderful day at Mass, Papa rearranged the seating and put himself right next to Christina Kester. Emma’s heart sang.

oooo

August brought a heat wave. Shortly before Monday’s dinner, Papa appeared in a light summer suit, freshly shaved and smelling of Old Spice. He whistled as he picked up his hat and car keys.

“I’ll be gone all evening,” he told Emma. “Be a good Honeybee for your Aunt Daisy.”

She gaped at him in disbelief. “You’re not working in the lab tonight? Why not? Where are you going?”

Silently smiling, he put on his hat and walked out the door.

An aroma of bell peppers and onion drew Emma into the kitchen. A pan sizzled on the stove. Nearby, Aunt Daisy was beating eggs into a froth, her lips tightly pursed together.

Emma recognized the signs of anger, but curiosity drove her to ask, “Do you know where Papa’s going?”

“Never mind,” Daisy snapped.

Just then, Emma felt a thrilling suspicion. “Can I call Susan?”

“May I.  No, you may not. Wash your hands and set the table. This omelet will be ready in a minute.”

Emma obediently washed. She put two plates and silverware on the dinette table, filled two glasses with ice water, and set out fresh cloth napkins. Then she sidled into the living room and dialed the phone slowly and quietly.

Susan answered on the third ring. She said that her mother had just gone out the door, all dressed up. Uncle Lars was watching her and Tommy.

Emma’s heart raced as she put down the receiver. Her head filled with a dreamy vision of two lonely people together, driving through the night in an old Ford.

“Emma Winberry!”

Her entire body jumped in surprise. Turning, she found Aunt Daisy eyeing her from the kitchen doorway.

“Young lady, I told you no phone calls!”

Emma realized that her hand was still touching the phone, and quickly pulled it away. In her most contrite voice she said, “Oh…that’s right. Sorry.”

It did nothing to soften her aunt, and now Emma knew why. Papa was out with ‘that Kester widow’.”

oooo

Sometime after dark, sharp voices awoke Emma, but they did not come from a tunnel in the closet. They came from just beyond her wall, in the living room. The next morning before breakfast, Aunt Daisy appeared with her suitcases and coldly asked Papa for a ride to the train station. The car smelled of Mrs. Kester’s lilac perfume as Emma got in the back seat.  

At every red light, Aunt Daisy mumbled in angry snippets. “…running around at all hours…taking advantage of an old woman’s kindness…maybe a father should watch his own child once in a while…might find out it’s not so easy…not with that saucy little…”

Papa’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. At the station, he loaded Daisy’s sewing machine and suitcases on a curbside cart. Strangers were standing around, looking at their watches and smoking cigarettes.

“Thank-you for all your help,” he said, embracing Daisy’s rigid body. “Have a safe trip.”

She gave one of her famous huffs.

Standing by the car, Emma made herself say, “Goodbye, Aunt Daisy.”

As Daisy stalked into the train station, Emma breathed a big sigh of relief. Papa visibly relaxed, too, but he did not seem very happy as he said, “I was about ready for some creamed tuna, anyway. How about you, Honeybee?”

They got back into the car, and this time Emma sat beside him in the perfumed seat. “Why did you hug her, Papa? She wasn’t nice to us. She didn’t even say goodbye.”

He started the engine, put the car in gear, and worked his way into the morning commuter traffic. With his eyes on the road, he said, “Why do you think I let her come every summer?”

“Let her come.” Emma could scarcely believe it. “I thought you sent for her.”

He shook his head. “No, Honeybee, it was her idea. She’s always been a lonely woman.”

“Maybe because she’s so hard to live with,” Emma said without a speck of sympathy.

Papa nodded. “I’m afraid you’ve hit the nail on the head, but we’re meant to show kindness…even if it’s not returned.”

“Like St. Germaine,” Emma thought aloud. “Her stepmother was terribly mean, but Germaine showed her nothing but love.”

“Now, that’s the spirit.” Swinging the car into a restaurant parking lot, Papa sniffed the air. “Smells like hash brown potatoes. Come on, let’s check it out.”

It was not at all like her father to be so spontaneous, but Emma gladly went along. And the minute they got home, she changed into pedal pushers and went hunting for snails.

Later that same week, she ate an early dinner before Papa drove her to the Kesters. There she stayed with Susan and Tommy and Uncle Lars while Papa went out on another date with Christine Kester. Susan’s mother looked prettier than ever, and anyone could see the lingering looks she shared with Papa.

As the two of them went out the door together, Lars chuckled and winked at Emma. “Looks like the cat’s out of the bag, now.”

It was almost too good to be true when Susan took Emma into her bedroom and confided, “I wish your Papa would marry Mom.”

At last, Emma could share her fondest dream. “Me, too! It’s been all I can think about. You and I would be more than friends. We’d be sisters!”

oooo

On the final weekend of summer vacation, Emma and her father went to the Kesters for a barbecue. It was a fine hot September day. Foggers set high in a tree spread cooling mist over the barbecue pit and nearby picnic table. Uncle Lars came to share the chicken, potato salad, and corn on the cob. After dinner, Emma and Susan rode Brownie on long loops around the property while Uncle Lars gave Tommy a pony ride by the barn.

The sun dipped below the horizon and the air began to cool. At dusk, the girls put Brownie in the corral and decided to look for a little rabbit that had been seen nibbling the crops at night. After a few minutes of searching, Emma turned around and discovered she was alone. Even though it was getting dark, she was determined to find the rabbit. Step by step, she followed the edge of the garden until the fruit orchard came into view. A big yellow moon peeked through the leafy branches of the trees.

Emma listened for little paws in the dirt. Suddenly she heard voices. Turning toward the sound, she made out two shapes in the orchard — a man and a woman. They were facing one another, standing quite near, holding hands. Before her astonished eyes, the two figures merged in a tender, romantic kiss.

Emma gaped at Papa and Mrs. Kester, her heart thumping with deep joy. It was true! They were falling in love! Closing her eyes, she offered a prayer of thanks before quietly retracing her steps back to the others.

*****

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