Faded Flowers and Other Stories

Christie

Introduction

The stories presented here have not been previously published and were written over about the last ten years. The order of the stories is random and offers no insight as to when they were written. The stories are about families and relationships and differ from my murder mystery novels. The story titled The Woman Had A Heart was my first story featuring Chance Colter. I went on to write six Chance Colter Mysteries. More will follow.

The last story, Faded Flowers is a short novella and too long in my mind to qualify as a short story. The oldest story in the collection is Justice written during my many years living in Minnesota.

Short stories are a change from the novel structure that most of my writing has occupied. Both offer rewards and challenges for the writer. Often, when I am at a sticking point in a novel, I will take time to write a short story. As the reader will observe, the stories are all different. I hope you like them.

Jeffrey Birch – Aug. 2017

The Announcement

The tall clock in the foyer chimed seven-thirty.

We need to leave or we’ll be more than fashionably late. He eyed his watch with a frown.

How hard is it to be ready on time for God’s sake, he said in a near voiceless grumble. You’ve had all day.

I’m ready, she called from the bathroom, opening the door with a final glance in the mirror after swallowing a pill from her handbag. As good as it gets, she murmured, slipping on new, red very high-heeled shoes she’d placed outside the bathroom door. Christ, it’s just his damn business associates again and I can’t stand his boss’s wife, she whispered, painted lips mouthing the words. She’s a judgmental bitch.

The other two couples are all right, she thought. In fact, Mitch, one of the guys he works with is very good-looking and his wife is a beauty although an ice queen by the looks of her – very cold and unapproachable during the times I’ve met her. Mitch likes to look. He did the last time we were together. I won’t mind seeing him again. I can get through this, she whispered, adding, I wish I’d taken another pill. The thoughts and whispers tumbled through her brain in rapid succession.

You say something?

No. Just thinking to myself out loud.

Still, her anxiety was real. Eldon tended to get visibly jealous over nothing. It was one thing to deal with it when they got home but quite another when he made it obvious during.

As they got in the car, Eldon, her husband of seven childless years, despite trying until she gave up, said, Are you in a decent mood?

She stared through the windshield considering her state of mind and replied, Good enough. The pill was kicking in.

Please don’t drink too much. Did you take anything?

She hated being lectured to about her drinking and the medication she took. No, she lied. The pills were a lifesaver but didn’t mix well with alcohol she been counseled more than once but together they numbed her from…everything.

Eldon sighed privately wishing he could have declined the boss’s invitation but that was akin to professional suicide and was just what Mitch and Paul would take advantage of. He had to go and had to take his wife.

He knew she wanted kids, two or three of them but couldn’t conceive. For the last six months she had refused him altogether. That was frustrating enough but she wouldn’t adopt, wouldn’t accept in vitro fertilization, a surrogate or get tested. It was time he found out if the problem was his but he hadn’t gotten around to it fearing it was. What would he say, I’m the reason. My sperm count is too low. Find somebody else. She had taken birth control pills since her early teens and up to their marriage. He wondered if that was the problem but she said her OBGYN doc had said no. So, they existed in a kind of stalemate without knowing who was to blame if blame was the appropriate sentiment.

Eldon wondered if he still loved her and she him. It had not been a loving relationship for months – six to be exact. They lived together but it seemed as if they existed in a truce or maybe more like a state of siege – she was in the castle keep and he was hammering on the door without success. The arguments became worse and the prolonged periods of silence became longer. He hoped things would get better but had no idea how to improve them.

Eldon thought: I’m ready to give up. I can’t take much more of this. Being alone is better than this but then he thought of her being with another man and suppressed the feeling. We’ll work it out he thought but was unconvinced. If only we didn’t have to go to this damn dinner party. She’ll hit on Mitch. I know she’s attracted to him. Mitch told me his wife doesn’t want kids – refuses to get pregnant. Has a figure like a fashion model and doesn’t want to risk losing it he’d said over lunch one day. Mitch lamented that it was the one thing they didn’t agree on.

Well, Sybil is not available. He’d better watch it, Eldon said almost silently.

Sybil ignored his mumblings, didn’t care what he was thinking. Eldon seemed of late perpetually angry, critical and suspicious. His behavior depressed her. The medication helped to get her through the days…and nights.

Eldon worried his wife would cuckold him to get pregnant. He fumed, turning his head away from her in the dark of the car, toward the window, lips moving, forming the words, That’s what paternity tests are for. I need to keep my cool this time. She gets drunk and makes a fool of herself, everyone knows it’s the alcohol fueling her behavior.

He wondered if his boss and the others pitied him. Everyone else was a social drinker only Sybil couldn’t control it. It’s more than the alcohol, he knew. The pills she took for…whatever she took them for were the real problem. He suspected she had lied about not taking anything. She had before. What the hell was an anxiety disorder anyway? Many people, most people needed time to get comfortable in a social situation…except Mitch, the life of the party. For him it all seemed to come easy.

As the car arrived at Henry and Polly’s house, she thought that if the whole thing weren’t so colossally boring she wouldn’t end up drinking herself to oblivion. As they exited the car and made the short walk to the front door, Sybil suffered the usual pang of nervousness. God, I need a drink. I definitely should have taken another pill, she thought. Eldon’s eyes were locked on the door and he hadn’t noticed her disquiet.

It opened quickly after his knock. A uniformed maid greeted them and took their coats. Henry approached a second later saying, Eldon, Sybil, so happy you could make it. Sybil, you look wonderful. Eldon is a lucky man.

Sybil smiled at the compliment. She liked Henry. He had an avuncular style that was non-threatening, comforting like an old shoe. Henry conducted them to the others who had arrived a few minutes before. Polly approached to shake their hands. Henry said, What are you drinking, Sybil?

She chanced a furtive glance at her husband. White wine Henry would be perfect.

Coming up. Eldon what’s your poison?

Scotch. Any kind, neat.

Single malt, okay?

Better than okay.

The maid who had been standing close moved to get the drinks, delivering them to Eldon and Sybil. Henry walked toward the others with them following.

Mitch with his tall wife Sera was in conversation with Paul and his wife Connie. Sera stood silent but Mitch was animated apparently telling a story or a joke. Paul was grinning and Connie had a smaller smile on her face, her eyes darting about the room. Mitch liked to tell long, convoluted jokes, most of which weren’t suitable for mixed company and most of which Eldon didn’t find funny.

Eldon and Sybil walked to them drinks in hand, something to hold, something to do with the hands. Mitch turned, stopping his story. There you two are. We’ve been waiting for you. He looked at Sybil, up and down and said, Love the shoes, Sybil. Very nice."

Sera didn’t seem to care. Despite being tall she wore black heels but an two inches lower than Sybil’s who was several inches shorter than Sera in stocking feet. Mitch was over six feet but in heels, Sera approached his height. They were a tall couple towering over the others. Eldon was shorter than all of them and about two inches shorter than his wife in her new red shoes.

Henry and Polly approached. Dinner is in about ten minutes, Henry said.

Excuse me, I need to check on things in the kitchen, said Polly who glided away in comfortable flat shoes. Polly was thirty years older than her guests as was her husband and had long ago given up high heels that made both her back and feet ache.

I’ll hold down the fort, joked Henry to her receding form.

Eldon’s mind traveled to his castle keep metaphor as Sybil edged closer to Mitch offering him and Sera a smile. Sera wore a pleasant face but didn’t smile. Mitch did and turned to face her again.

Here we go and we’ve only just arrived, grumped Eldon privately.

Ten minutes passed uncomfortably for Eldon until Henry called them to the spacious dining room. Place cards had separated the couples and as luck would have it or by design, Sybil was seated next to Mitch. Eldon took his place beside Sera. Paul and Connie were seated to either side of Henry and Polly.

Wine was poured for the first course, a salad. It was a dry white varietal that Eldon found tasteless. He eyed his wife who seemed to like it. She didn’t make eye contact with him being in conversation with Mitch. Eldon turned to Sera who for the first time seemed to notice the attention being paid to Sybil by her husband. She returned his gaze.

How have you been, Sera?

I’m fine.

What do you do with your days?

Actually, I went back to school. I’m studying interior design. I’m about a year away from my degree.

Really. I have no talent for design.

That’s why we exist. Many people profess that but in the end everyone knows what they like to some extent. Our job is to build on the client’s preferences to arrive at a successful interior composition.

Maybe you could give us some advice.

Not until I graduate.

Of course.

Sera returned her eyes to her husband who was leaning close to Sybil who was leaning to him as he confided something only to her. She laughed after a few seconds. Eldon realized he couldn’t recall the last time he’d heard his wife laugh. He felt very sad.

After watching Mitch and Sybil a moment longer, Sera said, I could give you some suggestions, I guess. Maybe you could take a few photos on your phone and send them to me.

How about we have lunch next week, instead? Eldon blurted immediately realizing he was hitting on her.

I, I… After another glance at Mitch and Sybil, she found her small handbag and retrieved a personal business card handing it to Eldon. You can text message me. Don’t call, please. I have some time next week.

Eldon accepted the card saying, Great. He didn’t know if he would follow through but Sera was a beautiful woman and he’d discovered she had a personality after all.

The second course, an appetizer, and a light red wine was served by the maid. Eldon noticed that Sybil had finished the first wine and happily accepted the second. Eldon had sipped at the first but hadn’t finished it. He noticed that Sera had also not finished her glass.

Scanning the table, he saw that Connie was sharing photos of probably her two children with Polly, and Paul seated next to Henry was in conversation with him about something. Eldon wondered if the seating arrangement meant that Henry had cast some favor on Paul to the disadvantage of Mitch and him but Mitch seemed oblivious to it with his attention focused on Sybil.

Sera and Eldon concentrated on the second course. Apparently, she was not fond of the second wine and drank very little of it. Eldon preferred it to the first and drank most of the glass.

The third course, the main course, was prime rib. Eldon thought it exceptional but Sera he noticed moved most of it around her plate concentrating on the vegetables. It was accompanied by a hearty red Cabernet that Eldon liked. Sera sipped at it but drank little.

Sybil and Mitch continued their conversation that increasing appeared to become more intimate. At one point, Mitch slipped a hand under the table and Sybil followed. They were holding hands, Eldon was certain. His face became hot as anger consumed him. He wanted to walk around the table to Mitch and punch him. He slid his chair back but Sera touched his arm, with a slight shake of her head. She said, Tell me how work is going or something. What do you do in your spare time?

Eldon settled himself. I like to…. Believe it or not, I paint. Still lifes mostly using stuff we have as my subjects.

Really. That’s fascinating. When you send me photos include your paintings.

I, I don’t know. I don’t think, they’re very good but I enjoy the process.

Let me be the judge. Okay?

Eldon shrugged, Well, okay.

Sybil and Mitch had returned their hands to the table, his right and her left. Sybil was left-handed so eating would be challenging for both without their dominant hands available. Then, he saw Sybil put something into her purse. Mitch had given her something under the table.

The main course was followed by a dessert and a mildly sweet wine that Sera liked. Eldon didn’t like sweet wines and only tasted it. He noticed that Sybil had drunk all the wine offered and her eyes had that glassy stare he was familiar with. Another glass of wine and she would be too unsteady to walk without assistance. He decided to let her embarrass herself this time. Nothing I say makes any difference anyway, he thought.

Sera eyed Sybil. They’d been together several times as three couples with Henry and Polly. Sybil’s drinking was not new. She turned her eyes to Eldon, hesitated and said, Does…. Is your wife averse to getting help. Her face flushed. I’m so sorry, I had no right to say that. To say anything. Please forgive me. It’s none of my affair.

That’s all right. You’ve all seen it before. To answer your question, Sybil’s problem with alcohol is compounded by other medication she takes. She shouldn’t be drinking at all.

It’s a sign of unhappiness.

I know. She wants children and we can’t seem to have any.

Sera said, Do you want children?

Because she does. Otherwise, I’m rather ambivalent.

It’s probably common knowledge among this group that I don’t. I just don’t have an interest. I know people think I’m concerned about my figure but that’s not it. I just don’t want to be a mother. It’s not in me. Sera shook her head. I can’t believe I’m telling you any of this. I don’t talk about myself even with Mitch.

Then, I feel rather privileged.

Sera squeezed his arm. That was sweet to say. Thank you, Eldon.

The final wine was a port or sherry. Eldon disliked either but Sera took the port. Sybil downed a glass of sherry and was weaving slightly in her chair.

With dinner finished and the dishes cleared, Henry stood and tapped the side of a glass with a sliver spoon. I have an announcement to make. I didn’t want to send a memo. There is no easy way to say this. I’ve sold my business to a company in Ohio. You three are my mechanical engineers. The company that bought it is closing this location. No employees are moving to the new location except one of you. Interviews will be next week and the new owner will decide which of you to make an offer to. There it is. I just want you to know, I had no choice financially. Polly and I are too old and we need to cash out. I want to thank Eldon, Mitch and Paul for your years of faithful service. Henry sat down. Polly reached for him.

Hushed voices traveled around the table among the six guests. Husbands looked at wives and wives at their husbands. No one had expected this.

Sybil made fleeting eye contact with Eldon before engaging in more conversation with Mitch. Mitch stared at Sera briefly with a shrug. She held a neutral face before turning again to Eldon saying, If Mitch gets it, I’m not going to Ohio.

What will you do?

I’m staying here until I finish my coursework. After that, I still won’t move to Ohio.

That sounds final.

It is. What about you? Will you take it if offered?

That will depend on the offer. I have a feeling that Paul has been recommended.

Sera nodded. You might be right. What will you do, then?

Try to find a job in my field here.

Do you think Sybil would like to move to Ohio?

I have no idea. Eldon sighed. She’d be just as unhappy there as here. I don’t think location would make any difference.

The dinner was over and the guests rose from their chairs when Henry did. None felt the need to remain longer. Sybil struggled to her feet with Mitch supporting her. She stood unsteadily.

Eldon said, I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, Sera. I’d better get Sybil. He offered his hand that she took.

Send me those photos. I want you to.

Eldon nodded saying, I will.

The three men were lost in private thoughts as they collected their wives, retrieved their coats and exited the house with Henry and Polly seeing them out. Sybil staggered down the steps with Eldon offering a minimum of support – just enough to prevent her from falling.

In the car, Eldon said, What did Mitch give you under the table?

What?

You heard me.

It was nothing.

What was it? I want to know.

Sybil fished in her purse found the card and handed it to her husband.

He glanced at it in the dark, finally turning on the dome light. It was a card for a drug intervention group. Sybil’s head lolled against the seat.

She said, Mitch was addicted to Vicodin for several years and got help. Sera didn’t know. At least he doesn’t think she knew. That’s all. Just that. He thought I might contact them.

Do you want me to go with you?

Would you?

Of course. I’m proud of you for considering it.

Tears formed in Sybil’s eyes.

The Funeral

Cal peered into the open coffin at the ancient, withered face of his mother. She didn’t look like herself the last year as her weight dropped below ninety pounds. It wasn’t cancer mostly just old age the doctor had said. Her heart just stopped beating. She had some congestive heart problems but she died more or less of old age. Cal’s mind was perforated with anguish, shot through. Little solace had come from the doctor’s words. The single positive thing right to the end was that she had recognized him, Hazel, Fred and Penny.

The mortuary used old photographs. Despite a search, he found nothing recent of her. She didn’t look like anyone he recognized in the coffin. Dying old was dying a skeleton. She was ninety-two, skin and bones.

Fred approached accompanied by his wife Penny. Fred was two years younger but eight inches taller and many pounds heavier. Fred had been big from birth. Fred was silent and after a few seconds, obviously uncomfortable staring into the coffin, pulled Penny to take chairs next to Cal’s wife, Hazel.

Funerals, Presbyterian funerals, at least this Presbyterian funeral, were sad affairs. Cal wondered if some other faiths found something to raise the spirits of those attending. There had been no wake, just the funeral service. Wakes were common with the Irish. Maybe they tell funny stories or speak of happier times, he thought. Funny stories about his mother were hard to come by.

A small but steady stream of mourners came and walked slowly to the coffin. Cal didn’t know any of them. They shook his hand and said the obligatory: Sorry for your loss. He learned they were co-workers from twenty-five years ago when she retired from her job. They were all old but not as old as Marcia, his mother. He guessed they were obituary readers. Cal considered the obsession of watching to see who had died in the newspaper a sign of old age. He was sixty-seven. Fred was sixty-five. He didn’t consider himself old or old looking. Fred looked older Cal thought. Too much booze. Cal drank sparingly, watched his weight and diet. He felt superior to his younger brother but was ashamed he felt that way.

Fred was smart, though. Had a good job and only recently retired. Cal was still working. Still putting in the hours. Hazel and he needed the money. She worked too part time but didn’t make much. Fred had retired with a substantial pension for life and one from the military. Penny hadn’t worked in years. Hadn’t needed to.

Suddenly Cal felt envious of Fred glancing to see him sitting holding hands with his wife. The feeling of superiority vanished. He wondered how Fred felt about him. They weren’t close as brothers. Fred and Penny lived in another state and had to fly in. Fred was not an introvert or worrier. Life was what it was. Those traits Cal did envy. Cal worried over everything. He’d always been that way from as long as he could remember. Along with being prone to anxiety, Cal was timid and fearful. Fred was bold and aggressive. Cal thought, always had, that Fred’s personality was a product of his size. Fred standing six feet five inches tall and weighing two hundred forty pounds intimidated many smaller men. Fred in his younger years had been something of a brawler, hung out in bars and wore a black eye with pride. Cal never went to bars. He considered that sensible, prudent behavior. Why be put in a threatening situation fueled by alcohol? He suspected that Fred considered him cowardly, wimpy. Fred had never backed away from a fight. Cal had never been in one.

The minister moved to the podium, stared at his audience, letting his eyes slowly scan the gathered and prepared to begin. Pastor Anderson hadn’t known Marcia Harper. His mother never attended church. She always professed ambivalence about the existence of God. Yet as children, Cal and Fred had been taken to Sunday school at the Presbyterian Church until at age eleven Cal had said, I’m not going any more. I don’t believe in God so why go? None of it makes any sense. I won’t go.

Church ended and Fred did what Cal did. Marcia hadn’t questioned him and his father Floyd Harper hadn’t cared either. Neither parent was a churchgoer. Cal wondered later in life if belief in God was somehow genetic in origin. His parents were ambivalent. He was certain no god existed. Fred never discussed God one way or the other but Penny was religious, probably going to church without her husband. She talked about God sometimes but didn’t overtly proselytize him or Hazel. The devout did that, went alone, thought about God, talked about Him. They were a family of heretics and didn’t care. In centuries past such heresy was reason for torture or being burnt at the stake ranking right along with the practice of witchcraft as abominations.

Cal sat next to Hazel. Of the many things Cal carried as guilt, chief among them was his failure to spend more time with his mother at the home. Hazel had become the primary caregiver. The rationalization that she had more time was an excuse. He hated visiting his mother at the home. His life was depressing enough without that to spiral him down deeper into despondency. He was taking all the medication he cared to for depression. It even worked somewhat.

Cal glanced at his wife and down the row to Fred and Penny. All sat with eyes forward. Cal wanted to leave, just walk out. His mother wouldn’t care. She was past caring or suffering or worrying. She was free. Fred wouldn’t care. He probably wanted to do the same. Penny might care but wouldn’t press Fred about it. Hazel would care and the fight that would follow kept him in his seat. Cal realized what he wanted more than anything was freedom. Freedom from himself. Freedom from Hazel and her judgmental condemnations. Freedom from everything. Cal wanted out.

As he sat listening to the pastor drone on about Marcia’s life, Cal stifled a laugh. The man had never met her, knew nothing about her, had been coached by him before the service. To his credit, Pastor What’s-His-Name spoke without notes making the points, sharing the anecdotes and stories that Cal had shared with him a shortly before. Cal was impressed. He’d written everything down, had to. There was no way he could have recited it all from memory. Still, the effect was what Cal hoped for. The pastor earned his fee. Cal wondered how often the man was hired to memorialize someone he didn’t know. Maybe that was a niche in his career.

Cal sat back feeling better. After all it had been his responsibility to arrange the funeral. Fred and Penny lived across the country. There it was, the same resentment. Fred was never any help. On more than one occasion, Fred had said to Cal, We can’t fly across the country every week to see Ma. You wouldn’t if the situation were reversed. Cal always bit his tongue.

His father had been an angry person and feuded continually with his family before he died. Experiencing that, Cal had decided he would sustain the relationship with his brother. There would be no feud between them but resentments remained. He and Hazel had shouldered everything related to his mother’s life and care. She hadn’t always been in a home. In earlier years they socialized with her, took her to dinner, had her over, helped clean her small apartment. Fred and Penny had lived far away for decades. It had been several years since they had seen Marcia. The resentments were not new for Cal.

Later after the internment and parting of ways, Cal and Hazel made the drive home. Hazel said, turning to him in the car, Did you ever love your mother, Cal? It always seemed like you didn’t like her very much. She sensed it, you know. She knew. Why didn’t you care more about her?

How can you say that? I, we provided everything for her for years. Fred and Penny did nothing. Cal’s voice was filled with indignation.

Hazel folded her arms and stared through the windshield. You know what I’m saying. You know it’s true Cal. Admit it. Be honest about it for once. Hazel turned again to him. Besides, I did most of it.

Cal was angry or at least feigning anger. Truthfully, he felt ashamed knowing Hazel was right. Finally, he sighed shaking his head, holding back tears.

I’m not sure.

Hazel prodded. "Think about it. Whatever happened it was before me. Before