Pink Flamingoed Page 10

  “Actually, she never did work. At one time her family owned all this land, and when they sold it, none of them had to work again.”

  “Boy, that beats writing for a living.”

  “You don’t really think that, do you?”

  “Only on bad days. Most of the time I love what I do.”

  “And I love what you do, too.”

  Brad and Amy continued to talk until they got back to Amy’s house. “Hey, would you like to come in for lunch? I’ve got some homemade soup and it will only take me a few minutes to heat it.”

  “It doesn’t look like I’m going to get any writing done before noon. But that’s okay, I’m having fun. Soup sounds great,” Brad answered, “but I can’t stay long. I really do want to get some writing done today.”

  “Got to satisfy those fans. Right?”

  “Yeah, I’m not as fortunate as those photographer types. It takes me more than one click to make money.”

  +++

  Pastor Scott made phone calls to make sure each of his parishioners had power and had plenty to eat. He smiled each time he found out that he was not the first to call. He thanked God each time he discovered that other people in the church had acted like Christ.

  It had been a major ice storm. Although ice storms were rare in Hopemont, Scott knew enough about them to know that with the beauty of an ice storm came damage and catastrophes. As far as he knew, Hopemont had been spared. No homes were damaged. No trees were lost. No one had lost power. Scott knelt and thanked God for His protection from the storm.

  +++

  “Hello.”

  “Frank.”

  “Yes, Scott. How are you today?”

  “Well, a wee bit better than Fred Kendall.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He tried to go outside during the ice storm and fell and broke his hip. He waited until he thought it was safe to go outside. He didn’t wait long enough. Doc just called me and told me about it. I just hung up from talking to Elsie.”

  “How’s Elsie taking it?”

  “Well, she seems to be doing okay for a woman of eighty-two whose husband has just broken his hip. The reason I called you was to see if you’re busy. If you’re not, I thought maybe you might want to ride to the hospital with me to see how Fred’s doing.”

  “Sounds fine. When are you going?”

  “Are you busy now?”

  “I can be ready in five minutes.”

  “I’ll pick you up.”

  In The Bleak Midwinter

  There is something about a cold, gray, wintry day that can permeate the mind and change optimism to gloom. No longer is the mind filled with joy, but a person’s thoughts change from being thankful and looking forward to the future to a wasted life or an uncertain future. Sometimes, if the sky is cloudy enough and the wind is gusting in a particular direction, the gloom and doom of a midwinter’s day can engulf an entire neighborhood, even if that neighborhood is Aylesford Place.

  +++

  Cora stood in front of the stove fixing a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and homemade biscuits when gray thoughts seeped into her consciousness. She forgot the wonderful husband God had given her, but remembered the children she had never borne.

  Before, I was a young woman with no children. Now, I am an middle-aged woman with no grandchildren. Is Aylesford Place cursed? Scott and Nancy are the only ones on the street who have children, and they had their children before they moved here. Is there something in the water? Oh, why did I drink the water all these years. Or is Frank the one who drank the water?

  I have no grandchildren to use to get even with their parents. I have no one to bring me cute little gifts that no one other than a Grandmother would want. I don’t even have any drawings on my refrigerator that no one knows what they are except the artist. I can’t ask Frank to draw something for me. He would have me committed. I can’t even ask him to sell the refrigerator because I have no drawings to put on it.

  And what if something happens to Frank? I don’t have any children to support me in my old age. What if Ethel dies, too? I might end up having to choose between marrying Harry and being homeless. I’m not sure I can handle being homeless.

  +++

  The mail had already come. Amy received no orders in the mail. She checked her website. No orders there, either. Besides that, Brad had promised to call. He had not called yet. The midwinter blahs were contagious. They had entered Amy’s world.

  Something must be wrong. I haven’t gotten any orders since yesterday. Are photographs a phase that has come and gone? What can I do? I don’t know how to do anything except take pictures. I can’t see myself following movie stars around, or worse yet being hired by a woman to spy on her husband. Someone might shoot me.

  What can I do? Should I buy one of those mall photo booths before it’s too late? I can see it now. Aging spinster spends her days sitting on a mall bench watching guys take their new girlfriends to the mall photo booth each week. And what happens if they just pull the curtain and sit there? I won’t be making any money. And what about those young teens who try to see how many of their friends they can squeeze into my booth? What if they break my booth? I’ll lose all my meager income. Should I see if I can still afford a photo booth in two malls?

  +++

  Brad sat in front of his computer, the screen blank. Five minutes, and still no words came.

  Do I have writer’s block? If so, is it permanent? If I can’t write any more, I’d have to go out and get a real job. I’m not sure I could handle a real job. If I sold this house, could I live off my royalties, or would there be any royalties? Would anybody buy books written by a has-been author? Would I get arrested if I hung out near a book store and tried to steer people inside?

  And what about Amy? She wouldn’t want to date a has-been. Would she end up marrying an accountant or an engineer? Could Amy handle being married to a man who never speaks?

  +++

  Harry got up from his chair and shuffled to the kitchen. Not only did it take Harry three tries to get out of his chair, but he forgot why he went to the kitchen.

  Oh, no. Am I getting that dreaded disease? What if I forget everything? I won’t even be able to tell that stupid contestant that he should’ve bought a vowel. I must be losing it. I’ve noticed that I haven’t been able to guess as many puzzles lately.

  What if I cannot remember any new places to Google? Or what if Google suddenly goes belly up? What will I do with my time? Or what if the people who are e-mailing me find out about Google and decide Google is better than Harry? Or what if this computer Rachel bought us is a lemon and it quits working? What if Rachel won’t buy me another computer? Somebody told me the library has computers. Will they let me check out one of theirs?

  Oh, I must be losing it. What if Ethel can’t take care of me anymore? Will she put me in one of those nursing homes? Those things are expensive. They’ll suck up all my money. Would it be just as bad if I didn’t realize they were taking all of my money?

  And what about Ethel? What would she do? If I don’t die quickly, she might lose all of our money? What if the IRS audits her and I’m not around to protect her? I know how those guys work. I used to be one of them. They might even come before she puts me in one of those nursing homes. I can see it now. They’ll show up just as soon as I can no longer remember where I keep my receipts. They’ll take us for everything we have and smile as they sit us out on the street.

  +++

  Ethel sat in her living room chair. She watched as Harry came back from the kitchen empty-handed. She worried about Harry.

  Harry doesn’t seem as happy since he retired. Doesn’t he like spending time with me? They say unhappy people die sooner. What if Harry dies? I’m not sure I can be a tightwad, and Harry says we have to really watch our money in order to get by.

  How will I get around if Harry dies? Harry never wanted me to drive. He always said it was a waste of money. He said gas was too expensive. I’m not sure if he was right then
, but he sure is now. It’s a good thing that Harry seldom goes anywhere. That way he only has to buy a tank of gas every couple of months. I don’t want anything to happen to my Harry. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if he wasn’t around to complain.

  +++

  Ray and Doris Orthmyer were out for their morning on the beach. However, just because they were in Florida was not enough to protect them from the epidemic that had invaded their old neighborhood. After all, they still owned a home in the Snow Belt, and that was enough to inflict them with the winter curse.

  What will happen if we can no longer afford to come to Florida each winter? What will we do? We’ll start to argue over whose turn it is to fight the arctic blast and open the door long enough to get the mail. And what about when it snows? Could we wait until the spring thaw melted it? Would our neighbors complain? Would Harry come over and fall on purpose just so he could sue us? Why should we have to shovel the snow or pay someone else to do it? Couldn’t we just wait for the tide to come in and wash it away? Maybe if we have to go back we can find an enormous snow blower with a remote control. Then, we can stand in front of the window, push a button, and blow all that snow over in Harry’s yard. Or would it be better to blow it in the direction of the parsonage. After all, that would give Kenny more snowballs to throw at his sisters. Or if they had enough snow to build an igloo, Nancy could let the kids camp out. She might enjoy the peace and quiet.

  But I don’t want to go back. I’m used to walking barefoot. We could do that at home, but the frostbite might be too much for us. Oh, God, if we have to lose our money some day, let us lose it while we’re in Florida. We might be homeless, but we could walk from beach to beach.

  +++

  Pastor Scott sat in his study trying to come up with a sermon for Sunday. Every few minutes he would type a few words, and a few minutes later he would hit the delete key.

  I knew it would happen. How can we pastors come up with so many sermons each year? Does this mean that God wants us to take more Sundays off or retire sooner? I’m tempted to repeat a sermon. The congregation probably wouldn’t notice. Most of them never understand it the first time. But I can’t repeat a sermon. My kids would notice, and boy would I get it at the dinner table Sunday after church.

  How about a service of nothing but singing? No, the congregation might decide they like it better, and then I’d be out of a job.

  Then what? What if I couldn’t get another church? Who would hire me? Everyone would be afraid I was looking over their shoulder judging their every move.

  +++

  Nancy sat in her recliner reading a novel. She had promised herself months ago that she would read it, but she was just getting around to it. She heard voices coming from the other room. Kenny had gotten on his sisters’ nerves again. There was nothing like siblings fighting to bring on the winter curse. Nancy sat wondering what might happen to her children.

  What happens if Jill never finds the right man? Everyone knows she thinks he should have proposed already. Will my bookworm daughter grow up to be a librarian who never leaves home? No way that will happen to Mallory. She will have tamed the wilds of Africa before she is eighteen. What happens if the lions are not afraid of her?

  And then there’s Kenny. He already torments his sisters. Jill and Mallory think it won’t be much longer until he steps up to committing major crimes. What if the police come looking for him some night? What if he is arrested for cutting the heads off parking meters? Will Kenny’s crimes cause Scott to lose his job? And if it does, what will we do? Will Scott be able to get a job as the chaplain at Kenny’s prison?

  Will I lose all my children? And if I do, will I lose them early enough that Scott and I can have some more? What am I saying? Why would I want to bring more trouble into the world?

  +++

  Jill lay on her bed reading one of Brad’s novels for the third time.

  I’ve almost memorized this book. What if Brad decides to quit writing? What will I do? What if he marries Amy? Brad isn’t like most men. Most men get married and then think about murder. What if Brad marries Amy and forgets about murder? What am I to do? Could I ever consider leaving Brad for another writer of murder mysteries?

  +++

  Kenny sat in his room deep in thought.

  Two sisters. Two sisters. What could be worse? Three sisters? Four sisters? I must keep dad away from mom. But what could be worse? Would dad ever consider becoming a den mother for a Brownie troop? Would he suddenly get an idea to change the world one troop at a time? And what if mom had to get a job? Would she turn our house into a sorority? Was that what caused Huckleberry Finn’s dad to start drinking? Could I run away from home? I can’t even skip school. I’m home-schooled.

  +++

  Mallory ran around the house, opening doors, looking at her family.

  It’s happened. It’s happened. Everyone else found out the rapture has happened, and we got left behind. Of course, I know that they got left behind and God left me to take care of them. Or could it be the body snatchers have come and taken away all my family. Could it be that the new brother’s better? But what if he’s not? Do nursing homes have an age limit? After all, I expect to run the world by the time I’m thirteen.

  +++

  Melanie woke up from a terrible nightmare.

  Was I dreaming, or did someone really come and take away all the men in the world? I must have been dreaming. Surely, no one would come and take Harry. Why doesn’t anyone want me? I know I’m beautiful, but then they say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. So, behold me, somebody. Oh, what’s that by my eye? It wasn’t there yesterday. Could I be getting wrinkles, or cataracts, maybe?

  +++

  As usual, Scott arrived at the church on Sunday morning before any of the congregation. He was not as eager as usual, and the dark sky and the pouring rain did nothing to improve his attitude. Scott opened the church door, stepped inside, and shook the water off his umbrella onto the concrete just outside the door. He turned on the lights and turned up the thermostat, neither of which seemed to brighten his day. Then, he wandered around, waiting for the first of his congregation to arrive.

  Scott noticed his motley church members stumble into church. If he had not known better, he would have guessed that each one was a member of a “helpful” congregation wanting to tell him how he could improve. He had never seen this group like this. Before he preached, he prayed.

  Scott too was down, and he prayed that God would help him get started and give him the words these people needed to hear. Scott began his sermon, and one-by-one he noticed the looks on the faces of the congregation begin to change. By the end of the sermon, everyone was back to normal. Oh, Kenny still elbowed Mallory when she scooted a little too close, but then that was back to normal, too. When the service ended, and each person had talked himself or herself hoarse, someone opened the doors. Not only had the rain stopped, but there was a rainbow, and the first sunshine any of them had seen all year.

  A Homeless Man

  Seldom did anyone visit Frank and Cora in the morning, so Frank was surprised when he heard a knock at the front door. On his way to see who their visitor might be, Frank tried to guess who might be calling. Had Ethel decided she could not take Harry any more? If so, how would Cora feel about giving Harry a place to stay until he could find a place of his own? It could take a while. Harry would not want to pay more than one hundred dollars a month. Frank opened the door and found a homeless man standing before him.

  “May I help you, sir?” Frank asked.

  “I’m cold and hungry,” the tattered man mumbled, “and I was wondering if you could help me.”

  “Please come in and I’ll see what I can do,” Frank said as he opened the door.

  The man stepped inside. Frank looked at him, but the man hung his head as if he did not think of himself as Frank’s equal.

  “Cora!” Frank hollered. “We have a visitor.”

  Cora entered the room and a surprised look came over her as
she looked at the shabbily dressed man who stood before her.

  “Cora, our friend is cold and hungry. Why don’t you fix him something to eat while I look for some warm clothes for him.”

  Then, turning to their visitor, Frank said, “Why don’t you have a seat at the dining room table?”

  “Yes, please follow me,” Cora said. “Make yourself at home while I fix you something to eat. Do you like bacon and eggs?”

  The man nodded and took a seat at the table.

  +++

  As the days passed, the stranger became a topic of conversation on Aylesford Place. By the end of the week, he had stopped at several of the homes, and the following week he visited the rest. No one turned him away empty-handed, but then he did not stop at the house at the end of the street.

  +++

  The phone rang just as Frank and Cora were about to leave for church.

  “Hello,” Frank said, trying to figure out who was calling so early on a Sunday morning.

  “Frank, this is Scott. I’ll be a little late this morning and I was wondering if you could let everyone know. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll be there. I’ll just be a little late.”

  “I’m glad to help out, Scott. I’ll let everyone know.”

  Frank hung up the phone and told Cora about the call. Both of them wondered what had come up. Pastor Scott was always the first person at church on Sunday morning. So that no one would worry about him, Frank met everyone at the door and told each person that Pastor Scott was detained. Nancy and the children were the last to arrive. When people asked Nancy if there was anything wrong, she said, “No, Scott will be along shortly.”