Previously Loved Treasures Read online

  Damn, I miss that woman. We all do. Louie misses her because of the cooking, but I miss her because she was someone I could be with and talk to. I never said so, but in the way old folks come to care for one another, I was in love with Ida. It wasn’t the kind of love I had with Martha, or, for that matter, the kind Ida had with Big Jim. But we certainly were fond of each other. When you get to our age, love is an easygoing thing; it’s not steeped in passion but found in a touch or a smile. It’s simply knowing someone is there for you and they’ve got an ear to listen. There were many evenings when the two of us sat on the porch swing creaking back and forth, not saying a word. We didn’t have to; just the touch of our bodies next to one another felt sweet as warm honey. Lord God, how I miss those times.

  With Ida gone Caroline needs someone to watch over her. Max is her uncle, but I can assure you he’s not looking out for her best interest. It’s unfortunate that she doesn’t see the truth of what he is. She believes because he’s her granddaddy’s brother, he’ll eventually get over being mad. I’ve met men like Max before and I’m warning you, they don’t get over anything. They might make you think they have, but in the long run they’ll get what they want, even if it means stepping over your body to do so.

  That’s something Caroline is too young to realize.

  I haven’t got a whole lot to give the girl, but the one thing I can give her is the wisdom of my years. For whatever that’s worth.

  The Watch and the Wash

  In early May Wilbur’s pocket watch mysteriously disappeared. He searched the house, looking in even the most unlikely nooks and crannies, but found nothing. He asked each of the residents if they’d happened upon his watch, and when they answered no he lifted the sofa cushions and peered beneath the beds.

  Sixty years of pulling the watch from his pocket to check the time was a habit Wilbur found impossible to break. And once the watch was gone it seemed he reached for it all the more often. His hand would slip to his vest pocket and feel the emptiness; then a look of longing would drift across his face.

  Caroline noticed.

  On the third Tuesday of May, she returned to the Previously Loved Treasures store in search of a pocket watch.

  “With large numbers,” she said, “and a chain.”

  “Got it,” Peter Pennington replied. He climbed onto the yellow step stool, pulled a box from the shelf, and removed a watch that could have easily been the one Wilbur lost. It wasn’t just similar to the missing watch; it was an exact replica.

  When she asked the price, Peter said, “One coin.”

  “One coin?”

  He nodded in that strange way he had of bobbing his head without taking his eyes from hers. “Reach in your pocket and pull out a coin. Whatever that coin is will be the price of the watch.”

  “What if it’s a penny?”

  “Then that’s the price.”

  Caroline laughed. With little to lose, she stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out a quarter.

  “Oh, dear.” Peter furrowed his brow. “I thought it was going to be a dime.”

  “Isn’t a quarter better?”

  “No, it’s way too much.”

  Caroline eyed the watch. It ticked with the precision of Big Ben and was without flaw. “Too much?”

  “It’s used,” Peter explained. “Previously loved.”

  Sticking with his opinion that a quarter was overpriced, Peter scrambled back up the yellow step stool and brought down a music box. “I’ll include this,” he said. He twisted the key, and the angel atop the box turned round and round as the music tinkled.

  With great delight Caroline watched and listened. When the music stopped, she said, “I don’t recognize this song.”

  Peter laughed. “In time you will. In time.”

  Before she left the store he asked if she’d hung the picture.

  “Yes, I have,” Caroline answered, but as she spoke the bitterness of the lie tripled in size and stung her throat.

  “Good.” Peter nodded. “Very good.”

  On the drive home Caroline made a mental note to hang the picture. She thought it charming that Peter Pennington believed it might inspire her; unrealistic perhaps, but charming. Obviously he had no knowledge of her schedule. From early morning until near bedtime she rushed around cooking, cleaning, buying groceries, running errands, paying bills, and a dozen other things. Writing a novel had been a foolish idea to start with.

  “Maybe someday,” she told herself. “Maybe someday.”

  ~ ~ ~

  When she arrived home Caroline slipped into Wilbur’s room, left the watch on his nightstand, and said nothing. At supper that evening he wore a grin so wide it almost swallowed up his nose. He waited until everyone was seated, then pulled the watch from his pocket.

  “I found my watch,” he announced. “It was right where I’d left it.” He looked at Max. “I’m afraid I owe you an apology.”

  Max, who had grown suspicious of everyone, asked, “For what?”

  “I thought you’d taken it,” Wilbur admitted.

  “Gimme a break,” Max grumbled. He looked down at the plate of food in front of him and shoveled in a large chunk of potato.

  Max avoided looking at Wilbur throughout the remainder of the meal. Before the others finished eating, he stood and walked away from the table. Minutes later he left the house and headed for the Owl’s Nest.

  Seeing the watch had shocked Max. The pawnshop where he had sold it was more than six miles away. Not only was it in another town, but it was also a place you wouldn’t go to unless you had good reason. Wilbur couldn’t possibly have found the watch, yet there it was back in his pocket.

  “It’s a trick,” Max muttered. It had to be a trick. As he walked, he convinced himself they were all working together, plotting against him. Trying to force him out. “That’s what this is about,” he said. Before he pushed through the door of the Owl’s Nest, he’d decided they weren’t going to get away with it.

  When Max returned home, the house was dark. He bypassed the kitchen, stumbled to his room, and fell fast asleep.

  ~ ~ ~

  The next day was Wednesday, the day Caroline stripped the beds and washed all the sheets and towels. That morning she rapped on Max’s door several times asking for the bedclothes that needed laundering. The first two times there was no answer, so believing him still asleep, she waited. It was near noon when he finally answered with a gruff, “Go away!”

  Waiting for Max meant washday got off to a late start. It was nearing three-thirty when Caroline pulled the first load of sheets from the washer and placed them in the dryer and after four when the buzzer sounded for the second load. Returning to the laundry room, Caroline opened the dryer and found the first load still damp. She reset the dryer, switched it from warm to hot, and went back to the kitchen.

  Moments after she’d put a tray of biscuits in to bake, Caroline smelled smoke. She opened the oven and eyed the biscuits. Nope, they were still balls of white dough. She sniffed the air and followed the scent. It led to the laundry room. When she opened the door, flames shot up from behind the dryer.

  “Fire!” she screamed and yanked the plug from the wall.

  Louie, who’d moments earlier sat to read the newspaper, jumped up and came running. He pushed past Caroline, grabbed a sopping wet towel from the washer, and threw it over the flames. The fire spit and sputtered for a minute, then died out. Louie shook his head as he watched a cloud of steamy smoke rise from beneath the towel.

  “I wouldn’t try using that dryer again.”

  Caroline had to agree. She glanced at the pile of wet laundry. “Is there a Laundromat around here?”

  “Not close by,” Louie answered. “I think there’s one over in Mackinaw.”

  Mackinaw was forty-five miles east of Rose Hill, a nothing town, a truck-stop place with little to offer other than gas stations, motels, and a Laundromat. Caroline thought of Mackinaw and the dingy Laundromat she’d passed on the trip to Rose Hill; then she lo
oked back at the dryer. “Maybe it can be repaired.”

  “I doubt it,” Louie replied.

  ~ ~ ~

  Thinking the Laundromat would be less crowded later in the evening, Caroline went back to preparing supper. Delaying the inevitable, she sat down and ate with the residents.

  “Sorry about the dryer,” Laricka said sympathetically. “Do you think it’s still under warranty?”

  “That dryer?” Louie replied skeptically. “It’s fifteen years old, if it’s a day.”

  Caroline nodded. “I’m pretty sure it has to be replaced.” Her bank account had dwindled to a little more than one hundred dollars, and the thought poked at her like a sharp needle.

  “Since we all use the washer and dryer,” Wilbur said, “why don’t we each chip in twenty bucks towards a new one?”

  “Good idea,” Doctor Payne said, and all but one agreed.

  “It’s not my house,” Max said angrily, “so why should I pay to fix something?” Although he’d taken just a few bites of the food on his plate, Max stood and left the table.

  He wasn’t paying rent, he reasoned, so why should he be expected to pay for repairs? That thought was one of many Max stored up. Added together they gave him justification for revenge.

  ~ ~ ~

  After dinner Caroline cleared the table. She washed and dried the dishes, then stacked them in the cupboard before she carried the laundry baskets to the driveway. With a two-year-old copy of Ladies Home Journal tucked in her purse and three loads of wet sheets in the trunk of her car, she started for Mackinaw.

  ~ ~ ~

  Max left the house moments after Caroline.

  Max Sweetwater

  It irks me that everybody treats Caroline like she’s something special. She’s not. She’s a conniving scam artist. A nobody.

  I’d bet my bottom dollar she ain’t one ounce related to James or anybody else in the Sweetwater family. She probably saw his name somewhere and cooked up this bullshit story about being his daughter. I knew James, and I can say for sure he wasn’t one for settling down, never mind having kids.

  Miss Caroline might have pulled the wool over poor old Ida’s eyes, but she’s sure as hell not pulling it over mine!

  I ain’t your run-of-the-mill dumb patsy; I know what she’s up to. I met her kind before. She figures to run me off, then sell the place and walk away with a pocketful of money. Well, it ain’t gonna happen.

  This house is rightfully mine, and come hell or high water I’m gonna get it. Watch and see.

  Nobody screws Max Sweetwater and gets away with it.

  The Danger of Drying

  It was after ten when Caroline pulled up in front of the You Wash Laundromat. A neon green “Open 24 Hours” sign lit the front window, and beyond it was what appeared to be an empty room. Caroline gave a sigh of relief. With a row of empty dryers, she could do all three loads at one time and be out of there within the hour.

  One by one she carried the baskets in and set each one in front of a dryer. The basket of wet laundry claimed ownership of the machine if someone else happened by, although at this time of night such a thing was unlikely. Caroline loaded all three dryers, slid her quarters in, and watched the sheets start tumbling. She looked around for a comfortable chair, but there was none. The only place to sit was a long wooden bench running the width of the back wall.

  Pulling the magazine from her purse Caroline started toward the back, flipping through the pages as she walked. She believed herself alone until from the corner of her eye she saw something move and gasped.

  “Good grief! You startled me!”

  On the dark end of the bench sat a woman with a young girl sleeping in her lap. “Sorry,” the woman said.

  She was young, in her twenties maybe, but bone thin. Even though the overhead light in that area was dark and the woman kept her face lowered, the large purple bruise was obvious. “Are you all right?” Caroline asked.

  “Unh-huh.” The woman nodded.

  Caroline eyed the bruise again. “You ought to put ice on that.”

  “It’ll be okay.”

  “No, it won’t.” Caroline set the magazine aside, stood, and walked toward the woman. “There’s an all-night bar down the street. I can get some ice and—”

  “Please don’t. I’d rather nobody know we’re here.”

  Caroline heard the fear threaded through the woman’s words. “I’m not gonna tell anyone you’re here, but you really ought to—”

  “No. Please. I’ll be okay.”

  The voices caused the child to stir, and she woke with a whimper. “Mama, I’m hungry.”

  The woman gathered the child closer to her. “In a while, Sara. We’ll get something to eat in a while.”

  “I can run down to the bar and get takeout,” Caroline suggested.

  “No,” the woman replied, this time more emphatically.

  Something was definitely wrong. “Who are you hiding from?”

  “Daddy,” the child answered innocently.

  “Shush, Sara.” The woman hugged the child closer to her chest.

  Caroline looked at her aghast. “Your husband did this?”

  “He didn’t mean to; it was an accident.”

  “If it was an accident, why are you hiding? Why didn’t he get ice for your face?” Caroline’s voice turned hard and unrelenting. Bitter memories of her own mama with similar bruises ran through her thoughts, and it became impossible to back away. “If this was an accident, he would have taken you to the hospital!”

  “It was an accident,” the woman said apologetically, “but when Joe’s drinking—”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Caroline said angrily. “And don’t make excuses for him.”

  “Joe loves me, but lately he’s had a run of bad luck and—”

  “A run of bad luck doesn’t excuse this!”

  “He’s not a bad man. Tomorrow morning, Joe will see what he’s done and—”

  Caroline narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “This isn’t the first time, is it?”

  The woman kept her face lowered and gave no answer.

  “Why don’t you leave?” Although there was still no answer Caroline didn’t give up. “Are you waiting for him to kill you or maybe your daughter?”

  The woman gave a sorry shake of her head. “We’ve got nowhere to go.”

  “Come home with me,” Caroline suggested. “I’ve got room enough and—”

  “Thanks,” the woman said, “but that’s not a good idea. When Joe finds us, he’ll just take it out on you.” She told how three years earlier she’d left and gone to her sister’s house.

  “Evelyn ended up in the hospital. Joe warned if she told who did it me and Sara were good as dead, so Evelyn never told.”

  “Men like that are crazy,” Caroline said. “If you stay with him, you and Sara could both end up dead!”

  “Joe wouldn’t kill us,” the woman replied. “He loves me and Sara. It’s just that—”

  Caroline slapped her hand to her head. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  After more than a half-hour of discussion the woman, Rowena, agreed to go with Caroline. The convincing argument was that Caroline lived forty-five miles away, and Joe had no way of connecting her with Rowena.

  Rowena and Sara remained in the shadows while Caroline pulled the sheets from the dryer and loaded the baskets into the trunk of her car. Once she’d finished doing that, Caroline looked up and down the street. Not a soul in sight. She raised her arm and waved.

  Rowena and Sara dashed out of the Laundromat and scrambled into the back seat of the car.

  “Duck down until we’re clear of town,” Caroline said as she closed the door.

  ~ ~ ~

  The nervous fluttering in her stomach urged Caroline to floor the accelerator and get away as quickly as possible, but she kept her hands locked onto the steering wheel and held the car steady at the speed limit. No one saw them leaving, and she was determined not to do anything that would garner unwanted attention n
ow. Although unwilling to admit it, the tale of what had happened to Evelyn was stuck in Caroline’s thoughts.

  When the lights of the town faded into nothingness, Rowena sat up. “You’re sure no one saw us?”

  “Positive,” Caroline answered.

  When they arrived at the house, it was nearing midnight. Caroline made sandwiches and sat mother and child at the kitchen table. Five-year-old Sara ate two sandwiches and four cookies. Rowena nervously nibbled at a single sandwich. Although she had agreed to come, the fear in her eyes was apparent. Twice more she asked if Caroline was absolutely certain no one had seen them.

  “Absolutely certain,” Caroline confirmed, but even as she spoke the words, fear tugged at her thoughts. What if…What if…What if?

  After they’d eaten, Caroline took Rowena and the child to her room. “You can stay here,” she said and offered a nightgown for Rowena and a tee shirt for Sara.

  Caroline gathered her own things and moved to the loft where Ida had slept. It was small but filled with sweet memories. For a long time she remained awake, thinking through the things that needed to be done. It was nearing daybreak when she decided Rowena Mallory would become Rose Smith, a friend from back home.

  Although she had never noticed clothes at Previously Loved Treasures, she knew Peter Pennington would have them. Tomorrow she would buy different clothes for both and a box of hair dye for Rowena.

  Rowena Mallory

  Caroline is a real sweet girl, but I hope to God she hasn’t bit off more than she can chew. She doesn’t know Joe, so she don’t know what he’s capable of doing. Unfortunately, I do.

  She’s right about me being a fool. Looking back you see things a lot clearer than when you’re smack in the middle. Being married to a man like Joe is never easy, so you start fooling yourself into thinking that’s how life ought to be. It’s not. There was a time when I loved Joe more than life itself. That’s fine when you haven’t got a baby to care for, but now I’ve got Sara and things are different. It’s not that I love him less; it’s just that I love her more.