Hollyhock Ridge (34 page)

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “You didn’t deserve to be deceived
like that. You were willing to stand by her and take care of her and the baby.”

“Like a chump.”

“You don’t have anything to be ashamed of,” she said. “She’s
the one who should be ashamed.”

“I’m sorry to dump this on you today,” he said. “You’ve got
your own stuff to deal with.”

“We’re friends, pal,” she said. “This is what friends do,
remember? We pick up the broken pieces and help put them back together again.”

There was a knock on the front door, and it turned out to be
an express shipping driver delivering the shoes Claire had forgotten she had
ordered just a few days ago. She didn’t feel excited anticipation like she
usually would. Now she felt irritated with the person she had been only a few
days ago. She tossed the box into a chair and returned to the kitchen.

She leaned against the doorway, and looked at Ed. She felt
so fond of him. The sane realness of their relationship was calm and deep and
comforting to her. It felt like what you hoped was on the other side of the
uncertainty of attraction, the passionate courtship, and the sexual frenzy of a
new relationship. It felt like home, the one she had longed for from the other
side of the world, and from the crossroads under the town’s only traffic light,
here, in Rose Hill.

 “If our friendship can survive this year, it can survive
anything,” Claire said.

“What will happen to us, though, after life gets through
with us?” Ed said. “All our years might be like this one, with one sad thing
after another.”

“We’ll hold hands and walk,” Claire said, “or you’ll push my
wheelchair up and down Rose Hill Avenue so I can still wear my high heels.”

“Thank you,” he said, as he stood up, “for being my friend.”

Ed pulled her into a tight hug and she let herself sink into
it, feeling the strength of his arms around her and the weight of his chin on
her shoulder. There was comfort and acceptance there, and all the peace and
stability she longed for in the deepest recesses of her heart.

Claire’s phone jingled and she pulled away, saying, “With
the whole family on the road today I have to answer.”

“Miss Fitzpatrick,” a woman said. “This is Susanna; I’m the
volunteer coordinator down at Pineville Hospice. First of all, I want to tell
you how thrilled we are that you’ve agreed to volunteer, and how happy you made
the two families you helped yesterday. I have several patients that would love
to see you, so I was wondering when you planned to be here again.”

Claire had forgotten about her commitment to volunteer. It
seemed like a week ago that she’d been there, instead of just the day before.
She thought about the feeling she’d had when she’d left there. If she was going
to be addicted to something, that seemed like a good choice.

“I’ll be there tomorrow morning,” Claire said.

They settled on a time, and Claire ended the call.

“What was that about?” Ed asked her.

“I finally figured out what I want to do with my life,”
Claire said. “And I’m starting tomorrow.”

“How about who you want to be with?”

“You already know that,” she said, as she wrapped her arms
around him. “Everything else is just details.”

I am blessed with family and friends
who love me, support my addiction to writing fiction, and are generous enough
to overlook my many faults and foibles. In return, I hope I communicate to them
how much I love them. If not, here’s the perfect opportunity: I love you
people, and everything else is just details.

Thank you to Betsy Grandstaff, Terry
Hutchison, Joan Turner, Ella Curry, and John Gillispie for their encouragement,
proofreading, and feedback.

Because I love my dog family, I want
to mention June Bug, who still has the spirit of the young frisky pup I rescued
13 ½ years ago. Her younger brother George is a new addition, and although it’s
too soon to tell how he will measure up, we love him dearly, so that’s a good
start.

Thank you to Tamarack: The Best of
West Virginia, for selling my paper books in your beautiful building. And last,
but not least, I want to thank the people who buy and read my books. It’s such a
pleasant surprise every time it happens. Thank you so much.

Rose Hill Mysteries:

Rose Hill

Morning Glory Circle

Iris Avenue

Peony Street

Daisy Lane

Lilac Avenue

Hollyhock Ridge

Children’s Books:

June Bug Days and Firefly Nights

Ella’s New Hat and Her Terrible
Cat