For installment one, look here. Installment two is right here.
THE HUGE ROSES (working title)
copyright 2014 by Betty van den Betsy; not for reprint or publication without permission
Chapter Two, part1
Her five days in Amsterdam had been
wonderful, but after an uneventful flight and the long drive home from the
Boston airport, Tory was thrilled to see her elderly Subaru’s headlights
shining onto the Bird family’s 19th-century farmhouse. Life in a sleepy lakeside village in New
Hampshire held plenty of excitement for her, especially with her parents out of
the country for a year-long research and teaching project in Turkey. She switched off the engine and heard the welcoming
barks of Jennet and Hal, the family’s adopted mutts, and smiled with deep
contentment. As she opened the door, the
dogs rushed out while a long-haired grey cat, Fiona, slipped in.
Tory turned up the thermostat, dropped
her suitcase at the foot of the stairs and checked food and water bowls; Jenny
Fisher, her nearest neighbor, had taken good care of the pets while she was
gone. Jenny had also left a loaf of
bread on the kitchen table, and a note directing Tory to a pan of lasagna
waiting in the refrigerator. She set the
pasta in the oven to warm and headed upstairs to unpack, shower and
change. Thirty minutes later, in flannel
pajamas and fuzzy slippers, she sat at the scrubbed wooden kitchen table,
tucking in with the peculiar hunger of the jet-lagged. With the cat on her lap and the dogs at her
feet, she felt the strong, peaceful pull of home. There might be a tinge of loneliness, but the
next day would bring work, neighbors and friends. Jane was right, and Tory felt herself
fortunate in living a very good life.
In the next few days, she slipped
quickly back into her daily round, helping patients at the local family
doctor’s office and doing chores at home.
There was always a lot to do, since the Bird family home was old, and
sat on a large plot of land. Tory tilled
compost into the vegetable garden, picked the last of the apples to make and
can applesauce, and called on that high school boyfriend, Rob Tucker, to help
her get the storm windows up. She
stopped by the Shop ’n’ Save to re-stock the refrigerator and pick up
ingredients for Halloween cookies, looking forward to the parade of ballerinas
and goblins that arrived that night.
Walking and biking around her small town, she took time to notice the
fading autumn colors against the brilliant blue of the October sky. It was always especially vivid at this time
of year, and Tory relished it as insulation against the greyer days to come.
At work, Dr. Bachman and his
receptionist, Millie Sharpe, quickly brought her up to speed on town
happenings, with an emphasis on the progress of the local infants and
elderlies, with an occasional foray into cancer, heart disease or bone
fracture. Josh Brown, a town stalwart
and busy orthopedist, was getting a first-hand view of his own rehab facility
in Hanover after shattering an ankle while mountain biking. Millie’s mother was talking about moving to
South Carolina. Diana Schwahnn, eight
months pregnant, asked about the sisters’ trip to the Netherlands after her
check-up. “I really, really envy you,”
she said. “All your traveling! I told Andrew that we may be baby-bound this
winter, but next year, as soon as the thermometer hits freezing, we’re flying
out of here. This little girl won’t get
that helicopter-parenting thing. As soon
as she’s big enough to stay with her grandpa and grandma, I’m finding myself an
exotic vacation spot and fleeing the cold and snow.”
“Well,” Tory answered, “I’m trying
not to envy you a great husband and a baby on the way. Seriously, if you need a break when your
daughter comes, I’d be happy to come over one evening.” She smiled at the thought of a fuzzy-haired
newborn, and Diana smiled back.
“It’s a good thing you’re such a
happy person, Tory,” she said. “You’re
just beautiful when you smile. And
there’s no one I’d trust more to babysit.
When you’ve found Mr. Right, we can start one of those childcare
cooperatives. Now I’d better waddle out
of here before the snow starts. I don’t
know what I’ll do if there’s a blizzard on when I go into labor!”
Diana hadn’t been speaking idly; the
local news was warning of an early snowfall.
At home, Tory checked the pantry to be sure of her supplies: canned food, of course, plus kerosene for the
lamps, fresh batteries for the radio, and a couple gallons of water. It would be unusual to get a serious storm
before November, but as Jenny down the road had remarked, “The weather around
here is always unusual,” and Tory believed in being prepared. She trundled more logs up from the barn and
stacked them in the mud room, ready to feed the wood stove.
The skies held out long enough for
the smaller children to do their trick-or-treating in daylight. The office closed early that day, so its
employees could be home to greet the early arrivals. Tory exclaimed over visiting astronauts,
dragons, mice and witches and encouraged the kids to take miniature packets of
peanuts or trail mix, rather than sweets, from her cauldron of treats. “I have to admit,” she told one rueful mother,
“I would have taken something chocolatey when I was their age, too. In fact, I probably still would.”
“Speaking of chocolate,” her friend
answered, “Jenny shared some of those chocolates you brought her from Amsterdam
with me. They were outrageous! If that’s the payment, please let me take
care of the dogs next time you’re away.
Any more plans to travel?”
“Good heavens, I just got
back. Mother and Dad would like me to
come out to Turkey while they’re there, and I might try that toward spring. It’s a long trip, though; it’s hard to do with
just a week off from work.”
“I forgot – all of you Birds love
the winter here, don’t you? Now me, as
soon as the kids are grown and I can figure out how to work a telecommute deal,
I’m for a condo in Florida from October ’til April!”
Looking up at the sky as the older
children started to appear toward dusk, Tory gave thanks that she did indeed
love the winter. It certainly looked
like they were getting an early start that year, as the clouds massed and
lowered, and the wind began to pick up.
Switching on the outdoor light, she looked with satisfaction at the Franklin
stove that could keep the whole house warm if needed. She’d already started a fire in it, and set a
kettle of water on top to heat for a cup of tea before supper. When she opened the door at the next ring of
the bell, she saw the snowflakes were beginning to fall.
“Hey, Ms. Bird,” a gangly teenager
greeted her from the group on the front step.
“We wanted to make sure we stopped by here in case you made cookies.”
“Mack?” Tory asked, and the tall boy’s
friends parted to allow a better view. “In
whiteface? Oh, you’re a mime! That’s a great outfit.”
“I’m an evil mime,” Mack clarified.
“You can tell by the eyebrows.”
“Fantastic,” Tory clapped her hands
together, enchanted by the kids’ creativity.
“And you must be an evil prom queen, and you are clearly a headless
basketball player. And is that Gina? Gina, I’m stumped.”
“I think I should only tell you if
you’ve got cookies,” the glamorous girl in cat’s eye glasses, white makeup and
a stethoscope answered.
“They’re just out of the oven,”
Tory promised.
“Oatmeal-cranberry-chocolate chip.”
“Awesome!” came the answer. “I’m an undead movie star! Look at my eyes!” Tory peered closer, and saw someone had
skillfully used makeup to create the illusion of eyeballs – bright blue irises
and dark pupils on a white field – on Gina’s eyelids. As she fluttered her eyes open and closed,
she seemed always to be gazing straight ahead.
“Wow,” Tory said. “That looks really freaky – spooky,
even. Congratulations. Hold on just a second, and I’ll get the
cookies.” Returning with the cooling
rack, she turned a puzzled look to Gina and asked, “Why the stethoscope?”
“Oh, you know,” the girl answered,
pulling her opulent fake fur closer and waving her cigarette holder, “just adds
a certain something, doesn’t it?”
The headless basketball player,
clutching a handful of cookies, said, “You guys, we better get moving. It’s really starting to snow. Are you ready for the blizzard, Ms. Bird?”
“I think so,” Tory replied. “But if you’re one of the Boudreau family,
you can be sure I’ll call your dad if anything goes wrong with the pipes. You kids be careful heading home, please – I
hate rehabbing sprained ankles. They
take forever.” As the group headed back
to the street, Tory called after them, “That had better be a candy cigarette,
Gina!” She closed the door on what was
surely the last of the trick-or-treaters, wondering if the now fast-falling
snow would stick, and accumulate, or just peter out. “It’s too early for a real storm,” she
muttered.
Still, she was glad to have the
wood at the ready and soup on the stove.
There was always something kind of cozy about drawing the curtains and dragging
extra blankets into the living room to pile on the couch. Curled up by the stove, with the dogs and
Fiona the cat variously disposed in prime locations near the heat, she listened
with half an ear to the news highlights while focusing most of her attention on
her great-grandmother’s hundred-year-old, leather-bound edition of Jane
Austen. Austen was always a good choice
on a quiet night. “And even better if
the lights are out,” Tory announced to the animals as the radio abruptly went
silent and the room jolted into darkness.
With lamps at the ready, Tory soon had light again, and used it to step
to the door and peer into the night.
It looked like a real storm, after
all, with an inch or so already accumulated, and the wind blowing hard. Padding up to bed after getting Marianne and Elinor
to their happy ending, with the pets trailing behind her, Tory snuggled happily
under her down comforter, enjoying a quiet so deep she really believed she
could hear the snowflakes falling.
Waking to weak sunlight filtering
into her bedroom the next morning, she reached out to flick on the bedside
lamp. Nothing – the electricity was
still out. Enjoying the feeling that
modern life’s stress and busy-ness would have to cede to nature’s demands for a
few more hours (or at least until the dogs’ demands got her up), Tory sank
deeper beneath her comforter and dozed dreamily, listening for some sign of
whether the snow continued. Instead, she
heard the intrusive sound of a motor growing louder, then a mechanical squeal
and a muffled thump. Someone out before
the plows must have gotten into trouble on the turn. Always a good neighbor, Tory flung back the
covers and leapt out of bed, not forgetting to proclaim, “white rabbits,” to
the new month, a family luck-charm that had survived the Bird siblings’
childhood.
A thick, oversized sweater over her
flannel pajamas, sturdy, fleece-lined boots on her feet, and her brother’s
battered old ski parka topping the lot, Tory tromped to the front door. Just a few yards down the street, she saw a
shiny new Mercedes – a big one – angled awkwardly into the ditch that bordered
the street. Covered in snow, the sharp
drop-off was impossible to see. With
Jennet and Hal floundering happily ahead of her, she made her way to the car to
offer assistance. The driver had already
emerged to inspect the situation, and with a shock she recognized the blond
giant she had met weeks before in Amsterdam!
Yippee! The next instalment! There are so many things I love about it! Well done, Betty van den Betsy!
ReplyDeleteBetty Anonymous
Yay! Another great chapter! Thanks so much for the work you're putting into this for all of us.
ReplyDeleteBetty van den Pikken Wol
Oh, happy day! I've been checking back for a new installment. You rock, BvdB! What reason will the RDD have to be in her small town, I wonder?
ReplyDeleteI love the gentle flow of the normal day's events in the evolving story--it's one of the reasons I love Betty Neels' books. You reveal Tory's character and take the story forward in the interactions with and reactions of others around her, even the weather!
Catherine ( A Betty van den Wasatch )
The local doc's in hospital with a brocken leg of'course. However it's far too short. Please don't make us wait as long for the next instalment.
DeleteGosh! Do I sound needy. Sadly, it would seem I need to get a life!
No, the RDD is the local doctor's godson.
DeleteOR
He just happened to be at a conference (giving a very learned presentation about his new techniques in surgery) held in nearby Boston. He is traveling with his mother, who has broken her leg (or had a mild stroke) and needs a nurse for a few weeks. He thought of Tory since she seemed so very competent, and he remembered she lived 'nearby'.
OR
The RDD is on a "leaf peeping" fall tour of New England with his mother, and she needs a nurse for a few weeks.
OR ???
And no, you don't need to get a life. Because that would mean I need to get one, too! Ha!
Catherine - Betty van den Wasatch
Happy happy I am snuggled under blankets during an unexpected weather event reading about Tory's blizzard. Its beautifully done thus far, very bettyesque. The home, the pets, the people and Tory being such a likeable sort make me eagerly anticipate the next installment.
ReplyDeleteSo I learned something new today. I had never heard of the 'white rabbits' superstition of saying the words "white rabbits" or "rabbits rabbits rabbits" on the first moment or first waking moments of the first day of the month. You could put that on a pillow:
ReplyDeleteHappy Bunny Bunny Day
https://stitchandfrog.com/cross-stitch/happy-bunny-day
It seems to have both a British and New England history:
First of each month is - 'White Rabbits'
http://femaleimagination.wordpress.com/2011/11/01/first-of-each-month-is-white-rabbits/
Rabbit rabbit rabbit
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rabbit_rabbit_rabbit
Three Hares
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three_hares
The Three Hares Project
http://www.chrischapmanphotography.co.uk/hares/
Go figure!
Here we say "A pinch and a punch for the first of the month". Always thought it a tad curel but then children are supposed to be.
DeleteWhere is 'here'? Tasha Tudor wrote in one of her books that her New England family said, "Rabbit, rabbit," but I've never heard of pinching and punching. And just because some group is 'supposed to be' cruel doesn't mean that they should be let to get away with it. Grumph.
DeleteMore Comments
ReplyDeleteFeb 19, 2014
Victory for Victoria
Betty Janet AOH
Feb 27 & March 3, 2014
Wish with the Candles
Betty van den Betsy & Betty Priya addressing Betty Suniti
If there's something strange in your neighborhood. Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters! If there's something weird and it don't look good. Who you gonna call? ...
The following comment is interesting, supposedly from a Betty from India. However, if you click on the writer’s name to see her profile it is linked back to Iceblog - El Blog de Icerose and his name is Pablo.
Huh?
February 27, 2014
Heidelburg Wedding – Discussion Thread
She stopped by the Shop ‘n‘ Save to re-stock the refrigerator and pick up ingredients for Halloween cookies, looking forward to the parade of ballerinas and goblins that arrived that night. Walking and biking around her small town, she took time to notice the fading autumn colors against the brilliant blue of the October sky. It was always especially vivid at this time of year, and Tory relished it as insulation against the greyer days to come.
ReplyDeleteI just love, love, love this instalment. From the Bird family’s 19th-century farmhouse with the family’s pets (adopted ! mutts & long-haired grey cat) to the cozy scene of Tory wearing flannel pyjamas and fuzzy slippers (hey, I used to wear fuzzy slippers when I was about Tory’s age!), as she sat at the scrubbed table in the kitchen to eat the lasagne her nearest neighbour had made for her, tucking in „with the peculiar hunger of the jet-lagged“.
ReplyDeleteTilling the compost into the vegetable garden, picking the last of the apples to make and can applesauce – Tory is taking it all in her stride! My mom used to make apple juice with a steam juicer when we were little. I remember the bottles had red rubber bottle caps. There were years, when my sister had to beg more wooden crates off the green grocers because hers were already over-flowing with the abundance of apples her few trees bore that particular year, the branches hanging low, weighted down by a seemingly unending supply of fruit that would be turned into gallons of applesauce and dozens of apple cakes, apple tarts...
Homemade applesauce – you can’t beat the taste of that. Chunky applesauce – my favourite kind!
Wait 'til you try Betty Debbie's home-pressed apple juice, from the trees in her backyard.
DeleteI remembered seeing a picture of one of Betty Debbie's apple trees.
DeleteHalloween
ReplyDeleteTrick-or-treaters large and small stopping by Tory’s home and there is a blizzard on the way. Of course, Tory, a country woman at heart, is nothing if not prepared. What better than to light a fire in the Franklin stove to keep her home warm. (Trust brilliant Betty van den Betsy to know there’s an American counterpart to Betty‘s Aga cooker (a Swedish Nobel prize winner’s invention!) and Betty‘s Rayburn cooker.)
Curled up by the stove, with the dogs and Fiona the cat variously disposed in prime locations near the heat, she listened with half an ear to the news highlights while focusing most of her attention on her great-grandmother’s hundred-year-old, leather-bound edition of Jane Austen . Austen was always a good choice on a quiet night. [...]
It looked like a real storm, after all, with an inch or so already accumulated, and the wind blowing hard. Padding up to bed after getting Marianne and Elinor to their happy ending, with the pets trailing behind her, Tory snuggled happily under her down comforter, enjoying a quiet so deep she really believed she could hear the snowflakes falling.
All Hallows‘ Day / All Saint’s Day
Tory heading out early in the morning to offer assistance, a thick, oversized sweater over her flannel pajamas, sturdy, fleece-lined boots on her feet, and her brother’s battered old ski parka topping the lot – so suitably attired to meet Mr Right again! Ha ha ha!
I can‘t wait for the next instalment!
Look what I found on Pinterest!
ReplyDeleteHalloween 2013 in downtown Bristol NH
Great pictures! Great costumes!!!