Redress of Grievances (49 page)

Shaking
her head vigorously, she decided she had had enough deep thinking for one day.
Maybe just a few minutes of serious thought each day would make it easier. She
didn't have to make a decision that day, that moment. The world wouldn't
implode into itself if Harriett Markham didn't make an instant decision.

THE
AFTERNOON OF what she thought was her fourth day of solitude she dragged her
body up from the couch, which was becoming much too comfortable. Slipping a
bookmark into the paperback in her hand, she walked toward the bathroom,
stripping out of her clothes as she walked. She stepped into the shower a few
minutes later and felt the water pelt her skin. Reaching up, she twisted the
nozzle of the showerhead anticipating the water that would change from a mere
pelting into a deep pounding. Moving under the water as it beat against her,
she began to feel the muscles across her shoulders and down her back relax
under the massaging stream. Bracing herself against the shower wall, she was
surprised and angry when she felt warm tears run down her face, joining the
water from the shower. Why the hell was she crying? Whom was she crying for?
Turning the showerhead back to normal, she let the clean water wash the tears
away.

She
had just finished preparing a small salad to accompany the salmon she was
planning to grill for dinner when she glanced out the kitchen window. Dark
clouds spread across the horizon and appeared to be moving toward her.
"Probably an hour or so away," she muttered to herself. There would
still be plenty of time to get the salmon fillet on and off the grill before
the rain swept across the lake. The wind was beginning to pick up slightly as
she placed the rack over the coals and closed the lid of the grill. Brushing
her blowing hair away from her face, she smelled the scent of rain. Every few
minutes, she basted the fillet with butter and freshly squeezed lemon juice.
When she saw the skin around the edges of the fish begin to blacken, she
removed the rack from the grill and emptied the fish onto a platter.

The
wind battered rain against the front windows of the cabin in waves as she set
the salmon and salad on the coffee table. Returning from the kitchen a minute
later, she flipped the small stereo on to keep her company while she ate
dinner. Darkness fell quickly around her, and while she loved the rain, early
spring storms worried her. One never knew when something more ominous would be
spawned from the dark clouds.

The
sound of banging on the door of the cabin moments later startled her. No one in
their right mind would be caught outside after dark in this kind of weather,
she thought, uncertain of whether to open the door. It was probably an idiot
fisherman who thought he had enough time to escape before the storm hit. Wiping
her mouth, she looked out the window next to the front door, but could see
nothing more than a hunched figure, soaking wet, standing on the porch. Not
willing to take a chance by opening the door to a stranger unarmed, she picked
up the fireplace poker and held it as she pulled the door open.

The
figure turned toward her, hair plastered to her scalp, water streaming down her
face and glasses.

"Jess?"
Harriett asked.

"Can
I please come in? It's a little...damp out here," Jess said, trying to
wipe rain away from her face.

"Oh,
my God, of course. Let me get you a towel."

As
Harriett quickly disappeared, Jess stepped through the door, trying not to drip
in too large an area. Just as quickly as she had left, Harriett returned with a
large bathroom towel.

"Thank
you," Jess said as she ran the towel over her head and clothing.
"Sorry if I made a mess. I'll clean it up."

"Don't
worry. You can't hurt this floor," Harriett smiled.

"Wayne
said the fishing here sucked, and now I know why. Too damned much rain,"
Jess mumbled.

"Let
me get you a cup of coffee or some hot tea. You must be freezing."

Handing
the towel back to Harriett, Jess cleared her throat. "I won't be staying.
I just needed to tell you that I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, Harriett. That
I couldn't keep my promise. You're not the first person I've let down, but I
hope someday you can forgive me for not being there when you needed me the
most. I'm so sorry."

"There's
nothing to forgive, Jess," Harriett said softly.

"Sorry
I made a mess," Jess said glancing down at the floor, "of
everything." Looking at Harriett for a moment, she turned and walked out
into the rain again.

Jess
had jogged halfway to her Durango by the time Harriett reached her again.
Trying to brush away the rain dripping down her face, Harriett said loudly over
the thunder, "You...you didn't say goodbye."

"I
don't like goodbyes," Jess said just as loudly, rivulets of water running
down her forehead and cheeks. "It sounds too much like the end of
something. Go back inside. You shouldn't be out in this mess."

Shaking
her head, sending water flying, Harriett asked, "Why didn't you tell me
you were going away? It was because of me, wasn't it? Because of what I said? I
didn't mean any of it, Jess. You have to believe that. Please. I...I don't want
to lose you."

Slowly,
Jess moved closer and pulled Harriett into her arms and held her tightly.
"Have you had enough time to think?" she asked softly, bringing her
mouth close to Harriett's ear.

"About
us, you mean?" Harriett asked as she pressed her head against Jess's
shoulder.

Releasing
Harriett from her arms and looking down at her, Jess nodded, "And other
things."

Harriett
shivered slightly, from Jess's touch as much as the rain. "Can we at least
get out of the rain and warm up before we have the rest of this
conversation?"

Jess
nodded as she wrapped her arm around Harriett's shoulders and turned back
toward the cabin.

About
the Author:

A
product of the Appalachian region of Eastern Tennessee, Brenda now lives in
Central Texas, near Austin. She began writing in junior high school where she
wrote an admittedly hokey western serial to entertain her friends. Completing
her graduate studies in Eastern European history in 1971, she worked as a
graphic artist, a public relations specialist for the military and a display
advertising specialist until she finally had to admit that her mother might
have been right and earned her teaching certification. For the last twenty-plus
years she has taught world history and political science. Brenda and her
partner of ten years, Cheryl, are the parents of three grown children and one
still in high school, as well as two grandchildren. Rounding out their home are
four temperamental cats, May-May, Bitsey, Harley, and Tootie, as well as a
brand new puppy named Tipper. When she is not writing Brenda creates stained
glass and shoots pool at her favorite bar. She may be contacted at
[email protected] and welcomes all comments, good or bad.