Wynn in the Willows (9 page)

The bog was peaceful among the black spruce, which grew on the carpet of sphagnum moss, a selfless spot on the island; a place for regeneration and biodiversity of sometimes misunderstood life forms—like her.

There was a healthy plant community of bog, cranberry, rosemary, and leather leaf. She cut and bagged them. Later, in her lab, she'd measure their nitrogen levels to compare with the lake samples. Perhaps this would help prove her thesis of water/plant balance.

It was peaceful among the black spruce which grew on the sphagnum moss mat. There were sedges, pitcher plants, and common orchids in the mix, but not a single Calypso. A bullfrog gulped his throaty call, and then became quiet, leaving only stillness.

The setting reminded Wynn of the time her uncles dropped her off at Bible camp as a young teen. Instead of falling in love with Jesus like everyone else, she fell in love with His creation. The first few days were so overwhelmingly wonderful that it made her cry her eyes out. Everyone thought she was homesick, but Wynn had found her calling.

Wynn sat on a decomposing moss-covered log. The air was damp. She leaned back. Creation was not designed by man, but by a Master artist, having carefully chosen the right palate of colors; fair-haired yellow, cinnamon brown, deep pumpkin, lobster red, kale green. Diverse creatures found this place utterly enchanting—a place that man would term as their ‘habitat'. This was the fabric of her life; nature designed and executed by a Supreme Being Who cared about details. But was He the God whom Roxie and the other women worshiped? Was He the Supreme Being she learned about at Bible camp?

At times Wynn thought believing in God would make things easier. Things could be explained away by saying, “It's in God's hands.”

Wynn wanted to talk to God, but didn't want to fold her hands. Folding hands meant one was serene and content. She was neither. She didn't want to pray. She wanted to talk. “As You know, I am not religious, so please excuse me, God, for speaking to You twice in one day when You haven't ever really heard from me, but You should know that I find You culpable in the dissolution of my family. You could have put a stop to it. All of it! But You stood idly by and watched my dad die, and did not one thing to keep my mom from running off. Just as I was healing and starting over for the third time, You decided to shake things up again and take Grammy and Gramps. What were You thinking? I was just a kid! You are as remote to me as my own mom. Strangers! How can I believe in You when I have been deserted!”

The central secret of her existence was that she despised God, Hated Him, even.

Wait…

That meant she did believe in Him. It became a revelation.

She believed in God!

In fact, she believed in Him just as much as the Bible study ladies. Only she didn't love Him like they did. Conflict and guilt set in as she considered the abundance of splendor that surrounded her. The One she hated, had created a beautiful, intricate biological system which only a unique, loving and creative Mind could. The dichotomy was unsettling.

Wynn grabbed her backpack and headed back. She had fooled herself into thinking she needed a mother—her mother, who had so willingly dismissed the child she bore. Well, she didn't need her, not at all. Not anymore.

She wasn't sure what she was going to do about God.

It was getting dark now and soon the bog would be impossible to navigate without a flashlight. Wynn returned to the Jeep and propped her feet up on the dash. Thunder sounded from miles away. She looked out the windshield at a clear, but darkening sky.

By the time she reached home, a storm cut a swath eastward across Lake Michigan. Clouds soaked up twilight like a sponge. The rain arrived full of electricity and wind.

Wynn looked at the sea of papers. She sat on a stool in her lab with a cup of tea, a plate of fruit, and a microscope. She studied nitrogen fixation caused by symbiotic bacteria and compared it to the plant life samplings. Her shoulders carried knots the size of rocks. Every time she shifted to get more comfortable, the rickety table threatened to collapse, taking her test tubes with it. Just as she started logging her findings, another crack of thunder split overheard, rattling the condenser lens. The lights dimmed, and then flickered for a few moments, before returning to normal.

Wynn muttered under her breath and raised the shade to look out at Roxie's beautiful flowers being lashed to the ground by the driving rain.

Tree limbs shook and the wind hurled sheets of heavy rain against the window. The ground was turning to mud. A narrow pond was forming on the other side of the driveway. The lights flickered again, and then went out completely.

Wynn waited for several minutes, hoping to complete this segment of her research tonight. When the power wasn't restored, Wynn rubbed the back of her neck and ran fingers through her rumpled hair, before going up the steps to her apartment. The sky was dark. Her thoughts turned to her box of cards, and her Grandparents.

Passed over. That was the term everyone used when Gramps died. He'd had a heart attack after a particularly pleasing meal.

Grammy was not only a splendid cook, but was also an overtly religious woman, which at times served as a stumbling block for Wynn's spirited individuality. The household was cold, regimented.

Every day, Grammy made Wynn practice hymns on the piano, as Grammy added her singing voice. Twice a week they mailed fat letters to Ruth in Central Africa, once they found out where she was. They drew close when they went to town to pick up mail, expecting a response from Wynn's mother.

“I guess she's too busy folding her hands in prayer,” Grammy said, doing her best to put a happy spin on the loneliness they both felt. “She doesn't have time to write. God is keeping her too busy.”

 

****

 

It was the second winter after her mother had left. Grammy's clothes dryer broke and a new one simply wasn't in the budget. Grammy carried a basket of sheets outside to hang in the frosty sunshine.

Wynn watched a TV program about baby girls who got switched at birth. The thought occurred to Wynn that it could have happened to her. Her real parents could have discovered that and be coming to claim her as their rightful daughter. Wynn went to the window and checked the drive for cars.

All she saw was a single sheet pinned to the line. A dark figure lay motionless on the hoary ground as tufts of snow blew over it. Curious, Wynn put on her hat, boots, gloves and coat. She walked towards the shape, puffing out breaths of air. The wind pushed her coat against her legs and made strands of her hair fly.

Stiff, old snow crunched under her boots. Spots on the ground opened through the broken places showing earth. The air smelled sweet. And there was Grammy. Silent eyes starred right through her and focused above on a cloud. In the grip of her right hand was a clothes pin. There on her lips, was a frozen smile. Grammy had passed—the body vacant.

Perhaps Gramps came to visit with Grammy while she was pinning laundry to the clothes line—just like he used to do when his spirit was still housed in his body. Grammy must have smiled when he returned. And that smile prompted him to take her by the hand. Off they went; Grammy forgetting all about her earthly duty of taking care of Wynn.

Eight-year-old Wynn walked back to the house. Tears escaped from beneath her lashes, angry that God had His favorites and she wasn't one. She turned to the door. It was time to call someone to come.

The paternal Milwaukee relatives arrived and cleaned out Grammy's and Gramps's house; keeping a few things to take home, and selling off the rest. Among the things they kept was Wynn. She went to live with her dad's older brothers, Dill and Matt—confirmed bachelors who worked for the railroad. The day Wynn left for her new home, she took Grammy's angora knitted gloves from the hall closet and stuck them into her coat pocket. She needed something soft because she had a feeling life was going to be harder. Wynn was wrong. Life with her carefree, rule-breaking uncles suited her just fine.

Wynn realized she'd forgotten to eat and went to the kitchen. Though the sky was dark, some light penetrated the kitchen windows. Despite the power being out, she could cook on the gas stove. She opened the cabinet to grab a can of soup. As she reached for a pot, she spotted the container. She really needed to find out what was hidden inside. She took it out and set it on the counter. The private guessing game of its contents became entertaining. Once opened there'd be no more speculation. She decided to wait a bit longer.

At dawn, the storm collapsed.

 

 

 

 

12

 

The Ladies Bridge Over Troubled Waters Bible Study was called to order at ten in the morning, on the south veranda of The Willow Inn. All the women were in attendance, plus Agatha.

The sunshine was bright and touched every piece of silverware on the table, but lunch was still another hour away.

Wynn noticed everyone hiding gift bags under the table when she walked out and, to her amazement, she felt a zing of excitement. Her face flushed with pleasure.

“With my husband still missing, maybe I shouldn't have come today.” Jackie stood. “I wanted to get out of the house, but I feel I should be at home waiting.”

“Nonsense, you need to be here more than anyone,” Roxie said. “At times of trouble we bind together for comfort.”

“You're right, Roxie. You women and the Lord keep me together.” Jackie sat down. “I need everyone's prayers.”

“And the Bible study to give you hope,” added Sheri.

“All of us lift you up in prayer many times a day,” Roxie said.

“I'm feeling a bit creeped out, because another letter about Boone arrived this morning.”

“Another one?” Wynn asked.

“How terrible!” Faith gasped. “Have you considered perhaps Boone is still alive?”

“Yes, I have. But why wouldn't the person holding him tell me that?”

“Good point.” Sheri straightened her name tag.

Jackie opened her Bible to Psalms, removed the paper, and passed it around the table. “I found it sticking out from under a flower pot on my front patio.”

“That reminds me Jackie, I forgot to tell you how lovely your potted geraniums were on the day of the funeral.”

“Why, thank you, Faith.”

“Were you able to get a glimpse of the person who left this?” Wynn asked.

“No. It was there when we walked outside to get the morning newspaper,” Agatha said.

“Excuse me, but should everyone be touching that paper?” Wynn was alarmed.

“I'm way ahead of you, Wynn,” Jackie explained. “The letter came in a sealed envelope and I put on my Playtex gloves before picking it up, but I must say they were pretty bulky to get anything open, so I had to use chop sticks.”

“I got them out of the drawer for her,” Agatha interjected.

“That's evidence. Shouldn't you have called the police to have them check it for fingerprints?” Wynn asked again.

“I read it first, and then called the police. Officer Berry drove his golf cart out to see me. He has the original, what you're reading is a copy. They are having the envelope checked for DNA; saliva. I'm keeping a running log of everything,” Jackie reached for her lemon water. “See Wynn, I can be a scientist, too.”

Wynn read the letter aloud. “In forty-eight hours you will receive instructions on where to drop the ring. Within hours Boone's body will then be left at a pre-determined location.”

“Who could be behind this?” Owl wondered.

“I have an idea, but not saying right now,” Jackie answered.

“Oh, please tell them to drop Boone off at my shop!” Sheri begged. “Things have been slow lately and I could sure use the publicity.”

“What is so special about this particular ring?” Owl asked.

“It's supposed to be an expensive heirloom, but now I can't find it, thank you, Marilyn. Sorry, Agatha.”

“But didn't I hear Marilyn say it wasn't the right ring?” Roxie reminded her.

“Paste was the word she used.” Owl cut in.

“Why would Marilyn want a worthless ring?” Roxie asked.

“It'd be just like Marilyn to say something wasn't valuable when it really was. Oh, sorry again, Agatha. As for the ring, Boone showed it to me one time and since I couldn't wear it, I didn't really get a good look at it. He said he wanted it buried with him, and then he put it back in the wall safe.” Jackie dabbed her eyes with the linen napkin, smearing her black eyeliner. “I took it out when I went to the funeral home. But now both the ring and the box are gone from my purse.”

“We need the Lord's peace in this matter. Maybe we need to refocus on why we have come together today,” Roxie said.

“Please do,” Agatha murmured as she played with the cameo brooch on her blouse.

“We have come to take our eyes from life's rumbling waters and to cross the bridge to where peace and joy awaits in the arms of the Lord. Our scripture for today is Romans 8:26-27. God's help in our weakness, which is very appropriate under the most recent circumstances.”

All the ladies turned to the verse in their Bibles.

“Brand new one! Still in the wrapper!” Wynn held up her Bible, bought on the way to the meeting, and then tore off the protective wrapping. “OK, I'm ready. What page did you say we were on, Aunt Roxie?”

“We're in the book of Romans, dear. Chapter 8.”

“And where is that?”

“Towards the end,” Sheri told her, reaching for the Bible. “Let me help you.”

“Wow, you're all way ahead of me. I'll never catch up. Maybe I need to find a group that is on page one. Look, just like it says right here in Genesis 1:1 ‘In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth'.”

Agatha laughed. “You're joking right? About catching up to Romans?”

“No. Why would I joke?”