Chapter One, Episode 102 - Twisted - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update
This revision of Episode 102, was an exercise in vocabulary and word crafting. In frequent trips to the online Thesaurus, I was able to locate better word usage, rather than too many repeats of an already tired word. Author Stephen King suggests that the first draft use of a Thesaurus is not useful. It interrupts the flow of a story when it is just spilling out onto the page. This Revision being a third draft, I felt quite comfortable using a thesaurus. It still amazes me that I can find outright mistakes or just poor word choices in what I have written.  Not perfect?  Darn - and I thought I was.

Twisted

There was little solid sleep that night. Emmie and Dez sat in the living room while Sarah, the little ghost girl, was on her swing. When she cried out, a west wind rose, whipping the branches through the air. It was a long night. The sisters fell asleep. Dez on the over stuffed sofa, Emmie in the purple velvet wingback chair. In the morning, stiff and sore, Dez woke up. Stretching her unforgiving muscles, she yawned. Looking at her sister still asleep, Dez wondered a sleepy thought. Do I wake her? “Em……Emmie………It's morning. Time to wake up.” Rising awkwardly from the sofa and, clutching her blanket around her, Dez walked slowly to the living room window. Had it been a dream? There was no swing. No ghost. The wind had died down and the sun’s orange rays streaked across the estate. 

Dez heard someone come into the kitchen. Wrapping her warm fuzzy housecoat around her, she guessed it was Cook. She didn't think anyone else was here that early. Cook started the day for everyone at the Estate. Dez pulled her gaze away from the expanse of lawn that only held trees and flowers. She decided her sister wasn't going to even stir so she'd try and get her into her bed. What did their mother call Emmie when she needed to get her attention? “Emelina Caroline.” That was it. But mom always gentled it with a bit of 'honey' when necessary. “Emelina Caroline, honey.....get up and let's get you to bed to sleep a little more.” Emmie barely opened her eyes, but obediently did as she was told. Dez guided Emmie to her room and tucked her into her bed as though she was a little girl. Closing the drapes against the early morning sunrise, Dez slipped out into the hall and into the bathroom. Still not quite awake, Dez had a solution to her grogginess. “A shower. I really need a shower to get myself going.”

~~~~

Dez could hear Cook setting up the coffee machine for the day and humming a tune she didn't recognize. From the fancy machine, a pot of coffee was brewed into its own thermal pot. After there wasn't a drop left, it was one cup at a time - serve yourself coffee. It wasn't long before the aroma of fresh coffee drifted upstairs, encouraging Dez to get dressed a little faster. A pair of black jeans, a brightly coloured but non-descript t-shirt and a plain white short sleeved cotton shirt. Dez strapped her walking sandals on and went downstairs. Dez accepted a steaming mug of fresh coffee, warmed her hands around the mug and sat at the long kitchen table. “Thank you Cook.”  Dez was clean and presentable, but her eyes still felt heavy. 

“You look like you didn’t get a wink last night, Miss. Are you all right? Where’s Miss Emelina?” Cook was concerned about Dez. And about Miss Emelina. So often the two of them were together, laughing and talking about bees or the orchard or about their latest bit of mischief. This morning, Dez was quiet and Miss Emelina wasn't down yet. She usually came downstairs just as Cook was setting up the coffee. Her concern greater than getting breakfast started, Cook decided to slow up her morning. “Do you need to talk about anything, Miss Dez? I’ll just get us a bit of toast and jam.” making the pretence that she hadn’t yet had any breakfast. She just didn’t feel right about leaving the Miss Dez sitting there looking all worried.

The kitchen felt heavy and quiet, despite the ever brightening morning. When Dez realized there was a plate of toast in front of her and Cook was sitting across from her, she stirred. “Cook? Has anything different happened here recently?” She hesitated to say that she and Emmie had seen Cook, Samuel, Digby and Martha at the cottage on July 1st, with a fifth unknown person.

Cook didn’t quite know what to say. What was Miss Dez talking about?She had seen them? Quite innocently she said “Whatever do you mean, Miss? The only thing I can think of is that Martha and Digby are getting married. Do you have your invitation yet?”

“Cook, you must know something.” Dez lifted her head, smiled and looked squarely at Cook. “Emmie and I were at the orchard yesterday. It was still early and the sun was bright. We had eaten the chicken salad sandwiches Emmie made - by the way that was good chicken salad - and were just putting things away. Maybe we were nosy but, we saw you and Samuel, Digby and Martha and a stranger over at the cottage. And then, last night Emmie and I saw the little ghost Sarah. It's just all very strange that it should happen with in hours of each other. Maybe I'm making things bigger than they need to be, but it's just weird. ”

“That doesn’t sound too dreadful, Miss Dez. Surely not something to lose sleep over and look so worn out. You just need a good healthy breakfast.” Cook started to get up. Dez reached out and held her arm. “Cook, hear me out. That ghost….. Sarah or whoever she is……was screeching last night. Or crying or maybe it was just the wind and I was dreaming. But Emmie was in the dream if it was a dream…………You’re probably right. I just need a good breakfast.”

“No Dez, it was no dream.”  Emmie had appeared in the kitchen, showered, polished and dressed in tailored slacks and crisp shirt. “It was Sarah and she was crying out. She seems to know all the secrets of this Estate. Someone is leaving the estate. What do you know, Cook?” She shared Dez's worry....as an employer she was doubly concerned.

Cook was nervous, fidgeting with her mug and picking at crumbs left by her toast. She felt pressed to tell about the rehearsal on Canada Day, but was saved by Martha coming in the back door, happy and calling out. “Yoohoo!... Elizabeth!...... Oh my goodness, I shouldn’t be so noisy. The sisters may be still in bed……..” Martha brought herself up short when she saw Dez and Emmie - not just up, but dressed and looking ready to get to work at whatever they had planned for the day.  “......you’re up!” Martha was a bit flustered, but she calmed herself and turned to Cook. “Elizabeth, we might as well tell them. I can’t keep it quiet. It was just such a lovely evening.”

Before Martha could continue, Dez blurted out her story. She almost spilled her coffee in her agitation. “Before you tell us anything, Martha, Emmie and I saw and heard that Sarah last night. She was on her swing but very upset.” 

“Sarah was upset? What on earth for? There’s no reason…….this shouldn’t cause such a turmoil.” Martha was perturbed. The only changes she knew of were that she and James were getting married. Sitting suddenly, her sweater still on, her purse on the table, she cried “Oh my, I think we’re just like the cutlery in the china cabinet.”

Cook sat up straight and looked at Martha. “What are you talking about, Martha!? You’re not making any sense calling yourselves knives and forks. That’s just foolishness.” Cook stood and bustled over to the refrigerator, abruptly taking out eggs, bacon and tomatoes. She busied herself making breakfast for an army. 

“Heavens, Elizabeth, that’s not what I was saying.” Martha laughed and continued “James and I have lived in our homes for the last many years. James, since he was a boy. Joanie and I for the last twenty years. If we really must talk about this little ghost girl Sarah who's the cause of all this kerfuffle, I'll tell you what's going on. James and I are moving. But only from our single homes into our own little cottage together. That’s what all this is about. That young lady is just going to have to get used to it. Neither of us are retiring and will still be here everyday. And I do hope Sarah is paying attention.” Martha glanced sharply towards the staircase. “Now, ladies. I’m going to hang up my sweater, put my purse away and get to work.”

~~~~~

Sarah was paying attention but still looked troubled. 

“This whole conversation was turning into 

a twisted version of Abbot & Costello’s Who’s on First.”

~ Kelly Moran, Tracking You

Chapter One, Episode 101 - Moonlit Sadness - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

Not one of my preferred episodes, this is a writing exercise within a writing exercise. Originally written for July's writer's group, in my review I found and added the oft needed script to support dialogue, to maintain a shift in the actions between different speakers and, in general providing more detail to set the scenes. Each of these issues were addressed, hopefully, with at least a modicum of success.

Moonlit Sadness

**In the house there was a clock ticking that only the residents could hear. Overnight at her sister’s estate, Dez rolled herself into her blankets but couldn’t sleep. ‘Tick. Tick. Tick’. From the back of her head, she yanked her pillow around her ears. ‘Tick. Tick. Tick’ She threw the pillow on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. “Emmie. Are you asleep?” She didn’t really think her sister could hear her. Emmie’s room was too far down the hall and her door was closed. 

Dez was about to lay back down when she saw the door handle slowly edge down. She grip tightened on the edge of the bed. The door creaked open. “Dez? Are you asleep?” Gruffly Dez replied “No. Come in.” Emmie looked annoyed and Dez was certain she knew the cause. Closing the door firmly behind her, she sighed. It seemed that that ticking only got louder. Distancing herself from the door, she flopped down on the bed to sit beside her sister. “I really do love that old clock, but tonight it seems louder.” Leaning back on her elbows, she stared up at the ceiling. “Dez, let's go down to the kitchen. At least we don't hear the clock down there.” Emmie sat up, pushed a stray lock from her face and stood up. Before leaving her own room, she had made an attempt to look perfect, as she always did, but her pony tail was askew and of course, she had no makeup on. “Come on, Dez. Let's go.” and she headed to the bedroom door. Dez reluctantly and stiffly stood up.

“Well, maybe some hot milk would be good.” A little off balance Dez just about fell back onto the bed. Righting herself, she began to walk toward her sister. “Emmie, did you turn a living room lamp on? It's awfully bright out there.”

Emmie shook her head. “It’s the moon. It’s full tonight and lighting up everything. Is that clock getting louder?” Tick. Tick. Tick. “No, maybe not. It’s just me wanting to go back to bed. Everything seems……just not right.” The sisters began to walk toward the stairs, the broad moon rays lighting their path. “Dez, didn’t you close those curtains before we went to our beds? You did, I remember now.”

Dez thought for a moment. “Yes. I did. I struggled with the panel on the left tonight. Like it didn’t want to close.” She walked to the window, reaching up to close them again. Her hand in mid air, she froze. In a whispered, quavery voice she called “Emmie, come here.” Emmie, concerned, went to her sister right away. Dez didn’t frighten easily. “What is it Dez? You sound frightened.” When she got to the window and looked outside, she saw a very different girl on the swing. The same blonde ringlets and blue ribbon. The same blue dress with a white apron, The same white stockings and black Mary Jane shoes. But her face. Her face was stretched and distorted. The front yard of the estate was bathed in moon light, throwing long shadows of the ancient redwood across the lawn and toward the house. A late night breeze ruffled the old tree's leafy branches, moving the shadows in an eerie dance. Creak creak... Creak creak... Creak creak scratched an underline to the breeze that stirred the leaves. A distant crow rasped it’s caw.

Emmie gasped. “Oh my, it is Sarah…..but something's wrong. ” Emmie breathed out in a whisper. In the darkness of the ancient redwood, Sarah swung eerily in and out of the shadows.

“I am so frightened, Emmie. You like this little ghost. Why so you think something’s not right?” Dez let the folds of the drapes slide away from her hand. “She seems so very sad tonight, Dez. Someone...or something…. about this house or the people of the Estate is changing. Sarah has never liked change.”  Just as Emmie's words died away, Sarah's long and drawn out cry of sadness echoed across the lawn.

“Grief does not change you, Hazel. It reveals you.”

~ John Green, The Fault in our Stars

**Authors note (July 3, 2020)

Our Writer's Group met in a wonderful sunroom over looking the city and ocean, well distanced apart and with hand sanitizer at the ready. Moonlit Sadness is not only for this blog post, but was written for my Writer’s Group this afternoon. Our chosen assignment was to begin with, or use, the line ‘In the house there was a clock ticking that only the residents could hear.’ While three of our little group used residential facilities for their settings, I utilized it for the opening line of this episode for Situationally Theirs, one a nonsense piece based on famous movie ghosts and another based on the old children's song My Grandfather's Clock (circa 1876). We all burst into the familiar old song accompanied by an internet songster. 

Chapter One, Episode 100 - The Set Up - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

There was little word crafting to write for this post. Merely, some added detail in a few sentences. 

To my readers:  I am under no illusions that these little posts are anything like great - or even moderate - literature. At the same time, this has become one of the longest, continuing writing exercises I've ever done. To create and recreate with words is fascinating to me and I thank you all for bearing with me.

The Set Up

Dez and Emmie enjoyed their Canada Day ice cream. Dez had a double scoop of Tiger Stripes - orange and licorice. Emmie chose Vanilla Bean chocolate dip - also double scoop. Between catching softening delicious cold bites of their ice cream all they could talk about was who they saw at the cottage. Why were they there? What was going on? It was unusual to see Samuel outside the garden or toolshed. And Cook? She was supposed to be taking the day off. Had they missed something? Emmie did try to keep abreast of all the comings and goings of her staff without being intrusive. Obviously, something else was going on. If they had been party to the private lives of James Edward Digby, butler for the Beaufort Estate and Martha Haverstock, housekeeper for said Estate, one or both of the women may have heard whispers in the kitchen or on the telephone. It was not to be. The sisters, Desperanza Eliot and Emelina Beaufort, would just have to wait.

~~~~~

They needed their privacy. With all the restrictions, even though many had been eased, it was difficult. One evening, while they were in the kitchen at the cottage, Martha was putting away their new dishes. As she was stepping away from the cupboard, she glanced out into the back yard. “James. Here is our privacy.”

“What do you mean, dear? Where do you want these kitchen towels? And I have our cutlery to put away as well?” James had been coming back and forth from his car with their latest household treasures. “Our privacy? Of course our little cottage is private, dear.” From behind, he wrapped his arms around Martha and kissed her hair. Martha snuggled into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his. They swayed to a waltz that only they could hear. James hummed. Martha spoke softly “Of course it is, silly, but that’s not what I meant.” 

“Well then, what did you mean?” James took a deep breath of Martha’s hair, put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. Martha put her hands on James' cheeks. “I mean: this back yard is private and we can have our rehearsal here. The only ones to know will be the people absolutely necessary for the ceremony. If we have our rehearsal under the old redwood where our ceremony is to be, anyone coming onto the Estate will be gawking and interrupting us. We could make an evening of it here, just the seven of us. Have just some snacks and champagne….you know a sort of light rehearsal supper.”

“Is all that really necessary, Martha? Why do we need to practice what is to happen when we already know?” James looked quite perplexed. “Darling James, you’ve never been married and you men never see the importance of these little details. It’s like…..like……a preview. A practice without all the nervousness of having an audience.” Martha had had to explain this to more than one man about to get married. Her first husband, her son-in-law and several nephews. She really just wanted a little private party with their closest friends and the pastor. “And, James, I found a pastor for us. I’ll just ask him to come out here. We won’t have to have a Zooming ceremony.”

“Whatever you say, sweet Martha. When do you want to have our rehearsal?” Once James had addressed his troublesome feelings, he was discovering the joys and warmth of romance.

“We’ve already sent out the invitations. As a matter of fact they are probably being opened right now, so we must be quick. How about July 1st. Our very own Canada Day celebrations.” Martha stepped away from James, already making her lists. She had to talk with Elizabeth and Joanie….would Joanie be able to get a babysitter?………Giles and Samuel…. .;….she would leave them to James ……… she’d better do that herself…..and the pastor. What was Joey’s last name?  Tucker. Yes Reverend Tucker. She would call him and let him know the day and time and make certain he could be there. Elizabeth would have to take the day off. Samuel took…………

By the time she had her list all in her head she was at the car, leaving James standing in the kitchen wondering just what had happened. Martha was calling him “James, are you coming? I’ve got lots of phone calls to make and I want you to call Giles and talk with Samuel.” With his usual efficiency of movement, James slid behind the wheel of the car turning the key in the ignition. Martha continued “I was going to contact them both myself, but you need to be part of this. Oh, James, my very dear man, I am so excited and so very happy."

“Never marry a person who is not a friend of your excitement.”

~ Nathaniel Branden, The Psychology of Romantic Love

Chapter One, Episode 99 - Sister Talk - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update
The first draft of this episode was written and posted on Canada Day. In this episode Sister Talk, I noted some typing errors that I consistently make. Certain very simple words that I almost always misspell, but because the misspellings are still a word, just not the one I want, spell check doesn't catch them, and neither does grammar. They are:  thought (I leave the 't' off making it though), misspell of 'and' (an d - constant since I learned how to type) and 'that' (my fingers always tap out than). I have found each of these in this episode - all corrected. If one can't depend on spell check who can one depend on?

Otherwise, my review revealed the usual gaps of unsupported dialogue, and a need for more fleshing out in certain areas. One example of more fleshing out would be the very first paragraph.

Sister Talk

Dez spent the next day walking the perimeter and the rows of apple trees on the five acre plot. She had her cell phone with her. She would stop every now and then, take a picture, checking to make sure she had gotten the image she wanted, then move on. Counted the number of trees and, with Samuel's help, which trees were in need of some help. Matt Hamilton, an friend of Dez's and an orchardist would also be a huge help to her while she tried to organize the project Emmie had granted her.

Dez had been up before Emmie, and Cook had not yet arrived. Dez found a note addressed to Emmie by the coffee machine from Cook “Miss Emelina, I’m taking this Canada Day off so won’t be in. Chicken salad for sandwiches is in the refrigerator. You know where everything else is. I’ll be in tomorrow. Cook” Dez put the note back where she found it and set about making her breakfast. Cook had chastised her in the past for not eating a good enough breakfast before going out to the orchard to work, so it was scrambled eggs, toast and grapefruit, a glass of milk and a cup of coffee. Crunching on the last crust of toast, Dez cleaned up her dishes and left them in the drying rack. She picked up her cell phone, slipped her tablet, notebook and pencil into a light backpack and headed out to the orchard. The sun was gilding the tops of the low rock outcroppings and filtering through the trees. The air was cool, grass still glistening with dew. Seagulls cried in the distance. Songbirds twittered awake and busy. Dez looked at her orchard, as she had looked at one of her half finished paintings, with an artist’s critical eye. Each time she learned a bit more about the trees, she could see places where, here and there, a touchup seemed necessary, but was often not sure about just what was needed. At one time an apple tree was just a tree with apples on it. The apples arranged in the produce department had no connection to where they came from even though, intellectually, Dez knew they grew on trees. Once in a while she stopped, put her cell phone in her back pocket and pulled out the list of apple varieties Digby had given her. There were only four varieties on the five acres of trees. The ones at the back were old heritage apples - she only variety she didn't recognize was the name Bramley. Cook seemed to think everyone should know Bramley's. “After all”, she said “they make the very best applesauce!” Cook's applesauce was legendary winning blue ribbons at the fall fair which was not to be held this year. Dez had to focus and get back to work. The list: All the varieties seemed set in squares or blocks. Each variety - McIntosh, Granny Smith’s and Red Delicious apples, and of course, Bramly were distinctively different in colour and shape. Talking aloud to herself, with only the trees to hear her she asked  “Ripening time? Had Digby given her that information? Did she lose a piece of paper or should she just look it up? Talk to Matt?”

Emmie's voice interrupted her pocket search for another scrap of paper. “Dez! Lunch time.” Dez looked up at the sun, then down at the digital display on her cell phone. Lunch time? Already? No wonder my stomach is growling at me. Dez was surprised that so much time had elapsed. Although she had been looking at her cell phone frequently while taking pictures of the orchard, having the camera prevented her from noticing time passing. She suddenly understood Samuel’s penchant for looking up at the sun on clear, or even semiclear days. Discovering these nuances of her friend Samuel Forrester and the natural world fascinated her. “On my way, Emmie!” 

Dez met Emmie at the toolshed. She already had the chairs out, the lunch basket on the stump that served as a table and was getting plates and napkins out. Emmie looked refreshed and rested after her exhaustion of the previous night. While she was setting things up she said “I found the note Cook left and made up the chicken salad sandwiches. There was fresh tea in the fridge and a couple of pieces of rhubarb pie left. Will all that do?” 

Dez had taken out a sandwich, had big drink of tea and settled into one of the chairs outside the toolshed. “You had a good sleep? And now you have a day off too, Emmie. You told me you’d been working at the shelter every day for the last couple of weeks.” 

“My ‘brown bag partner’ at the shelter told me that I was looking pretty awful - she was much nicer than that - so I said I’d take some time off. A day or two. I don’t think I’ve worked that steadily at an outside job for years. Guess I’m not used to it. It’s pretty different than attending the fund raisers with the gentrified classes. I know the fund raising is important, but I feel much more satisfied with passing out food to the people we raise the funds for.” Emmie stopped, looked thoughtful and then up at her sister. “We’ve both come a long way in these last few months, Dez.”

Dez licked her fingers of chicken salad and began on the rhubarb pie. Setting the plate on her lap, she grinned and said “I do remember being told by that police officer that I’d have to stay with you or sent up island to some motel. I didn’t know which was worse. Going with a sister I didn’t know any more or being shipped off like so much baggage that needed stowing. Before I could decide, the sergeant - and believe me he was eye candy - had you on my cell phone making arrangements with you to come pick me up.”

Emmie laughed at the memory. “It was when the pandemic lock down restrictions came into force. I was half asleep that night. I didn't know it but, Digby, Martha, Cook and Brigette had left me that morning. Digby had slipped me a note under my bedroom door. There were arrows drawn on the hallway floor in chalk and a lot of sticky notes in the kitchen fluttering at me with more instructions. I guess they were worried I wouldn't know what to do. I hadn’t taken complete care of myself for the five years since Michael had died, they did it for me. I did take the CRV out for a drive often so knew I would be able to pick you up. But, I had to scramble looking for the keys - it was about 3 o’clock in the morning wasn’t it?”

“Hmm…” Dez was in the middle of a bite of pie, swallowed hard and replied “that’s about right. Did you have time to think about the  whole situation on the way into Hartley?”

Emmie took a sip of her iced tea, and thought a moment. “I did! I just about turned around and went back home. Once I was on the way, I suddenly remembered where the call had come from. The city jail! What had my sister become? Would I be in danger? I had no back up anywhere. But I just kept driving believing that it must have been some kind of mistake.” Emmie took out her pie and got them each a glass of tea. 

Dez, finished her lunch and turned to Emmie with a smile. “Look at us now. Mom would never believe it - especially me and this orcharding and studying about bees. Dad would though - I was always outside with him when he was gardening. And you, Emmie, you always acted like a princess, but you were the one always bringing a stray kitten or puppy home.” Dez brushed the pastry crumbs from her lap, folded her napkin and stood up.

“Have you got much more to do out here, Dez? It is a lovely day and I thought we could drive into Hartley for some ice cream.” Emmie finished her tea and packed up the basket. “Dez, look over there. At the cottage. I can’t make out who it is but there’s some people over there. I thought Martha and James had gone for a drive up island. It can’t be them.”

Dez shaded her eyes. “They’re too far away for me to tell for sure, but it is Digby’s car. If it’s not them, I’m concerned.”

“I brought my binoculars with me. Should we spy on who ever it is?” Emmie sounded a bit excited with the prospect. She already had them out, looking through them. “Dez - Look. It is Digby and Martha. Look who’s with them.”

“Samuel……and who’s by his side? It’s Cook! And there’s someone else there too. I don’t recognize him.” Dez, feeling like a guilty child, handed the binoculars back to Emmie. “Let’s go get that ice cream.”

“Our real discoveries come from chaos, from going 

to the place that looks wrong and stupid and foolish.”

~ Chuck Palahniuk,  Invisible Monster

Chapter One, Episode 98 - Too Much with Us - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update:
Revisioning is an interesting practice, involving re-thinking or what I may have been trying to say. Did it make sense? Was I putting apples and oranges in the same sentence or paragraph? If I was how are they both important or should one be tossed away? 

This has been the work that I've done on this episode. Some deletions of extraneous words, and additions of words that supported the scene and/or dialogue. With a lot of breaks in between to let all the words stir around in my head, while I move books from box to book shelf, or to make my lunch.

Too Much with Us

Every list should include something a little frivolous. Grocery lists, errand lists, any list. For some it may only be a single chocolate. For others it may be a brand new, and quite unnecessary, drill bit. For others still, a new paint brush or a new tube of paint. For Dez, who had set that rule for herself, today her addition to her errand list was a new straw hat - like Samuel’s straw hat. She knew it would never look as worn and full of wisdom as Samuel’s, but she hoped it would be a good start. There were only three other items on her list - cancel her order for bees, contact Digby about the varieties of apples in the orchard and begin her DIY project for the beehives. As with most other lists, she was able to check off the first one, part of the second one, but the third one was more difficult. Dez felt quite successful, until she realized she had created two more lists. She did have to follow up with Digby later that day for what he uncovered about the orchard, but she had expected that detail. But the beehive project? First she went on Youtube for the project. Then she hit a very solid wooden wall. She had to decide what kind of wood to use. “What kind of wood? Don’t you just take some wood and nail it together and let the bees figure it out?” Talking aloud to herself as though she expected an answer to materialize in front of her, Dez found another piece of note paper and, much to her chagrin, started a third list. “So it’s just not any old wood and a few nails, but screws. I need to get back to Samuel with these plans and supply lists to see if the Estate already has some of this stuff.” She was almost ready to quit. To call a halt to this whole project. To apologize to Emmie for having such an unworkable idea. So ridiculous! Project manager of an orchard and a two beehive apiary. She could never do it all and she’d return her hat to the store before she even wore it. But Dez thought she’d try it on one more time before she stuffed it back in the store bag and return it. “What do you think, Miss Eliot? Do you want to look like a real farmer or do you want to act like a real farmer?………..I’m talking to myself again. I wonder where Emmie is?” Dez picked up her cell phone and tapped in a text message to Emmie. Pushing her hat back on her head, she went into the kitchen and set up a canvas on her easel. It was blank, so she just stared at it. She was about to open up her paint when Emmie’s text tone rang - the opening strains of Beethoven’s Fifth symphony was a prelude to her message to Dez: ‘I’m on my way home. Come out for supper and stay the night so we can talk.’

~~~~~

Emmie had been on her feet all day. Her original over the top ideas about having health care workers board in her home, a soup kitchen out of her house, delivering meals into town - all without consulting the staff - had been dashed when all the details of each plan were too much, too fast. Emmie still wanted to help out somehow. Dr. Jeremy Crawford, a physician at the hospital, had put her in touch with the only homeless shelter still open. So many memories surfaced when he had made a surprise to the Estate one day. Memories and longings. She was hesitant to maintain contact, but he was an old friend from days when neither of them were widowed. The two couples had frequently had many enjoyable times socializing with each other. 

At the homeless shelter, which provided brown bag lunches and occasionally hot take out meals, Emmie had been doing shifts for about two weeks, coming home each night exhausted. Setting up Covid19 precautions, she designated the front door as entrance for her only. Besides setting a precautionary measure, she had immediate access to her shower. It was only when showered and in clean clothes, that she would come down to the kitchen. Tonight when she came down, Dez had already set the table for them both. “Cook’s gone home. She’s left us a good meal, Emmie. Baked chicken, roast potatoes and creamed corn. There’s salad on the table and fresh scones. The kettle’s on for tea.” Dez looked up. “You look exhausted Emmie! What have you been doing?”

“Oh Dez. I’m so glad you’re here. I haven’t seen you for a couple of weeks. Remember that volunteering Jeremy told me about at the homeless shelter? Have you ever heard of hitting the ground running? I have run so many miles to serve so many unfortunate people and then I come home to this luxury. I feel almost guilty, but know I shouldn’t.” Emmie face was wet with tears. She dried her face with her napkin. “Now tell me what you’ve been up to. Did you tell me you’d bought a new hat? You don’t even wear hats, Dez. Did you bring it with you?” Emmie started to laugh “Oh my goodness. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. I’m just so tired and you look like Samuel’s much younger sister!”

~~~~~

The two sisters were hungry and ate all that Cook had left for them. She had already put away some of the chicken, at the back of the fridge, so she would be sure of leftovers for chicken salad the next day. As for the pie Dez had served to herself and Emmie, she wasn't absolutely certain the pie was for them, but Cook told her - 'If I haven't got it hidden from sight, help yourself!' So Dez did as she was told. She found an apple pie - in the fridge, front and centre - cut them each a modest slice and served it up. Now that those plates were clean, she was ready for a second, but only a sliver. Before serving herself, she offered more to her sister. “Have more pie, Emmie?”  Emmie sat back in her chair contentedly. “No, I am absolutely full to the brim. Another cup of tea though. Do you really think the orchard and apiary projects are too big for you?” In their dinner conversation, Dez had brought up her concerns about the overwhelming feelings she had with all that was needed.

Dez thought a moment before saying “No maybe not. I think I was surprised. It kind of tipped me off balance when I was at home. It’s a lot more work than I realized, Emmie. I just got kind of scared that I’d disappoint you and you’d see how unrealistic my suggestions had been. I guess I thought ………. I don’t know what I thought……but it will take more time than I had planned. Samuel reminded me of that. I may be spending more time out here than I thought.”

“Dez. Really. Stay out here as much as you want or need to. And if you need help out in the orchard or with the bees, we just hired a teenager to do some cleaning work - you’ve met Joey haven’t you? He might be able to help out - check with Digby to see if we’d be able to pay him anything. If Joey can’t help then maybe he has a friend  who needs a little bit of work?”

They cleaned up the kitchen, took their tea upstairs and sat in the living room, still discussing all their comings and goings. When the clock on the mantle struck 2 a.m. and they couldn't keep their eyes open any longer, they took themselves off to bed.

“What lies behind us and what lies before us are 

tiny matters compared to what lies within us.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Chapter One, Episode 97 - Right Timin' - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update:
Being with Samuel and Dez in the garden is a nice place to be. I'd just like some of his tomatoes!  

There were a few typos and misspellings that I fixed. Some of the wording needed rearranging, and in some cases, beefing up, but other than that this Episode was fairly well written.

It also indicated questions yet to be answered - were the apples ever picked? Was the tomato crop as pleasing to Elizabeth (Cook) as Samuel thought? Does Dez feel more confident in her role as Project Manager?

Right Timin'

“Yep. They’re fine folks. A little fuss is good for ‘em. Keeps ‘em sharp.” Samuel had watched James and Martha the previous evening settling their dispute. In the early morning, he was tying up wandering shoots of pole beans; not all the tendrils had grasped the strings draped from the string-line between groupings of bamboo supports. Samuel moved on to the next plantings. “Tomatoes needin' some help too. Pretty flowers on ‘em. Elizabeth will be pleased.”

“Samuel! Samuel!” He heard his name being called but had to stand up to see who it was. “Mz Dez. What’re you up to now?”.... She’s got that tablet thing with her……….“Over here Mz Dez.” Samuel waved his straw hat.

Dez was of breath, hurrying from house to garden. “Samuel. I’m glad I found you. I’ve made so many mistakes already with the orchard and with my plans for beehives. I need to talk to you and I need to talk to Digby so I don’t make things worse. I thought it would be easy to just get bees in here and pick apples, but………” Dez was out of breath, she’d been running and talking at the same time.

“Just settle, Mz Dez. Trees growin’ just fine. Bees'll be comin’ along when it’s time.” Samuel didn’t know what to do with a panicky woman. Elizabeth never gave him a lick of trouble. He’d see what he could do.

“But that’s just it. I ordered the bees too soon! We don’t have beehives for them and it’s too late in the year to get them started. Does the time of year make a difference? If they come, can’t we just store them somewhere.” Dez was pretty frantic. She had wanted so much to do a good job of Project Manager for the Emmie's orchard and an apiary on the Beaufort Estate. She had soon learned that she was out of her depth with the little she knew. Matt wasn’t able to spend as much time as both of them had planned. To help her out, he told her about seminars and classes available to her at the university and at the local community centre. Once she started them, she learned that spring was the best time for starting a beehive. It was already almost July. She and Samuel hadn’t finished building the beehives. 

“Mz Dez. C’mere. Let’s sit. Whyn’t you just call up the bee company? Stop yer order.” Samuel was patient with Dez. For a grown woman, she sure does get all panicky. 

Dez was almost in tears. “Samuel I’m not ready for the apple harvest either………..I’m going to stop bothering you with all my worries. Guess I was afraid I’d disappoint Emmie. She put me in charge of the orchard and I talked her into the bees, and I’m not doing either very quickly.”

“Mind if I have a pipe, Mz. Dez?” It was a little early for his noon time pipe, but that pipe in his mouth always calmed Samuel. He sat back in his chair, face up to the sun. “Seems to me that all these growin’ things have their own time. Just never been able to hurry ‘em up.”

The breeze stilled. The sun shone warm. Except for one crow croaking it’s warnings, not a bird was chirping. A wandering swallow-tail butterfly fluttered past lighting on a wild flower at the edge of the garden. Dez relaxed. Her face up to the sun. Slowly plans filtered down on its rays. 

Cancel the order for bees until spring. See if Digby has information about the varieties of apples in the orchard. Finish the beehives and get them set up. That’s what’s different. It’s the timing. Bees and trees have their own schedules. “Thanks, Samuel. You always give me good direction.” I need to get a straw hat like Samuel. No pipe though. Dez was learning.

“Every flower blooms at its own pace.”

~ Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun:

The Writings of Suzy Kassem