Chapter One, Episode 154 -To Atone and To Forgive - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

“Very often, I found in my re-writes, I had all the elements, just slightly out of order. - Julia Cameron, The Right to Write”

I have found this to be absolutely true. Any first draft just needs to get everything out of my head and onto the page. Then my job is to rewrite or revision to adjust the order of things. In this episode, in the later paragraphs, some such adjustments were made, as well as removing words and/or phrases that did not move the story forward. 

To Atone and To Forgive

A professional exterior hides many personal feelings. Dr. Jeremy Crawford had been walking around in this very uncomfortable emotional state for several days. Contacting the Social Work department about Mrs. Tyler’s apparent estrangement from any family and possible homelessness did ease his discomfort. But then there was Emelina. He had called her at 3 a.m. one morning on the strength of a photograph of a young girl. Emelina Eliot was the name on the back of the wrinkled and worn photograph. She got her sister, Dez, out of bed to accompany her on the vague mission to the hospital. Dez was not happy, but as she said, she would do anything for her sister. For Jeremy, it was all very, very unprofessional and, as her friend - as their friend - he had behaved very rudely. At least that’s what had been rolling around in his head. He had taken his three scheduled days off. The first day was a day of isolation from others, but he was able to get outside for walks and breathe fresh air. The next two days he had committed to talking with both Emelina and Dez. He called Dez first, not really knowing why. He just knew he wanted to talk with her first. After he ranted on while eating his supper, and then talking on the phone with Emelina, he thanked Dez profusely and left her 8th floor apartment at a run.

~~~~~

Jeremy had to stop long enough to wait for the elevator, walk through the first floor without looking like a man running from a crime scheme, get to his car, dig through his pockets for his keys, unlock the door, get in and sit down behind the steering wheel. He had been in such a rush that his keys seemed to pull his hand to his car’s ignition, but he stopped and dropped his forehead on the steering wheel. He rested for only a second then leaned back, pushing his head against the support. Aloud he said “What am I in such a rush about?!” He really needed to get all his guilt feelings off his chest and had dumped them on Dez. She was great. Just listened to him carry on and fed him supper at the same time. Now that he had actually stopped long enough to think, he felt his nervousness return. Emelina. He told her he would be right out to her Estate. “Enough, Dr. Crawford. You are better than this Nervous Nellie role you’re playing.” He started his car, pulled smoothly out of his parking spot and pointed his car toward the Estate.

Jeremy enjoyed the short drive out to Emelina's home. It was early evening, so the sun was just settling into the horizon for the night. Even the clouds were taking on a gilt edged mauve hue. Jeremy felt himself relax with each kilometre. As he pulled up the drive, he could see the lights on in the downstairs, but none upstairs. He drove around the back, parking at the kitchen door. Getting out of the car, he glanced around. All the staff must be gone for the day. I hope it’s Em in there.  He sent her a text to say he had arrived and he was coming in the kitchen door. It was a lovely evening. Maybe they could go for a walk before it got too cool.

“Em? It’s Jeremy. I’m coming in…..” Her answer did not come immediately. She sounded quite distracted. “Come in. I’m just reading Carrie’s latest letter. Coffee’s ready. Help yourself.”

Hello,

I’m not sure what to call you. Emelina or Mrs. Beaufort, so I just say hello. 

I am getting stronger. I'm sitting up in a chair to write this letter. I’m going to try to keep it short as I’m still tiring very easily.

The doctor told me today that I would not have to be moved to Intensive Care, that I am doing so well he may soon be able to discharge me. It's been suggested that I will have to go to a care home for recovery care. 

The nurse is here to get me back to bed so I will close and hope to hear from you soon.

Carrie

Emelina gave the letter to Jeremy. “Here, Jeremy, read this. What do you think? Is she ready for discharge so soon? Sit here.” Looking very thoughtful, Emmie stood and stretched her back, muttered something to herself and drained her coffee cup.

“Well, Em, I’m not sure. I’ve not spent a lot of time with her. As a matter of fact, I’ve done that on purpose.” Jeremy could feel the embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck.

“Why?!” Emmie turned suddenly to face him. “Shouldn’t you be the doctor in charge? You were on duty when she was admitted, weren’t you? And why do you look like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar?”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about Em. I want to apologize for getting you involved in this woman’s life just because of a photo, and especially in the middle of the night. I don’t know why I expected that you would just come because I asked you. I should have contacted Social Work first. I am so sorry.” His words were spoken smoothly and without hesitation, as though they had just been waiting for permission to come alive. Emelina looked quite annoyed. “Well, I’m not sorry for becoming involved in Carrie’s life. That hour of the morning was really not of your choosing. Would anyone from Social Work have been available that hour?” Her voice softened, she sat by her good friend at the table putting her hand on his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder. “So far, she and I are really more like pen pals. Now I have a favour to ask of you.” Putting his hand over hers, and leaning his head against hers, Jeremy said “For you, Em, absolutely anything.”

Emelina sat up, and turned toward him. “I need you to find out if and when Carrie might be discharged. Find out from the Social Worker if she has a place to go. You said when she came in she looked like she probably lived on the streets and that she said she ‘had no one’. If she does have a place to go then that’s wonderful. If she doesn’t, I have an extra bed here that is never used. If Social Work, and Carrie, think it’s appropriate, I’d like to have her here. But I need to know more about her, so I don’t run the risk of being taken in.”

Jeremy sighed with relief “Thank you Emelina. And I will do as as you ask. It may be a couple of days before I know anything but I can at least talk to the doc in charge of her care. Now, let’s go for a walk. It’s lovely evening.”

~~~~~

The two friends walked hand in hand along the running track. A half moon was just rising in the west. A long thin stretch of cloud drifted across the sky, its feathery tip lightly brushed the moon. “Jeremy?”          “What, Em?”     “Stay the night?”     “What will Cook think when she gets here in the morning?”       “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her.”   A distant hoot owl challenged the night.

“Nothing erases the past. There is repentance, there is atonement, 

and there is forgiveness. That is all, but that is enough.”

~ Ted Chiang, The Merchant and the Alchemist’s Gate

Chapter One, Episode 153 - Drama - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

There is a question I ask when I'm reading my reviews. “Are those words furthering the story?” This is an especially important question when a sentence feels disjointed in my mouth. My decision has to be to rearrange words, to remove words, or maybe get rid of the whole sentence. In fact, a phrase or sentence, may not only be unnecessary but may distract from the intent of the setting or story. With this in mind, rearranging and removal were the tasks of today's revision.

Drama

The phone rang. Her well used cell phone was face-up on the counter, dangerously close to a water filled pickle jar where two paint brushes soaked. One paint brush behind her ear, another clamped between her teeth, Dez lifted her brush from the canvas. She glanced at the offending noise. “Jeremy? What’s he calling me for?” Taking her brush out of her mouth and setting her paint filled palette in the midst of her cluttered counter, she wiped her hands on her colourfully stained apron. Punching the 'accept call' icon she answered the call. “Jeremy? Did you call a wrong number? This is Dez - not Emmie.”

~~~~

With cup of coffee in hand, Dr. Jeremy Crawford, decided to call Emmie’s sister, Dez. He knew he should have already called Emelina. Talked to her, apologized, said something but he was too embarrassed. He knew he was completely out of line the day - the night - that he called her. Asking her to come to the hospital to see his patient, Mrs. Tyler? Just because Em's name was on the back of an old photo? But this patient wasn’t expected to live through the night, she said she didn’t have anyone, and looked so lost, so alone……. “Dez, I need….I want to talk with you about my behaviour the other night. I should be talking to Emelina and I will, but you were there.”

Dez was confused. “Jeremy, how would that help? I don’t know what I could say. I don’t even know why you think talking to me would help, but if you want to come over here….have you had supper yet? I’ll just heat up a pizza and make some salad. You can talk and I can listen. Sound's like that’s all you need - some pizza and a sounding board.”

~~~~~

“You were right, Dez.” Jeremy took another slice of the pizza and more salad. “About them both - pizza and a sounding board. I haven’t been eating much of anything the last couple of days. My fridge is practically empty. I haven't even cared much about food.” Putting down his salad fork, he looked at Dez. “I really did mess up, didn’t I?” Abruptly he pushed his chair back and paced up and down the small kitchen. “Such a jackass! I shouldn’t have called her at that hour with such vague information about a woman I’d never seen before. All on the strength of that stupid photograph!”

“Slow down Jeremy, stop being so hard on yourself.” Dez listened to Jeremy’s little outburst with sympathy. “Maybe you messed up and maybe you didn’t. But what’s done is done. Did I think it was weird? Yes, but I’d do anything for my sister, so when she asked me to come with her, I did.” Dez recalled the concern in Emmie’s voice that night that urged her to get up. “I wasn’t exactly awake and eager to get out of my nice warm bed, but Emmie saved me from a predicament three months ago, so returning the favour was the least I could do.” 

~~~~~

Being with Dez, he felt strong enough to call her sister, embarrassed or not. After a short conversation with Emelina, Jeremy looked at Dez and ssaid he had to go. With a new found excitement and in a most unprofessional manner, Jeremy kissed Dez on each cheek, hugged her as she sat at the table, said “Thank you! Thank you.” He took a last bite of pizza and left Dez’s apartment. Still sitting at the table and stunned, she heard her door slam and Jeremy’s feet pounding down the hall. She stood, put their plates in the sink, the leftover pizza in the fridge for breakfast. Washing the tomato sauce from her hands, she picked up her brushes and went back to her painting.

“Never let somebody’s drama determine the outcome of your day.”

~ Terry Mark (unknown author of quote)

Chapter One, Episode 152 - Fitting - Situationally Theirs

Dandelion Chain
Painting by Ruth Van Egmond of Original Fine Art,
Victoria, B.C.

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

I've often thought that, although Dez started out this whole little saga, she has almost taken a back seat to her sister. In this Episode, curious about what seemed almost unfair, she spent the day in her own home. There was little to revise - some sentence structure, a misspelling corrected - but in general an interesting view into Dez's life.

Fitting

Desperanza Dawn Eliot was curious. There were a lot of things going on that could be the reason for her curiosity, but none of them had to do with her life. Emmie’s predicament about Carrie Tyler was only connected to her because they were related. James and Martha, good, good people newly married, because they worked for Emmie. Brigitte, another of Emmie’s employees, had vied with Dez for Martha’s home. Dez decided that her own apartment was her home, so she allowed any competition to fizzle out. Giles was just a likeable guy, always smiling and cheerful while he chauffeured her sister around and maintained the vehicles. Cook was just Cook. A nice person to be around, always taking care of everyone, she served up a good bowl of soup or a large slice of apple pie. Samuel. Samuel was a good man. He was full of wisdom and stories intertwined and sprinkled with the scent of newly turned soil and warmth of the sunshine. 

No, her curiosity was about where she fit in to this funny little community. She had questioned this before, then, distracted and busy with her work for Mr. Jorgensson or in the orchard on Emmie’s estate, she forgot it all. Maybe, she thought, just maybe, she didn’t have to ‘fit in’ anywhere but her own home. The surprise for Dez was that she was calm and satisfied in the knowing. Confident, at ease. In her home, she could do what she enjoyed. When on the estate, although Emmie’s sister, she was also her employee as Project Manager of the orchard. A rather silly title, in Dez’s opinion, but one that granted her a sense of place and belonging. 

While Dez was doing all this ruminating and muddling, she had pulled out her canvases and paints from a store room that was really the pantry. She barely had enough jars of spaghetti sauce, boxes of pasta and cans of soup to fit on one shelf. It left a lot of space that she filled with whatever wouldn’t fit in her cupboards. No rhyme, reason or order for the pots and pans, innumerable personal drink containers and all her art supplies stacked higgelty piggelty, they patiently waiting for a day such as this. Propping up the mop and broom, she pushed the scrub pail out of her way to get to her easel. She set it up in her bright kitchen, filled a little container with water, got out her paints and as any good artist will tell you, stared at her blank canvas. With wild abandon, Dez took one of her largest brushes, filled it with ultramarine blue and painted a magnificent arc across the canvas. In an air of ‘ze great artiste!’ she chose another brush and another colour - brilliant fuchsia splashed across the canvas to outline the ultramarine blue. Mindful of her neighbours, she cranked up her stereo while she painted. Rolling Stones, Willie Nelson, Stevie Ray Vaughn all sang to her and with her.  

For a brief moment, paint brush in her teeth, pouring water into the tea kettle, Dez started to laugh out loud. The brush fell on the floor with splash of dandelion yellow. She left the tea kettle in the sink, turned and leaned back against the counter and just kept laughing. Dez was laughing at herself. Following her instinct to dive into the pantry for canvas and colour, without looking, she found it. Quite literally, at the end of each day, Desperanza Dawn Eliot fit in at home with her own messes. 

“Omigosh - I’m a squash!”

~ Dave Horowitz, The Ugly Pumpkin

Chapter One, Episode 151 - Just a Note - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

Clarity, spelling, punctuation, sentence structure, wordiness. These are just of the few issues that are the mechanics of revision. Scattered throughout this episode, each of these areas have been attended to. My resource frequently is The Elements of Style by William Strunk, Jr. and E.B.White for any of these issues. 

Just a Note

“I have my own anniversary today, Dez.” Her sister made the pronouncement with pride.

Gathering bouquets of wildflowers for vases upstairs and downstairs, Dez and Emelina had enjoyed being outside on the warm and lightly clouded day. A streak of blue dared show through as the sky-high winds drifted the puffs and stretches of gray, shafts of sunlight woven through like gold thread. “An anniversary? Today? Oh, I know……I think.......The afternoon of March 25, the same day I was becoming a hardened criminal and early that same morning you had to stand on your own two feet. Am I right?”

Emmie put her flowers in the wheelbarrow suggested to them. Samuel, the yard man, had wisely brought it to them, saying ‘if you’re goin’ to get that many flowers, best use this wheelbarrow.’ Gratefully the sisters put their harvest of wildflowers in it. “Dez don’t you think that’s enough? And you're right. I woke up that morning and expected to have Brigitte, in that silly little uniform I insisted she wear, bring my tea to me, brush my hair and put my makeup on. I rang my little bell over and over. How did I ever get to that state? At first I was angry that I was being so sadly neglected. I marched to my bedroom door and was about to fling it open, calling out my displeasure when I saw something had been slipped under my door.” She paused and called out to her sister. “If you don’t hurry, Dez, you’ll miss the wheelbarrow. I’m starting back up to the house now.”

Dez, neatly avoiding bees in the meadow, picked her last wildflower. She called out “Stop at the garden. Samuel has a couple of baskets of tomatoes for Cook. How did you manage without Brigitte putting you all together and bringing you tea? You never would have had anything ready and you would have had to actually go downstairs.” Emmie set the wheelbarrow by the garden and shaded her eyes looking for Samuel just as he came from behind the toolshed where he had been clearing out space for a new compost bin. She greeted him with a smile “Oh, there you are, Samuel. Dez said you have some tomatoes for Cook.” Catching up to Emmie, her sister set her flowers into the wheelbarrow and cleared space for two mid-sized baskets of ripe red tomatoes. “I actually managed quite nicely, Dez. Everyone had left me notes all over the kitchen. Cook left sandwiches in the fridge that she had also stocked with my preferred foods. I did drift most of the day trying to find everything, finding out how to work some of Cook’s gadgets and in the afternoon I cried my eyes out until I fell asleep.”

Samuel interrupted the two sisters “You two get on now. Tomatoes are gettin’ too warm now that they’re off the vines and them flowers need to get in water. If you’re goin’to cut 'em, then you best take care of 'em.” Samuel didn’t think much of cutting flowers but once it was done, it was done. He was also thinking of a delicious cold tomato sandwich with garden lettuce frilling from Elizabeth’s crusty homemade bread. The sisters glanced at each other, hearing a tiny edge to his voice. “Ok Samuel. we'll get all of this up to the house and take care of it.” He picked up his hoe and started carefully cleaning up weeds among the bigger plants, getting down on his knees for the remaining carrots and the climbing beans. 

Turning to the task at hand, Dez lifted the wheelbarrow and started toward the house. “Em, you mentioned notes. That reminds me. When I went back up to the house, Martha said there was a letter for you. It’s just a little one and it’s from the hospital. I didn’t recognize the handwriting. No reason that I should, I guess.”

Dez had barely parked the old green wheelbarrow outside the back door when her sister whisked up an armful of flowers and rushed into the house. Like a little girl on her birthday, she was excited. “Martha….. Do I have some mail?” Accepting the wildflowers thrust at her, while trying to turn the teakettle off, it was Cook who spoke “Martha and James have gone out for a bit. Martha told me to give you this.” It was a slim letter, so light that it didn’t even feel like there could be anything in it. Emelina sat down and carefully opened the envelope even though she wanted to rip it open. She really didn’t know who it was from, but felt like she did. One slip of paper fell out onto the table and slipped onto the floor. Leaning down, she picked it up. On a single piece of paper, in a very shaky hand, Emelina read the few lines......

Hello,

Thank you for the letters.

A volunteer comes in and reads them to me.

Hearing about the summer makes me smile.

Too weak to write any more,

Bye for now,

Carrie

Dez had brought the rest of their load into the house. Cook showed her where the spare vases were. Choosing one, she created a lovely bouquet for the kitchen table. The baskets of tomatoes were deposited on the cupboard beside the stove. While she was wiping her hands free of dirt, she looked up at her sister and noticed her wet eyes. “Emmie, here’s a tissue. Wipe your eyes and blow your nose.”

~~~~~

Carrie Tyler had indeed improved, but she was very weak. When the volunteer came, she brought with her a small writing pad, a pen and a stamped envelope. “Carrie are you sure you want to try this?” Carrie turned her pale face to her. “Yes, I need to try.”

“Let us be grateful to the people who are us happy; they are 

the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”

~ Marcel Proust

Chapter One, Episode 150 - Of the Moment - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

A writing coach I once worked with briefly, asked me this question: “Are you invested in your own words?” At the time, my immediate response was - No. I assumed this was the expected response. Over time, I have realized that, in general, I really am not particularly invested in my own words. It is the clarity and meaning behind my words that I seek. However, over the past 150 revisions, I have recognized both the apparent desire to keep certain words or phrases as well as well as my willingness to dispense of them. 

This episode did change some previously desired word choices. I didn't notice any major changes that would improve this kitchen conversation.

Of the Moment

“Exactly 150 days, Em.”  

Emelina, distracted by her sister’s voice, said “What’s exactly 150 days, Dez?”

“You know, Emmie, the day I turned to crime. You and I were still in different worlds. I was just barely paying my bills and you were in your Ivory Tower, letting everyone take care of you. I went to work everyday, sometimes more than one job. You went to Charity functions when you weren’t at home in bed. 150 days ago is when I tried to take some of that lovely money just lying on Miss Prudhomme’s desk.” 

“We were in different worlds, weren’t we? I had almost forgotten. Why did we ever let go of each other?” Dez and Emmie were in the Estate kitchen, helping Cook. They were peeling and coring apples, getting them ready for freezing and some for a large pot of apple sauce. Cook was busy cleaning and slicing mounds of carrots, also for the freezer. “Miss Dez, I had no idea that I shouldn’t trust you too close to the family silver.” Cook didn’t know whether to laugh or be frightened, but when she saw the look of amusement on their faces, she knew there had been some fun. “Oh, go on with you two. Did you get any of the money, Miss Dez? If you did maybe I should be getting you to pay for the extra food you get out here.” Cook was laughing now. “So why did you let go of each other? You both seem pretty close now.”

“Cook, I’ve forgotten if there ever was a single incident or if we just stopped calling each other.” Dez put down the apple she was peeling and looked up at the ceiling. Then she went back to work, saying “And by the time we were both on our own, our lives were pretty different. I thought Emmie was stuck up and a bit holier than thou and…..” Emmie interrupted. “And I thought you were irresponsible and didn’t care about the finer things. Really, if it hadn’t been for that police officer calling me in the middle of the night, we may never have found each other. If this pandemic was good for anything, it forced us to live together again. I was all alone in what you called my Ivory Tower, and you were all alone with only the police telling you what you had to do.”

“Are there any more apples, Cook or are we done?” Emelina picked up the big basin of apple peels and took it to the compost bucket. “You girls have done enough, and I thank you. I’ll finish packaging the apples and get them in the freezer. Go ahead and wash up. What are you two getting up to now?”

~~~~~

“Cook said that we seem pretty close now.” Emmie and Dez had gone upstairs. Emmie, to tidy her room, still in disarray from the night Jeremy called her to go to the hospital; Dez, to re-pack her backpack. She was returning to her own apartment that afternoon. “Those two weeks together, just the two of us, here in this big old house was our opportunity. Good thing we took it.” Dez was hesitant to leave her sister, but her employer Mr. Jorgensson, needed her for a couple of day shifts. Emmie called out to her “Dez, look at this.” She was walking from her room with an old photo album. “Look at these pictures - you must have been 12 and I would have been 14. We were close then. We looked so happy.” Emelina was tearing up. Her sister had a flash of thought. “When do you think we really stopped being sisters, Em? When did you start dating Michael? I never really did like him but you were all gaga over him.” Her big sister closed the old album. “No, I was not. He was just good looking, two years older than me and his parents were rich. He had his own car. He was just, well, convenient and it was logical. I was the most popular girl in the school and he was the most popular and very cool guy.” She held the album to her like it was one of her school books. Dez laughed “See! You’re still gaga over him.”

Emmie’s face fell, she sat down in the living room and put the photo album on the coffee table. “We did break up when he went off to university. But I guess you’re right. I never did get over him and I probably never will. He never knew we had a child. Dez, will I ever find out if Carrie is that child?” Silence filled the room. Carefully and calmly, Dez set her backpack at the head of the stairs. “I don’t know, Em. No one but Carrie can let us in on those adoption papers and she'll have to be well before she can do that. Can you just be her friend while we wait, or will that be too much, Em?”

“Oh, Dez. How can it be too much? It’s only when I go back to those years that I worry about my teenage self. If I keep myself grounded in the here and now, I’m able to see Carrie as someone who just needs to have someone out here. Some kind of hope to hang on to. Working at the shelter showed me just how much a little bit of hope can help. So I’ll just write my letters - today it will be about the trees down by the water and peeling apples.”

“It’s funny how humans can wrap their mind around things 

and fit them into their version of reality,” 

~ Rick Riordan, The Lightning Thief

Chapter One, Episode 149 - Gifted - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

In my review, the theme underscoring the revisions was pretty broad. Too many words here, not enough there and once case of a duplication of the word 'to'. Once more, when I think of the stacks of books in libraries and book stores, I applaud the copy editors of this world that let us read fiction or non-fiction, children story or history with relative ease. 

Gifted

Carrie was restless. Heavily sedated, she was unaware of where she was. Beginning to breath on her own, nursing had recommended to the physicians that the respirator be removed. “At least that’s what’s been reported to me.” Emelina and Dez, allowed up to the sixth floor and accompanied by Miss Campbell, the social worker were filled in on the patient's condition. 

When they arrived at Carrie's room, the three women stood at the observation window to her room. Once more, Emelina was 16 years old. She shuddered and shrugged her shoulders, bringing her back to reality. This was not a nursery window, and she was not looking at her baby. Instead, Carrie, a grown woman, pale, frail and restless, showed none of an infant’s innocence. Emelina turned away, leaning on Dez. “I thought I had recovered from the shock of it all, Dez.” She looked up at her sister with sad eyes, her face drawn. Numbly, she handed a sealed envelope to the social worker. “Miss Campbell, here is the note I wrote last night. I wanted it here today. I plan to write one each day, but truly am not certain.” The Social Worker, a charming woman with a kind smile, clipped it to her folder. “I'll be keeping in touch, but if you have any questions, please call. I have a meeting I have to get to, so must leave. You know your way out of the hospital?” She looked up at Dez. “Yes, miss. I’ll take care of her. She's still pretty shaken.” Miss Campbell’s beeper buzzed. “Oops, I’m late and they’re tracking me down. Both of you take care. I’ll get this note to Mrs Tyler after my meeting.”

Dez took advantage of the Social Worker's departure as a cue to leave the hospital.“Emmie, come on. Lets us get going as well. We’re both just running on coffee and a little bit of toast. We’re going out to the Estate. I’ve already contacted Cook and she’ll make us some breakfast. You don’t need to be in here and stewing over it all. There’s nothing you can do but write her letters - you can do that from your home. Get them in Digby's morning mail. You can write her about little things on the estate? And you’ll need to talk with Brigitte about plans you already have and decide whether to keep on with them. Enough talk - let’s get going. Have you heard from Jeremy yet?” While Dez was talking she was steering Emmie down the hall, into the elevator and out to the parking lot. She thought that if she kept talking, it might distract her sister enough to pry her away. “No, Dez. I haven’t and I really don’t want to hear from him while I'm this way. And I think you’re right. Being in town is just going to keep my head in a mess. At least on the Estate, I’ll have things to do. Even if it’s just walking in circles on the track.”

Dez grinned. “Oh no you don’t. That’ll just match the whirlwind in your head. We’ve got work to do in the orchard. Joey and Steven have been great at picking the apples, but there’s still a lot of work to do.” Dez didn’t know exactly what work needed doing, but she would find some or make some if she had to. “I’m driving, Emmie.”

“Dez, did I ever tell you that you can be quite bossy? I am your older sister and deserve some respect.” Emmie actually smiled. “Actually after what I’ve put you through in the last 24 hours, you’re the one that deserves my respect. Getting you up at a ridiculous hour, dragging you to the hospital with me to see Carrie, sleeping in your bed……..I don’t believe this has all happened.” Emmie seemed lost in thought for a moment. Watching the ripening fields go by, she said suddenly “What’s happening with the bees, Dez?” Turning to face her, she said “Are we going to have any this fall?”

Trying to maintain Emmie’s drifting thoughts, Dez kept up the discussion. “My order never did get processed, so I’m actually trying to attract a feral swarm, but I don’t think it’s going to work. Too late in the season. The meadow, from the orchard to the stream, is full of beautiful fall wild flowers that I don't want mown down. Full of bees, you’d think that there’d be a swarm around looking for a home..”

~~~~~

Carrie did get a note or a letter from Emelina every day while she was in the hospital. The first week, she was not able to read them herself. The Social Worker had a volunteer sit with her and read the letters to her. Still very weak, she began to try to read them herself. The first time, even the paper was too heavy and she had to ask the volunteer to help her. Emelina would tell her what she had done in a day. She told her about where she lived, her sister, the smell of the apple orchard in the evening, the warmth of the people that worked at the estate and of course, the delicious food that came from the garden and into the kitchen. Carrie always dozed and rested easily after the letters. Letters that were bound wth an elastic band and carefully put away in her bedside table.

“Not for ourselves alone are we born.”

~ Marcus Tullius Cicero