Comes the Dawn
Joanie Richardson saw the old blue Ford parked behind the duplex. Her mother, Martha Haverstock-Digby owned the other side of the duplex. She had married the Estate butler and moved to the other side of the Beaufort Estate. Joanie and her children, Ben and Abby, missed her greatly. Martha had rented out her half of the duplex to Dez Eliot, sister to Mrs. Beaufort-Crawford. She liked Dez, visiting with her now and then. She drove a red car. That truck seemed out of place. But Joanie had to get the three of them off to school. A teacher at Hartley Elementary School, her children were students there as well. The children’s lunches packed, she put them in their backpacks. “Ben. Abby. Come on, the bus is coming. Abby, honey, stay close to Ben until he gets you to your school room.” Ben groaned. “Mom, do I have to!? Can’t she ride with you?”
“No, Ben, I want you to take care of your sister going to school. I don’t want to have this argument again. You know I’ll be taking her home after school, but she needs to learn about riding the bus. You’re a good brother.” Joanie ruffled her son’s hair, adjusted his backpack and turned to her daughter. Adjusting her young daughter's backpack, she said “Abby, just stay close to Ben.” She saw them off to the bus and went to her own car. Glancing over at the truck in Dez’s parking space, she reminded herself to call her mother about the truck. Checking her watch, her thoughts turned back to her school day.
~~~~~
Dez woke with a start. In a deep sleep for barely three hours, she woke worried about her car. Where was it? She was in her own bed. How did she get home? Shaking her head to clear it, memory of the previous night surfaced slowly. Jeremy and Em. Driving on the highway in Jeremy’s car, top down. A restaurant? Mexican food. The night sky. Matt!? He drove me home? Sitting up slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She could hear the rattle of dishes from the kitchen. She saw Matt’s shirt. Flung on the floor. Picking it up, she put it on. It hung mid thigh. Rolling up the sleeves, she went across to the bathroom. Washed her face and raked her fingers through her hair. “You’re up.” Matt stood leaning against the bathroom door, wearing only his pants. “I was going to make coffee and breakfast but I can’t find anything in your kitchen. Fridge is pretty empty too.” He grinned his slow grin at her; her stomach fluttered. Suddenly shy, she wished she had put on more than just his shirt. Trying to be calm she returned his smile, if a bit stiffly. “I guess we stayed up pretty late. Thank you for getting me home.” She wanted to faint, feeling like a guilty teenager after breaking curfew. She want to reach out to him; thrilled about their evening and night together. Steadying herself on the bathroom vanity, she tried again. “Matt, I don’t really have much breakfast food here. Not much coffee, but enough for a couple of cups.” Reaching out her hand to him, she let herself be led to the kitchen. “We can go out for breakfast later, Dez.”
~~~~~
At around 4:30, Joanie returned home from school with 6 year old Abby in tow. The old blue Ford was still there. She couldn’t have known that Matt and Dez had gone out and returned. They had gone out to breakfast and to the grocery store. When she called her mother, all she was told was that everything was all right. “Don’t worry, dear. Dez is home and her sister will be taking care of her car.” She gave her children their supper, and when it was time, put them to bed. Pulling a sweater on, she stepped out on her back porch. In the gathering dusk, she could see two people on the porch swing on Dez’s back porch, arms around each other. Joanie slipped quietly inside her home.
“Good neighbors always spy on you to make sure you are doing well.”
~ Pawan Mishra, Coinman: An Untold Conspiracy
2 comments:
Dry nicely presented romance- we can read between the lines just fine! The quotation is great- perfectly balanced! Once again, I’m anxious for the next week’s installment. I hope you enjoy the writing as much as I enjoy the reading, and trust that you do in order to have been consistent across lots of years now. And not always with the folks of your efforts giving you their stories….🙃
Not “ dry” — very.
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