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

Chapter One, Episode 148 - Together - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

Revisions often take the form of reducing wordiness ~ using three words when one would do or sometimes the removal of an entire phrase from the text. The principal of showing not telling is also an important focus for revision. These were both areas given my attention in this episode. Gratefully, there were no typographical errors to complicate this process.

Together

Maybe I should write to her? But who would read it to her? Emmie desperately wanted to communicate with Carrie Tyler, this young woman with a picture of a young girl. 'Emelina Eliot' written on the back. If she had been well, they could meet for a hamburger in the park. But she wasn’t. When Jeremy called her the night before, she was apparently on death’s door. Dez told her she was better today. Something about dehydration. So why was she on a respirator? Emmie searched her memory. She was on a respirator, wasn’t she? Maybe a letter? She’d often heard Cook talking about the letters she wrote to her sister in England. “Why, I just have a cup of tea beside me and I talk to Lily with my pen. And when she writes back to me, she tells me she has a cup of tea. Then, we’ve just had a good visit.” ..... But would that really be a good way to start to talk with this stranger?

“Dez, do you have some writing paper? And I’ll have to borrow a pen - I may have one in my purse. Yes, never mind the pen. I just need some writing paper and an envelope. Is there a light on your balcony?” Emmie paced and fussed. If she was at home, she’d go running on the track. But she’d decided to stay in Hartley with Dez. “I’m tired of so many unanswered questions!” Dez handed her a packet of writing paper and some envelopes, but kept quiet. She knew enough about her sister to recognize it was good time to stay out of her way. “I feel absolutely helpless! I’ve been asked to help, but there’s nothing I can do or say that is of any help. Why didn’t Jeremy let us alone? I’m sorry Dez, I shouldn’t be ranting at you. You didn’t ask for any of this.” Emelina’s phone rang, interrupting their very one-sided conversation. “Dez ~ It’s the hospital!” Emmie drew herself up, cautiously answering the call. “Hello.” Emmie listened, stern and unyielding when the phone rang, her face slowly softened. “Thank you Miss Campbell. And please contact me with any further updates on Mrs. Tyler’s condition. If she needs anything please let me know.” Emelina hesitated. “Miss Campbell? One more thing. I have a question for you. I’d like to write a short note to Mrs.Tyler. Do you think it’s appropriate, or should I wait until her condition improves a bit more?” She listened to the Social Worker's advice. “Make it a short note and address it care of you - Miss Campbell - at the Social Work Department. Thank you. Yes I have her room number here as well.” Another pause. “You’re quite right. This is a very delicate situation. I’m doing ok and I'm with my sister here in Hartley. Your phone number is registered in my phone. Have a good evening and we’ll talk soon.”

Emmie let out a big sigh. She picked up the note pad where she dropped it when her phone rang. “Carrie’s a bit better tonight but still not out of the woods. I can write her a letter, a short one and address it care of the social worker I just spoke to.” Dez had disappeared into the kitchen while Emmie was on the phone to give her some privacy, only catching a word or two of her sister’s replies. “Feel any better, Em?” Dez could see the relief on her sister’s face, but needed to hear it, too. “Yes. A bit. Still a lot of unanswered questions, but it’s not the time to figure them all out. I guess I can go easy on Jeremy. He did what he thought was right, and I’m glad he did.” Emmie started to go to the balcony, paused and turned back to Dez. “I had let go of my child. Remember? You were all excited when I told you my story, and I told you to let her live her life.” Emmie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You couldn’t have known this would happen, Em. That this part of her life would come here like this. Go. Write your letter. Give me your phone and I’ll take any calls.”

~~~~~

Hello Carrie,

My name is Emelina Beaufort. I was given your name by a colleague of the Social Worker reading you this note. They have the interesting notion that you and I may be related. We’ll have to sit down after you’re better and find out why they think so. Right now, your job is to get better so we can have that chat. 

I am keeping this short so I don’t tire you out. The Social Worker I’ve spoken to tonight is Miss Campbell. I’ve given her my phone number. She will keep me updated on how you are doing. If the doctors say you are well enough for visitors or if you need anything else, have her or one of her colleagues contact me.

I’m looking forward to meeting you.

Be well, Carrie

Emelina

Emelina held up the note, re-read it and then called out to her sister. “Dez? Are you there? Would you please read this and tell me what you think? Did I say too much? Not enough?”

“One minute, Em. I’m bringing hot chocolate.” Dez, coming from the kitchen, walked carefully across the living room, two mugs of hot chocolate in hand, both piled precariously with mini marshmallows. Emelina stood up quickly, opened the screen door and took one of the mugs from Dez. “Mmmmmmm……good idea! Here’s the note I wrote.”

There was only a moment's silence while Dez sipped her hot chocolate and read what her sister had written. “It looks just right, Em. Do you want to mail it tonight or should we do that in the morning?”

“Let’s mail it in the morning. I think it’s time for me……… for us…to relax. Thank you, Dez. A toast to us: ‘We can do this together.’ ” The sisters clicked their mugs and relaxed as the darkness softened and settled.

“Let there be spaces in your togetherness.”

~ Kahlil Gibran