Willow House Chapter 18

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 Scariest. Storm. Ever.

     Once the glass door is closed behind us, I feel immediately better. Looking through the walls to the outside, I can see that the dark clouds mean serious business. It looks like nighttime out there. The wind is whipping the wildflowers all over the place like it has anger issues.

     There’s a light switch right inside the front door. I flip it, and not only the chandelier lights up, but also some old fashioned light posts scattered around that I hadn’t paid any attention to before. They give the place a warm, cozy feeling. I take a couple of deep breaths and start to calm down.

     I look up to the chandelier. It’s prettier, all lit up, than I even imagined it would be. The black iron leaves that hang down have small crystals that cling to the edges and, with the electric candles shining through, they look like dew drops.

     Tommy reaches for my hand and tugs me around the corner and down to the little bridge that crosses over the stream. Maybe he wants another shot at communicating with the fish. 

     He sits down on a rock at the edge of the water and starts to take off his shoes. Mrs. H. told us to stay away from the water, but I’m pretty sure she meant no swimming in the pond. I take off my own shoes and hang my feet down into the stream. The water is freezing! But, the greenhouse, which had been warmed by the sun all morning (until the sun disappeared from the universe) feels pretty toasty. The combination is blissful.

     “Ahhhhhh. Isn’t this nice?” I say to Tommy.

     “Nice,” Tommy repeats. 

     I hear a bird chirping. Hubert! I had almost forgotten about Hubert! I want so much to see him before I leave today. His chirping gets a little louder and closer. He’s actually coming to talk to us! Yay!

     “Today!” Tommy says with glee. He stands up on the bank.

     “Yes, Tommy. Today!” I laugh and stand beside him looking through the plant life for a glimpse of the bird.

     I lean down and give Tommy a kiss on top of his sweet, little head and catch a glimpse of movement in the water. There’s something in the stream swimming toward us. Something larger than a goldfish. Something that looks like that girl in the boat. I can’t move. Hubert swoops down on me. I think he’s angry. He’s squawking and carrying on, and there’s this thing in the water, and I’m panicking. 

     Tommy runs after Hubert, back up onto the bridge and away from the stream. I realize that Hubert is trying to help. He’s warning us! Tommy is chasing him back to the entrance so that I don’t have to pull or carry my little brother along. Tommy is laughing like it’s some kind of game. I come to my senses and race after them.

     We reach the entryway and are crossing under the chandelier, when the door swings in with a violent crash. The lights go out. There’s a roll of thunder, and a bolt of lightning. It’s just like a corny, horror movie. Only this is real! I’m going to faint.

     Mrs. Hallovich stands, silhouetted in the doorway.

     “Come along children!” she shouts over the wind. “There’s a wicked storm brewing. I want you back at the house before the rain comes!”

     She doesn’t have to ask me twice.

     She scoops Tommy up and hustles us back through the clearing. I get a spray of water in my face as the wind blows across the fountain. Oh my gosh! The fountain picked a fine time to start working! We make it up the back steps of Willow House, just as the sky lets loose in a downpour. 

     “My mom said it was supposed to be sunny today,” I say. I guess I’m trying to make normal conversation. I’m more than a little upset.

     “Were you down by the pond?” Mrs. H. asks. 

     I think this is a strange question in response to my weather comment.

     She has guided us into the warm kitchen, where a hot lunch is laid out on the picnic table. She doesn’t seem angry, just concerned.

     “I had to go after Tommy. He chased a butterfly down there.”

     She gets a good look at my face. “Oh my Dear! Whatever happened? You’re bleeding.”

     Oh yeah. I remember the willow whipping me across the face. I’m not sure how much to say. I’m afraid to tell her about the girl in the boat for some reason. I think I trust her, but I’m so confused about everything right now. I can’t think straight. “I ran into a willow branch,” I say. 

     She kneels in front of me, gently cleaning the scratch, as Tommy, in his highchair beside us, digs into his lunch.

     “That’s an odd thing to do.” She’s searching my face, fishing for the truth. Since she can read my mind so well, I don’t say anything more. I just wait for her to absorb the whole story. When she doesn’t say anything else, I start to get uncomfortable. 

     “Those trees sure are big,” I say.

     “They’ve been there a long time,” she says. “Did you get in the water?”

     “No!” I practically shout, feeling my eyes bulge. This startles her.

     “I mean . . . no. We didn’t get in the water.”

     She relaxes a bit. “Good.”

     She plops Tommy up in the highchair and notices he’s barefoot. She looks under the table at my feet. “Where are your shoes?”

     “I forgot them in the greenhouse. They’re at the bottom of the bridge by the stream.”

     “So, you were in the water?”

     “We just put our feet in the stream inside the greenhouse.” I don’t like feeling like I disobeyed her. “We didn’t swim,” I continue.

     Mrs. H. makes a good effort at a smile. “It’s probably best if you two stay out of the water entirely.”

     “Why?” I don’t like the way that sounded as soon as it’s out of my mouth, but Mrs. H. has to agree that it is a simple and understandable question.

     “As I said before, the water in the greenhouse is fed by the stream and the pond. It is very cold. I wouldn’t want either of you coming down with something to ruin your summer.”

     Fair enough. It had been very cold, and maybe that was her truthful answer. Maybe.

     I am just glad to be here in the kitchen, with her, as the storm wears itself out. Eventually, the thunder quiets, and the sky begins to brighten. By the time we are finished eating lunch, it’s like the storm never happened at all.

     “Who wants dessert?” Mrs. H. asks.

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Willow House Chapter 17

 

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I Think I’ll Avoid the Pond Too

      Mom dropped us off this morning with a kiss and a wave. Not only am I not thinking I won’t survive, but I’m wishing there were more hours between 8:30 and 4:30.

     Mrs. H. made banana muffins this morning. I haven’t told her that Mom feeds us cold cereal before we come here. I’ve cut back to half a bowl to leave room for Mrs. Hallovich’s food.

     I’m on my fourth muffin, slowing down, starting to breathe again between bites. I look around the kitchen. Everything has been freshened up. Even the demon smoke over the fireplace is gone.

     “You’ve been busy,” I say.

     “I’ve told you it’s no trouble, Dear. I love to bake.”

     “Not just that,” I say. “The floors are all shiny and stuff.”

     I’m wanting to get to the bottom of something. It hasn’t smelled like a basement since that first day. The wallpaper in the entry has been re-glued, the floors are shiny, and this morning there was even a little sunlight coming in through the stained glass window on the landing. She, or someone else, must work really hard after we go home.

     Mrs. H. waves her hands like it’s no big deal. “It’s been so nice having the two of you here. You’ve just inspired me to clean the place up a bit.” She stands and begins to clear the table. Changing the subject she says, “I know this is our last day together, but maybe the two of you can come back and spend some time with me again?”

     She says this like she’s afraid to ask. She has this whole big house, with all the neat stuff in it, and nobody to share it with. If I’m being honest, I would love to come back for visits. I think of everything I’ve told Daleni, and I have no idea how I would explain to her why I’d come back just to visit. I’ve talked myself into a corner. Mrs. H. is still waiting hopefully for my answer.

     “Sure,” I say. “That would be nice.”

     She smiles and her laser-green eyes crinkle at the corners. 

     “Who did you say is babysitting you for the rest of the summer?”

     “Heather Marker. My dad did some landscaping for her family when we got here last summer.”

     “Well, I’m sure you’ll have a nice time with Heather.”

     I nod and shrug my shoulders at the same time - the universal body language for maybe, or sure whatever. Five days ago I thought it was going to be awesome to spend time with a college person. Now it seems uninteresting. What do I have in common with a college person?

     Mrs. H. helps Tommy out of his highchair. “Why don’t the two of you go on outside and play in the yard a bit. I have a few things to do, and then I’ll be out to join you.”

     “Can we go to the greenhouse?” I ask. I want to see Hubert again before we leave today, and I think I left Treasure Island out there.

     “That would be fine. Just keep a close eye on Tommy.”

     She didn’t have to tell me that. I’ve been sticking to him like glue lately. I take his hand, and we head to the back door.

     “Ella,” she calls. “Stay away from the water.”

     “Got it,” I say.

     I am flabbergasted by how nice the back yard looks compared to Monday. I don’t even think my dad could’ve gotten all this done with his crew helping. Someone else definitely got the landscape job, and Mrs. H. must be uncomfortable telling us who. With all the work on the inside as well as out here, there’s no way that she and a nephew are doing everything in the evenings. 

     The bushes that surround the yard are blooming. Not only have weeds been pulled from around the fountain, but the cracks have been repaired so well that it’s like they were never there at all. I step closer to check it out. In the bottom pool, the brown water and muck has been cleaned up. I stand on my tip-toes and see my shiny penny lying at the swan’s feet. Someone cleaned everything up and left my wish behind.

     Tommy tugs on my hand, pulling me toward the clearing. The path, between the bushes leading to it, has been cut back, and . . .  Holy Smokes! The clearing has bloomed since yesterday!  The glass of the greenhouse is reflecting wildflowers everywhere! It’s like stepping into a fairytale. I don’t know why, but all of a sudden it creeps me out. Why is it creeping me out? It’s too perfect. Too perfect, too fast.

     Tommy lets go of my hand and takes off to chase a butterfly. I’m standing in paradise, blue sky overhead, birds singing, bees buzzing, and butterflies dancing on flowers. Bambi is going to walk out from the trees with his mom any second, and all I want to do is get Tommy and go back to the house. It’s weird.

     “Come on, Tommy!” I call. “Let’s go back!”

     But Tommy is focused on the butterfly. He’s getting a little further away from me and I’m starting to feel a chill. Tommy starts running after the butterfly, toward the line of weeping willows.

     “Tommy! Get back here!” I shout. I run after him, but he ignores me. “Tommy, I mean it! Right this minute!” I never yell at my baby brother but I’m growing more and more scared. 

     A cloud passes over the sun. There were no clouds anywhere in the sky just a minute ago. A cold wind kicks up. Tommy has reached the line of weeping willows and, as I get closer to them, they seem bigger and darker than yesterday.  Their branches reach the ground, raking the grass underneath. Tommy isn’t that far ahead of me now. I come almost close enough to grab his shirt, but he disappears into the blowing branches. I dive in after him. The wind is more violent, and the willow whips at my arms and legs. I get a sharp lash across my cheek.

     “Tommy!” I scream. I don’t want to run him over, but I can barely see. I plow ahead with my right arm covering as much of my face as I can, so a willow branch doesn’t slap one of my eyes out. My left arm reaches forward in search of my brother.

     Finally, I pass through to the other side. The wind stops. The sun emerges. The surface of the water is calm. It still looks like a mirror. Tommy is a couple steps in front of me. He turns and smiles like nothing unusual is going on. I kneel down and gather him into a hug. I’m still scared, but at least I’ve got him. 

     Tommy starts to squirm. He pulls back, looks at me and says, “today.”

     I have no idea what he means by this, but it seems to have become his favorite word. I respond. “No, Tommy, not today. It’s time to go.”

     He points out onto the water. “Today,” he repeats.

     I see something then. About half way out is a small boat. In the boat is a girl. She’s too far away for me to see her features, but I can tell that she’s wearing a simple dress that’s plastered to her skin like she’s been swimming in it. Her wet hair hangs into her face, but I can see her teeth. She’s smiling. She lifts her hand and waves. Tommy waves back.

     I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

     “Let’s go, Bubby.”

     Thankfully, this time he listens to me. The wind has disappeared, so we make our way beneath willow branches that hang gently to the ground. When we emerge into the clearing, I can’t see any clouds in the sky, coming or going. The birds sing, the bees buzz, and the beautiful greenhouse reflects everything back. 

     I’m no longer in the mood to visit Hubert or retrieve my book. Maybe later, during one of our future visits. I just want to get back to Mrs. Hallovich. I’m leading Tommy around the side of the greenhouse when the hairs on the back of my neck begin to rise again. Another cold breeze reaches down into my bones as one of those impossible clouds passes over the sun. 

     I change my mind. The main house seems a little too far away at the moment. “Let’s go in here for awhile,” I say to Tommy and pull him into the greenhouse.  

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Willow House Chapter 16

To begin at chapter one click here

 Oh! What a Tangled Web

      “Sorry I didn’t have a chance to talk to you yesterday,” Daleni says.

     “That’s okay. Are you ready for the party?” I can’t even say the word party without thinking of Mrs. Hallovich’s invitations that are burning up the inside of my dresser drawer. Oh! And let’s not forget that smushed miniature birdcage. My whole house could go up in flames because of the mess I’ve made.

     Daleni starts talking about the food we’re going to have at the sleepover and all the things she has planned, but I’m not really listening to any of it. My mind is focused on what the heck I’m going to tell her about the last couple of days. And how the heck am I going to invite her, not to mention the M&Ms, to Mrs. Hallovich’s tea party?

     “How does that sound, Ella?”

     Thankfully I hear my name.

     “Sounds great!” I say. “I can’t wait!”

     “So tell me. How are things going at Witch House?”

     “Willow House,” I correct her without thinking about it. I move on quickly. “They’re fine. Mrs. Hallovich taught us how to play croquet yesterday, and today we had a picnic in the greenhouse.”

     “The greenhouse with the poisonous plants and the bird that never dies?”

     Oops.

     “It’s not that bad. I saw the bird up close today. He’s really pretty.” I’m about to tell her how he sat on my shoulder, but she continues.

     “Uh-huh. No more weird things have been happening?”

     Where do I even start? She doesn’t know anything about that strange piano lesson or the apartment over the carriage house. My hands are sweaty.

     “Nope. Nothing weird today.”  And that’s pretty much the truth. Nothing scary happened today. Mrs. H. was strangely nervous down by the pond, but that wasn’t a big deal. It’s not going to be easy for Daleni to forget the stuff I told her the first couple of days. “Mrs. Hallovich has been fixing the place up. It’s not as creepy as it was on Monday.”

     “Uh-huh.”

     I take a deep breath and go for it. “And she’d like to have you, me, and the M&Ms over for a tea party next Saturday.”

     Silence. I’m not breathing. I listen close, to see if I can hear Daleni breathing.

     “Is this a joke?” she finally says.

     I wipe a sweaty palm on my shorts and change phone hands so I can wipe the other.

     “No. It’s not a joke. We can probably stay outside. She has a really nice, backyard, so you guys won’t have to go in the house at all.”

     Daleni isn’t responding. I think she’s expecting me to start laughing and say I’m kidding. After about six hours she says, “we can talk to Mandy and Melanie about it tomorrow night. We’ll see what they say.”

     I feel like an alien who just invited her human friends back to the mothership.

     “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, to fill up dead air and get off the phone.

     “Yeah. See you tomorrow. Bye, Ella.”

     “Bye, Daleni.”

     I disconnect and lie back on my bed. Phew! There are so many things she doesn’t know about, including the good stuff! She doesn’t know any of the stories Mrs. H. has been telling me about herself and her house. She doesn’t even know about Lep!

     I reach under my bed for my diary. I’ve got to talk to somebody. I accidentally pick up the midnight blue journal that Mrs. H. gave me. I haven’t written anything in it yet, and now’s not the time to start. My life is too messy. I replace it and grab the diary. I need to get all these mysteries on paper. I make a list:  

     

  1. Rocking chair on front porch

  2. Sound of footsteps above kitchen ceiling

  3. Dollhouse curtains blow and rocker rocks

  4. Someone in hallway outside playroom - sister doll? 

  5. Carriage house apartment

  6. Weird piano lesson

  7. How old is Mrs. Hallovich?

  8. Who the heck is fixing up the house so fast?

     I know there’s more stuff I’m not even thinking of. Daleni should be helping me figure this all out. I need to tell her everything, but not in front of the M&Ms. Maybe I’ll go over there a little early tomorrow. I’ll have to admit to her that I stretched the truth in a few places at the beginning. See! This is why I don’t lie!

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Willow House Chapter 15

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 Fine Dining and Entertainment in the Greenhouse

      We collect a picnic basket from the kitchen, and the three of us head back to the clearing.

     The sun is beating down outside, so the fresh, cool air that rushes out, when we open the greenhouse door, feels wonderful. Tommy zips inside and around the corner.

     “Slow down, Tommy!” I call. I am making a better effort not to let him out of my sight.

     “Oh my! What happened here?” Mrs. H. exclaims.

     I peek around her, and see the beautiful birdcage lying on its side. It’s been smushed. 

     My jaw drops open, and I remember the tiny birdcage, probably still in the pocket of the shorts I wore yesterday. I am speechless. There are not even any words stuck in my throat. I think my brain is broken.

     Mrs. H. recovers herself. “It must have been knocked over by my nephew,” she says.

     This is the first time she has mentioned her nephew to me, but I know it wasn’t him, and it wasn’t simply knocked over. It was smushed. And I’m pretty sure I’m the one who did it. In the guest’s quarters. Where I had no business being. I keep quiet.

     Mrs. Hallovich is looking down at me. I’m looking up at her.

     “I’ll just have to ask my nephew if he can fix it. He may not even realize he knocked it over.”

     I nod my head in agreement. Is that the same as lying?

     Before I have too much time to think about it, Mrs. H. is hustling me across the bridge, and around to the small seating area, where Tommy has perched himself on the small sofa, like a perfect gentleman.

     Mrs. H. sets the picnic basket down. “Hubert!” She calls.

     Hubert shows up in seconds, and lands on her shoulder.

     This is the first time I’ve seen Hubert up close, and he’s gorgeous! His back and wings are the color of spring ferns. His throat is white, his belly is yellow, his little face is framed in red and black and his tail feathers are blue.  

     “How’s my little boy, today?” she coos to him. “Momma brought you something.”

     Hubert is tweeting, and I think for a moment that he really is explaining to her how he’s doing today. That would be the icing on the cake wouldn’t it? I’m not sure how I would handle that. Then, I figure he’s just tweeting randomly, and she’s just mothering him like mothers do. Mrs. H. pulls small treats from her sweater pocket, and he eats straight from her fingers. 

     “Would you like to give him a treat?” She asks me. 

     I nod my head, and she hands me a couple small, tan-colored nuggets. Hubert hops over to my shoulder. I’ve never had a bird on my shoulder before. This is awesome! As long as he doesn’t poop. 

     “Just hold the treat up to him. He won’t bite.” Then, she adds, “and he most likely won’t poop.”

     My eyes dart to her face and she winks. Then, I do as she says and Hubert takes each nugget gently from my fingers. The cracking sound right next to my head as he chews is pretty cool, until I start worrying my ears might look appetizing. 

     Tommy reaches up to me. He wants a chance to pet Hubert too.

      “Sit down carefully on the couch beside Tommy”, Mrs. H says to me. “It’ll be fine. Hubert loves children.”

     Again, I do as she says, and Hubert stays on my shoulder the whole time. He lets Tommy give him a few strokes, and I’m so proud of how gentle my baby brother is. After a minute Hubert flies off, and Mrs. Hallovich begins to unpack our food onto the small coffee table.

    We eat our lunch in silence. I’m thinking about Hubert and how I can’t wait to tell Daleni the way he sat right on my shoulder and ate right out of my fingers!  Mrs. H. is quiet, thinking her own thoughts, and Tommy is quiet too. I wonder what the heck he thinks about?

     When we finish our meal, Mrs. Hallovich pulls Tommy’s favorite toy, the train engine,  along with some wooden blocks, from the bottom of the picnic basket, and sits down with him on a red and white checkered blanket she has spread out on the floor. I grab Treasure Island and I’m a couple chapters into it when I hear her ask, “are you ready to hear about Lep’s return?”

     Am I ever! How could I have forgotten? There are just so many things going on here! 

     “That would be great!” I whisper as loudly as I can, because Tommy is sound asleep on the blanket.

     I offer to scoot over on the couch but Mrs. H. says, “don’t move. You’re already comfortable.” She sits in the chair beside me, puts her feet up on the coffee table, and begins.

     About a year after Lep’s departure, William inherited the apothecary and a nice sum of money from the owner, who had no children of his own. He had been keeping up a friendly correspondence with Lep, and the two of them had worked out an agreement for William to purchase the small parcel of land with the weeping willow tree. William then built a magnificent house next to the small one Lep had constructed. 

     The two men continued to stay in touch. Lep had left the gypsy caravan after a couple of years, and rather than settle down as his friend had expected, he seemed to be drawn to mysterious and exotic places. Lep sent postcards from all over the world. He wrote of people and cultures entirely different from William’s experiences. 

     William wrote back, sharing the bits and pieces of his own life, and always making it clear that Lep would have a home available to him if he ever chose to return.

     Twenty years passed.

     William was seated in his study one spring evening, scratching at the gray hairs of his beard as he poured over his accounts, when someone tapped at the door.

     “Come in,” he called.

     His wife entered with a nervous, somewhat fearful, look in her eyes.

     “You have a visitor, Dear.”

     William frowned in concern. Harriet was such a friendly woman. She usually looked forward to having visitors. He stood and started around the desk, when a man stepped out from behind her.

     William gasped. “Lep! My dear friend!” he shouted.

     He grabbed Lep in a hug and pulled back.

     “It’s so good to see you!” Lep responded.

     As William gazed at his friend, he began to understand the look of concern on his wife’s face. Lep did not look one day older than when he had left twenty years earlier. No gray hairs peppered the temples of his thick, dark hair. There was no fine feathering of wrinkles on his skin. He looked exactly as he had all those years ago when he left.

     Lep gazed back at him. He knew what William was thinking.

    William stuttered. “You’re . . . uh . . . looking . . . healthy. Life has been good to you.”

     “Yes, it has,” Lep agreed.

     “Well, that’s just . . . wonderful. Just wonderful.”

     “You are a sight for sore eyes as well, William. I can’t begin to tell you how much our correspondence has meant to me over the years.”

     “And I have enjoyed learning about the world through your postcards. The girls and I have hung them here in the study.” William gestured to the wall behind Lep.

     Lep turned. Sure enough, there hung a large pinboard covered with letters and postcards from nearly all of the places he had traveled over the last twenty years. Lep stepped closer to have a better look. He laughed. “This is wonderful!” he said.

     William had walked up beside him. Lep reached out and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It sure is good to see you,” he repeated.

     “Likewise, Lep. Let’s have a seat in the parlor.” He turned to his wife who still hovered near the doorway. “Harriet, Dear, would you bring us a couple glasses of your wonderful lemonade?”

     “Of course.” Harriet hurried to the kitchen, and Lep followed William across the hall.

     Once seated, William asked, “to what do we owe such a pleasant surprise?”

     “My travels have simply brought me back this way, and the closer I got, the more I thought of you and craved spending time with people whom I consider family.”

     “We feel the same about you,” William agreed.

     Harriet stepped back into the room with the drinks.

     Lep addressed them both. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I stayed here for a while, and rested.”

     Harriet responded kindly. “There’s a guest room upstairs. It’s a lovely place for a nap. I’ll fix it up for you right away.”

     Lep looked back and forth from one to the other. “I was hoping I could stay a little longer. Maybe for the summer, if it’s not too much to ask.”

     William and Harriet looked at each other. It was Harriet who turned to Lep before things became too awkward. “Of course you can,” she said.

     Lep let out a breath he had been holding.

     “You can stay in the apartment above the carriage house,” she added.

     “Marvelous idea, Darling! Lep, that’s the room we built above your original structure. It will be just like home to you.”

     So, it was agreed that Lep would stay for the summer. The men jumped right back into their old friendship. William was still unsettled by Lep’s youthful appearance, but he noticed an intensity in his eyes, a firm set to his jaw, and a confidence that had not been there twenty years ago. Lep also seemed melancholy. Life had been kind to Lep’s features but maybe not to his soul.

     He still had his green thumb, however, and began applying it right away to the house grounds. He kept up the lawn, planted flowering shrubbery, and, as a gift to his friends for their hospitality, and with their permission of course, began designing a magnificent greenhouse in the far back yard. A replica of one he had seen during his travels, but with a more personal touch: the addition of a beautiful chandelier in the entrance to match the one in the main house, structured like the branches of a weeping willow.

     My head is spinning. How didn’t I see that coming? Mrs. H. has been telling me the history of this house! She can see the questions tripping over themselves to get out of my mouth, but she holds her finger up to keep me silent a moment more.

     One evening, late in the summer, Lep knocked on the door of William’s study.

     “Would you take a short walk with me, William? I’d like to have a word with you.”

     The two stepped out into the twilight. They walked around the fountain that William had built for his wife several years before. They continued out to the clearing, where the newly constructed greenhouse reflected the darkening sky, and sparkled with the evening’s first stars. The pond behind lent an absolutely stunning backdrop.

     “The workers are done here,” Lep began. “I have a few finishing touches to add, but there’s one more thing I’d like to do for you before I go.”

     “You’re leaving?” William asked.

     “I told you I’d be here for the summer only, and the season’s end is just a short week away.”

     Though William had never grown completely at ease again around Lep, he had still enjoyed his company, and was truly sad to hear he’d be departing soon.

     “What did you have in mind?” he asked. “You’ve already done so much, I feel I can never repay you.”

     “Your friendship is all I could ever ask,” said Lep. “But I have something in mind for the pond. The willow sapling near the house that I planted all those years ago has done well, and I thank you for its care. But, there’s nothing like willows around a pond. They are good for the banks surrounding it, and give such grace to the view. Will you allow me to plant more before I go?”

     “Lep, you amaze me.” William laughed. “Of course you can plant more willows. That’s a lovely idea and I’m disappointed I didn’t think of it myself.”

     Lep smiled. “Thank you! I’ll get started tomorrow.”

     “Let’s go back to the house and enjoy a drink,” William said.

     “You go on ahead. I’ll be along shortly.”

     “See you in a few minutes?” 

     Lep nodded and watched his friend walk back to the house. Yorg and William were the only close friends he had ever had. He would do anything for them. The gift he was planning to leave was greater than anything William would ever be able to imagine. He looked out across the pond and his eyes glowed with an unnatural reddish light. Most likely just a reflection of the warm rays of the sun sinking into the horizon. 

      His plan was to plant the trees over the course of the week and then leave, returning to his world travels. But, life is what happens when you’re busy making plans, and something happened that Lep hadn’t planned on.

     Mrs. H. stops here.

     “What?! What happened when he was busy making plans? What, what, what?!”

     “Oh, Ella! Patience.”

     “I know. I know. It will give us something to look forward to tomorrow.” I roll my eyes.

     “That it will.” She nods. Then, “I have something for you.” 

     She pulls four creamy colored envelopes from the pocket of her sweater. Each has a name written in fancy letters - Melanie, Mandy, Daleni, and Ella. I open mine. Inside is an invitation to a tea party a week from Saturday.

     My first thought is how awesome this is going to be, quickly followed by a feeling that I might throw up. I manage to keep that second thought off my face. Or at least I think I do. Mrs. H. knows something is up but she doesn’t ask.

     “Thank you,” I say. “I’ll give them to the girls right away.”

     Mrs. H. looks so happy. 

     What am I going to do? 

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