Lost Souls at the Neptune Inn by Betsy Carter

Author:Betsy Carter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: None
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2020-04-08T00:00:00+00:00

With $2.50 in his pocket, he disembarked in New Rochelle and headed to the Wingo house.

He got to the house right after Alice had left for school. Geraldine had already gone to the bakery, and Emilia Mae was heading out the front door just as he was walking in.

“Have you come for your things?” she asked in a dry voice.

“No. Do you have a minute to talk?”

She looked at her watch and said, “I told Mother I’d be at the bakery by nine.”

“This will only take a few minutes. Please, can we talk?”

Emilia Mae sat on the top step of the front porch. “Talk fast; I only have about seven minutes.”

He sat next to her. When he looked her in the eye, she turned away, but not before he noticed that her eyes were swollen. “I know I acted foolishly yesterday. It was an impulsive thing to do. I thought I was doing everyone a favor. Well, that’s not entirely true. You were right, I was running away. I was scared of everything. Of hurting people. Disappointing them. You, mainly. I’ve thought about it long and hard. I’d like to come back, if you’ll let me. I could be happy here. We could be happy here. What do you think about that?”

Emilia Mae turned and stared in Dillard’s eyes. “Don’t ever do that again,” she said.

He nodded.

Sunlight shot through the trees and turned Dillard’s blond hair silver. The light underscored the circles under his eyes and the traces of wrinkles around his mouth. Emilia Mae saw what he might look like in thirty years. It gave her comfort to think of growing old with him. She was nobody’s idea of a dream girl, but at this moment, with Dillard aglow in the sunlight, a feeling of love washed over her. She could be very happy here with him. Before she could think about the consequences, she grabbed his wrists and in a cracking voice said, “Don’t go. Please don’t ever go.”

Her words haunted Dillard. He knew what it felt like to try to hold on to someone, and how futile it was. Mommy, don’t go.

For the first fifteen years of his life, he lived next door to a plot of land filled with live oak trees. He loved those oaks, with their embracing arms and long shiny leaves. The trees seemed proud and friendly, and he named them Oliver and Peter and other names he’d found in books. Sometimes, when the trees made that sshhssshing sound in the wind, Dillard believed they were friends talking to him, and he would reply to their imagined endearments or questions.

Then a family from up north bought the land and built a house on it. Worried that the oaks would shade their front yard, they began cutting them all down. For weeks, trucks would arrive with saws and ropes and hoisting equipment. Dillard would watch the men denude the trees, one branch at a time. He’d cover his eyes and slam his hands against his ears as the saws hacked through the wood.

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