“Mama says he’s in heaven,” Charlie continued. “I’ve seen pictures of him. Mama says I kind of look like him, but everyone else says I look like her.” Tilting his head slightly to the side, he continued. “Who do you look like? You don’t look like Mrs. Popovich. She’s got gray hair!”
Still struggling with the news that their father was deceased, his gaze shot toward their back door as Violet stepped out of her house and waved. Her dark hair was pulled away from her face, and even though he couldn’t see her eyes, he could imagine them after having only discovered their unique color once before. Black leggings encased her legs, which appeared long despite her petite stature. The blue top was not form-fitting but flattering nonetheless.
“Charlie, Lily! Stop bothering Mr. Popovich. Anyway, It’s time for lunch.”
Lily twisted her head around to look at her mother. “He said we can call him Ben as long as you say it’s respectful.”
Violet was too far away for him to see her face clearly, but he could swear her lips curved slightly as her shoulders drooped. She suddenly appeared so different to him. Not just a beautiful woman, but one who knew loss. Shaking his head, he attempted to dislodge the myriad of emotions and shouted, “It’s fine with me. The kids aren’t bothering me.” Again, the words slipped out before he had a chance to think them through. Jesus, didn’t I just want to be left alone?
The matter was taken out of his hands when Violet once more called the kids in for lunch. With a wave, the kids jumped down from the fence and raced toward her. She smiled and ruffled their hair before lifting her hand and offering a little wave toward him. Before he knew it, he was once again alone, his gaze still lingering on the now-closed door where they had disappeared.
His cheeks puffed as he exhaled a huge sigh, and he turned back to the task at hand, continuing to work on the deck for a few minutes. He’d barely made any progress when his grandmother opened the door and called him to lunch as well. Shaking his head with a grin, he climbed the cinderblock makeshift steps and headed inside. Washing his hands in the sink, they sat at the table, bowls of pomidorow soup filled to the brim. The Polish version of tomato soup with noodles was one of his favorites and he dove in, barely coming up for air until he was scraping the bottom of the bowl.
“Goodness, Benjamin,” his grandmother laughed. “You worked up an appetite out there.”
“Sorry, Babciu, I guess I did.” He leaned back in the chair, his gaze drifted out the sliding glass door, and he inclined his head toward the house across the yards. “What can you tell me about Violet and her kids?”
“Oh, I saw those darlings out by the fence. I’m sure they were fascinated with what you were doing.” Finishing her soup, she pulled the platter of cookies closer.
He needed no encouragement and snagged several as he waited to hear what she had to say about the Mayfields.
“I told you the house sat empty since the owner went to jail, and I was afraid vagrants might take up residence. But one day, I saw a yard crew cutting the grass, and when I took a walk that afternoon, the For Sale sign in the front window was gone. I kept watching, and imagine my surprise when two children popped out the back door one day, running and playing in the yard.”
He had no trouble imagining Charlie and Lily running around their yard, exploring every inch.
“I walked out to meet them and discovered that Charlie had no filter.” She laughed, shaking her head. “In a few minutes, I learned that they had moved from another neighborhood in Hope City. Their mother had a job but was also taking some kind of classes. He was only five, had finished kindergarten, and would start first grade the next school year. His sister was almost nine and would be going into fourth grade.”
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “And their dad?”
Anna sighed, her smile falling from her face. “Yes. It didn’t take long for me to ask about their parents, and Charlie announced that their dad had died.”
“That’s what he told me, too.”
“I’m sorry, Benjamin,” she said, reaching across the table to place her hand on his. “I’m sure it made you think of your parents.”
He hefted his shoulders in a shrug. “It did but not with the pain I used to feel many years ago. It was more a sadness that any young child has to go through the death of a parent.”
“I get the feeling that Charlie doesn’t remember his dad very well and that Lily’s memories are hidden a little deeper.”
“And… um…Violet?”
Anna’s brows lifted at the same time her shoulders did. “That’s a bit more difficult.”
Interest piqued, he cocked his head to the side in a silent question.
“I met her a few days later when she was in the backyard with the kids. I offered a platter of cookies and we chatted. Such a lovely woman. We’ve become closer, so much so that I’ve babysat the kids occasionally when Violet was needed in her office and her regular sitter was unavailable. And Violet was right there after I had my stroke, coming over to assist with laundry, cooking, and cleaning. She’s a wonderful mother but very tight-lipped about her deceased husband. I thought it might just be when the children were around, but she rarely speaks of him when it’s just the two of us.”
“Maybe it’s too painful?”
She nodded. “I’m sure it was. But still, it was over three years ago. Since Charlie was only three, I think that’s why his memories of his father exist in stories he’s heard his mother and sister tell as well as photographs. Lily would have been almost six, her memories more ingrained.” She stood and gathered the bowls, Ben jumping to his feet to assist. As they walked to the sink, she continued, “Violet doesn’t talk about him, and I’ve respected her privacy. But she’s mentioned that she doesn’t have any real friends in the area, so I find myself wondering if perhaps she just hasn’t found anyone to talk to.”
They washed the dishes side-by-side in silence, each to their own thoughts. “You know,” she began, “perhaps Violet would be able to talk to you.”
His body jolted in surprise as he jerked his head down to see her staring up at him. “Me? Why me?”
“Because you understand loss. I do, too, of course, having suffered the loss of my son and his wife, and now husband. But you’re closer to her age. You would be able to relate better.”
“Babciu, I lost my parents, not a spouse. I have no idea what she’s going through.”
She lifted her shoulders in a little shrug. “Perhaps… but you can relate to the children. And through them, to her role as a mother.”
They fell into silence again and his thoughts spun around. When he’d first met Violet the other day in this room, he was struck by her beauty. Hell, any man would have noticed the gorgeous woman.
But as soon as she mentioned the word ‘kids’, cold reality dumped on him. There was no reason to take his interest in her any further. He’d known some men in the military that would pursue and sleep with any woman and whether or not they were married didn’t matter. But that had never been Ben.
Violet. Beautiful… a widow. With kids who’d lost their dad. He knew more than most the emotional impact of losing a parent as a child. But what could I tell them? That loss won’t touch them again? That would be a lie. He’d lost his grandfather who’d been a surrogate father to him. Soon, even his grandmother would leave this house, taking more memories. He rubbed his hand over his chest wishing the ache would subside, hating the idea that nothing lasts forever.