“Right ... yeah ... I agree.”
“Sleep on it. Pray on it. Let me know how you feel about it as soon as you decide. I’ve already given notice on my apartment and need to be out by June first. Did Windy tell you about our latest rent increase? I’m so fed up. Even if I can’t find a newplace, I’d rather camp at the houseless shelter than stay on here.”
“Oh, Laurel, you wouldn’t really do that.”
“Hey, I’m a volunteer there. I’m certainly not too good to stay there. Although, come to think of it, they don’t offer housing except in wintertime.”
“Well, that’s just one of the many things I love about you, Laurel. You’ve never been too full of yourself.”
“So keep me on your short list for housemates. We’ll be like the Golden Girls of the new millennium.” She laughed.
Riva promised to pray and think about it. As they said goodbye, she tried to imagine Laurel sharing her home. It was true that she’d always admired her friend for her humble and straightforward can-do personality. She’d probably make a wonderful tenant. But was Riva really in the market for boarders?
Instead of stewing over what felt like too big of a decision, she took Laurel’s advice and prayed, asking God for his direction and the peace that she knew would follow. And now, realizing she’d skipped lunch, she decided on an early dinner. Okay, it wasn’t really a dinner per se. Probably nothing like what Windy would make if given the opportunity in this kitchen. But it was sustenance. So without really tasting the cold cereal drenched in skim milk, she perched on a kitchen stool and finished her pathetic meal in silence. Just like she often did at night. Was this really living? Probably not. But it was the best she could manage at the moment.
Distracted by her strange day, Riva hadn’t paid any attention to the local news or weather like she usually did. So when rain started coming down in sheets, thunder boomed, and lightning struck the sky—not to mention the high winds that beat the side of the house—she started to get concerned. This was quite a storm! Was it on its way out or getting worse?
She was just turning on her TV to check the forecast when the electricity went out. Stumbling through her now pitch-black living room, she went to the front window to see ... nothing. The entire town was wrapped in darkness. Hopefully it wouldn’t be for long. She fumbled around, using furniture to guide her until she got to the hutch where she usually kept a few candles for the occasional candlelit dinners she used to make for her and Paul. She felt around in the drawers until she felt the waxy smoothness of two tapers. But ... no matches.
Where did Paul stash flashlights? Probably on the laundry room shelves, which held a bit of everything. That was too far away in the darkness. Maybe there were matches in the kitchen. She bumbled along through the house, nearly tumbling over an ottoman and stubbing her toe on a dining room chair, until she was in the kitchen. She felt her way along the counters, searching several drawers, hoping to unearth the box of matches she felt certain were there in case of an emergency. Wasn’t this an emergency? More than ever since losing Paul, she missed him! This was the kind of thing he would’ve laughed about and made light of, probably using his phone’s flashlight. Did her phone even have one? Wherewasher phone? Hopefully in her bathroom where it had been charging.
Touching what felt like a matchbook in her junk drawer, she eagerly pulled it out and managed, after several tries, to properly strike a match. She lit both candles and then set out to find candleholders for them. Having light, albeit meager, made a big difference. She stopped in her bathroom to look for her phone, but it wasn’t there like she’d hoped. It was probably nearly dead by now anyway.
She eventually got the candles in their holders and set them on the coffee table, then sat down on the sofa and considered her situation. They’d replaced the old oil furnace with a heat pump several years ago. And the fireplace that once graced this room had long since been closed up and was no longer functional. Notthat it was particularly cold, although she was feeling chilled. And where was her phone?
She thought back to the last time she used it, remembering she’d been in the kitchen. Carrying a candlestick with her, she returned to find her phone on the kitchen island. Totally dead. Almost more than light and electricity, she was suddenly craving the sound of a human voice. She knew that Laurel would be very understanding and practical and was perhaps even trying to call her right now. Not that it mattered.
Outside, the storm raged on, and everything was still blanketed in darkness. Somewhere in town, sirens were wailing. Hopefully not for anything too serious. But it did make her wonder what she would do if she had an emergency right now. Run to the neighbors for help? A clap of thunder tailed by a lightning bolt lit up the kitchen and made her jump. She wondered what time it was ... too early to go to bed and hope to wake up to a bright sunny morning? According to the kitchen wall clock, it wasn’t even nine.
What would Paul do right now? Get more candles, locate a flashlight and spare batteries. But where exactly? In the laundry room, she pawed through the storage shelves until she found a promising carton. Just as she opened it, her candle fell to the floor. Worried about fire, she stomped it out and was in total darkness again.
Eager to escape the pitch-black laundry room, she felt her way out, following the faint glowing through the doorway, but soon she stumbled over the same chair she’d stubbed her toe on before. As it tipped over, she landed on top, hitting her shins and rib cage. And now she just sat down on the floor and cried.
“Why is this so hard?” she said aloud. “What am I doing wrong?” She continued to cry, rubbing her bruised shins and hoping her ribs weren’t cracked.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there feeling sorry for herself, but the floor was getting harder by the minute. So she got up,grabbed the final candle, and slowly made her way to the master bedroom and to her bed. She set the candle down, then tumbled into bed fully dressed, pulled the comforter over herself, and continued to cry. Sure, she was having a pity party for one, but why not? No one was around to be bothered or hear her or care. And wasn’t that what she wanted? She sat up in bed and considered this. Maybe that wasn’t how she wanted things—maybe she was tired of being alone. Maybe it was time to rent rooms to other lonely women like herself. Windy and Laurel, for starters. She decided then and there that as soon as her phone could get charged, she would call both women and offer them a room each. And suddenly, despite the howling storm and claps of thunder, she felt an unexpected but very welcome peace.
Chapter4
Sometime in the middle of the night, the electricity came back to life. When Riva woke up early the next morning, her alarm clock’s digits were flashing. Outside, the sun was just rising into clear blue skies. Feeling hopeful for a better day, she opened the French doors in the master bedroom and peeked into the backyard. Her relief was mixed with dismay. The yard was littered with broken tree limbs and a few odd items that must’ve blown in last night. Still wearing her rumpled clothes from yesterday, she began to pick things up, making a pile of branches and debris near the gate.
Finally satisfied with the slight improvement, she brushed off her grimy hands on the back of her blue jeans and really gave her yard a good look. The state of her neglected garden beds was still dismal. Paul, bless his heart, would not approve. After his illness and treatments weakened him, Riva had discouraged him from even coming out here. It had been too depressing ... for both of them. And even last year, after he passed, she could hardly drag herself out to mow the lawn or do the most basic chores. She remembered how, only yesterday, Windy had raved about the “beautiful” yard. Of course, she’d been looking at it from the second floor. Up close were weedy beds, overgrownberry bushes, broken planters, and crabgrass that was taking over the fence line.
Riva took a deep breath. Well, her yard might be a disaster area, but at least the clouds were gone and the air was clean and clear. And with her electricity back on, she could now charge her phone and brew a pot of coffee. As she went inside, she remembered last night’s decision to take in boarders. Of course, that choice had been made in the thick of the storm. But in the light of day? Was that peace still with her now? Maybe so...
She gazed out the window above the sink as she ground coffee beans. From this vantage point, the yard looked better but still nothing like it used to look. At one time it had been so beautiful that Kenzie often claimed to want her wedding out there. Riva shook her head. Not that her career-driven daughter had any plans of getting married anytime soon. Although it would be fun to still have this house when the big event happened. If it happened. And what about when Brent came home on leave next winter?
Riva went to her phone, shot off a short text to Kenzie, asking how her flight went. Kenzie’s reply was brief. It was a good flight and New York was great. So Riva decided to test the waters with her opinionated daughter. What did she think of her mom taking in female boarders? To Riva’s surprise, Kenzie thought it was a great way for Riva to keep the family home. And then Kenzie had to go—busy day ahead. Nice that her daughter already had things to do, a life to live ... more than Riva could claim these days.
But if all her rooms were rented, where would her kids stay when they came to visit? Of course, if she didn’t rent rooms, she might not even have a house to visit. What a dilemma. She could save her downstairs guest room exclusively for her kids. That is, if they ever came home again ... and if she really wanted to go through with this harebrained idea of taking in tenants.
The doorbell interrupted her conflicting thoughts. Who would be calling this early? She turned on the coffeemaker, then wentto answer the door. To her surprise it was Laurel and Windy and a man with a head of bushy charcoal gray hair.
“Hello?” she said as she opened the door wider.
“We were worried about you,” Laurel said.
“We called and called, but your phone didn’t seem to be working,” Windy added.
