*
The trip down was tricky. The roads curved and wound up and down, along narrow edges, and through hills lined with trees, wild bushes, sprawling vines. Lizards, frogs and other little animals were everywhere, popping out at the most unexpected moments. The sun shone in Cindy’s eyes most of the time as she drove.
This was probably a good trip to have taken with Mattheus, Cindy thought for a moment, and then quickly brushed the thought aside. She had to remember that Mattheus needed plenty of space. She’d felt a little pang when she thought about it, but brushed it away. This wasn’t a relationship, it was a business partnership. They’d fill each other in when he got back into town. She’d chosen this job and had better grow strong enough to be able to handle it, learn to stand firmly on her own two feet. From the moment she’d met Clint years ago, she’d always felt taken care of. It had meant a lot to her then. Now things were different. Clint had been dead for a bunch of months, and she was in an equal partnership now.
She drove down a bumpy, unpaved road to the address she’d gotten for Heather May. This part of town was untouched, hidden and wild. Trees, brush and wild life of all kinds, were tangled up in each other. Shafts of bright light shone through the trees and then disappeared suddenly in heavy shadows that lined the roads.
Cindy came to a small, wooden house with an open porch that wound around it. Beyond that, there was no road. Cindy got out of the car. A thick smell of leaves, pines, and moist soil wafted up. This had to be Heather May’s place. She walked closer, feeling like an intruder, trying not to make a sound.
To Cindy’s surprise a sound of chimes rang out as she got closer to the entrance. They were hanging along the edge of the porch, ready to warn whoever was inside that someone was approaching. Just as Cindy expected, the front door opened then, and a woman, in her mid-forties came out. She had on a long cotton skirt and skimpy T shirt. Her long, golden, frizzy hair framed a pretty face. She stared at Cindy, uncomprehending.
“I’m Cindy Blaine,” Cindy announced, before she took another step. The last thing she wanted to do in the world was frighten this woman, who already seemed startled and alone.
“Who?” the woman asked softly, confused.
“Andrea gave me your name,” Cindy said then.
The woman curled her forehead, thinking. “From Salon B?” she asked finally.
Cindy nodded.
“Okay,” she said then, smiling slightly, “come on up.”
Cindy took small steps carefully as she approached her, aware that Heather May was examining her from head to toe.
“I’m Heather May,” the woman said finally, in a soft tone.
Cindy was relieved that she’d passed inspection and Heather was talking to her.
“Sit down out here on the porch,” said Heather. “I’ll go in and get you some lemonade.”
“There’s no need for lemonade,” said Cindy, not wanting to put her to any trouble.
“Of course there is,” said Heather. “It’s refreshing in the afternoon, especially before the heavy clouds come. And they come more often these days, just before the hurricane season.” Then she wiped her hands along the sides of her skirt, turned and walked back in.
The porch had a few wicker chairs and an old, red, leather glider that was ripped, here and there. Cindy wanted to sit on the glider, but she chose a wicker chair with plump tropical cushions on it.
In a few minutes, Heather came out, carrying lemonade glasses with a slice of lime and cherry in them. She offered one to Cindy, staring straight into her eyes. Then she laughed.
“Two days ago, Marshmallow told me someone unexpected would be arriving. I didn’t really believe what he said. I never do. And he’s almost never wrong.”
Cindy smiled. “Who’s Marshmallow ?”
“He reads the stars, feels the tides, knows when the earth is turning.”
Despite her wild, frizzy hair Heather had a strange beauty that pulled you in.
“Thanks for having me here,” Cindy said then, raising the lemonade to her lips. It was delicious and hit the spot.
“You’ve come about Paul?” Heather asked then, drinking her lemonade along with Cindy, eyes half closed.
“How did you know?” asked Cindy startled.
“No other reason Andrea would have sent you. She and I spent hours together after he died, going over every last detail. It was a terrible shock to everyone.”
“I can imagine,” said Cindy.
Heather gazed at her calmly. “Yes, you can,” she said. “You’ve been there. I feel it, you understand.”
Cindy breathed more easily. She and Heather had an odd kinship, they understood one another, appreciated what each had been through.
“How long did you know Paul?” Cindy asked carefully.
“It was not that I knew him,” Heather said quietly, “it was that he was my whole life. Our love affair lasted for about three years. It kept both of us going. Can you understand that?”