“Livie!” It was Letty’s voice of command. She had always been the leader of the two children.
Olivia swallowed hard and very slowly opened her eyes. But they were so full of tears she had to blink several times before she could see.
She was sitting under the big magnolia tree on an old oak chair that had been left outside for years. In her lap was a bowl of green beans that she’d been snapping into pieces. To her right was the garden, lush with vegetables that were to be harvested. She could see the corner of the house. It needed to be painted.
In front of her were the two children, Ruth and Kyle, aka Letty and Ace. Letty had on her look of defiance, her dark brows drawn together, while Ace looked a bit guilty for not telling the truth about the broken eggs in the basket.
How beautiful they are! Olivia thought. Why hadn’t she remembered what extraordinarily good-looking children they were? She could see Tate, the child Letty would someday give birth to, in the girl’s face. Under her sweetly rounded cheeks were Tate’s sculpted cheekbones.
As for Ace, he was blond and blue-eyed, and he’d grow up to be an excellent doctor. He cared about every one of his patients, about all of Summer Hill.
“What’s wrong with you?” Letty demanded. Her pushiness was covering her guilt that she and Ace had yet again broken every egg they’d collected.
Slowly, Olivia put the bowl of beans on the ground.
The children were watching her odd behavior and she could read their minds. Were they going to be punished with no brownies, or would Livie run off with Kit and forget about their latest transgression?
When Olivia stood up, she gasped. There was no stiffness in her joints, no catch in her left knee from where she’d hurt it while trying to slide a washing machine out of the way.
She took a quick step to the side. Her body was all suppleness and grace, easy of movement. Lifting her arms, she did a pirouette. Laughing, she held out her hands to the children.
They were puzzled, but Letty dropped the basket of broken eggs, nodded to Ace, and they took Olivia’s hands. She danced all the way around the tree with them. “Can I still sing?” she wondered aloud. When growing up, when she’d been absolutely, totally sure how her life was going to go, she’d taken voice lessons.
Arrieta had said that songs and stories wouldn’t be remembered, so she started singing “Let It Go” from the movie Frozen. The children quickly picked up the tune and the words. Letty yelled the lyrics with great feeling. Ace sang his line about not minding the cold with a funny little flip of defiance. And when the three of them belted out the title, the rooster and the peacock joined in so loudly they sounded like barnyard musicians. Livie and the children leaped and twirled and sang at the top of their lungs.
It wasn’t until the fourth chorus that Olivia saw that Uncle Freddy and Mr. Gates were at the edge of the shade and watching them in astonishment. Abruptly, Olivia halted.
When she’d been young, she’d thought the men were very old, ancient even. But now she saw them differently. Late seventies, early eighties. Not that old. And they looked healthy. She knew that both of them would live another eleven years—and they’d leave the earth within months of each other. She also knew that at their funerals the town would hear of all the good the men had done. All the fruits and vegetables that Olivia had paid no attention to had been given to anyone in town who needed them.
Uncle Freddy had quietly helped several high school students get into college. One of the reasons he hadn’t been able to keep a housekeeper-cook was because his big house was an unofficial way station for people in abusive situations. At his funeral there were a dozen weeping women telling how Uncle Freddy had helped them escape terrible lives. As for Mr. Gates, he was the one who made sure everything got done.
When she’d been twenty-two and angry at the world for delaying her plan of becoming a Broadway superstar, Olivia had been unaware of what was going on with these people. All she’d cared about were her own wants. And Kit. And more Kit.
But now, at her age, she had learned that people don’t exist alone. She hadn’t been aware of it when Kit abruptly left, but the grief hadn’t been hers alone. It had been deep for all of them.
Olivia stood there, holding tightly on to the small, precious hands of the children and she began to cry. Not ladylike tears, but bawling. She dropped to her knees, put her hands over her face, and cried hard and loud.
It was when Ace began to cry too that Olivia pulled him into her arms. “I’m happy,” she said. “I’m very, very glad to be here. I love all of you so much.” She pulled Letty to her.
“Did someone die?” Letty whispered in fear.
Olivia knew the child meant Ace’s mother, who would hold on until the fall. “No! Everyone is alive and well and happy.”
“Are we going to play records and dance some more?” Ace’s voice was full of hope.
“We can.” Olivia started kissing the children’s sweet, dirty, sweaty faces.
Ace looked to Letty to see if that was okay, but she was looking at Olivia in speculation. Usually, Livie was either grumpy or hurrying so she could run off with Kit. She never had time for something as silly as dancing around a tree.
“Got any of that sugar for us?” Mr. Gates asked.
With her arms around the children, she looked at the men, Uncle Freddy in his wheelchair, Mr. Gates with his hand on the back. Livie stood up, again marveling at how easy the movement was, and went to them. She hugged Mr. Gates, gave him big, loud kisses on both cheeks, then did the same with Uncle Freddy.
She stepped back, took the children’s hands in hers, and said, “Who wants mac and cheese for lunch?” When they looked blank, she said, “Macaroni and cheese?” and they nodded. It was 1970, and the US hadn’t yet started shortening every word. Invitation to invite, vacation to vacay, mayonnaise to mayo, tarpaulin to tarp, et cetera. All those would come with the invention of the cell phone.
“Kit’s working in the orchard,” Mr. Gates said softly, bringing her back to where she was.
For a moment, Olivia had to fight the urge to run to him, but she didn’t go. She might have a young body, but her mind was old enough to have learned that all people are important.
She was still holding tightly to the children’s hands. “I think that this afternoon I should make you two some stuffed animals. You need to see what you’re battling. My mom—” Olivia had to pause a moment to catch her breath. Her mother was alive! “My mother can come over and help us sew them. But you have to tell us what the space creatures look like. And I think we need to get Kit to make laser guns out of a couple of flashlights. We’ll use wire and plastic wrap.”
“What’s a laser?” Letty asked.
“A gun.” Ace’s eyes seeming to twirl around in circles.
Livie looked at Uncle Freddy. “Is there a camera around here somewhere? I’d like to take a thousand photos of everyone and everything. Tate and Nina will want to see—” She broke off. They didn’t yet exist.
“Who is Tate?” Letty asked.
Olivia started to say nothing, but if going back in time was true, then forgetting was also. “He’s your son, and he’s a movie star. Nina is your daughter and she has a little girl named Emma who looks very much like you.”
“Yuck,” Letty said. “I’m never going to get married.”
“I am!” Ace said. “And I’m going to have a hundred children.”
At that, Olivia laughed even harder and skipped with the children toward the house.
Mr. Gates watched them for a moment, then said, “I don’t know what got into her but I like it.”
Uncle Freddy was frowning. “Bill’s father was called Tate, for Tattington. If Letty did have a son, I could see that she’d name him Tate. And Nina could well be her daughter’s name.”