Rachel Dahlrumple. Shea McMaster

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СКАЧАТЬ I can’t lift the coolers by myself, and if I leave them in the truck they’ll just melt four times as fast and nothing will be cold tomorrow, and I won’t have time to run out and get more ice or I’ll miss the parade, and there’s still so much I have to do tomorrow that I really can’t let it melt…” And I was babbling. I knew it and let my words fade away.

      Dan had half-turned toward the house, where Cyndi most likely spied from the kitchen window. She could see not only into my house, but the back porch and a part of the yard as well. He waved and the shadow of a hand waved back.

      That taken care of, he turned and strode through the break in the hedge. “Why don’t you put your dinner in the house, then come out and show us where you want them? Sure you want them out back and not up on the porch?”

      “The porch would be fine, but then I’ll have to move them again, and I can’t move them by myself. I mean, I have in the past, but then…” I closed my eyes. I never spoke this much and certainly not this fast or with this much inane detail. Rachel the Cool, the Calm, the Organized. In control, Mistress of the Library, nothing ever shook me up. Well, except my husband ditching me the night before a major event. Man, that really sucked, as my younger patrons would say. Well, not the little ones, but the teens…and maybe a few of their younger siblings who’d picked up their language.

      “I heard about your broken ankle when one of these fell on you.”

      He had? Like a blinded owl, I blinked at him. “Uh, yes. A full one. I was trying to get it out of the back of the truck.”

      “Well, we won’t risk it again. Since the porch is on the north side, let’s put the coolers there, and tomorrow I’ll help move them wherever you need them, all right?”

      “What’s happening?” John asked as he approached. “When’s Burt getting home?”

      “He’s not.” When John cocked a brow, exactly as his brother had done moments ago, I rushed back into babbling. “Tonight. He’s not coming home tonight, but he’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. He’s been held up by, um, business.”

      “Ah,” John said, but turned an inscrutable look toward the garage. “Whatcha need, Rachel?”

      Dan shoved his brother toward the open door. “The coolers need to move.”

      I hurried to the house and managed to deactivate the alarm about the time they carried the first cooler up the porch steps. I dumped the pizza, salad and my purse on the kitchen island, then rushed back out to…I didn’t know, but the thought of helping had crossed my mind. It quickly became clear they didn’t need my help, especially since I was still dressed for work in a skirt and heels, albeit very low ones. In eight quick trips, they had the coolers tucked into the shadiest part of the porch, where hopefully they’d remain cold until tomorrow afternoon when the neighbors would arrive with more bags of ice. Since we were hosts, the drinks were on us, and Burt liked his beer icy on hot days.

      Thankfully we didn’t have to worry too much about designated drivers because almost everyone walked, one nice part about a neighborhood party. However, we would have a few guests from town, such as my dad and pastor, who’d drive. All in all, we expected close to a hundred people. About half of those would be under twenty. And yes, our yard was big enough to accommodate them comfortably, if a bit on the cozy side.

      When they finished, John invited me to join them for dinner. “You’ve been alone all week, I’m sure you’re ready for some company. We’d love to have you.”

      Ignoring the sideways glance he sent toward his brother, I batted away John’s hand with a laugh when he tried to grab my elbow. “Thanks, but I still have a lot to do tonight. Really.” Backing away, I put distance between myself and the Weston brothers before I caved to temptation. “Thank you. I really appreciate the help, I do, but I can’t. Not tonight. Burt’s home next week, maybe we can do it then.”

      John and Dan exchanged a look, one I wasn’t sure I wanted to interpret. “Sure. You and Cyndi work it out. We’ll see you at the parade, right?”

      “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Actually, without Burt, I’d already decided not to go. Who went to a parade by themselves? Where was the fun in that? Besides, without Burt I had half again as much work to do getting ready for the barbeque.

       Chapter 2

      Kicking around our big, empty house, I spent a disgruntled evening hauling crates of party supplies, tables and folding chairs out of storage. Dining alone had involved shoving the pizza in the fridge, and picking at a quarter portion of the Greek salad. However, one more night without Burt snoring in my ear held a certain attraction.

      For background noise I’d turned on the TV, and to my surprise the opening credits of On a Clear Day You Can See Forever popped onto the screen. Reliving a moment of my youth, I tried out Barbra-slash-Daisy-slash-Melinda’s most definitive line to see how it worked with my name.

      “My name is Rachel. Rachel Winifred Dahlrumple Bruckmeister.”

      Somehow it didn’t sound the same as when Barbra-slash-Melinda said it. Disgusted with the false hope that saying it aloud would make it somehow more magical, I went about my tasks.

      The movie had become so deeply rooted in my past, practically from the moment of my birth, which took place on the evening the movie opened, Wednesday, June 17, 1970.

      No, I’m not clairvoyant like the character Daisy Gamble. If only. Would have saved me a whole lot of trouble. No, it will take a little more explaining.

      As the story goes, my parents went to see the film mainly as a distraction for my mom in the uncomfortable end stages of her pregnancy, but also to escape the summer heat, if only for a few hours. Why they chose this movie over another had to do with dishy Frenchman Yves Montand who played the male lead, a psychiatrist. Well, dishy in a 1970s European style. In the film he was still hot by any day’s standards in that older-man appealing way. At least I always thought so. Mom did too, which was why my father indulged his hugely pregnant wife.

      In the movie, Barbra Streisand, regressed through hypnosis by Yves, announced, “My name is Melinda. Melinda Winifred Waine Tentrees.” Complete with upper crust British accent instead of the Brooklyn whine of her other character identity, Daisy Gamble. At this point, the character played by Yves sat up and took notice.

      Somehow my name doesn’t carry quite the same impact.

      In any case, my middle name, Winifred, came from that movie. My mother loved the film, and swore destiny played a hand as she went into labor at the theater. They dashed from cinema to hospital and five minutes before midnight, I made my debut.

      Because of this, Mom wanted to name me after the characters in the film, but my father ruled out the entire name she put together. Eventually they settled on Rachel after his grandmother and Winifred as a compromise. Had I been consulted, I would have voted for Melinda.

      I was raised listening to bits of the songs, in particular, “…who would not be stunned to see you prove, There’s more to us than surgeons can remove?” and hearing Mom prattle on about names and destinies. Sadly, I’d never lived up to anyone’s expectations or great hopes for my life, yet, each time I watched the movie, I searched for the divine inside me, the spark of life that brought a character like Daisy to life so brilliantly.

      Alas, like every other time I’d seen the film, I didn’t find my spark of divine inspiration, СКАЧАТЬ