Ever since the kiss, or, what Delia would call it, the defining romantic moment of her pre-adolescent life, she and Torres avoided each other completely. No one who had ever lived next to each other and were in the same class saw less of each other then Delia and Torres. And Murasaki helped her, without question. In truth Mursaki's helpfulness sprang from a slight layer of guilt and responsibility, it was greatly appreciated by Delia none the less. Unfortunately the two friends never discussed the avoidance so Delia was never able to thank her for the support.
Late one afternoon, after school had let out and the school bus was no longer needed, Irv drove up into the hills, only a few minutes out of the city. The house he and Edna now lived in had been his father's; Irv's father had bought it while Irv was fighting in the Second World War. It was home for Irv now, but it hadn't always been. Despite being settled by Mexicans Everwood had a period where non-Whites were allowed but not accepted. Growing up Irv had to live just outside of down, in a two story white house with his parents, cousins, and grandfather. His entire family had managed to fit in that house. He would always remember Sunday night dinners with a smile. There would always be some pair fighting about something, but you never heard fighting with so much love in it.
He drove past that house now. The screen door lay on the porch, broken. The once brilliant white paint from so many years ago had peeled and lay around the house in the dry tall grass. About a decade or so ago the building had finally been condemned. Now it only told ghostly memories of what used to be, of all the life that used to circle it. The house, however, was not Irv's reason for the trip. It was the house about a mile down the road that drew him. It was much smaller then what he had grown up in, a ranch styled house. It was still lived in, a new coat of blue paint was on it and several pairs of plastic shudders adorned the windows. Instead of wood and moss the roof was now aluminum. Irv pulled up in front of the house and walked over to the front porch. The over weight white woman who sat on the porch nodded to him and he smiled at her, nodding back in appreciation. He then walked past the house and into the field behind it.
As many memories as that house too held for him, it was also not the cause for his trip. The reason he ventured to this desolate spot, through the tall dry grass and to the forgotten oak tree was because of… Maggie. They had been neighbors, growing up. Neither of them had any siblings, so they were always playing together. He was a few years older and was always looking out for her. They would play in this field until the sun went down, no matter the season. In the summer they ran like Hell and in the winter they built cities. It seemed like cities, anyway. He smiled standing in front of that oak tree. He fell in love with her under that tree. Now she was buried under it.
There was one song that always reminded Irv of Maggie. It was Scottish; he was sure, and very pretty.
"I wandered today, to the hills, Maggie, to watch the scene below, the creek and creaking old mill, Maggie, where we used to long long ago. The green growth is gone from the hills Maggie, where first the daisies sprung. The creaking old mill is still, Maggie, since you and I were young. Oh they say that I'm feeble with age, Maggie, my steps are much slower than then. My face is a well written page, Maggie, and time all along was the pen. Oh they say we have outlived our time, Maggie, as dated as songs that we've sung, but to me you're as fair as you were Maggie, when you and I were young. Oh they say we have outlived our time, Maggie, as dated as songs, that we've sung, but to me, you're as fair as you were Maggie, when you and I were young, when you and I were young."
That was it, that was the song. He had it sung at her funeral, and he always sang it to her grave. He wasn't sure how she felt about the song, but it always made him feel better, and since he was the living one, that's really what mattered.
Andy sat in Mama Joy's occasionally sipping from his mug of coffee. Everyone he had treated that day was suffering from the same thing, allergies. The warming weather and melting snow introduced so many molds and other allergens into the air Andy was glad he didn't charge anyone. It took five minutes to diagnose and write the prescription, charging them anything would be robbery. He wasn't sure what Harold was doing about it, and it wasn't any of his business. That was something Andy was quickly learning to differentiate from, his business and not his business. He was trying….
One thing he figured could be his business is a large crowd of Everwood citizens surrounding a single area. It so happened such a thing as this was occurring across the street from Mama Joy's. Andy paid for his coffee and headed toward the door.
"Let me know, okay?" Nina asked him from behind the counter. He nodded and walked out onto the street.
He had noted and heard the rumors about all of the construction happening there, a lot of his patients talked to him about it and he usually let them. No one knew what was being built, not even Brenda Baxworth. Andy had given thought to asking his son's girlfriend about it, Desi usually had connections to everything. Her father being mayor gave her several inside contacts, but if she knew anything the entire town would know by now. In fact, Andy didn't really care what the business or whatever would be, he just wanted to know why no one knew.
The crowd around the area seemed rather excited and Andy could hear the mumbles from them as he left Mama Joy's. He remembered what the business front had looked like before it was covered with a cloth, as it was now. It was run down and dirty and generally looked down upon as part of Main Street. Andy believed a building should always get another chance, and he didn't just say it, he acted accordingly, as anyone in Everwood would say. He was glad someone was doing something with the space, even if it turned out to be another doctor's office.
A youngish man stepped out from behind the cloth and climbed onto a ladder with his hands at the top of the cloth, like he was going to finally take it down. The man was probably a few inches taller than Andy, off the ladder of course, with essentially 'wild' blonde hair appearing from under a tan cowboy hat, and a very tan complexion. He smiled perfectly at the gathering. The murmuring from the crowd grew for a second and then lessened slightly, everyone making their last minute predictions.
"I'd like to thank y'all for coming out here. Bet y'all itchin' to see what's under this here blanket, and I'm pleased to show it to ya!" the man told them. The Southern stereotypes in that small speech alone made Andy snicker, and he didn't snicker easily. The man removed the cloth and complete and utter silence seemed to overcome the entire street.
"I'll be damned…" Andy muttered under his breath.
Andy walked back in Mama Joy's with a generally shocked look on his face. He sat down on a stool and didn't, well, blink, for quite some time. Nina walked over to him and leaned against the counter excited.
"So, what is it?" she asked him raising her eyebrows for a moment in anticipation. Andy turned to her, the same look of surprise adorning his face as before. He just shook his head, finally letting his mouth close.
"You don't want to know," he said seemingly as surprised by the response as she was. Nina frowned slightly and was going to question him further when someone wanted a refill on coffee. Andy just remained there, shaking his head in shock.
Ephram walked into the kitchen with an unusual hum. It wasn't so much the hum itself that was unusual, but the source of it. Delia had been alone in the kitchen until Ephram entered, and she now watched him carefully, waiting for any sudden movements. But Ephram did nothing but pour himself a glass of water. He did eventually notice Delia by the kitchen table, a piece of paper in her hands and several envelopes on the table in front of her.
"What 'cha got there?" he asked walking over to her.
"Today's mail. This one's for you," she said moving the piece of paper in her hands. He looked at her questionably.
"And you opened it?" he asked her. She nodded.
"It was addressed to the family, but really it's for you. Your piano teacher in New Jersey died," she informed her. He raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly, reading over the letter.
"Ding-dong," he said and then looked at Delia, realizing he had spoken the thought, "don't tell Dad I said that…" he instructed. She nodded and made a zipper closing motion of her mouth.
