My Best Friend’s Valentine (3 of 4)

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A Brief Introduction

Welcome to the third of four episodes of the Donald Jay Author Podcast featuring my short story, My Best Friend’s Valentine. In this episode, I’ll read Scene 5: The Stars, Scene 6: That Morning, and Scene 7: The Emergency. I’m Donald Jay.

In the second episode, Mason overheard a conversation between Leah and Charlotte Flowers that crushed his planned romantic gesture while Leah took steps to test Mason’s intentions.

In this episode, we find out what makes Evan’s swing so special, a second charm for Leah’s bracelet arrives, and one of the couple narrowly escapes being seriously injured.

This is My Best Friend’s Valentine.

My Best Friend’s Valentine – Scene 5: The Stars

MY BEST FRIEND’S VALENTINE
A Dickens Station Romantic Short Story
By Donald Jay

Scene 5 – The Stars

Closing time arrived at nine o’clock. The empty store surprised Mason, who hadn’t caught his breath all day. He thought about grabbing something to eat. Changing his mind, he called Grant and told him not to worry, that he would be home late. He snatched up the broken pieces of bracket, locked the front door to the store, and walked north on Market Street toward the Dickens estate.

When he got to where Back Street curved around the town in front of the Dickens mansion, he veered to the left and stepped onto the dirt path that led into the woods. At the fork, rather than taking the trail to the right, toward the graveyard, he chose the left toward a dilapidated Victorian mansion surrounded by a spiked, wrought-iron fence. A shrill, sustained creak from the front gate announced his arrival to the moonlit shadow monsters of roached cars and architectural salvage that guarded the path to the front porch. A shredded blanket tacked to the head jamb provided no resistance to the frigid night air or to any intruder who might wander inside.

Pitch-black darkness welcomed Mason into the front parlor. “Joe,” Mason called. “Joe, it’s me, Mason Carver.”

“I was wonderin’ when you’d show up.” The crackling, raspy voice seemed to come from everywhere. Footsteps echoed against the wall at Mason’s shoulder. His gaze snapped to the peeling wallpaper. Then he chuckled to himself and looked in the opposite direction.

Illuminated by the scant flame of an oil lamp, Old Joe’s face hovered low in the black corridor beyond, twisted to one side with one eye fixed wider than the other. “Old Joe ’as somthin’ you want, ’e does? Maybe somethin’ you need?”

Mason held out the pieces of the metal bracket. “I’m hoping you can help me, Joe?”

A hunched figure joined the floating face as Joe shuffled closer. A bony hand covered in a grimy black fingerless glove lifted one of the smaller pieces from Mason’s outstretched hands. Joe fumbled the shard round and round beneath the lamplight, studying every angle with his one wide eye. He raised the gaze of that eye toward Mason. “Ghost of Evan Marley, eh?”

“You remember this metal?”

Joe dumped the fragment back into Mason’s hand. “You won’t be fixin’ those. You’ll ’ave to forge it again.”

Mason’s head twisted. “But from what? I used it all last time.”

Joe shook his head, grabbed his long coat together in front, and shuffled into the great room opposite the parlor, taking the light with him. Mason followed the scent of soot and warm oil into the next room. Upon reaching the far wall, Joe twisted his hunched body to focus his sight on Mason. “What ’ave you got for old Joe, eh? What ’ave you got to trade?”

Mason looked around but could see little from the faint light of the oil lamp. He opened his palms. “What’d you need?”

Joe lowered the lantern to the hearth. Shattered firebrick and pulverized mortar dust clogged the firebox. Mason stepped closer to inspect the rubble. “What happened here?” He took the lantern.

“Lightnin’, it was, last week, durin’ ’at storm.”

Mason glared up at him. “Joe, why didn’t you get word to me? You’ve been without heat for a week?”

Joe cackled. “Old Joe don’t mind the cold. ’Sides, I knew you’d be comin’ round, didn’t I?”

Mason stood, clapping mortar dust from his hands. “Joe, I’ll have someone out here tomorrow to fix this for you.”

“Ou, you’re a better man than you give yourself credit for, Mason Carver. Lift the lamp to the mantel then, eh?”

Mason did as Joe asked. As the flame illuminated the mantel, it also shone on three large hunks of dull gray rock. Mason squinted one eye at Old Joe.

“Izz ’at what you be needin’, mate?” Old Joe winked with his smaller eye.

Mason picked up a hunk and hefted it. “Joe, is this what I think it is?”

“’At be meteorite, Mr. Carver; a chunk of the stars, it be. It was three chunks of that what made them things you brought. Poor Evan Marley. God rest ’is soul. ’E ’ad a good friend in you, mate. A good friend indeed.” Joe pointed down the dark corridor. “It’s all right where you left it. Don’t disturb Old Joe when you leave in the morning. I likes to sleep late.” Joe cackled so loudly it set a neighboring dog to howling.

Mason carried the heavy stones through the house and out across the yard. At a barn that he felt sure would collapse any second, he wrestled open a termite-ridden shell of a door. Inside, he lifted a brittle, dust-covered tarp and reacquainted himself with a coal forge, tools, and a rusted railroad rail spiked to a stump as an anvil.

An amber glow flickered from every window of the barn until the sun rose in the morning.

***

My Best Friend’s Valentine – Scene 6: That Morning

MY BEST FRIEND’S VALENTINE
A Dickens Station Romantic Short Story
By Donald Jay

Scene 6 – That Morning

Leah had spent the rest of the previous day muddling around the house, vacillating between wishing Mason were there to talk to and feeling dreadful guilt. Evan’s charm bracelet haunted her as an omen to remain faithful to him. Her night had been long and restless.

This morning, she drove into town. True to her routine, she stopped by the loading dock of the Plum Pudding Bakery to grab a cup of coffee and check for “mail.”

As she pranced up the loading dock steps to the break area provided to Back Streeters by Charlotte and Tabitha, Mason twisted to greet her.

“Oh, hi.” Leah froze before she reached the top step. “What happened to you?”

“Hi.” Mason set his cup down, pulled hers from the wall of cubby holes displaying various Back Streeters’ coffee mugs, and pumped in some steaming liquid. “I was out at Joe’s place, uh, helping him with his chimney. From your reaction, I must look pretty bad.” He placed her coffee and the creamer on a nearby table. Then he pointed. “Looks like you’ve got some mail. What brings you to town?” He sat at the table with his cup and beckoned for her to join him.

She sat and added cream to her coffee. “I can’t stay long. I have a training session with our new branch manager, Keisha Johnston.”

Mason nodded and sipped.

Leah fought the urge to grab a napkin and moisten it with her tongue. Instead, she giggled. “Your face. Look at you. You’re covered in soot. What’d you do, climb up inside the chimney?”

Mason shook his head but did not smile. “No, nothing like that. I have to go, too. I’m opening the store this morning.” He stood. “By the way, I found those brackets for you yesterday. They’re at the store. I’ll drop ’em off at the farm later so you can fix the swing whenever you’re ready. Don’t forget your mail.”

The deep creases in Mason’s forehead and the heaviness in his words weighed on Leah. Her mind raced for something to say that would keep the conversation going. Mason trotted down the dock steps and headed up Back Street. She considered calling after him, and then she admonished herself for not being quick enough.

She was rising to leave when Charlotte burst through the back door, carrying an oversized box. “Char, let me help you with that.” Leah hustled over to pull the screen door open wider.

“Nope, I’ve got it,” Charlotte chimed, weaving past Leah. She thumped the box down on the buffet counter. “There. Three days before Valentine’s Day. It’s time to decorate.” She clapped her hands twice as if dispelling dust.

“Charlotte, you’re amazing. You do so much for the people of this town. Putting the coffee and snacks out here every day, decorating for Valentine’s Day, your annual sweetheart’s special. You know many girls in this town think the magic is gone if their valentine doesn’t order one of your specials for her.”

Charlotte chuckled and waved at the air. “I’ve even had a few who found engagement rings tucked into their treats. How about you? Have you stopped beating yourself up over that swing accident yet?”

Leah rinsed her coffee cup and pulled the notes from her cubby before replacing the cup. She shrugged. “I guess so. Actually, it’s more complicated than that.”

“Love usually is.” Charlotte sighed, pulling a stack of red lacy paper hearts from the box.

When Leah noticed that the mail she had retrieved from her cubby included a small, wrapped package, her heart sank. She plopped into the nearest chair.

Charlotte’s head whipped around. “What’s wrong, Lee?” She slid into the chair opposite. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” In a zombie-like trance, Leah passed her the package. Charlotte read the return address aloud: “Terrance Wickham, Attorney at Law, Rutland. Isn’t that the lawyer who helped Evan arrange his affairs before he passed?”

Leah nodded and retrieved the package. She opened the wrapper while she explained. “I got one of these yesterday. Evan arranged one last Valentine’s Day for me with his attorney. You know, it’s funny.” She paused her unwrapping. “Evan was always an amazing husband, but when we were first married, romantic, he was not. About a year after Jacob was born, Evan came out of his shell, and he never missed a Valentine’s Day after that. Yesterday I got a charm bracelet with a promise charm already attached.” She pulled the red velvet-covered box from the brown paper wrapper, popped open the hinged lid, and gasped.

Charlotte danced around the table to look over Leah’s shoulder. The baker slapped her hand to her chest. “Oh, my. That’s a beautiful charm. But why a yellow rose? Doesn’t a yellow rose mean friendship?”

Leah nodded, loosening a tear, which rolled down her cheek. “Evan often told me he wanted to be my best friend.” She closed the box, tucked it under her chin with both hands, and sobbed. Charlotte hugged her friend’s shoulders from behind.

The rest of Leah’s day progressed as planned. As she drove up the driveway to her house, she noticed a large shipping carton, open at the top, parked by her front door. Upon closer inspection, she discovered it contained two pristine brackets for the swing, identical to those she had destroyed.

***

My Best Friend’s Valentine – Scene 7: The Emergency

MY BEST FRIEND’S VALENTINE
A Dickens Station Romantic Short Story
By Donald Jay

Scene 7 – The Emergency

Mason had just handed a paper bag containing lag bolts to his customer when Grant burst into the store. “Dad!”

Mason read the ominous tone in his son’s voice. “Grant? What’s up?”

“Todd Cavanaugh just called me. He delivered a package out to Mrs. Marley’s. When he got there, an ambulance was pulling away. The farmhand who took the package told him that something fell on Mrs. Marley and hurt her pretty bad. They’re taking her to the hospital in Rutland.”

Mason excused himself from his customer and reached into the back room for his coat. “Can you watch the store?”

Grant nodded. “That’s why I came instead of calling. Lissa is handling things at the bank, so I could come and cover for you.”

“Great.” Mason wrestled his coat up onto his shoulders.

Grant grabbed his father’s forearm. “Dad. They said she’s all right. You getting into an accident trying to get there won’t help matters.”

Mason blew out a puff of air. “You’re right. I’ll slow down. I’ll call you when I know something.”

***

Leah’s eyes parted slightly to reveal the blurry image of a man standing beside her hospital bed.

“Mason?” Her voice cracked, and her throat stung with sandy dryness. She pried open the fingers of her hand nearest him. Relief washed over her when his huge, calloused hand embraced hers. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m fine. I …” She tried to sit up but didn’t have the strength.

“Don’t get up, Lee.” He placed his other hand on her unbandaged shoulder. “The nurse told me they gave you something that makes you sleepy. Everything’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

She relaxed and turned her head to look at him. “Aren’t you going to ask me what stupid thing I did to land in here?”

Mason shook his head. “I’m not here to judge you, Lee. I’m just here.”

Her eyes drifted closed.

***

A few minutes later, a doctor entered the room and beckoned for Mason to follow him into the hallway.

“Are you her husband?”

“No, a close family friend. Her husband has passed, and her son works in Burlington. I’ve called him, and I’m keeping him informed. I guess I’m the closest thing she has to kin here in town.”

The doctor consulted Leah’s chart. “Well, she’s not seriously hurt. From what I understand, something fell on her and knocked her down. She’s got a nasty bruise on her left shoulder and a minor hairline fracture to her humerus. Other than that, she’s pretty lucky. She’s probably going to hurt all over for a few days. Her arm should be in a sling for at least a week, maybe longer, and she needs to take it easy for a while. I gave her some heavy painkillers to get her through the x-rays, which is why she’s so groggy. I’d like to keep her until tomorrow morning to be sure there’s nothing we’ve missed. Will you be driving her home?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll stay tonight and be here when she’s ready to go home tomorrow.”

“There’s no need to stay,” the doctor said. “With what I gave her, she’ll sleep through the night. She’s in no danger.”

Mason nodded. “I know, Doc, but I’ll stay anyway.”

***

A Few Closing Thoughts

Be sure to join me for the final two scenes of My Best Friend’s Valentine on the next episode of the Donald Jay Author Podcast. Until then, I’m Donald Jay.