“Do you want to hear what I’ve been thinking?” Kellie asked.
“Always.”
“I was thinking of the guy who sat by you at Les Misérables and how we were trying to remember that verse about every knee bowing to Jesus Christ and declaring Him as Lord.”
“I’ve thought about that since the play as well.”
“Well, I’m just thinking how incredible that day is going to be when we do finally see Christ face to face. I mean, here we are, all choked up over the face of a clock and what this moment represents to you. But think of what it’s going to be like when we stand before Almighty God, the Ruler of all powers and principalities, and look into His face at last.”
Neither of us spoke for a long moment.
“Hmmm,” Kellie murmured.
I noticed she had a funny little grin on her face.
“What?”
“I don’t mean to sound silly at a moment like this, but Peter Pan only got to fly away to Neverland. When we go to be with the Lord, we get to fly away to Everland!”
I smiled back at my witty friend. It had been years since I had felt this sense of delight when it came to talking about God. Everything about my faith felt new again and fresher than ever.
The rosy glow lingered the rest of our final night in London. We strolled for hours over the Westminster Bridge and then back up the road to Trafalgar Square, where we took flash-assisted photos under the great lion statues and dipped our fingers in the fountain under the gaze of the immensely tall statue of Lord Nelson.
We returned to the hotel and reluctantly packed our suitcases before we went to bed so we could start our trek back to Olney early in the morning.
Our familiarity with the various modes of transportation helped as we took the underground, then a train, then a coach, and then a cab that pulled up at Rose’s front door.
I smiled when my feet touched the “Go Away” mat. Such wit. Did I understand it entirely after such a short visit? No. But I felt at home in the humor and in the breakfast room of Rose’s cottage.
Rose greeted us affectionately, which was a bit of a surprise. She had prepared a pot of tea, of course, and had everything ready for us when we arrived. Opal remained in the bedroom, scurrying to “collect her things.” Kellie and I sipped a cheering cuppa with Rose while we waited.
“Virgil is determined to drive you to the airport,” Rose said calmly. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, that’s fine.” Leaning closer I asked, “How did everything go this week between Virgil and Opal?”
Her eyes lit up. They looked just like Opal’s shiny blue marble eyes looked when Virgil had entered the house before the pancake race with his floppy chef’s hat on. “Why do you ask?”
“I had the impression Opal was sweet on Virgil and vice versa.”
She blinked and appeared to blush. I couldn’t believe how similar the twins’ mannerisms were. They were probably even more in tandem after spending this time together.
Before Rose could give me the inside scoop, Opal shuffled into the breakfast room, and the first thing our eyes went to were her hot pink running shoes.
“Do you plan to run another race this morning?” Kellie asked.
I wanted to giggle, but I didn’t.
“Only the race of life,” Opal said philosophically. “My sister said they would be a good choice for the airport.”
“I think Rose is right,” I said.
“I hope she is this time.” Opal gave a long, pensive sigh.
“I am.” Rose smiled with confidence. She got up from her chair easily while her sister scowled.
What had the two sisters disagreed over now? Kellie and I had speculated earlier that it might be difficult for the two of them to part ways, but it seemed they were ready to return to their lives on either side of the Atlantic.
“Virgil should be here any moment.” Rose began to clear the table.
Kellie and I offered to help Opal with her luggage. By the time we had wrestled her bag to the car, Virgil was standing by the boot, finding creative ways to make all of it fit. He greeted us cheerfully as usual. “Your carriage awaits, your majesty.”
Opal looked at Virgil with a shadow of disapproval. In that one look was the answer to my question: love had not blossomed between these two. Hope, it seemed, did not spring eternal.
I returned to the front door, where Rose looked on, her expression reflecting a soft glow. She seemed much more agreeable than she had when we first arrived. I gave her a hug and thanked her again for her gracious hospitality.
Reaching for my hand, she said, “Elizabeth, my dear, do you know what the dearest kindness is that a woman can offer herself in the autumn of her years?”
I shook my head. It seemed odd that she was calling me Elizabeth, the way Virgil did.
“It is the gift of giving herself permission to take risks.”
And then she winked at me.
Kellie was behind me. She gave Rose her thanks, accompanied by a warm hug. “We’ll take care of your sister.”
Rose grinned. “She’s quite capable of taking care of herself. I’m sure she’ll make that clear soon enough.”
We squished into the backseat with our smaller pieces of luggage, and with a final wave, we were off to the airport, this time without Boswald.
As we drove past the impressive parish church that had been the location of the pancake breakfast after the race, Kellie said, “I’m surprised that your church is so large. We visited several churches in Oxford, and all of them were more the size of chapels.”
“We had a famous minister,” Opal said. “Have you heard of John Newton?”
I thought I had, but I didn’t know why his name sounded familiar. Kellie answered no for both of us.
“Perhaps you know some of his hymns.”
Without further prompting, Virgil broke into a deep-voiced rendition of “Amazing Grace” while Opal shot him disagreeable glances.
“I’ve always loved that hymn,” Kellie said.
“He wrote that about the time you Yanks were busy trying to make a break from King George and form your own independent nation,” Opal added as commentary. “Newton was a slave trader, you know. Not quite the reputable hymn writer one might expect.”
“Yes,” Virgil added. “Yet from such a background comes appreciation for grace, don’t you think?” He caught my eye in the rearview mirror.
I nodded, and as if that was the only invitation he needed, Virgil said, “The twins knew me in my former days. Hooligan that I was, you might say I’ve come to acquire an appreciation for grace, just as Newton did.”
Opal was staring out the window, purposefully not engaged in Virgil’s tiny confession, even though it was the sanest collection of sentences we had heard him offer during our short acquaintance.
With a glance at Opal, he added wistfully, “A great strength lies in letting go of what was past and entering what is now. We all are given only so many days on this earth.”
Opal seemed unaffected by his words. If that was his last-ditch effort to garner her affection, the attempt had failed. Poor Virgil. There was so much to love about this strong, individualistic man.
Neither Kellie nor I tried to enter the conversation that seemed to be taking place between the lines and in the front seat only. But we exchanged looks, as if both of us were keenly aware of the way Rose’s slightly sour attitude had rubbed off on her twin during their time together.
Virgil didn’t say another word until he offered his farewell to us at the airport. The good-bye to Opal was stiff and involved no eye contact. The eternal romantic in me felt a soft sadness. I had hoped the two of them would share a sweet sort of renewed love during their time together. Apparently Cupid’s arrows had missed their mark.
A week after we returned home and had our lives back to something that resembled normalcy, Kellie and I met at our usual time at Brew-La-La. The cranberry red chairs were vacant, waiting for us. Nothing else about our lives felt the same.
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We stood staring at the familiar menu board, trying to decide what to order. The barista recognized us and asked, “Should I start the usual for you both?”
“No,” I said. “I’m not sure what I want, but I know I want to try something different.”
“Do you have any tea?” Kellie asked.
The barista looked offended.
“I’ll just have—”
“A Valencia mocha.” I selected the first item on the house specialty list.
“Make that two of those,” Kellie said.
For years I had skimmed the six specialty drinks, wondering what they tasted like, but I never had been willing to risk trying one in case I didn’t care for it. But that was before I stepped into a hot-air balloon and went soaring over the Cotswolds.
“Did I ever tell you what Rose said to me the day we left?” I asked as Kellie and I settled into our conversation corner.
“I don’t think so.”
“She said the nicest gift a woman can give herself is to take risks. Something like that. She said it more eloquently.”
“So that’s why you’re taking risks with the Valencia mocha?”
I told Kellie I now planned to work my way down the list.
“Well, I’ll tell you how I’m planning to take a risk,” Kellie said with a victorious grin. “I filed for a business license yesterday. K & L Interiors has moved out of the dream stage and is about to become reality.”
I swallowed and leaned back in the chair. “K & L Interiors,” I repeated. We hadn’t had a final conversation about my involvement yet. I still was debating whether this was a risk I wanted to take.
“Kellie, I have to tell you something. I’ve thought about this a lot, and I don’t want anything—especially business or money—to ever come into our friendship and separate us the way …”
“The way we got off track for those two years?”
I nodded. “I hated being in that awkward place. Absolutely hated it.”
“That was a long time ago. We’re not there now. We haven’t been for decades.”
Our coffees were ready. Kellie went to retrieve them, and I thought of how a small misunderstanding had placed the wedge between us. My husband and Kellie’s husband had bumped heads over a business investment when both of us had been married only a few years. We lost a small amount of money in the deal, but at the time it represented a lot to us. Martin and Roger didn’t want to socialize during the upheaval, so Kellie and I felt we couldn’t pursue our budding friendship since our husbands weren’t “bonding” as well.
Life went on. Kellie and I had babies, our paths as two families crossed frequently, and one day everything changed. The misunderstanding burned up in a heap of charcoal during a church picnic while Martin and Roger spent an hour flipping hamburgers next to each other, making amends over a flaming grill. From that day on we were friends again. All of us. Even our five children.
I learned then that men do friendship differently than women do. I also discovered that neither Roger nor Martin would have tried to deter us if Kellie and I had chosen to spend more time together. I gained many insights in the spring years, including that friendships can be fragile.
Now that we were entering our autumn years and Rose was telling me to take risks, I still didn’t feel at peace about going into business with Kellie.
Kellie returned with the Valencia mochas. I thought I saw one of those I’ve-got-a-secret looks in her eyes. As she sat down across from me, she asked, “Do you feel as if we’ve thoroughly resolved our friendship disconnection from the past? I mean, the misunderstanding between Martin and Roger and the way that spilled over onto you and me?”
“Yes, definitely. I don’t think we have anything to hash out, and I’m not saying I’m harboring any unresolved feelings. I’m just trying to say that I have strong hesitations about taking the risk of partnering in this new business because—”
“It’s not your dream,” she said softly.
I nodded. “It’s your dream.”
Kellie’s eyes warmed. “And do you know what your dream is?”
I shook my head. I had been content to experience all the delights of my wish come true for the past few weeks. I didn’t think I had a dream. “Do you think a dream is different than a wish?”
“I do,” Kellie said. “I could be all wrong, but I think a wish is something whimsical you hope for when you blow out birthday candles or blow a dandelion in the breeze.”
“As opposed to feeling a breeze and then sitting in a field of dandelions,” I added with a wry grin.
She laughed. “Exactly. It seems that when a wish comes true, it’s sweet and satisfying. And when it’s over, that’s it. But a dream is something that starts in the part of your heart where your passions lie. It doesn’t go away.”
“Do you think I have a dream and don’t know it?”
Kellie’s eyes did all the answering in the affirmative, but her lips stayed pressed to the edge of her to-go cup.
“What? What do you see that I don’t?”
“First star on the right and the second cloud in the morning.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s ‘second star to the right and straight on ’til morning.’ ”
“Exactly. Don’t you see it? Liz, you have a passion for British literature. You need to do something with that.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Read to children at the library. Teach a class at the community college on literature appreciation. Lead literary tours to London and visit all the homes of your favorite authors. Start a blog about Mary Poppins or something. I don’t know. It’s your dream. Go ahead and dream!”
I sat back, stunned and at the same time filled with a rising sense of adventure. “You’re right. This is my passion, my dream. I’ve never done anything with it.”
Kellie smiled and took a small sip of her coffee. “This is pretty good. The orange flavor is a little strong, but it’s nice.”
I wasn’t interested in the coffee. I was interested in the topic. “Why didn’t I ever see this before?”
“Maybe you had to go to England before you could see it. I certainly never saw it before in you. Then the minute we hit British soil, this wealth of information came popping out of you.”
“So, wait. If this is my dream and I should figure out how to pursue doing something with this passion, what about you and the business? You said you got the license already. For K & L Interiors.”
Kellie nodded. “L is for LeeAnne.”
“Your daughter-in-law?”
It all made sense. The combination was brilliant, actually. LeeAnne and Kellie got along great. They lived four miles from each other. LeeAnne had majored in marketing and had spent the past three years working for a company that remodeled vacation rental homes.
“Kellie …”
“I know. It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
“You can still count on me to do some hunting and gathering, you know.”
“I was hoping you would say that.” Kellie looked down at her cell phone that was vibrating in the corner pocket of her purse. She read the incoming phone number. “It’s Opal.”
“Ask her if we can stop by this morning. I bought some gingersnaps yesterday and was thinking of checking on her.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Kellie answered her phone. A moment later her eyebrows were pressing inward with concern.
“Everything okay?”
Kellie closed her phone. “Opal sounded frustrated. She hasn’t been able to make her television work, and the staff at the manor has been no help in getting it fixed. I told her we would come over.”
I was prepared to call the cable company once we arrived at Opal’s apartment. The problem, however, was resolved once we showed her which buttons on her remote she needed to push to realign her television on the right cable channel.
“I brought you some biscuits.” I pulled out the bag of gingersnaps.
“That was kind of you. Thank
you.”
We stood awkwardly waiting for what to do next. Opal didn’t invite us to tea as she had in the past. Although, we always had arrived later in the afternoon, so perhaps it was too early for one of our little tea parties. I also noticed Opal seemed sad, less twinkle eyed than in the past.
“Is there anything else we can do for you while we’re here?” Kellie asked.
“No, you were most kind to come right away.”
“We were over at Brew-La-La,” I said.
Opal didn’t respond.
“The coffee café,” I said.
Still no response.
“Where we met,” Kellie added.
“Yes, of course.” Her expression lightened a bit.
“We’ll be on our way,” Kellie said. “But call me anytime you want.”
“We would be happy to come by for tea sometime,” I said.
Opal nodded and saw us to the door.
Kellie and I made our way to the parking lot, and I said, “I hope she’s okay. She doesn’t seem herself.”
“It could be the jet lag. It took me a few days to get back on track with sleeping and eating.”
“The time with her sister really seemed to change her,” I said. “Did you notice on the plane home she ordered chicken? On the flight to England she said she didn’t care for the ‘foul fowl.’ ”
“That’s right. And she wanted the aisle seat on the way home too, which was different.”
“I know. It’s almost as if we brought the wrong twin home.”
Kellie and I stopped in the middle of the parking lot and faced each other with stunned expressions. At the same moment we said, “We did! We brought home the wrong twin!”
Hustling back through the front doors of Sunshine Manor, we impatiently pressed the elevator button as if it would take us to Opal’s floor sooner.
“Why would those two pixies do something like this?” Kellie asked.
“Virgil,” I said with an air of assurance. “I bet Opal wanted to stay because of Virgil. Rose, for some reason, agreed to switch with her sister, but she’s obviously not happy about it.”