Clouds Drifting Over Cherry Lane

By Rich Bullock

Bill dug into the rich, black earth with his trowel, mixing in bone meal and fertilizer before putting in another snapdragon from the flat. He wiped his brow with the back of his gloved hand, loving the scent of the leather and moist soil almost as much as the flowers he planted.

It was warm for April. He sat back on his heels, pulled off his long sleeved outer shirt and tossed it over the fence. He still had a dozen more plants to put in before he finished the bed, but he stood and stepped back to survey his handiwork, stretching out the cramped muscles in his lower back. Sweet peas were nearly a foot tall and starting to twine their way around the white pickets of the fence in front of his house. They would be a beautiful backdrop for the snaps. He heard the crunch of gravel and turned to see who was coming.

“What beautiful flowers.”

“Thanks.” Bill shielded his eyes with his hand and studied the young woman walking towards him. She wore jeans, a sweatshirt and a baseball cap. The cherry trees were just about at their peak and some of the pink petals drifted down as she closed the last steps to where he stood.

“Hi. I’m April Paris,” she said, sticking out her hand. Bill quickly removed his glove and reached to return the handshake. Her hand was delicate but firm.

“Bill Reynolds.”

“You have a way with flowers, Bill Reynolds.”

“You have a way with names,” Bill returned. “April Paris?”

She smiled dropping her gaze. “My parents’ idea of a joke. I’m lucky they didn’t name me after the Eiffel Tower.” He laughed. She turned to the flowerbed and knelt down, bending close she pressed her nose to a snapdragon and breathed deep. “Ummm, that smells so good.”

“Wait until the sweet peas get going. The whole yard fills with the aroma.” Bill wiped his brow again in the warm air. He wondered how she wasn’t hot in her sweatshirt.

“I saw the name of your street, Cherry Lane, and just had to come down to see the trees in full bloom. They are so beautiful.” She got to her feet and surveyed the trees lining the dirt lane. “Did you plant them, too?”

“Yes, I planted….” Bill started to say. April began to sway and her eyes fluttered shut. Bill reached for her just as she started to fall and caught her. She went limp and he swept her up into his arms, startled at how light she was, then carried her up the path to the front porch. Carefully he sat her in one of the padded wicker chairs. What should he do? Should he call 911? His neighbors weren’t near, so he couldn’t shout for help.

Before he could decide what to do, she started to come around. He knelt down in front of her.

“Are you okay? April?” Her face was still as white as a sheet, but her eyes began to open.

“What?” Her head rolled to the side as if it were too heavy to hold up. Her baseball cap tumbled to the floor.

Startled, Bill stared at her, unable to move. Except for a few wisps blonde hair she was nearly bald. “April?”

“Oh. I’m so sorry,” she said as her eyes focused on him. She leaned back in the chair and moaned.

“Stay right here.” Bill hurried into the house, wet a washcloth and filled a glass with water before returning to the porch.

“Here, put this on your head, take a drink.” He handed her the washcloth and glass. She took a small sip, but it seemed too much of an effort to hold up the washcloth, so Bill took it and gently held it across her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” April repeated, leaning back and closing her eyes. “I’ve been sick. I must have…” Her eyes opened wide and her hand went to her head. He saw the look of fear in her eyes as she ran her palm over her bare scalp. “Oh.”

“It’s okay,” Bill said gently. “I understand.”

She looked into his eyes and he willed her to see acceptance, not rejection.

April gave a tiny smile. “I just finished chemo a couple of weeks ago. It was pretty tough. I thought I was strong enough to go for a walk today, but I guess the bending down and getting up was a little too much.”

“I remember that with my younger sister. She had cancer, too.”

“Oh.” Relief flickered across her face.

“Most of her hair fell out. I convinced her to shave off the rest of it.” Bill flipped the washcloth over so the cool side touched her forehead. “She looked pretty good, in a Star Trek kind of way.”

“How is she?” April asked, locking her gaze on his.

He looked away, avoiding the hope in her eyes. “She died five years ago.” Why could grass grow in a crack in the sidewalk, but people, even with the best that medicine had to offer, died anyway? He had asked those kinds of questions hundreds of times and still not received an answer.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, giving her a weak smile. “Her name was Cherry.”

“Like Cherry Lane?”

He nodded. Her skin color returned and her blue eyes were starting to sparkle again.

“I bought the house, planted the cherry trees, and then petitioned the city to rename the street. I’m the only house out here so they agreed.”

April reached up and pulled his hand and washcloth off.

He retrieved her hat.

“I’d better be going. My mom is going to be worried.”

“Stay here. I’ll bring my car around.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine. It’s only a few blocks.”

Bill insisted on driving her. When they arrived at April’s house, he met her mom at the front door. She thanked him over and over while wringing a dishtowel nearly to death, and telling him she warned April not to go too far. April stood behind her mom looking at Bill and rolling her eyes in a way that had Bill working hard to keep from laughing out loud.

On the short drive home, Bill found himself thinking about Cherry. April reminded him of her in the way she loved flowers. When they were younger, he and Cherry would spread an old blanket on the grass in the back yard, lie on their backs, and watch the cloud shapes roll by. It was her favorite thing to do. “It’s just like looking at a hole in the sky, isn’t it Billy?” Cherry would say, as they watched the blue patch of sky framed by the side of the house and large trees.

Those were good days, before the disease began sapping her strength and dragging her down. Bill didn’t understand why life was so cruel. He had prayed for her, always for healing first, but then to relieve the pain. For some reason, God hadn’t answered the way Bill wanted.

Within six months she was gone.

Bill parked the car and walked around to the front porch, dropping into the same chair April had occupied. He picked up his Bible from the table and opened to Psalms. After Cherry’s death it was several months before his prayers were anything except for a single question: Why? However, as time passed he learned that he could never fully understand God’s ways, yet he could still trust Him, just as Job did in the Old Testament.

As the afternoon transitioned noiselessly into evening, his thoughts kept drifting to April. He found himself looking up to check if she was coming down Cherry Lane.

**********

“Hey, Bill.”

He turned. April walked briskly toward him. The late summer sun beat down on her, but she looked cool in shorts, tank top, and trusty baseball hat. He shook his head in amazement at the difference four months made in her recovery.

“Hi, April. How’s the walking going?” He put down the paintbrush he was using to touch up the fence.

“Great. I’m up to five miles a day consistently now. I feel better every day.” She pulled her sunglasses off and put them on top of her cap. “Wow, look at those sweet peas!” She bent over to smell the sweet aroma.

“Want some water? I was about to take a break.”

“Sure.”

Bill went up the steps to the house and returned with two glasses of ice water. They sat on the steps in the shade and talked about their parents, his work, her last checkup—clear, thank God—and church. She had started attending with him.

What he liked most about April was her love of life. He knew just how she felt. Cherry’s death had awakened in him a new awareness about how precious life is. Each time April stopped by his house—a couple of times each week—they would talk. After several dates, mostly picnics, canoeing on the river, and a trip to the zoo, he knew he was falling in love with her. She was fun to be with and they had many common interests. They both loved popcorn and old movies, browsing in bookstores, gardening, and cooking up experimental dishes.

Bill got some bread from the kitchen and they tossed bits to some of his garden birds as they talked.

He loved that April had a mind of her own and she was quick to voice her opinion. He smiled at the memory of her threatening him with a fork if he so much as thought of ordering anchovies on their pizza.

At the same time, he had to admit he was scared. After losing his sister, he didn’t know if he could face that kind of pain again. April had just come through cancer treatment. What if she got sick again? Could he hold her and watch her die as he had his sister? He wasn’t sure he could.

Yet he couldn’t imagine life without her. She had become his best friend.

He smiled as she continued to talk, only half listening to what she said. His thoughts were on her beautiful blue eyes, the enthusiasm in her voice, and the touch of her hand on his arm that sent signals to every nerve.

She was so special. Would he work up the nerve to tell her?

“Well, I guess I’d better head home before my muscles stiffen up,” April said, rising from the step.

In a flash, Bill made up his mind. “Wait. Stay here; I’ll be right back.” He noticed April’s puzzled look and he rushed into the house and toward his bedroom. He yanked open a dresser drawer and pulled out a small box, opened it briefly, then hurried back outside. April had one leg propped up on the stair railing. She leaned forward, stretching her calf muscles. Taking in those long, tanned legs, Bill gulped hard. She gave him a million-watt smile as he opened the screen door. He stood staring until she gave him another puzzled look.

Somehow he managed to ask her to sit down again. At first he sat beside her, but that didn’t seem right. He slid off the step, dropped to one knee before her and looked her in the eye.

“April, I know we’ve only known each other a few months, but…I…uh…” He looked down, swallowed and started again. “I mean, well, I…well, you know, you really are a special woman. I love you.” There, he said it. He looked at her and watched a smile spreading on her lips. Full lips with a coating of raspberry lip gloss. He cleared his throat. “Would you….” his throat constricted again. He had no idea this would be so hard.

“Yes? Go on.” He could tell by her widening smile that she was really enjoying herself.

Bill felt a trickle of sweat run down his back under his shirt. “April, would you marry me?” He opened the box and showed her the ring. Her smile grew into a full grin and she looped her arms around his neck, pushed forward and kissed him solidly on the lips. He fell back onto the grass with her on top of him.

Her love and joy banished any lingering doubts from his mind. She felt exactly right in his arms and he kissed her back with a love that came from his very soul. Bill knew then that God brought them together and whatever the future held was in His hands.

The raspberry lip gloss was almost gone when they finally separated. She collapsed onto the grass next to him with a small laugh. He propped his head up in his hand.

“So, is that a yes?”

“Yes, that is definitely a yes,” she said with a big grin, then held out her finger so he could put the engagement ring on. She kissed him again and he could have sworn that she mumbled something like, “Took you long enough.”

*************

“Daddy, I think that one looks like a dolphin.”

“Looks like an elephant trunk to me,” Bill said.

“No it doesn’t either! It’s a dolphin,” Camille insisted. Dolphins were her favorite animal this week and she worked them into her conversations every chance she got.

Bill smiled and looked up into the sky from their vantage point on the old blanket. “Well, maybe it does look a little like a dolphin, if the dolphin was old and bent in the middle and had big, dumb Mickey Mouse ears.”

“Dad-dy!” she squealed as he reached across and tickled her.

The setting November sun wasn’t very strong. He pulled the sides of the blanket wrapping them together against the chill. The leaves were gone from the tall maple, affording a clear view of the twilight sky with rushing clouds. After his daughter settled down again, she said, “I think that one looks like Mommy.”

He looked where she was pointing. It was a little hard to see the resemblance. “You think so?” Camille had started drawing pictures of April in school. They were very good for a six year old. Even her teacher said so.

The fading light painted the fluffy clouds pink, and for a moment Bill was transported back in time to when he and his sister, Cherry, watched the cloud formations. That seemed like so long ago. He wondered if these clouds just circled the earth, continually changing shapes, but never really disappearing.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, hon.”

“Is heaven up above the pink clouds?”

“I’m not sure, but I think so.”

“I think so, too,” Camille said with complete conviction.

The pink faded to gray and the temperature dipped. The cold air and fresh cut grass reminded him of football games and holiday celebrations.

It was time to go in. He reminded Camille that tomorrow was her Thanksgiving party at school, so she had better go in and take her bath. Bill listened as she skipped through the house. He saw the bathroom light go on and through the slightly open window heard her singing a song from Sunday School. Slowly he gathered up the old blanket.

“Hey, Bill. You coming inside? It’s getting cold out here.” April walked across the grass, his wife’s full head of blond hair backlit by the soft yellow glow of the kitchen light. She slipped her arm around his waist and kissed him lightly and he buried his face in her hair.

“You smell like pumpkin pie,” he said and wiped a smudge of flour from her cheek.

“I’m making them for Thanksgiving.” She grinned up at him, then shivered. “Burrr.”

Bill wrapped the blanket around their shoulders and they snuggled together for warmth. Thanksgiving said it well. For both of them it was much more than a holiday. He glanced up one last time as they headed inside, arms around each other.

In the moonlit sky, clouds drifted over Cherry Lane.

The End

*****

Clouds Drifting Over Cherry Lane - Copyright 2007, by Rich Bullock