Preface
I always thought my aunt Edna, well, actually, my great-aunt Edna since she's my grandmother's sister, was a tightly wound frump, to use the word that floated around sixth grade for a while. With her hair in one of those curled/bound piles on her head, her clothes with the blouse buttoned at the neck and barely an ankle showing, her general lack of showy jewelry, and her whole "I'm so holy" demeanor. Not to mention that uncle John was a preacher noted for his old-fashioned "fire and brimstone" sermons.
I always kind of liked the energy of their Friends in Christ Saviour church with the thumping and the singing and him all red-faced and hollering "HALLELUJAH." Aunt Edna would be sitting in the front row throwing up her hands with the rest of them. And sing. Goodness, she had a voice that made you think of Grace Slick with its purity and pure power.
My summers in that small town were so different from my city life. It was like I was at an extended summer camp. I learned to swim when I was 8 at the municipal pool and that's where I was at least 6 days a week unless it got a bit cold. I learned to shoot at 10 from uncle John and then to drink whiskey in an old pickup truck at 14 from my uncle Chet. It was, all in all, pretty darn cool.
When my mother's liver gave out when I was 16 I wasn't sure if I'd be sent to live with one of them or just go into a life of crime, the path I was clearly on. But fate, or paternal instinct, kicked in and my dad, who I hadn't seen in probably 8 years, showed up and took me back to Chicagoland. From being an only child, I was transported into a situation where I was one of five brothers. But I survived, actually graduated High School which kind of surprised me, and then enlisted in the Air Force.
I was in the Air Force for four years. One year was in Texas going to tech school. Then three years in northern Japan. I was in discussion with the National Security Agency (yes, THAT NSA) about a job but decided that I'd rather go to school.
And that is how I wound up back in small-town Colorado.
Chapter One
I felt silly knocking on the door. I had always pretty much been free to come and go as I pleased. But it had been six years since I had seen any of these folks and so I thought I'd better mind my manners. So I knocked and stepped back and waited.
When she came to the door she literally hadn't changed a bit. She was dressed in a dark dress with a fine little print in the material. The collar was buttoned to her neck and the dress was well below her calves. And that hair, that wonderful pile of hair on her head was still the same odd combination of frumpy and sexy I had always found it to be.
I could see the dawn of recognition and then she threw open the screen door and she was in my arms, hugging me and kissing me, and damned if I didn't have to sort of squirm around to keep my sudden erection from being obvious.
"DAVEY," she said, stepping back to look at me and suddenly smacking me with a hard punch to the shoulder, "FIVE years without so much as a LETTER?!"
I tried to look sheepish, which wasn't hard since I felt sheepish.
"I'm sorry," I said, looking her right in the eye so that she would know I wasn't lying, "I should have written, I know, but it was, well, you know, not a good time."
She started to say something but I held up my hand.
"Aunt Edna," I said, still holding her eyes, "I was an asshole and I am terribly sorry. Please," and I reached and took both of her hands in mine, "accept the apology of a known asshole."
As I had hoped, that drew a smile, that wonderful wide smile of hers showing those slightly gapped front teeth that made her merely pretty and kept her from being truly beautiful.
And suddenly there were tears welling in her eyes and then she was in my arms, crying softly against my chest. I held her, my hands lightly on her back, gently rubbing. I had no idea why she was crying, but she obviously needed the comforting and to be honest, I'd had a bit of a crush on her as a kid.
When the storm had passed and she looked up at me again, eyes red, mascara and makeup streaked, nose running I couldn't resist kissing her lightly on her lips and then taking her into my arms again.
"What's the matter aunt Edna?" I asked.
She sort of laugh/coughed and a felt wetness on my chest.
"Your aunt is a crazy old woman mostly is the matter," she said, giggling a little against my chest.
We stood like that for a few minutes while she cried herself out. And it felt kind of good. That thick mane of her hair was a little stiff with the spray she used to keep it in place. And, well, honestly I liked the way we fit together.
When the storm had passed and she quit crying she turned away, hiding her face.
"Oh God, don't look at me Davey but come in and sit down while I clean myself up," she said.
I chuckled, picked up my duffel bag, and followed her into the house. As she went to the bathroom I went to the bedroom I had always used and tossed my bag on the bed. Then I raided her refrigerator (her icebox she would call it) and got a glass of the iced tea I knew would be there and the little Tupperware bowl of sliced onions and cucumbers in vinegar that I also knew would be there. I sat at her kitchen table, listening absently to KOA out of Denver on the radio, drinking the tea, picking out cucumber slices and onion rings, and feeling like I was 13 again.
When she came into the kitchen her face was scrubbed and, for a wonder, her hair was down. It was spectacular too, thick and light brown well streaked with grey, hanging halfway down her back. She had washed her face but hadn't redone makeup and I thought that she actually looked better than she did all made up.
