Helen's Story

It was fall and in many areas of the country, people were already house bound and preparing for an early winter. Yet, here she was traveling north on Pacific Coast Highway heading out of Los Angeles and aiming for Ventura. Helen had bought the teal blue Mustang convertible just three months ago from a dealer in Denver, who was not looking forward to having such a car on his lot in the cold winter months. Colorado is definitely NOT a convertible state.

Helen smiled as she thought of the deal she had made. She had driven her 2001 Toyota wagon on the lot with 133,000 miles on it. It had served her well – but wasjust not what she wanted for this trip. She wanted something with a bit more style – and the 2003 Mustang had reached out to her. The salesman was just the pawn she needed when she made the deal. (Fortunately, she'd had the snow tires piled in the back – as if waiting for the salesman to realize he'd been given a gift!) He was young, about 23. Helen smiled in a motherly, all-knowing way. At 56, Helen knew what she was doing. She ended up handing him the keys and a $1000.00 – and the deal was sealed. She even got a warranty with it – who could refuse?

Eddie would have been proud of her.

And where Eddie was, she knew he still was proud of her. Their's was a love that continued on, despite death's interceding. Helen knew that Eddie was still there.

The breeze blew through her cropped red hair as she sped along PCH. She'd just stopped at the pier in Santa Monica and enjoyed a hot dog from a vendor – AND – rode the merry-go-round. The same merry-go-round that they used in the filming of “The Sting.” many years ago. Talk about a day! She'd done a bit of shopping on the 3^rd Street Promenade and enjoyed a margarita at the Sunset Grill. The air was warm as she drove through the Malibu colony and stopped at the 76 station for gas and a pit stop.

Lola, her tri-colored chihuahua eagerly inspected the service station and waited for Helen to either grab her or tell her to stay in the car. “Lola, stay here!” Helen told her and stuck her ATM card into the gas pump and grabbed the nozzle to fill the car.

Lola barked an half agreeable/half “I really want to go with you” bark, jumped onto the front seat putting her paws on the window and looked out. Just as Helen knew what she was doing, she had trained her dog to do likewise. Lola watched her mistress, eagerly in the front seat sniffing the sea air from the cracked window.

Helen finished filling the car, stuck the receipt and her card in her pocket, and put the nozzle back in the pump. “Lola, watch the car - I'll be back!” Lola twitched her ears as if to say she understood, and watched Helen run off to the island and the restroom.

Soon the two of them were back on the road heading north. Ventura lay ahead, along with plans and dreams that had yet to be fulfilled.

Helen smiled at the prospects, the sun reflecting off her large tortoiseshell sunglasses. She'd picked up those glasses at a Navajo trading post in New Mexico. After the accident – after she'd lost Eddie – she couldn't stop driving. She and Lola had visited so many places since that fateful day. The day her life changed abruptly from working at the small private school as an assistant principal and doting on Eddie.

Eddie, who fell in love with her and catered to her every whim. Eddie, who had a quick laugh and worked as a janitor at the same private school. Eddie, who would tell the kids jokes and laugh at all the school incidents. Eddie, who would advise her on what the kids might need. Eddie, who had retreated from life and being a principal himself, because the stress was bad for his heart, and found happiness in cleaning classrooms and talking to kids.

Rumors got around about the assistant principal and the janitor. Of course, the fire was fueled by more fodder when the janitor asked the assistant principal to marry him. Eddie, who had invested his money wisely and had property in Boston, Aspen, and Ventura – where she was now headed. Eddie, who's credentials outmatched the current assistant principal, but was happy being a janitor.

Unfortunately, talk followed that fodder, but then they happily married and

resigned from their designated positions, and started a road trip to end all road trips. They visited New England in the fall and Fiji in the spring. They hiked down the Grand Canyon and skied the Alps.

You could say that both of them lived “happily ever after,” considering that both had equally troubled pasts.

Helen shook the bad thoughts that “trouble past” brought to her head and smiled to herself, forcing herself back to the present. She was here, driving north on Pacific Coast Highway. Lola had her paws on the armrest and was enjoying the breeze of the sea air. It was late in the afternoon, and it comforted Helen that she had thought ahead about reservations. A small hotel on the beach awaited them about an hour ahead. A small, pet friendly hotel, with an ocean view. Clean sheets and clean air. She felt that she was coming home, and it was time to put things in order and take a long needed rest.

She slowed down around Point Mugu when the sun was setting. She stopped at the turn out and pulled the top on the convertible, while watching the sun set. Traffic wasn't bad. It was getting colder. Lola jumped out and sniffed about the rocks as she waited for her mistress to set up the car top and get back in. Helen propped herself on a rock as the sky turn into the vibrant shades of red, orange and rose. Lola jumped into her lap and watched with her. She smiled to herself and thought about Eddie.

She could feel him there with her. Since his death, he'd really never left her. She closed her eyes and breathed in the cold ocean air. “I miss you,” she spoke into the wind.

As if, in answer, a seagull cried and Helen smiled to herself. “I know you're here. I never have to worry about that.”

She smiled contentedly to herself. Lola snuggled in her lap and she leaned back against the stone. Seven pelicans flew by in a line. The sun set to mark the ending of the day. “Lola – we have to get going.”

Lola barked out and jumped off her lap and into the waiting car. Helen slowly walked back to the car and took one last look at the ocean.

“Thanks for always being there,” she said to the wind, her eyes searching out over the waves.

The hotel was only 20 minutes away. She pulled away from Point Mugu and back onto PCH and on towards 101. It was a weeknight, so Helen hit some of the coming home traffic out of Oxnard and Camarillo, but soon she hit the Seaward exit and turned left, towards the ocean and towards the hotel.

The Inn and the Beach was true to it's name and right on the beach. Lola

followed her in, sniffing eagerly at her new surroundings. “Hi?” she called as she

entered the doorway to the empty reception area, looking about for a clerk. She tapped the bell a couple times on the desk and a college kid appeared sleepily from a back room.

“Can I help you?” he grinned and then yawned.

“I have a reservation – the name is Weiss. “

He looked at the computer print out and found her name. Lola barked a greeting and Helen picked her up. “When I made the reservation, they said you were pet friendly,” she said as Lola barked a greeting at him.

The kid appeared confused, but nodded and handed her a key. “ Room 140, just down the hall. I don't think there's a problem with that.” He thrust a signature card at her and she signed it.

“We're tired and will finish up in the morning,” she looked at him in the eye, smiling and nodding. The kid followed suit. Lola licked her chin and looked appealing. “Good night.” She set Lola down and rolled her suitcase down the hall. That was all she could do at this point.

Emma

Life had become more and more interesting - as it should be. I had finally

published a novel that went on into films, after years of short stories to magazines.

My agent was after me for more work, and now – suddenly - I was constantly

busy. Writing was the outlet I loved - and now I was making a living at it.

We lived in the seaside town of Ventura, California, where my husband,

Ian, owned a garage with a reputation of good service. My son, Jon, was 17 and doing well in school and interested in the usual things a normal 17 year old boy was interested in.

I hadn't planned on not working a job, but when the stories started pouring out , well, all I could say was that life was good. When my short story, "Brandywine" was published and I was asked to extend on it and work it into a novel, I was ecstatic! Soon I was able to quit my teaching job and become the writer I had always dreamed! Who would think there would be a turn of events in our quiet existence?

It was an October day and the fog was coming in off the sea. The wind whirled leaves in circles up the path to our house on the hill overlooking the city. I wandered down the drive to pick up the mail. There was a letter in a pink envelope. I looked at the return address and didn't recognize it. The curly-cue handwriting in purple ink I didn't recognize either. Yet it was addressed to me, Emma Logan

I thumbed through the remainder of the mail, shoving the letter to the back. I checked the bill for the electricity and the phone. A birthday card for Jon - a few weeks early, but that's how Grandmother Logan was. Even glanced through the sale ads.

But the pink letter kept surfacing like a jelly fish.

The return address read that it was from a place in Colorado - a place I'd never heard of - Dillon. From a Helen Weiss. Curiosity got the best of me and I tore it open.

Dear Emma,

Circumstances allow me to relocate and I've always enjoyed the California coast. I know you don't know me and I don't know you - but your mother was my father's sister. This makes us cousins.

I'm not asking to stay with you or anything - just asking to get to know you. I already have my own accommodations.

Would love to hear from you. Will be in the area at the latest by

the new year.

My cell number is 805- 643-5948. As you can see, I've already arranged it for my new location.

Your cousin,

Helen

My side of the family is not a close family. My husband, my son - they are my family. His family keeps in touch and are family. The friends I have made, they are my family. But as for the traditional "family" - well, we are not close, enough said. My mother had died when I was young. My father had remarried and he and my stepmother had raised me, but they too had passed over long ago. I thought of my mother now and then, but she just stayed in the back of my mind. So now a long, lost cousin showed up. The only thought that came in

my head was - why?

I wandered back up the hill towards the house. I heard the noise of the school bus on the road and heard Jon's eager yell at me when he got off. Helen's letter got left on the bottom of the pile while I joined him in his after school excitement. I put a meatloaf in the oven and poured him some milk while he verbally went through his day, then joined the neighbor kids outside for a game of basketball in our driveway.

I have disciplined myself to write for a few hours a day, so when Ian came in I was at the computer. The sun had turned the sky into crimson as it set over the sea. I heard the garage door open and Ian's truck roll in. Doors slammed - both the back door and the garage door.

"What's this?" Ian asked as he fumbled through the mail.

"What's what?" I still was focused on the screen.

"This pink letter - you have a cousin? “ He fumbled through the papers as he read the letter. “ I thought you were an only child."

" I am an only child - that doesn't mean my parents were." I still was engrossed in writing.

"Hey - it's nice to know you have some living relative that wants to be around! I thought your entire family just didn't like being around." He chuckled to himself. "Tell her she's welcome to visit - any relation of yours can't be all bad!" He tossed the letter on the kitchen counter where I'd left it.

"Hmmmp" I muttered as I finished my thoughts and allowed my fingers to

continue on the keyboard. As for this evening, we gave Helen Weiss no more thoughts.