Bridging The Gaps - Chapter One
Crash.
Breaking glass punctuated angrily muttered statements as Ellen Pritchard pulled pictures from the walls and threw them in a black plastic garbage bag. “Bastard.” A family vacation photo was pulled from its perch. “Twenty five years of my life.” Down came a picture taken at a church fundraiser. “Four children.”
Ellen moved to the living room. The family portrait from the last Christmas was evicted from its place above the mantel, followed by the official Grand Knight photo from the Knights of Columbus.
She eyed the wedding picture on the other side of the room. Grabbing the fire poker she took a running start and smashed it. It fell, glass side up on the carpet. She beat it mercilessly. “Love! Honor! Cherish!” She took a breath to steady herself for one last blow and muttered, “keep thee only unto, my ass!” Stepping on the shards for good measure she headed for the master bedroom, ignoring the doorbell’s insistent chiming.
Doug’s cologne still sat on the bureau. She chucked it into the bag. Then she set the burden on the bed while she pulled suit after suit from the closet, throwing them unceremoniously out the open window.
Ties were flying everywhere when three women stepped into the room. “Ellen? Honey, are you ok?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she called back calmly, “Just doing a bit of fall cleaning.”
Carefully navigating the various items that had fallen to the floor, Georgia Elliot approached the closet slowly, as if sudden movements might escalate the situation. Just then the door flew open, hitting Georgia in the face.
“Oh, Oh Georgie! I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were back there.”
Holding her nose and blinking back tears, she squeaked out, “It’s ok, honey.”
“Maybe some ice?” Diane suggested.
“Ice! Yes. Let’s just all step into the kitchen.”
While Ellen was getting the ice and Diane helped Georgia, the fourth woman had time to examine the house a bit more closely. She noted the destroyed wedding picture, Ellen’s red nose; the kitchen counter held an empty pint carton of ice cream. Fudge mint was always a good choice.
There was no need to ask what was going on—the whole town was aware of Doug Pritchard’s behavior. It has been exactly one week since he’d packed a suitcase with the basics and left his family. After days of weeping and blaming herself, Ellen had finally found the energy to be angry.
“Really, Georgie I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” Ellen produced an ice pack.
“Oh, shut up! We all know you are sorry. And she’s not upset, are you Georgia?” Without giving her a chance to so much as nod, Jessie continued. “You know why we’re here.”
“You know about Doug?” Ellen’s mask of composure slipped.
“Ellie…everybody knows.” Diane hated her role in the visit, but somebody had to tell her. “He’s not exactly hiding it.”
Ellen wavered between despair and fury. Fury won out. “He’s taking that tramp out around town, is he?”
Georgia spoke up. “Not in Troy Falls. You shouldn’t have to run into them. But he sure has made a spectacle of himself.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“We’re not here to make you feel better. You’ve gotta get up and get out and show people what you’re made of. You can’t let that son-of-a-bitch win.” For all the years they’d been friends, Jessie’s language still shocked the others. In their experience a preacher’s wife just didn’t talk like that. “And you can start by getting out of that butt-ugly robe and putting some clothes on.”
Glancing down at her typical morning attire, Ellen burst into tears. “Look at me! I’m such a mess. No wonder he doesn’t love me anymore.”
Diane patted her shoulder. “Ellie, it’s not you at all. You are a wonderful woman.” The others voiced their agreement.
Between little hiccups Ellen gasped, “You have to say that. You’re my friends.”
“Damn right, we are!” Jessie chimed in. “And you’re crazy if you think we’re gonna let you sit here and cry yourself into dehydration. Girls, let’s get Ellie all gussied up.”
Georgia put the ice pack down, and gingerly tested her nose with a finger and thumb. Finding it bearable, she helped Diane haul Ellen to her feet and coaxed her back to the master suite. Jessie rummaged through the closet for a minute and pulled out a green silk blouse and black skirt. “Here. This one looks good, and it’ll bring out your eyes.” Handing her the clothing she shooed her into the bathroom. “Alright gang, what’re we going to do?”
Diane’s confusion showed in her face. “Do?”
“We’ve got to get her through this and ice cream can only work so long. Georgia, you got any ideas?”
“A makeover. New hairdo, new clothes, new makeup and perfume.”
Jessie nodded. “Diane?”
She thought a moment. “Well it’ll be hard for her living here, with all the memories. Maybe she should sell the house?”
Jessie waved a hand dismissively. “She can’t, not ‘til the divorce is final. And then only if she gets the house.”
“She’ll get the house.” Georgia was sure. “Doug can’t be that much of a bastard.”
“You don’t think so?” Jessie chewed her lip thoughtfully. “But in the meantime, she could redecorate. If we can talk her into it.”
“That won’t be difficult." Diane was the natural choice for that task as she ran her own interior design business. "Ellie’s wanted to redo the house for ages, Doug wouldn’t let her. Cost too much, he said.”
Jessie’s eyes narrowed in dislike of the man. “Humph! If he doesn’t buy all new everything for that little floozy, I’ll eat my shoes! But the cost is a good point. Ellie would need money to redo the house or herself, and she doesn’t have a job.”
“No,” Georgia agreed. “But she’s still legally married to Doug, so his money is her money.”
Diane spoke up again. “These are all ok ideas for a week or two from now, but what about today? Maybe we should take turns staying with her?”
“I don’t need babysitting.” Ellen stepped out of the bathroom and turned for inspection. She’d splashed enough cold water on her face to eliminate most of the puffiness. “What ideas are we talking about?”
The three women looked at each other, unsure of how to explain that they’d been planning her near future without consulting her. Georgia, ever tactful suggested they discuss everything over lunch.
Ellen stepped over the clothes on the floor and opened the top drawer of Doug’s bureau. She drew out a gold card with her estranged husband’s name on it. “Ok. But I’m buying.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Three hours later, Ellen leaned against her front door. When did spending time with her friends become so exhausting? She knew they meant well, but she didn’t feel up to the marathon they were planning. Reinvention couldn’t be as simple as redecorating your house and yourself. There was too much past to be forgotten overnight. Walking into the living room, she paused. No busted picture frame. No broken glass. Someone was in her house. Someone…had vacuumed!
“Mom, is that you?” The blurred figure of her daughter Stephanie rushed at her and buried her in a tight hug. “I was so worried! Where have you been?”
“Out to lunch with the girls. They were trying to cheer me up.”
Stephanie moved back a bit to study her mother’s face. “Did it work?”
“Not as well as they’d hoped, but for a while I almost forgot about the whole thing.”
“Oh, Mom!” Stephanie pulled her close again.
“Thank you, sweetheart. But I’m ok,” at her daughter’s doubting look she continued, “for now. I see you’ve done some cleaning.” She set down her purse and keys. “You must think I’ve lost my mind.”
“I wouldn’t think that for a minute. You’d have to go way further to make me worry about your mental health.”
Ellen’s gaze was drawn to the fireplace. “Steph, what is this?” Grabbing the poker she leaned down and pulled a half-burned argyle sock from the flames.
Stephanie shrugged. “A show of solidarity.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”
“No.” A mischievous smile played over her face. “You should see my landscaping.” She turned and pointed to the patio doors.
Drawing back the curtains, Ellen stared in shock. It looked like a tornado had hit a men’s haberdashery and deposited its findings all over the backyard: a jacket snagged on a rosebush; a pair of pants hung from a tree branch, undershirts lounged on the hydrangeas. “Stephanie! You did this?”
“Uh huh.”
They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. Ellen pulled her daughter close. “You are wonderful!” The ringing phone disrupted the angry female bonding. Ellen was careful to check Caller ID just in case. “Hello? No, I didn’t know that. Well can’t somebody else…? Yes…I’ll head right over. Thanks. Bye.” She hung up the phone.
“What was that?”
“Jane Laurence died.”
“Old Mrs. Laurence? I thought she’d live forever.”
“Everyone did. I need to go. I’ll be back in a couple hours. Melanie’s staying over at Rachel’s, so you don’t have to worry about her. When Matt gets home…”
“I’ll feed him and make sure he does his homework. Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Thank you dear.” She peeked back through the door. “Don’t forget to feed the fish.”
Stephanie pretended annoyance. “I won’t. Now go!”
Exactly ninety seconds after watching her mother pull out of the driveway, she saw her father pull in. She considered pretending not to be home, but decided there was a better way to handle the situation—one more in keeping with her father’s line of thinking. Locking the door, she went to the master bedroom and pulled a painting from the east wall. Quickly she dialed the combination and extracted all but two hundred dollars, as well as her great-grandmother’s wedding ring and pearl necklace. Hearing the doorbell, she hurried to her bedroom. “Let him wait” she thought. She stuffed the loot in a shoebox at the back of her closet and went to the door. It was a good thing her Mom had the locks changed the day before.
“Took you long enough.” Doug kissed her cheek. “Hello pumpkin.”
“I was in my room. Didn’t hear the bell.” She felt no qualms about lying to him. He deserved it and more.
“Is your mother here?”
“No. She had lunch with her friends and then had to rush out. She was only here for a minute or two. Old lady Laurence died.”
“Finally! Now we can get a progressive on the school board.”
Stephanie kept her thoughts to herself. “What’re you doing here?”
“Just stopping by to pick up some of my things.”
“Happy hunting.” She smiled and poured a glass of lemonade.
“Steph? Do you know where my clothes are?”
“Check out back.” She sipped her drink and pretended to flip through a magazine. She stifled the urge to laugh when she heard him shout “What the hell is going on?” Calmly she set the magazine down and strolled outside. “What’s the matter, Daddy?”
Doug gestured wildly. “My…my clothes! He stalked around the yard, gathering items as he went. “Your mother’s completely lost her mind. I can’t believe she…” He stopped in horror. “My Italian shoes!” The ruined footwear floated in the pond.
“You’d think for that amount of money they’d be waterproof.”
His face contorted with anger as he fished them out. “I try to be civil and this is the thanks I get. Well two can play at this game.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What?”
“You don’t want to do anything about this.”
He was incredulous. “Why the hell not?
“Mom didn’t do it. I did.”
Doug stood silently digesting the statement and trying to decide if she was telling the truth or just protecting her mother. Her defiant glare was a fairly good indicator. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and blew out a breath. “Stephie, I know you’re upset about the divorce..."
“Oh no I’m not.” She interrupted. “I’m all for it. Now Mom can have a life and some freedom and you can go live happily ever after with your girlfriend. What was her name? Candy? Tiffany?...”
“Chloe.” He supplied.
“Perfect. Her parents must have known she’d grow up to be a bimbo.”
“Stephanie, don’t talk about Chloe that way, or I’ll…”
“You’ll what? Spank me? Take away my allowance? Really Dad, do you actually think you can still make me do things?”
He took another deep breath. “Chloe is part of my life now. That makes her part of yours.”
“No it doesn’t. I don’t have to see her. I don’t even have to see you.”
“Is that really what you want?
The hard expression on her face softened slightly and she looked at her feet. “I don’t know.”
“Steph, I love Chloe.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “You used to love Mom.”
“I still do. I’ll always love your mother. But it’s over. You understand that?” She nodded, and he ran a hand through his hair. “We’re having a dinner next Friday. I want you to meet her. Will you come?”
Stephanie shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”
It wasn't the answer he’d been hoping for, but he considered it a definite improvement over giving his apparel impromptu swimming lessons. He patted her arm and brushed a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll let myself out.” Halfway to the door he turned. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to your mother.” There was no response.
When she heard the car start she sank into a chair and cried.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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Breaking glass punctuated angrily muttered statements as Ellen Pritchard pulled pictures from the walls and threw them in a black plastic garbage bag. “Bastard.” A family vacation photo was pulled from its perch. “Twenty five years of my life.” Down came a picture taken at a church fundraiser. “Four children.”
Ellen moved to the living room. The family portrait from the last Christmas was evicted from its place above the mantel, followed by the official Grand Knight photo from the Knights of Columbus.
She eyed the wedding picture on the other side of the room. Grabbing the fire poker she took a running start and smashed it. It fell, glass side up on the carpet. She beat it mercilessly. “Love! Honor! Cherish!” She took a breath to steady herself for one last blow and muttered, “keep thee only unto, my ass!” Stepping on the shards for good measure she headed for the master bedroom, ignoring the doorbell’s insistent chiming.
Doug’s cologne still sat on the bureau. She chucked it into the bag. Then she set the burden on the bed while she pulled suit after suit from the closet, throwing them unceremoniously out the open window.
Ties were flying everywhere when three women stepped into the room. “Ellen? Honey, are you ok?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she called back calmly, “Just doing a bit of fall cleaning.”
Carefully navigating the various items that had fallen to the floor, Georgia Elliot approached the closet slowly, as if sudden movements might escalate the situation. Just then the door flew open, hitting Georgia in the face.
“Oh, Oh Georgie! I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were back there.”
Holding her nose and blinking back tears, she squeaked out, “It’s ok, honey.”
“Maybe some ice?” Diane suggested.
“Ice! Yes. Let’s just all step into the kitchen.”
While Ellen was getting the ice and Diane helped Georgia, the fourth woman had time to examine the house a bit more closely. She noted the destroyed wedding picture, Ellen’s red nose; the kitchen counter held an empty pint carton of ice cream. Fudge mint was always a good choice.
There was no need to ask what was going on—the whole town was aware of Doug Pritchard’s behavior. It has been exactly one week since he’d packed a suitcase with the basics and left his family. After days of weeping and blaming herself, Ellen had finally found the energy to be angry.
“Really, Georgie I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” Ellen produced an ice pack.
“Oh, shut up! We all know you are sorry. And she’s not upset, are you Georgia?” Without giving her a chance to so much as nod, Jessie continued. “You know why we’re here.”
“You know about Doug?” Ellen’s mask of composure slipped.
“Ellie…everybody knows.” Diane hated her role in the visit, but somebody had to tell her. “He’s not exactly hiding it.”
Ellen wavered between despair and fury. Fury won out. “He’s taking that tramp out around town, is he?”
Georgia spoke up. “Not in Troy Falls. You shouldn’t have to run into them. But he sure has made a spectacle of himself.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“We’re not here to make you feel better. You’ve gotta get up and get out and show people what you’re made of. You can’t let that son-of-a-bitch win.” For all the years they’d been friends, Jessie’s language still shocked the others. In their experience a preacher’s wife just didn’t talk like that. “And you can start by getting out of that butt-ugly robe and putting some clothes on.”
Glancing down at her typical morning attire, Ellen burst into tears. “Look at me! I’m such a mess. No wonder he doesn’t love me anymore.”
Diane patted her shoulder. “Ellie, it’s not you at all. You are a wonderful woman.” The others voiced their agreement.
Between little hiccups Ellen gasped, “You have to say that. You’re my friends.”
“Damn right, we are!” Jessie chimed in. “And you’re crazy if you think we’re gonna let you sit here and cry yourself into dehydration. Girls, let’s get Ellie all gussied up.”
Georgia put the ice pack down, and gingerly tested her nose with a finger and thumb. Finding it bearable, she helped Diane haul Ellen to her feet and coaxed her back to the master suite. Jessie rummaged through the closet for a minute and pulled out a green silk blouse and black skirt. “Here. This one looks good, and it’ll bring out your eyes.” Handing her the clothing she shooed her into the bathroom. “Alright gang, what’re we going to do?”
Diane’s confusion showed in her face. “Do?”
“We’ve got to get her through this and ice cream can only work so long. Georgia, you got any ideas?”
“A makeover. New hairdo, new clothes, new makeup and perfume.”
Jessie nodded. “Diane?”
She thought a moment. “Well it’ll be hard for her living here, with all the memories. Maybe she should sell the house?”
Jessie waved a hand dismissively. “She can’t, not ‘til the divorce is final. And then only if she gets the house.”
“She’ll get the house.” Georgia was sure. “Doug can’t be that much of a bastard.”
“You don’t think so?” Jessie chewed her lip thoughtfully. “But in the meantime, she could redecorate. If we can talk her into it.”
“That won’t be difficult." Diane was the natural choice for that task as she ran her own interior design business. "Ellie’s wanted to redo the house for ages, Doug wouldn’t let her. Cost too much, he said.”
Jessie’s eyes narrowed in dislike of the man. “Humph! If he doesn’t buy all new everything for that little floozy, I’ll eat my shoes! But the cost is a good point. Ellie would need money to redo the house or herself, and she doesn’t have a job.”
“No,” Georgia agreed. “But she’s still legally married to Doug, so his money is her money.”
Diane spoke up again. “These are all ok ideas for a week or two from now, but what about today? Maybe we should take turns staying with her?”
“I don’t need babysitting.” Ellen stepped out of the bathroom and turned for inspection. She’d splashed enough cold water on her face to eliminate most of the puffiness. “What ideas are we talking about?”
The three women looked at each other, unsure of how to explain that they’d been planning her near future without consulting her. Georgia, ever tactful suggested they discuss everything over lunch.
Ellen stepped over the clothes on the floor and opened the top drawer of Doug’s bureau. She drew out a gold card with her estranged husband’s name on it. “Ok. But I’m buying.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Three hours later, Ellen leaned against her front door. When did spending time with her friends become so exhausting? She knew they meant well, but she didn’t feel up to the marathon they were planning. Reinvention couldn’t be as simple as redecorating your house and yourself. There was too much past to be forgotten overnight. Walking into the living room, she paused. No busted picture frame. No broken glass. Someone was in her house. Someone…had vacuumed!
“Mom, is that you?” The blurred figure of her daughter Stephanie rushed at her and buried her in a tight hug. “I was so worried! Where have you been?”
“Out to lunch with the girls. They were trying to cheer me up.”
Stephanie moved back a bit to study her mother’s face. “Did it work?”
“Not as well as they’d hoped, but for a while I almost forgot about the whole thing.”
“Oh, Mom!” Stephanie pulled her close again.
“Thank you, sweetheart. But I’m ok,” at her daughter’s doubting look she continued, “for now. I see you’ve done some cleaning.” She set down her purse and keys. “You must think I’ve lost my mind.”
“I wouldn’t think that for a minute. You’d have to go way further to make me worry about your mental health.”
Ellen’s gaze was drawn to the fireplace. “Steph, what is this?” Grabbing the poker she leaned down and pulled a half-burned argyle sock from the flames.
Stephanie shrugged. “A show of solidarity.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”
“No.” A mischievous smile played over her face. “You should see my landscaping.” She turned and pointed to the patio doors.
Drawing back the curtains, Ellen stared in shock. It looked like a tornado had hit a men’s haberdashery and deposited its findings all over the backyard: a jacket snagged on a rosebush; a pair of pants hung from a tree branch, undershirts lounged on the hydrangeas. “Stephanie! You did this?”
“Uh huh.”
They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. Ellen pulled her daughter close. “You are wonderful!” The ringing phone disrupted the angry female bonding. Ellen was careful to check Caller ID just in case. “Hello? No, I didn’t know that. Well can’t somebody else…? Yes…I’ll head right over. Thanks. Bye.” She hung up the phone.
“What was that?”
“Jane Laurence died.”
“Old Mrs. Laurence? I thought she’d live forever.”
“Everyone did. I need to go. I’ll be back in a couple hours. Melanie’s staying over at Rachel’s, so you don’t have to worry about her. When Matt gets home…”
“I’ll feed him and make sure he does his homework. Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Thank you dear.” She peeked back through the door. “Don’t forget to feed the fish.”
Stephanie pretended annoyance. “I won’t. Now go!”
Exactly ninety seconds after watching her mother pull out of the driveway, she saw her father pull in. She considered pretending not to be home, but decided there was a better way to handle the situation—one more in keeping with her father’s line of thinking. Locking the door, she went to the master bedroom and pulled a painting from the east wall. Quickly she dialed the combination and extracted all but two hundred dollars, as well as her great-grandmother’s wedding ring and pearl necklace. Hearing the doorbell, she hurried to her bedroom. “Let him wait” she thought. She stuffed the loot in a shoebox at the back of her closet and went to the door. It was a good thing her Mom had the locks changed the day before.
“Took you long enough.” Doug kissed her cheek. “Hello pumpkin.”
“I was in my room. Didn’t hear the bell.” She felt no qualms about lying to him. He deserved it and more.
“Is your mother here?”
“No. She had lunch with her friends and then had to rush out. She was only here for a minute or two. Old lady Laurence died.”
“Finally! Now we can get a progressive on the school board.”
Stephanie kept her thoughts to herself. “What’re you doing here?”
“Just stopping by to pick up some of my things.”
“Happy hunting.” She smiled and poured a glass of lemonade.
“Steph? Do you know where my clothes are?”
“Check out back.” She sipped her drink and pretended to flip through a magazine. She stifled the urge to laugh when she heard him shout “What the hell is going on?” Calmly she set the magazine down and strolled outside. “What’s the matter, Daddy?”
Doug gestured wildly. “My…my clothes! He stalked around the yard, gathering items as he went. “Your mother’s completely lost her mind. I can’t believe she…” He stopped in horror. “My Italian shoes!” The ruined footwear floated in the pond.
“You’d think for that amount of money they’d be waterproof.”
His face contorted with anger as he fished them out. “I try to be civil and this is the thanks I get. Well two can play at this game.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What?”
“You don’t want to do anything about this.”
He was incredulous. “Why the hell not?
“Mom didn’t do it. I did.”
Doug stood silently digesting the statement and trying to decide if she was telling the truth or just protecting her mother. Her defiant glare was a fairly good indicator. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and blew out a breath. “Stephie, I know you’re upset about the divorce..."
“Oh no I’m not.” She interrupted. “I’m all for it. Now Mom can have a life and some freedom and you can go live happily ever after with your girlfriend. What was her name? Candy? Tiffany?...”
“Chloe.” He supplied.
“Perfect. Her parents must have known she’d grow up to be a bimbo.”
“Stephanie, don’t talk about Chloe that way, or I’ll…”
“You’ll what? Spank me? Take away my allowance? Really Dad, do you actually think you can still make me do things?”
He took another deep breath. “Chloe is part of my life now. That makes her part of yours.”
“No it doesn’t. I don’t have to see her. I don’t even have to see you.”
“Is that really what you want?
The hard expression on her face softened slightly and she looked at her feet. “I don’t know.”
“Steph, I love Chloe.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “You used to love Mom.”
“I still do. I’ll always love your mother. But it’s over. You understand that?” She nodded, and he ran a hand through his hair. “We’re having a dinner next Friday. I want you to meet her. Will you come?”
Stephanie shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”
It wasn't the answer he’d been hoping for, but he considered it a definite improvement over giving his apparel impromptu swimming lessons. He patted her arm and brushed a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll let myself out.” Halfway to the door he turned. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to your mother.” There was no response.
When she heard the car start she sank into a chair and cried.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Available in paperback from Amazon or as an eBook through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords. Grab your copy today for the low, low price of only $2.99!
Praise for Bridging The Gaps:
"This is a drama that captures all the emotions of divorce, life and death, endings and new beginnings. If you are deliberating on purchasing this book, I am here to tell you, you won't be disappointed as Author Kate Warren delivers a book worth reading!" Author K. Meador - Journey to Freedom (read the full review here)
"...generously sprinkled throughout with bits of life--the triumphs, the
tragedies, the joys, fears and disappointments... Warren has well developed characters who behaved quite properly. They displayed more morals than many of the
characters I've recently read. The pacing is steady. And her voice made me think of classic writers such as Jane Austen." Teresa Cypher (read the full review here)
"It was an emotional read where I wished I could beat the ex with a stick (a
lot), reluctantly empathisized with the "other" woman, cheered for the new man
in Ellen's life, and wanted to give her kids a big hug. (And, I loved the Jane
Austen references!)" Lorraine Paton (read the full review here)
Excerpt from Bridging The Gaps, copyright 2009.
Please contact Kate Warren or Collier Bluff Books for permission to reprint.
Please contact Kate Warren or Collier Bluff Books for permission to reprint.