Not quite in the mood to write, so here's an excerpt

In yesterday's post, I wanted to add a bit from the new story, but nothing grabbed me. This morning, reading over Chapter Five prior to writing, I found multiple things that required...assistance. Lol. With still one scene left to read, I'm first going to plop here what I've adjusted, in the hope of sharing a little more of Gilly Lund, as well as the photo above of Camilla caught napping from a few days ago. Below is what I worked on last night, the Warm Hearted Quilt back on the sofa and under my tutelage. Or the tutelage of a threaded needle or three.

Maybe I'll write some today, or perhaps I need extra time to get back into the swing of writing. If nothing, else, I need to check the dryer, have some Metamucil, and definitely more caffeine. Enjoy this slice of where my fiction currently resides, in Northern California, autumn 1999. And have a peaceful day!

 

 

Chapter Five

 

 

Gilly Lund Whitlow was one of the last waiting to deplane, but within her mind conversations whirled, mostly those with whom she rarely had contact; her father, Chella, Hugh…. Yet her mother and healthy brother also clamored for her attention, and after answering the first three, she responded to Greg, to be patient. She was behind older people lugging their carry-on’s, and while she had checked a bag, not everyone was similarly minded.

Greg replied sheepishly, then Gilly smiled, grateful Ross hadn’t joined her, and not only for how he blamed Kevin for Liza’s death. Ross would have melted already, a marshmallow for a heart, which had initially driven Gilly crazy both in lust and frustration. Fortunately he had toughened up some in the thirteen years she’d known him. Loved him, she allowed, wishing to tell him just how deeply she adored him, but they weren’t telepathic, and not until she reached home would she be able to call or email him that she had arrived safely.

Then she smirked, feeling slightly stupid: Chella, would you email Ross I’m here?

Already done, Chella replied.

Blinking away tears, Gilly thanked her, realizing of all the family in Santa Rosa, Chella and Jorge were still at home. Gilly hadn’t come home since Liza’s funeral, three years she mused as those ahead of her slowly walked between the few rows of what constituted first class seating on a plane that barely made seven thousand meters in the air. Gilly had lived outside of America long enough that she thought in the metric system, but was young enough, she allowed, that after a few days here miles and inches and pounds would seem normal.

She had lost a few kilos during winter, what with all the bullshit happening at home. Home wasn’t only Fosters Square, a small enclave south of downtown Melbourne. Home was northern California, Jumpville, and for the next how many days, a Santa Rosa hospital that had no other bearing upon her heart. She accepted her dad felt differently, and would be careful to acknowledge that burden however he needed. But Gilly’s mom wasn’t Celia Lund. Her mother was Suze Noth Lund, and while Gilly detested the reason for having to travel, she was eager to spend as much time as everyone required, soaking up people she missed desperately.

She ached living far away, now that she was in her mid-thirties and Liza was dead. Ross’ parents had kept Gilly happy in Fosters Square and Ross had too, but now Ross’ parents were also deceased and Ross was still bitter and Gilly was tired of his angst. That Liza and Kevin had enjoyed the years they did….

Gilly paused her inner ruminations as those in front of her finally stepped onto the gangway. She followed them for a few seconds, then deftly stepped around them, speaking in her friendly Aussie accent, which she played up significantly. They apologized for holding her back, and she smiled, wondering how much her own parents had altered in the last few…. Not the three years since she had last laid eyes on them, but the months since Hugh and Careen had blindsided everybody. “No worries,” Gilly quipped, one of her favorite Australian phrases.

“Oh, what a sweet girl you are,” the woman grinned.

“Go on now, they’re waiting for you,” the man chortled.

You have no idea, Gilly thought, as again she smiled, then ran like once more she was five, heading back to the house after finding bodies in the field.

 

Entering the terminal, Gilly sprinted toward Greg, standing meters away. She giggled as he embraced her tightly, meters and kilos still ringing through her head. Better to ponder trivial shit, she allowed, as her brother’s deep sorrow wove into her. As the eldest of three, Gilly absorbed his trauma, wondering if all her older siblings were keeping her level-headed. Rarely did she think of herself as a middle child. Rather she was a conduit between planes of existence that were now threatened by a rupture only God would alter. “I love you,” she whispered not that quietly.

Greg nodded, then stepped back as though Gilly had initiated their hug. He stroked her face, making Gilly inwardly shiver. Was Hugh dead, as in right that moment and she’d missed it from friendliness shown to others? Yet Greg then smiled, grasping her hand, his thoughts pressed into her mind from the force of his fingers along her skin. Thank you, he said. Thanks for….

“Not a problem,” Gilly grinned. Her tone was half Aussie, half Jumpville. And some small part again that five-year-old disbelieving of ills, though aware they existed, but which had never permanently tarnished her soul. Mom, she thought inwardly, everyone okay?

We’re fine honey. If Greg can’t drive, did you bring your license?

Gilly nodded, then again giggled. “Can you drive,” she asked her brother. “Mom wants to know.”

“Hell yes I can drive, shit!”

Gilly laughed as within her mind Suze snorted. Closing her eyes, Gilly ached for not being able to share this sense of intimacy with Ross, or the physical closeness with the rest of her beloveds for more than these tense days until they got Hugh home. Once he was home, Gilly would hang around briefly, but she wasn’t keen on dealing with his flaky girlfriend. “Let’s get to Santa Rosa,” she said aloud, grasping her brother’s hand.

“Baggage claim first,” Greg muttered, squeezing with force.

“Baggage claim first,” Gilly repeated, letting Greg lead them from the gate, many conversations wafting through her head.

 

While Greg drove, Gilly braided her thick wavy auburn hair. She mostly spoke with her father, Richard with plenty to tell her, all about the grapes and Squee and Moss Ramsey. Greg’s driving acumen was adequate, she briefly informed her mother, but when Gilly left, she would be behind the wheel no matter who accompanied. Suze chuckled and Chella giggled and Hugh…. He sat in the back of Gilly’s brain like a tease, also her conscience. Come home, he seemed to say. And drag Ross no matter what it takes.

I’d have to drug him, Gilly replied.

Whatever, Hugh murmured.

Gilly blinked, gripping the arm rest. Are you okay, she asked Hugh in silence.

He didn’t respond, then Gilly reached for Greg’s right hand on the steering wheel “Is he dead?” she said aloud.

“Don’t think so, why?”

Again closing her eyes, Gilly felt transported to some unknown moment when the worst had occurred. Celia and Liza were the only deaths she’d endured, one on a subconscious level, the other…. When Liza died at the house she’d shared with Kevin, Gilly had sat on Ross’ lap, sobbing like it was her biological mother in that bed. Ross had been strong until the actual funeral. Then he’d fallen apart, arguing vehemently with Kevin, that despite being a doctor, he hadn’t done shit for his wife. Ross never blamed Gilly’s mom, or not in any manner Gilly had ever detected. He called Suze Mum, said he wasn’t able to call her anything else. Despite living outside of America half of her life, Gilly still referred to Suze as Mom. Friends in Fosters Square loved that aspect of Gilly’s character, that regardless of her rather Aussie for a Yank accent, and having gone to uni in France, Gilly Whitlow was as American as apple pie, or so went the saying. Gilly never refuted them, how could she stop being a part of these people when daily the most important was right in her head?

The second most meaningful, Gilly corrected herself as Richard asked when they’d get there. Soon Daddy, Gilly responded in silence. Is Hugh okay?

Richard didn’t answer immediately. Then he grunted: Who the hell knows?

Gilly smiled, so grateful to be close enough to hear her father’s disgruntled tone in her mind. Tears fell, only a few, though more waited, especially if Hugh…. Answer me damnit, she barked inwardly at him.

Greg cleared his throat. “He’s out of it. They probably put something in his IV.”

“Who told you that?” Gilly said aloud, taking back her hand, then crossing her arms over her chest.

“Mom did.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Welcome to our….”

Don’t say it, Gilly heard her mother holler. Gilly giggled as Greg had sighed heavily, Suze’s admonition sent to both of her healthy children.

 

A few miles from the hospital, Gilly grunted. For how easily she had assimilated Australia into her veins, just as readily that continent evaporated as within minutes she would be in the bosom of her most loved. Shit, she mused, the recent cracks in her relationship now appearing as wide fissures like earthquakes all over the planet were tearing her and Ross far apart. No one knew of their troubles, mostly because of Careen. What kind of stupid name is that, she posed to anyone listening.

She didn’t care if Hugh was cognizant, because in all honesty, she realized he was nearly as far from her as her beloved…. They weren’t legally married, but referred to one another as husband and wife, and Gilly had taken his name upon moving to Australia. Easier when his parents were alive, Toby and Frances Whitlow never grasping why holy matrimony meant jack to Gilly and Ross both. Liza had understood, as well as Ross’ other sisters Tamara and Willa, but they lived far from Melbourne, and weren’t a part of the Aussie Whitlow circle. The Aussie Whitlows allowed that Gilly’s American heritage didn’t covet marriage as a necessary element, though everyone in Jumpville that mattered had a legal spouse.

Chella and Jorge had been wed in the hamlet’s Catholic church, Gilly their flower girl. Chella wasn’t a practicing Catholic, but she leaned that mystical way. Suze and Richard had never gone to church formally, though occasionally Suze attended Catholic services with Chella and Lupe. Gilly hoped to at least chat with Juana on the phone before going home, and if they got to spend time face-to-face, Gilly would soak up yet one more claim upon her heart. How could she even think about leaving California what with Hugh so sick, his girlfriend a total ditz, Greg and Pams hurting, and their parents….

Aunt Dominique and Dardram would only fly if Hugh died. Neither was good with this kind of emotional free-for-all, and Gilly was grateful she wasn’t telepathic with either of them. But with those whom she could communicate in a manner so precious and priceless and truly un-American… Unhuman, she then smiled. With all of them and the few hangers-on, then she smirked, not wishing to belittle Jorge, Kevin, or Greg’s better half. “Tell Pams I’m, that I, that….”

“Already done,” Greg muttered in a manner Gilly had heard for years. If Greg said any more, he’d lose it.

“Thanks,” Gilly said. Then she giggled.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“All this talking out loud.”

Now Greg chuckled. “You’ve been outta the loop too long.”

“Not my fault,” she said swiftly, then she sighed.

How’s Ross, Greg asked inwardly.

Terrible, Gilly grunted in silence.

Will he come if, you know.

Gilly shrugged. If Hugh actually died, might that be enough for Ross to finally bury the hatchet with the one who Gilly assumed hurt more. “Who knows,” she finally said, animosity spilling from her voice.

You two okay, Greg inquired in silence.

No. Don’t tell anyone.

Greg nodded, then sighed.

You and Pams okay, Gilly asked inwardly.

Yeah, but….

Gilly nodded, then grasped Greg’s right hand, resting on his leg. “Gotta keep the faith,” Gilly said softly.

“I know. Not easy though.”

“Not impossible,” she smiled.

Greg nodded, then smiled. Then he indicated for the next exit as within two minds Suze told her children to hurry.