{"id":6930,"date":"2018-11-21T04:48:29","date_gmt":"2018-11-21T10:48:29","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/?p=6930"},"modified":"2020-09-04T04:55:00","modified_gmt":"2020-09-04T09:55:00","slug":"grenville-hardy-birds-wintering-in","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/grenville-hardy-birds-wintering-in\/","title":{"rendered":"Grenville: Hardy Birds, Wintering In"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/div>\n

Patricia Crisafulli<\/a><\/h2>\n

PART FIVE<\/h4>\n

<\/p>\n

\n

“Grenville: Hardy Birds, Wintering In” revisits the beloved characters in Grenville, a tiny Adirondack Mountain town that shrinks in winter as loneliness settles in. Then one day, a postcard arrives for Esther Crocker, the town’s unofficial matriarch.<\/em>\n<\/div>\n

Read the Complete Grenville Series<\/a><\/div>
<\/div>\n
\n

E<\/span>sther stayed put under the covers, straining for any sound, but all she heard was mild tinnitus buzzing in her left ear. One of these days, she wouldn\u2019t hear even that anymore; then she\u2019d know she was dead. Eighty loomed, and no matter how much folks tried to sugar coat it as \u201cthe new sixty,\u201d Esther felt old and tired. And alone.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

The heat kicked on, and the room filled with sound and motion as the blower billowed out the curtains. Esther lay there another moment, listening, then threw back the covers and patted the top of the nightstand for her eyeglasses. Lilac-printed wallpaper zoomed into focus.<\/p>\n

Clean and combed, Esther emerged from the bathroom, dressed in knit pants with a pullup waist that fit her bulky body the way burlap does potatoes and a stretched-out cotton turtleneck. Downstairs in the kitchen, Esther fingered the coffeepot on switch to brew two cups of Folgers. Instead, she crossed the kitchen, took her coat off the hook, and headed out the door.<\/p>\n

\"Grenville:<\/p>\n

Grenville shrank this time of year like a dried corncob with most of the kernels missing. Summer homes and cottages stood empty along the twisting road into town, their windows shuttered and sometimes covered with plywood sheets. Only a few hundred townies stayed year-round in Grenville.<\/p>\n

In the summer months, Chuck\u2019s Hometown Diner did a pretty good business. Now, a handwritten sign on the door read \u201cNew Hours: Fri, Sat, Sun, 7AM-1PM.\u201d Esther stopped to think\u2014was this Friday or Saturday? It really didn\u2019t matter.<\/p>\n

Jimmy Rivers sat at the counter. He looked up from the newspaper folded in quarters beside his plate. \u201cEsther!\u201d he called out.<\/p>\n

She slid onto the stool beside him. A girl who looked like she was still in high school appeared before Esther had time to open the plastic-coated menu. She glanced at the remnants on Jimmy\u2019s plate. \u201cA couple of scrambled eggs and some fried potatoes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cToast?\u201d the girl asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, please,\u201d Esther added.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, what kind?\u201d the girl repeated.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s give her the royal treatment,\u201d Jimmy interjected. \u201cA piece of white and<\/em> a piece of wheat.\u201d<\/p>\n

The girl wrote on her pad as she walked away.<\/p>\n

\u201cChuck\u2019s daughter,\u201d he said, lowering his voice. \u201cShe\u2019s in eleventh grade but works here before school on Fridays and on the weekend. When she\u2019s not here, her mother is.\u201d Jimmy clapped Esther on the shoulder. \u201cSo it\u2019s good you came in\u2014a boost for business.\u201d<\/p>\n

Esther sipped her coffee, a little on the bitter side, and added another drop of milk from the metal creamer. \u201cI\u2019m old, Jimmy. I gotta get out while I can.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI hear you. That\u2019s why I don\u2019t retire.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jimmy was sixty or so, a kid as far as Esther was concerned. He was Grenville\u2019s only full-time, year-round mail carrier, and always said he\u2019d keep the job as long as he could drive.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou and Glynda staying here for Thanksgiving?\u201d Esther asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust the two of us. The kids are going to their in-laws and outlaws. You?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnne wants me to go with her to her boyfriend\u2019s folks. She\u2019s dating a new fella, so she shouldn\u2019t drag me along for her first big holiday with him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Esther didn\u2019t mention her son, Claude, who recently moved his company and his family to Colorado. When he lived downstate in Westchester County, Claude came dutifully once a year with Jenn and the kids to see her. But once he left for Colorado, Esther suspected that was it. Claude didn\u2019t even phone all that often. It was her fault, Esther knew. When Michael, her eldest, died as a teenager, grief took her away from Claude and Anne. Her daughter had clung to her persistently, but Claude slowly seeped away. Thirty years later, her relationship with her son was still strained.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome by us. Then Anne won\u2019t worry that you\u2019re home alone,\u201d Jimmy said.<\/p>\n

Before Esther could reply, the waitress set down a plate of scrambled eggs, golden fried potatoes, and three pieces of toast\u2014white, wheat, and rye\u2014with four different kinds of jelly. \u201cRoyal treatment,\u201d the waitress said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, look at that.\u201d Esther smiled, genuinely pleased.<\/p>\n

\"Grenville:<\/p>\n

After that big breakfast, Esther needed to put herself in motion. She always preferred outdoor work to housecleaning, but now she set to it, getting down on one knee to maneuver the dust mop under the beds. She stopped, thinking she heard something, but this old house always groaned when cold set in. Then she heard it again, followed by a man\u2019s voice\u2014Jimmy\u2019s: \u201cHey, you here?\u201d<\/p>\n

The dust mop handle smacked against the floor as Esther got to her feet.<\/p>\n

In the kitchen, Jimmy deposited the mail, mostly junk, on the table. \u201cYou aren\u2019t going to believe who wrote to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s against the law to read other folks\u2019 mail, ain\u2019t it?\u201d Esther chuckled.<\/p>\n

\u201cHard not to when it\u2019s a postcard.\u201d Jimmy handed it to her.<\/p>\n

Multicolored parrots with elongated red tailfeathers froze mid-squawk in the photo. Esther couldn\u2019t imagine looking out her window at such creatures. All she saw now were tiny white, gray, and black chickadees, hardy and compact, gobbling seeds at her feeder. Winter seemed cruelest for the smallest creatures that couldn\u2019t forage when the snow deepened.<\/p>\n

Esther turned the postcard over and read the message.<\/p>\n

\"Grenville:<\/p>\n

Ever since Halloween, Anne had been bracing for the worst. Last year, Jack, her ex-husband, showed up unannounced on Thanksgiving to take the girls out for dinner. When Anne protested that they already had plans, he\u2019d invited her, too. She\u2019d compromised to keep the peace: the girls went with Jack and she went to her mother\u2019s, then Dianne and Isabelle showed up with Jack for dessert.<\/p>\n

Not this year, Anne told herself, as she assessed the outfit she was wearing for Thanksgiving dinner: dark skirt, white blouse, and a red cardigan that brought out the highlights in her dark hair. Jason had invited her and the girls to come to his parents\u2019 house in Lake Placid. Jason was a high school teacher, newly divorced with no children. They had been dating almost four months and really clicked. This year, she wasn\u2019t going to let Jack upset things, but every time the phone rang, her stomach lurched.<\/p>\n

The first call was one of those nonsense robo-things. The second time was from her brother, who sounded like he was in the car. Jenn had sent him out for shallots, Claude said. \u201cDon\u2019t even know what that is.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019ll be near the onions and garlic,\u201d Anne explained.<\/p>\n

Then the connection turned bad and Claude\u2019s voice broke up.<\/p>\n

While she still had the phone in her hand, Anne called her mother. When Esther picked up right away, Anne felt the familiar pangs of guilt. No matter that she saw her mother a few times a week\u2014Esther\u2019s house was only about twenty-minute away from Anne\u2019s condo on the outskirts of Saranac Lake\u2014not being with her mother on Thanksgiving just seemed wrong.<\/p>\n

At forty, Anne was acutely aware of the age gap with her mother, who was nearly twice her age. Her mother told the story often: of being late to marriage and motherhood and feeling so blessed to experience both. Her parents had a love story; they were each other\u2019s best friend and beloved companion until her father died three years ago.<\/p>\n

Anne refocused on the conversation to catch her mother\u2019s question about what she was bringing to Thanksgiving dinner. \u201cMy cranberry-orange relish.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019ll like that,\u201d Esther agreed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have to leave the walnuts out. Jason\u2019s got a cousin who\u2019s allergic.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood thing you found that out. Cousin, huh? Sounds like a big crowd.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThirty, at last count.\u201d Anne pressed her fingertips into her forehead. She\u2019d met Jason\u2019s parents and his sister. But his two brothers and their families were coming from Vermont and Massachusetts. Plus, there were a couple aunts and uncles and some assorted cousins.<\/p>\n

\u201cLand\u2019s sake! Where are they gonna put them all?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll let you know. Maybe I\u2019ll come by on Friday.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOr the next day\u2014you don\u2019t have to worry about me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, Mama,\u201d Anne said.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor what?\u201d Her mother sounded genuinely puzzled.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor letting me have my own life,\u201d Anne said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s how it works,\u201d Esther sighed. \u201cMotherhood comes with strong ties, and a stronger pair of scissors.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Grenville:<\/p>\n

On the day after Thanksgiving, Anne stopped by after work. Esther made coffee and set out two slices of pie she\u2019d brought home from Jimmy and Glynda\u2019s. Anne picked a little at hers, then slid the plate out of reach. \u201cI ate enough yesterday to last me a week.\u201d<\/p>\n

Esther listened eagerly as Anne recounted Thanksgiving with Jason and his family, how everyone had gotten along, and how easily her daughters had socialized with Jason\u2019s nieces and nephews. Esther had been nervous for her daughter, worried that Jason\u2019s family wouldn\u2019t welcome her, and even more afraid that Jack, Anne\u2019s ex, would somehow spoil it for her.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, I almost forgot to tell you my news,\u201d Esther said. \u201cI got company coming. Evan\u2014you know, the guy from Fish & Game. He\u2019s home from Guatemala with his girlfriend.\u201d<\/p>\n

Seeing Anne\u2019s puzzled look, Esther started back at the beginning: in the early spring, a huge snowy owl, which Esther had named \u201cOliver,\u201d roosted for a few weeks in her backyard.<\/p>\n

\u201cI remember the owl. I brought the girls over to see it,\u201d Anne interrupted.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut you don\u2019t remember Evan,\u201d Esther replied impatiently and explained that when she called the state Fish & Game Department, Evan was the one who\u2019d come out to see the owl. He\u2019d visit a few times a week, right before dusk when Oliver awakened. They\u2019d stand back, watching the bird go through the motions of preparing to hunt, then Esther would invite Evan in for supper. He told her about Birgitta, a young woman from Sweden he\u2019d met in college, who was in Guatemala working on a global health project. One day, Evan quit his job and went there to be with her. By then, Oliver had flown off, probably bound for the tundra to find a mate.<\/p>\n

Esther reached for the postcard in the stack of mail on the table, next to the napkin holder. \u201cThey\u2019re coming back for a month to see Evan\u2019s family in New York City. Birgitta\u2019s folks are coming from Sweden for Christmas. But they want to come up to Grenville. Jimmy and me emailed Evan on Thanksgiving and we arranged everything. I could tell Glynda wanted them to stay with her and Jimmy, but I insisted they stay with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Anne turned the postcard over to the picture on the front and then back to the message. \u201cWhy don\u2019t they stay in a motel?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I want them to stay here!\u201d Esther said, her voice rising. \u201cEvan\u2019s a nice man, and Birgitta sounds lovely.\u201d Esther got up from the table on the pretense of putting her cup in the sink.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Mama. You just can\u2019t be too careful.\u201d<\/p>\n

Esther pulled the sides of her old cardigan together and folded her arms. \u201cI want them to stay here. I get to have something for once.\u201d<\/p>\n

Anne rose slowly from the table and brought her own cup to the sink. \u201cCan\u2019t blame me for caring.\u201d<\/p>\n

Later that evening, Claude called. \u201cWhat\u2019s this about you having houseguests?\u201d<\/p>\n

So that\u2019s why he was calling, Esther grumbled to herself.<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds like they want free room and board,\u201d Claude sputtered.<\/p>\n

\u201cM\u2014\u201d Esther stopped herself; this was Claude, not Michael. She scrambled for an \u201cm\u201d word. \u201cMe,\u201d she said. \u201cThey\u2019re staying with me, and I\u2019m having a party for them. Anne and Jason are coming. I wish you were coming, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not flying all the way from Colorado just for some Fish & Game guy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course not,\u201d Esther replied. \u201cNever expected you to.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Grenville:<\/p>\n

Evan and Birgitta arrived late on Thursday afternoon. With construction and traffic, it had taken them nearly eight hours from New York City to Grenville. Esther had heard someplace that Europeans were reserved so she tried to hold herself back but couldn\u2019t keep her arms from enfolding Birgitta into a hug.<\/p>\n

The young woman looked like her name: tall and blond, with ice-blue eyes and a slight lilt to her Swedish accent. \u201cMaybe we walk outside?\u201d Birgitta suggested. \u201cWe sit for so long in the car.\u201d<\/p>\n

Esther grabbed her coat before she stopped to consider whether she was invited along. Neither Birgitta nor Evan protested.<\/p>\n

It had snowed a few days before, but only small patches of icy crust remained in the woods. \u201cReminds me of home,\u201d Birgitta said. \u201cThe trees, very monochromatic.\u201d<\/p>\n

The only wildlife they saw were clusters of chickadees, scrambling for seeds from the weeds that dried to chaff and scraped together in the wind. Seeing them flit around in the cold, Esther burrowed deeper inside her down coat. She\u2019d refill her feeder as soon as she got home.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo sign of Oliver?\u201d Evan asked.<\/p>\n

Esther shook her head. \u201cI thought maybe he\u2019d stop back on his migration south. But maybe he\u2019s got some better place to go.\u201d She smirked. \u201cIn-laws invited him instead.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe you see him again,\u201d Birgitta said.<\/p>\n

Esther felt the young woman\u2019s light touch on the padded sleeve of her down coat. She hated someone feeling sorry for her, even someone as nice as Birgitta. She changed the subject abruptly. \u201cI\u2019m having a party for you\u2014Saturday night. Jimmy and Glynda. My daughter Anne and Jason, her boyfriend. Louisa and Frank, some other folks.\u201d<\/p>\n

Evan and Birgitta exchanged a look. \u201cWe were going to hike on Saturday,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, don\u2019t you worry,\u201d Esther replied quickly. \u201cYou young folks do what you want.\u201d Her smile felt so tight, Esther thought her face would rip. Maybe Claude was right, they were just staying with her for free room and board.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, we hike and then we come back for a little party,\u201d Birgitta said. \u201cMaybe at seven?\u201d<\/p>\n

Esther never served dinner later than five-thirty. \u201cSeven would be perfect.\u201d<\/p>\n

Evan and Birgitta spent Friday around Grenville and took a long hike in the afternoon, then went to Jimmy and Glynda\u2019s for supper. Esther was invited too but stayed home, knowing Jimmy would want some alone time with Evan. The two men had developed a kind of father-son relationship; from what Esther could gather, Jimmy had been the one to encourage Evan to go to Guatemala and tell Birgitta how he felt.<\/p>\n

By the time the young couple came back that night, Esther was in bed, but she heard their whispers and tiptoeing. Lying there, Esther could remember being their age, down to the smallest detail of wearing a favorite blue dress printed with small yellow flowers. A million tiny things lived in her memory: how she\u2019d spent years getting used to the idea of being alone all her life, and then the surprising assuredness of knowing she and Charlie would be together. She could close her eyes and see Charlie humming as he shaved every morning at the bathroom sink; how precisely he cut his meat and potatoes; how they could sit for hours in the living room, just talking or reading.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t waste time, Esther wanted to tell Evan or Birgitta. Don\u2019t expect to be young forever.<\/p>\n

The next morning, of course, Esther said none of those things. Evan and Birgitta were up early to go hiking, and Esther made them a big breakfast. They took extra clothes and food and water in their backpacks and promised to be home before dark. Evan knew the Adirondacks, and Birgitta was strong and athletic, but still Esther worried.<\/p>\n

By mid-afternoon, the day turned cold and raw with a steady wind and bursts of wet snow. Esther tried not to picture Evan and Birgitta slipping over rocks as they descended peaks that weren\u2019t all that high but could be steep in places. At four o\u2019clock, she pulled a second apple pie from the oven. At four-thirty, Anne came with Dianne and Isabelle, who carried in a crockpot of rice and lentils and a baking dish of meatless meatballs since Birgitta was a vegetarian.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat time is Jason coming?\u201d Esther asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe had a late meeting,\u201d Anne said. \u201cHe should be here just before seven.\u201d<\/p>\n

Esther\u2019s heart sank. What teacher\u2019s meeting ever lasted that long on a Saturday? She tried to focus her worry elsewhere. \u201cI hope the squash doesn\u2019t get dry. Baked it this morning.\u201d<\/p>\n

Anne lifted the foil and inspected. \u201cLooks perfect.\u201d<\/p>\n

At five minutes to six, Birgitta and Evan came in the door, their faces reddened by the cold. Both proclaimed themselves to be starving and in need of showers.<\/p>\n

\u201cNice couple,\u201d Anne said after they went upstairs. \u201cAnd she\u2019s gorgeous.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAny word from Jason?\u201d Esther asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, he just texted. Probably will be here around seven-fifteen.\u201d<\/p>\n

And so it begins, Esther thought: first he\u2019s late, and then it\u2019s too late to come. Then Jason will let Anne down, just like that no-good Jack.<\/p>\n

Evan came back downstairs in jeans and a gray wool sweater, his dark hair damp from the shower and combed straight back. Esther hid a smirk at the way her granddaughters turned shy around him. Birgitta wore a soft flannel dress that would have looked like a sack on anyone else, but she was stunning. Her long hair was braided into a single plait down her back. Immediately, Dianne and Isabelle latched onto her.<\/p>\n

The guest list had grown to everyone Esther thought would come. Soon, the house was filled with voices and coats that needed to be piled on her bed upstairs. More food than they could eat in a month was arranged buffet-style on the dining table. Dianne and Isabelle passed trays of cheese and crackers around while they waited a little longer Jason. Then Esther had to carve the pork roast before the meat overcooked. She couldn\u2019t bear to look at Anne, who seemed so cheerful despite the obvious.<\/p>\n

As Esther leaned over to slice the meat, a draft tickled the back of her neck. Turning, she saw Jason coming in the back door, his glasses steamed by the warmth of the kitchen. Laughing, he took them off and hugged Anne.<\/p>\n

Then she heard another man\u2019s voice, one she almost didn\u2019t recognize.<\/p>\n

Claude stood behind Jason in the doorway. Esther set the knife down carefully. \u201cI don\u2019t understand,\u201d she managed.<\/p>\n

Her son hugged her, at first tentatively, then she felt the realness of him and hung on. The explanation was short: Claude\u2019s software company had a plane and he flew to Lake Placid. Jason picked him up and brought him here. He was staying with Anne that night and flying home to Denver in the morning.<\/p>\n

\u201cThought I\u2019d surprise you,\u201d Claude said.<\/p>\n

Esther looked into his face, gobbling up every detail of his features. He was a grown man, forty-two years old, but Esther still saw the quiet boy who after his brother\u2019s death never made trouble or asked for much. But what a fire he must have built inside to achieve all he had.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m so glad you\u2019re here,\u201d Esther said, grabbing him for a second hug.<\/p>\n

The party kicked in, with laughter and conversation and too many people and too much food. Everyone stayed later than they planned, and the last to leave were Anne and Claude at midnight. Esther wanted to say something to Claude about coming back with the family at Christmas, but just hugged her son instead. It was more than enough to know he had come all this way on his own, without her demanding anything of him.<\/p>\n

Birgitta and Evan offered to stay up and clean the kitchen, but Esther shooed them upstairs. They had a long drive ahead of them in the morning back to New York City. Washing all the dishes and putting everything away would give her something to do tomorrow. For now, Esther wanted to drink in the best night she\u2019d had since before Charlie died.<\/p>\n

Putting on her coat, Esther stepped outside. Her breath froze in great clouds in the frigid night air. So many pieces came together to make this night happen, long before any of them knew how their lives would intertwine. For her, it had happened one March day when a snowy owl perched in her backyard, a visitor so unexpected. The rest unfolded, just as it was supposed to, leading to this night.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, Oliver,\u201d Esther called out to the darkness and the bright yellow eyes she imagined looking back at her. \u201cYou go on your way, where you belong.\u201d<\/p>\n

The rest of them were content to stay where they were, hardy birds, wintering in.<\/p>\n

\"Grenville:<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\n

Patricia Crisafulli,<\/strong> M.F.A., is an award-winning writer, published author, and founder of FaithHopeandFiction.com<\/em><\/a>. Tricia received her Master\u2019s in Fine Arts (MFA) from Northwestern University, which also honored her with the Distinguished Thesis Award in Creative Writing. She is the recipient of three Write Well Awards for best-of-the-web literary fiction for stories that have appeared on FaithHopeandFiction<\/em>. She is the author of several nonfiction books and a collection of short stories and essays, Inspired Every Day,<\/em> published by Hallmark.<\/p>\n

Image Credit: Copyright Robert Koutny.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Patricia Crisafulli PART FIVE<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":6938,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,18,1],"tags":[31,6,202,100,201,38,15,16,192,57],"class_list":["post-6930","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-original-online-fiction","category-patricia-crisafulli","category-uncategorized","tag-birds","tag-christmas","tag-community","tag-family","tag-grenville","tag-holidays","tag-love","tag-romance","tag-thanksgiving","tag-winter"],"yoast_head":"\nGrenville: Hardy Birds, Wintering In | Faith Hope & Fiction % %<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\""Grenville Hardy Birds Wintering In" revisits the beloved characters in Grenville, a tiny Adirondack town 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