In Bloom,

By Kathleen Kilgallon

Sometimes all you can expect in life is the unexpected...

Meet Kindra Dean, the Library Director in the small town of Orangedale, Massachusetts. While it’s not a very prestigious job, it quite frankly is all she has. Unless of course you add in her dingy apartment. Kindra has no life to really speak of; just the same old repetition, day after day. Anti-social and depressed, Kindra is wracked with guilt over the death of her younger sister many years ago; a guilt which has kept her enslaved for way too many years, far too long. But then something happens that changes her life forever... Tiana moves in downstairs. Known as “T” to her friends, she is the boisterous, outspoken, masculine lesbian who is just what Kindra needs to pull herself out of her melancholy spirit of discontent. To free her from herself...
Let us also meet Tommy Shannon, a pissed-at-the-world wheelchair-bound fellow who wants nothing but to be left alone in his own miserable world of self-pity and pornography. Tommy’s Irish mother will have none of that, and arranges a meeting for Tommy and Kindra. This rendezvous turns out to be both disastrous and hilarious, but it ultimately changes their lives, forever. Kindra and Tommy have both experienced their own personal winters, but now spring has come...and they are finally - in bloom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kathleen Kilgallon
• Release date: Aug 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310307478

Kathleen Kilgallon

Kathleen Kilgallon loves walking the beach and hiking in the woods, and enjoys the challenge of researching her genealogy and family history, in addition to being a housewife and homeschooling mother of two boys. One is in college, and the other still spends his days with Kathleen, while she patiently teaches him addition, subtraction, nouns, verbs and all kinds of other second grade stuff he doesn't want to learn. In Bloom is her first novel.

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IN BLOOM

By

Kathleen Kilgallon

Copyright 2014

Lucky Lamb Publications

Port Orange, Florida

Lambertville, New Jersey

Since 2002

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition Copyright 2014

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without the written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously.

In Bloom

Chapter 1

She was alone as usual in her shabby apartment, feeling particularly morose. Most days she ignored it and went on with her life, but today, it was getting the best of her. The weather didn't help much either, being late September. You would have figured it to be a cool, crisp day; but rather, it was her least favorite type of weather: overcast, warm, and humid, which translated into uncomfortable, especially in her cramped quarters devoid of air conditioning. Opening the windows didn't help, as the air was so thick it didn't move. She wished the sun's bright head would peek out, and a cool breeze would come through the open windows and ruffle her hair, at least a little. Maybe that would lift her dark mood.

Kindra looked around at her dingy surroundings. The carpet was threadbare in a good many spots; the wallpaper was yellowed and peeling with miserable little blue and pink flowers. Maybe fifty years ago the flowers were cheery, but those days were gone. Time and neglect had stripped them of their former glory. Her apartment consisted of a kitchenette, a living room that doubled as her bedroom, and a bathroom with one of those ancient tubs, which was just that…a tub, no shower. But she had gotten good at washing her hair in the kitchen sink and using the old tub for washing her body.

Unfortunately the furnishings weren't much better, mostly Salvation Army stuff. The couch sagged in all the wrong places, precisely wherever you put your butt, and was made out of itchy material that only got itchier if you were sweating, which was pretty much the whole summer. If she had extra sheets, she would have thrown one over the couch to make it more comfortable, but no such luck. The coffee table had at least a million scratches and water stains of various shapes and sizes. Her bed was a twin-size mattress tucked into the corner of the room. Having no dresser, her clothes were bunched into piles against the wall near her bed. But it didn't really matter what her home looked like. She had no friends; nobody ever came to see her. It was just her day after day.

She almost felt too dead inside to cry, too numb, but her eyes betrayed her and the tears came. How she hated crying, crying was for weak people. Her saving grace was that nobody could see her—that was the worst, crying in front of others. No, she wanted to always maintain her solid, impenetrable exterior. Damn it, nobody would see her cry. That was her number one rule. She would not be seen as vulnerable, not anymore. She could see Papa's perpetually angry face in her mind, his steely blue eyes boring holes into her. You wanna cry? I'll give you something to cry about. No, Papa, she didn't want to cry. But against her will, the tears came.

She had seen the ad posted on the bulletin board at the library:

Companion wanted for 2 to 3 hours a week for handicapped man.

No care involved. Will provide small compensation.

The ad, written in small, messy script, intrigued her. Especially the no care part. She was in no way equipped to wipe someone else's ass. Maybe this was just what she needed, a way to break free from herself. She spent so much time alone, she was entirely sick of herself at times. She pictured an elderly, wheelchair-bound man smiling when she arrived to play their weekly game of checkers, both laughing amiably as they chatted about things as mundane as the weather. And whatever the small compensation was, she could certainly use it. A few extra bucks wouldn't hurt; maybe help her fill her gas tank. She scribbled the number down on a piece of scrap paper and stuffed it into her pocket.

Although it was charming and had a certain endearing quality about it, the Orangedale Library was about as hole-in-the-wall as you could get, and it was woefully inadequate to deal with the growing population of the town. Orangedale was a small town in central Massachusetts with easy access to the highways and close proximity to the cities of Worcester and Boston. With that and its great schools, open spaces, and ability to retain its rural flavor, the town was drawing young families as never before. Having lived in Orangedale for almost sixteen years and being the library director for at least fifteen of them, she had seen the new families arrive. She'd watched as the youngsters who eagerly attended story hour became young adults vying for time on the one computer available to them at the library. She'd seen how crowded the library got on busy days, without enough room to scour through the shelves, and the frustration people exhibited at not being able to find anywhere to park in the tiny lot outside.

But the town was unwillingly to spend the money to build a new library. Some believed libraries were archaic, an institution whose time had come and gone, and a waste of taxpayers' money. Who needed libraries when folks had Kindle, the Internet, and any number of ways to gather information? And besides, who had time to read anymore?

Enter Kindra. Folks with that attitude had met their match. She passionately and endlessly defended the library's right to exist. To her it was and always would be a much-needed resource for the community. She saw firsthand the looks on the small children's faces as they picked out their very own books to bring home, and the elderly who came in weekly to chat with each other and find out about new books. Sure, Kindle had its place, but it couldn't do that. It couldn't compare with the simple pleasure of holding a book in your hand, flipping the pages, and smelling that book smell.

People needed books. This she knew. As a lonely child, books had been her only playmates, her escape from the harsh realities of life. She couldn't depend on people, but books had never let her down. She hoped today's kids could experience that. Give 'em books is what she said, the chance to get lost in a story, the time to dream, and the freedom to be alone in their own minds.

Hello, the voice answered on the other end of the line.

Hi, my name is Kindra Dean. I'm responding to the ad that was placed at the library for a companion.

Howareya? the voice asked with a delightful brogue.

Good. So what is it that you're looking for?

Well, dear, I'm needin' someone to come and visit with me son. He had an accident a while back, and the poor soul's been stuck in a wheelchair. I would love for someone ta come and chat with the lad for a bit.

Oh, that's so sad, Kindra said, meaning it. Maybe her life was fairly depressing, but at least she wasn't stuck in some chair.

Oh, 'tis very sad. As you can imagine, he hasn't been the same since, can barely get him ta leave the house. Breaks me heart, it does.

How old is he?

Oh, dear me, he'll be thirty-nine next month. Can ya believe that?

Actually, she couldn't. For some reason she thought he was just a kid, but this guy was close to her age. But maybe that would be good to visit with someone close to her age. They'd have things in common, like maybe he'd have a fondness for '80s hair bands like she did and they could laugh and reminisce about them.

What about yerself?

How old am I? I'm forty. Kindra always hated the sound of it. Not that she actually minded being forty, it was just that saying it or writing it made her feel…well, like she really was forty. And in ten short years she'd be fifty…ugh.

Well, you're practically the same age. So, what do you say? Are ye up for it or not?

Yeah, Kindra answered more confidently than she felt. When would be a good day and time for you guys?

The question, dear, is when would be good for you? Like I said, he rarely leaves the house, so whatever works for ya, I can pretty much guarantee would work for us.

How about this Friday, around four-ish?

Perfect, we'll be here.

I work at the library so, depending on what I have to do that day, it might be closer to four fifteen. That okay?

Nuh problem. Oh, by the way, my name is Rosemary Shannon, and me son's name is Tommy. We live on Clifton Way, number five, in the little red ranch. Ya know where that is? Right near the center of town.

Yep , I know exactly where that is. So, I'll see you both on Friday.

As Friday got closer, Kindra's nervousness grew. Who was she kidding? What did she of all people have to offer anyone, let alone an almost thirty-nine-year-old handicapped man? Nothing, that's what. Well, she'd fake it. Yeah, make her life seem like more than what it was. She'd do that for him. Sure, she had her job—she had to support herself somehow—but the sad reality was her life was just like his, minus the chair.

Much to Kindra's chagrin, Friday arrived right on schedule. As much as she hated to admit it, she was hoping for some natural disaster or something to keep her from going to the Shannon residence. But she was not so lucky. As such, she found herself seated on the small sofa in the modest living room, the walls covered with crucifixes and pictures of John F. Kennedy. Rosemary sat opposite her in the ailing leather recliner, a little wisp of a woman, with her graying hair wound in a tight bun.

So, dear, ya ready ta meet me boy?

Thirty-nine wasn't exactly a boy to Kindra, and really she wanted to run out the door but she said, Sure, hoping the cracking in her voice didn't betray her anxiety.

As she followed Rosemary down the hallway, Rosemary turned to her and whispered in conspiratorial tone, He doesn't know yer here.

Kindra whispered back, But he does like visitors, right? I mean he won't mind will he?

Oh, he'll be fine with it, she answered confidently.

Okay, if you say so.

I do. Now be quiet. We're right outside his room.

Kindra's heart was beating double time. You can do this. It's not like you're going to die or anything, she said, silently reassuring herself.

Rosemary knocked loudly at the door.

Yeah?

Rosemary was casual as she answered, A visitor is here ta see ya, Tommy.

Yeah, I'm so popular, Ma. Must be the paparazzi; let 'em in. Just don't let them take all those pictures again. I haven't shaved in a while.

Oh, Thomas, she said, opening the door. Don't ya be so silly. This lovely young lady is Kindra, and she's come ta chat with ya awhile.

He rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh at yet another one of his mother's ridiculous attempts to socialize him. The poor people she managed to drag in never knew what they were in for. Why couldn't she just leave him be? So what that he was in a wheelchair and spent almost every waking moment alone? Was that so wrong?

Well, offer her a seat, won't ya? I raised ya better than that. She took time out of her busy day to visit the likes of you.

This time he almost laughed out loud. The whole thing was so absurd. His mother made it sound like she had come to visit him out of the goodness of her heart, not because his mother had probably begged her to. She was a complete pain in the ass. What he wanted to say was leave me the fuck alone.

Kindra stood by the door, dumbfounded by the whole exchange between mother and son, wondering if she should stay or go. Obviously these two had issues they needed to work out, and here she was plum in the middle of it.

You can go, Ma. I'll handle it.

Okay, I'll trust you two will get along just fine, she said, giving Tommy a warning look as she left the room.

Sit down if you want, he said.

She felt utterly uncomfortable; she knew without a doubt she was a complete idiot. She could see he was no dummy and would see through any pretense she made. Maybe she should just blurt out, Yeah, I needed the compensation. Sorry. But she found she couldn't say anything as the dark eyes stared her up and down.

Hi, I'm Kindra, she said, managing a weak smile.

Yeah, my mom said that already. I'm Tommy, but I guess you already know that because she said that, too. He paused and then went on to say, Listen, Kendra, Kindra, whoever you are, I don't really care anyway. You can go. It's just one of her crazy ploys to save Tommy. Well, guess what? Tommy doesn't need any fucking saving. Just go. She'll get over it. She always does.

Well, maybe she would go and put this whole cockamamy idea behind her, but instead something propelled her to sit in the chair near his desk. He stared at her, those dark eyes never leaving hers. She looked away. Think, think, she said to herself. Say something, anything.

Out of her mouth came the most asinine question that could have been uttered. So, what do you like to do all day?

He was completely serious when he answered, Look at porn on my laptop. I know tons of good sites that I could recommend to you. Whatcha into, girl on girl…naw, let me guess, guys with big schlongs?

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. No, that's okay. The awkward silence returned. She grasped at something, anything they might have in common.

He sort of felt bad for the woman hunched in the chair. He knew she was trying, but only God knew why. He would spare her any more discomfort. He'd be firm. He'd get her out.

Really you can go, there's nothing to say. We both know that. My mother's a crazy bitch, always trying to get me to do things I don't want to do. Tell the fucking world I'm fine. I'm in a wheelchair for cripes' sake. I stay in my room all day and guess what, I'm fine. I don't need you trying to make up some bullshit conversation. I'm way past phony conversations.

She tried to interrupt him to no avail.

He continued his tirade. So, why don't you do us both a favor and get the fuck out of my room. Go and don't look back. This motherfucker will be all right, he said, pointing to himself.

Okay, she said, standing. Maybe this was a bad idea. I'll go.

Good and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

She slipped past Rosemary unseen, determined to never see that asshole again.

By Tuesday, Kindra had put the whole Tommy debacle behind her. She was busy at work, glad for the distraction of it. Being there kept her from thinking about all she didn't have. At the library she was looked up to. She made important decisions and told others what to do. But the rest of her life was sad in comparison.

Canna have a werd with ya?

Without looking up, Kindra knew who it was immediately. She put down the papers she was looking at and smiled at Rosemary. After all, it wasn't her fault that her son had acted that way. But she would be firm with her. No, she would not under any circumstances go back and visit that creep.

Sure, it's just about time for my lunch break. Why don't we go into my office? She laughed and added, If you want to call it that, it's more like a glorified closet.

Once in the office, Rosemary took a twenty-dollar bill and said, Here, this is yers.

Oh, Rosemary, I can't accept it. You could hardly call the visit a success. Please, I don't want it.

Nuh, it's yers. I said compensation was included in the deal. I didn't put any contingencies on it, now did I?

Kindra knew that Rosemary wasn't going to take no for an answer, so she grabbed it and put it in her pocket. Thanks, I guess.

Nuh, thank you, thank ya for comin' by. I know that stubborn boy's not easy. I know he could do so much more with his life, but he'd rather pity himself and keep his sorry arse in his room all day. I can't let him, Kindra, I can't. That's why I need to ask ya to please come back again.

How is my visiting going to keep him from wasting his life? If that's what he wants to do, maybe you should just let him. It's his life not yours.

I know it's his life, but I gave him that life…took me and my late husband, God rest his soul, ten years ta get pregnant with him, almost miscarried him twice, and it took me thirty hours of misery birthin' him ta get him out of me body. I didn't do all that ta have him waste it. His pa would be so disappointed in him. I'm hopin' a pretty young thing around his own age would get the boy thinkin' about livin' life again.

Kindra felt like Rosemary was asking her to do the impossible. She might as well have asked her to climb Mount Everest; that would probably be easier. But thinking she could get Tommy interested in life again, when she barely had a life herself, was crazy if not preposterous.

Just one more time, please? I'm a desperate woman. I'll do whatever it takes ta save me boy.

Kindra looked into Rosemary's determined face, with the same dark blazing eyes as her son, and knew a truer statement had never been uttered. She just wished she didn't have to be part of it. How could she tell Rosemary that she thought her son was a total dick? Any sympathy she had for him died the moment he kicked her out of his room.

Rosemary, I have to be straight with you. I don't think I can help your son. I don't think I'm the savior you're looking for. Maybe find someone else.

Rosemary grabbed her hand, with her dark eyes beseeching Kindra's, and pleaded, Please, won't you give it one more chance? If it doesn't work out, ya never have ta come back again.

No, I can't, Kindra answered firmly.

Aw, come on now. I'll make me legendary chicken and dumplin's. When was the last time you had a home-cooked meal? 'Tis good, I promise.

No. Tommy was right about one thing; she was crazy.

Oh, and me desserts. What do you like…you strike me as a girl who likes chocolate. Well, let me tell ya, I make the best chocolate cake around these parts.

No, no, and no. Please, Rosemary, back off.

Did I mention that the cake is homemade and so is the frosting? I'll even have vanilla ice cream, homemade of course, ta put on me cake. So Friday at about five o'clock?

Can't, I have a meeting, Kindra lied.

The following Friday then.

Kindra realized at that moment she was defeated. Rosemary was simply not going to take no for an answer. She'd better just say yes and get this whole thing over with.

She sighed as she said, Should I bring anything?

Rosemary's smile was as big as the Brooklyn Bridge as she answered, No, just yer lovely self, dear, and wear some perfume, he likes that, and maybe somethin' low cut.

Kindra just rolled her eyes.

Chapter 2

Kindra sat at her tiny kitchen table and tried to read the Sunday paper. It was the kind of glorious fall day you waited for all year, the kind that made you feel like everything was right with the world—there were no wars, nobody was starving, nobody had cancer—there were just the autumn trees in all their splendor and the golden sunshine smiling upon you.

She was distracted today though and found she couldn't focus on what she was reading. Her mind drifted here, there, and everywhere. First,

Reviews for In Bloom,

[mmoj_2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Kindra Dean is a Library Director in a small town near Boston. She's had a tough life, a mother her died when she was young, a sister who was hooked on drugs which eventually killed her and a father who was a best a cold-hearted man who couldn't get over his wife's death.Kindra feels less than deserving in part because of her father's abuse and partly because she blames herself for her sister's death. She doesn't feel worthy to live life. That begins to change when she meets Rosemary Shannon and her son Tommy. Perhaps an even bigger change comes when Kindra meets her new neighbor Tiana, or "T" to her friends. The interactions are really what makes this story so entertaining Rosemary and T are hilarious.Enjoyed the story and am looking forward to more from Ms. Kilgallon.