Addison Falls

By Laura Galusha

Beginning in Harling, Missouri in the summer of 1982, Addison Falls tells the story of Audrey Mills search for answers. After the death of her grandmother, she finds herself the sole remaining member of her family. At the same time she acquires a box belonging to her grandmother that had for many years been stashed in a friends attic. The contents of the box become the catalyst for Audreys quest.
Addison Falls is by turns funny and deeply moving. It is the story of a journey not willingly taken. Although Audrey sets out to unravel a long held family secret, she ends up with so much more.
Traveling between the fictional small towns of Harling, Addison Falls and Westerville, Audrey is joined by a cast of characters that accompany her along the way. We meet Marginell, Filbert, Jasper, Violet and Cliff. We attend the Truckers Chapel, survive a tornado and fall in love with a dog named Mule.
Addison Falls is the first novel in the Addison Falls series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491872765

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Funeral Party

Fortunately for Audrey, Grandma died on a Monday. Any other day of the week would have been highly inconvenient. Both the president and the vice-president of the women’s Over-Fifty Group at the church had thanked her personally, as if Audrey had anything to do with it. The women’s group, you understand, clung religiously to a very tight schedule they’d adopted more than thirty years ago, which included but wasn’t limited to the following: Wednesday night was the potluck supper; Thursday afternoon, the quilting circle; Friday evening, the sing-along; Saturday, for community service; and on Tuesday they rested. The funeral was scheduled for Sunday after church, which fit nicely into their agenda.

Audrey thought she was prepared for Grandma’s death, but she was mistaken. Only in theory was she ready, not in fact. The stark reality of the situation hit her suddenly on Thursday at Ralphs when she opened the freezer door to get a bag of peas. She opened the door, reached in to get the white plastic bag, and at that moment her knees gave way. She collapsed on the gray linoleum floor with the peas in her lap. A wave of grief hit her and she wept; the tears came heavy and fast. She wept for herself and for Grandma. Then she cried for everyone she’d lost: Mother, Father, and Grandpa. She couldn’t stop and she didn’t want to. Why them and not me? Could I have prevented it? What could I have done? She felt hollow, empty of self, except for the ache in her chest and the bubble in her throat. She didn’t care who saw her or what they thought or what they would say about her. She didn’t want to get up. She wanted to cry and she didn’t want to stop. Oddly, crying felt good, like the only genuine thing to do at the moment. The source of her grief was Grandma’s death. Or was it? Really, she thought as another wave enveloped her, Grandma’s death was the catalyst that stirred up a lifetime of loss. Is it possible to understand the twists and turns of our lives or to ever grasp a fleeting glimpse of what life’s all about or where to go from here? After a while a little girl, who’d strayed from her mother in the grocery store, convinced Audrey that her tears wouldn’t come out all at once, and she took Audrey’s hand and helped her to her feet.

Arrangements for the funeral had been simple. All the details were taken care of by Grandma’s friends. Audrey was told not to worry herself. Rest, take a nap, sleep, relax; none of which she could do. She just sat and thought. She made a few phone calls to distant relatives in North Dakota and Wyoming. Audrey wasn’t surprised when they said they wouldn’t be coming to the funeral. She’d never even met them. She surmised the reason was some past family dispute. That’s all she knew and all she’d been told.

After the funeral, Audrey stood with the preacher on the steps of the chapel accepting condolences. The procession of well-wishers, who’d known not only her grandmother for years but also her mother and her grandfather, pressed wet hankies into her hands and squeezed. They blew their noses and kissed her face and assured her that Ida Lee was in Heaven in the arms of her daughter and her husband. She’s in a better place now, they all said. Oh yeah, Audrey thought, how can you be so sure of that and how is that supposed to make me feel better? Audrey wasn’t convinced that death was a better alternative to life; she didn’t argue logic or theology but, instead, stood patiently numb, deep in her own thoughts.

They buried Grandma in Wood Lawn Cemetery in the northeast corner near the creek. She lay between her husband and daughter, wedged in and protected by them, as if they were saying, Don’t worry, we’ve got her now.

Audrey sat on the grass next to the graves while the guests drove back to town for the after-funeral party. The minister sat with her and held her hand. This minister had buried her mother and grandfather, too, and had been the minister when she was a little girl. When she was little, she believed the singers in the choir were angels and the minister was God. So now she listened to what he had to say.

Imagine being in the ocean and the shore is far away. You keep trying to swim to shore, but the waves keep coming and crashing on top of you. Eventually you get closer and closer; the waves don’t come as often and when they do, they aren’t as strong. Finally, you are close to shore and the water is waist deep; you begin to walk but the waves can still push you around a little. This is what grief is like, Audrey. You are in the deep waters now, but you will come to shore. Someday the grief will subside, but it will never leave you because you will never stop loving your grandmother.

* * *

Audrey loitered near the punch bowl half expecting one of the elders from church to pull a flask out of her pocketbook and spike the punch. In fact she wished someone would. The funeral party, thrown by Marjorie Spears, was in keeping with the usual format: too much food and too much ruminating over who might be next to die and what kind of funeral party they’d like to have in their honor. Her friends had shown up to sit on the porch for a while, yet most of the visitors were the casserole ladies from the auxiliary.

Audrey wandered through the living room where the men sat in despair: The television screen was blurred in gray snow with a faint view of a football game in the background. In the kitchen, a couple of women argued about salads, then separated before they said something they wished they hadn’t. One of the women, Marginell, used a large carving knife to attack a fresh ham and shred it into paper-thin slices.

Marginell? Audrey approached the redhead, not quite convinced that the woman was who she thought she was. Audrey hadn’t seen her at the funeral this morning, and last week at church she’d been a brunette.

Audrey, thank God! Marginell took Audrey in her arms and held on. She smelled of the very same lilac powder Grandmother had always worn, the kind in the round cardboard container that Wiley’s drugstore had sold for ages; that, incidentally, had become the scent for an entire generation of women in Harling, a generation that was now passing away. And, Audrey thought, with them the lavender powder would also die. Without warning her eyes filled with tears, so she allowed herself to be hugged for a bit longer than comfort permitted in order to dry her eyes. She mustn’t cry. Not here. Not now around these people, especially Marginell, who gathered and tended lost souls as if a hobby. The last thing Audrey wanted was a stream of concerned visitors and tasteless casseroles for the next month and a half. She wouldn’t be able to tolerate Marginell’s parade of Clairol colors on her front porch each morning.

Wouldn’t you know it? Marginell pulled Audrey out of the kitchen into the laundry room where the washer and dryer were crowded with covered dishes waiting to be set out. I could just kill her. Just slice her to bits.

Who?

Louise Wyatt. Who else? She whispered with her hand cupped to her lips. She brought three salads.

Oh, Audrey said.

She was only supposed to bring one.

I see. Grandma had always said that Marginell was very competitive.

I could have brought three or even four. Who does she think she is? Marginell began to inspect the salads on the dryer, pulling up foil and removing lids until she found what she was looking for. Ambrosia. I bet she’s proud of this. Then, a sly grin washed over her face. Watch and tell me if anyone’s coming. This wasn’t a request, but an order. Audrey followed Marginell into the kitchen. She had three doors to watch: the door to the laundry room which also connected to the back patio; the door to the living room; and the door to the dining room. The best spot to see all three doors was in the alcove by the breakfast table. Marginell tiptoed across the linoleum floor to the refrigerator and opened the door. She knelt down behind the refrigerator door and all but disappeared except for her black patent heels revealed below the door. She made a racket rummaging through the ice box. Although to Audrey it seemed to take forever, it was only a matter of seconds before Marginell reappeared with a tiny glass condiments jar. I’ll be right back, she whispered to Audrey. I’ve got to get the salad from the laundry room. Audrey hissed, Alright, just hurry! In a matter of seconds Marginell tapped out of the laundry room door, through the kitchen and into the dining room where the silenced her presence. Without a soul’s notice, Marginellshe placed Louise’s marshmallow, whip cream, and fruit salad on the table. Lovely, she thought, how well the horseradish combined with the whip cream. Outside the dining room in the front hallway, a safe distance from Louise, Audrey waited with Marginell to see who would taste the salad first.

Marginell whispered, Did she tell you?

What?

Marginell tugged at her sleeve then disappeared into the half bath just off the hallway. Audrey followed.

Did she tell you? Marginell asked, and pulled the door shut behind Audrey.

Audrey laughed out loud, If you need to use the toilet, I can wait in the hall.

No, darling, this is important. She turned the lock in the door. I don’t want anyone else to know.

Okay. Audrey squeezed past Marginell into the corner and put the pink, velvet-covered toilet lid down and sat. A white, wicker-framed mirror over the sink captured both Audrey and Marginell in the pink glow of a rose-embossed night light.

I thought Ida Lee might tell you before she died. Did she?

Tell me what?

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. There were voices on the other side.

Marginell put her finger to her lips and whispered, It’s a secret. Was there anything important she told you at the end?

"No. She was asleep when she died. Why, what is it?

I couldn’t tell you until Ida Lee died. I don’t know; maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.

Of course it matters. You dragged me in here and locked the door. It must matter. Audrey wasn’t losing her temper so much as she was beginning to feel increasingly more awkward. The reflection in the mirror confirmed her discomfort: Marginell’s hair looked purple in the dim light, the wallpaper border of pink ducks in a row felt garish, and her own face in the shadows appeared sallow and aged beyond recognition.

I always thought you should know, but Ida Lee didn’t agree. I can’t go and disappoint her, especially now; she could be here.

What are you talking about? There’s barely enough room for the two of us.

She could be here right now: Ida Lee’s soul. Marginell gave Audrey the kind of meaningful and wise look that said, There are things in life you just don’t know about yet, poor thing.

She’s hanging around for a while to make sure everything’s all right. She’s here to say good-bye or maybe be of comfort to someone who might be having a hard time accepting her passing. How are you holding up?

I was fine until you trapped me in here and started talking nonsense. May I go now? Audrey stood to leave.

It’s the spirit world, Audrey. Try to expand your consciousness, Marginell said, refreshing her lipstick. She handed Audrey the lipstick, A pretty girl like you should wear lipstick.

No, thank you. Now, either tell me the secret or let me leave.

Nope, won’t say. She unlocked the door. If Ida Lee hears me tell you, she’ll never forgive me. Marginell opened the door and walked out.

The ladies who’d been pounding on the door gave Audrey dirty looks when she passed them. Well, Audrey thought, they didn’t have to be rude. This was, after all, her own grandmother’s funeral party. You’d think etiquette would dictate that kindness be shown to the grieving family members. But then, Audrey saw some unfamiliar women who were most likely guests of one of the church members. It was not unheard of for friends to invite other friends, who were not from the congregation, to church functions; what with the delicious assortment of salads and desserts, funeral parties had become something of a social event.

Instead of escaping through the back door, which upon reflection she should have done, Audrey returned to the dining room to say her good-byes and excuse herself from the party. While there, she became unwillingly embroiled in a battle between Marginell and Louise.

Louise apologized for bringing Audrey into the dispute, especially on the day of Ida Lee’s funeral, but she needed her to be a witness. The question was regarding Marginell.

Did she or did she not ruin my ambrosia salad by spiking it with horseradish? Louise paced in front of the dining room table, pointed to the ambrosia when referring to the salad in question, and spoke a little too loudly in a suddenly acquired English accent. Among those present were the minister and his wife. Both appeared stony-faced but were, in fact, sound asleep on the couch.

Why rat on Marginell? Audrey couldn’t betray her grandmother’s best friend; besides, what if Ida Lee was here? What if her soul was hovering above? Audrey looked appropriately shocked at the charges and responded unequivocally, She did not.

CHAPTER 2

Harling

Even in 1982, Harling was the kind of town where there were plenty of folks so you didn’t know everyone, but just enough so you always ran into someone familiar at the grocery store or gas station or out at a restaurant on Saturday night. In summer time, kids ran barefoot until their feet were black and played kick the can in the cul-de-sac way past dark without anyone worrying if they’d get kidnapped and never be seen again. They pumped their bikes to the dime store and bought gold fish which might live until next week and a bag of candy which would be gone in an hour. Teenagers got into some trouble but nothing more than getting caught cow tipping and racing on Main Street. Mothers and Fathers worked but spent the weekends at the lake boating and tending the fire at the barbeque.

If there was any real trouble in town they’d talk about it for weeks and sure enough every minister at every pulpit would have some words about it come Sunday morning. Dogs howled at night but they were reprimanded by their masters and spanked with the newspaper when dad stormed out with his reading glasses still on, face as red as Christmas and wearing his fancy slippers from the time they’d gone shopping in Kansas City. The only time the rest of the world managed to seep into the lives of the Harling residents was on the colored television that sat like a trophy in the corner of the family room and showed the broadcaster on the six o’clock news with the deep voice and sad eyes and who the very little children looked at perplexed and a little curious as to where he was sitting and how he knew all the stuff he was talking about. How did he know that President and Mrs. Reagan were on vacation?

Audrey worked at The Retirement Oasis, an old people’s home they called it. Her supervisor had given her a leave of absence after grandma died. Told her to take as much time as she needed. It was generous but not surprising since Audrey wasn’t the only physical therapist on staff and summer time was typically very slow. Audrey pushed open the large wooden chapel doors and into the foyer. It was cold and dark but for the light that came from the stained glass windows. The Retirement Oasis had yet to renovate since its takeover of the Blessed Mary Catholic Church a few years back after its priest was recalled by the archbishop for unethical behavior. Word was the priest snuck off during the night. Though no one actually saw the disappearance, there’s a story about what took place. Supposedly a friend of the priest with a Ford truck and a trailer in tow pulled up outside the rectory just after midnight and they were in and out in no time. In and out in no time was, incidentally, synonymous with the impropriety for which the priest was accused. Or at least that was the rumor. The rumor includes various details as to with whom and when, where and how. Suffice it to say that it wasn’t little boys but middle aged woman from the Methodist church. An unwritten code of behavior passed down through generations of protestant ancestors stated that anything unpleasant or sexual in nature must be whispered. So, the disappearance of the priest was an exciting time for the community and an opportunity for all to embellish the rumor before passing it on.

Because of the disgrace of the priest and the ultimate sale of the church to the retirement home conglomerate, no one in town would admit to being Catholic. Supposedly, the last remaining Catholic in town died about the time the priest made his hasty retreat, or at least that was the rumor. It was certain there were still a few Catholics about, Sleepers they were called, but they kept it to themselves favoring instead the potluck suppers and pancake dinners hosted by the Women’s Auxiliary at the Methodist Church on Jackson Street.

Audrey deposited her check at the First National Bank and then stopped by the diner for a slice of cherry pie. She loved their cherry pie. It made her think of her mother and how pretty she had always looked in her white waitress uniform with a scarf tied around her long black hair.

CHAPTER 3

Audrey

Already at the age of