Under the Umbrella

Under the Umbrella

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand why I'm here." Dean Bridges glanced around the elderly lawyer's comfortable office taking in the richly framed certificates, the shelves of well-used law books, and the expanse of the mahogany desk across from him. "I don't know anyone named Priscilla Barnes."

Leonard Colville nodded patiently and tried another tact. "George, her late husband, began calling her by a pet name about sixty years ago or so. Most of her close friends know - uh, knew Mrs. Barnes simply as Sissy. Does that ring a bell?"

"Sissy? Oh, sure. She was a fantastic lady." Relieved that at least the who part of the mystery was solved, Dean smiled. "Sissy was part of my life for way too short a time. I envied George that he spent almost his entire lifetime with her. The stories she told me renewed my faith in the existence of love and happily-ever-afters. I can honestly say she saved my life.

"My parents split up when I was young and neither remarried, so the only relationships I saw were the ones on TV. So, with examples like Al and Peggy on Married with Children, how's anyone supposed to know what's healthy or not? But Sissy, she found something real. She and George had the real deal. You could feel it in the way she spoke of him."

Dean looked down at his hands sitting on his lap and absently started rubbing his thumbs together. He realized he was rambling and he certainly wasn't going to cry in front of this guy. Sissy had passed away the month before in her sleep, but thinking about her still brought him close to tears. Sure, he loved his family, but never had another person affected him as Sissy had. She was pure of heart, good to her very soul. Dean took a deep breath before once again facing Leonard.

Leonard could see the brave face this young man was struggling to maintain and could tell how much Sissy had meant to him. He himself had been greatly shaken by her passing. Perhaps if, all those years ago, he had been the first one to ask Miss Priscilla to dance instead of his friend George, it might have been Leonard she'd have come to love. Shaking those thoughts away, he chided himself. He'd found and married a lovely girl who was still his wife today. He certainly wasn't woeful, but being reminded of your mortality gave you a case of the what-ifs.

Leonard leaned forward and spoke in a quiet, nostalgic voice. "Why don't you tell me how you and Sissy came to meet?"

Sensing a mutual admiration for the subject, and the desire to keep the conversation personal a little while longer, Dean hesitated only a moment before he started to speak.

"It was a regular day, nothing out of the ordinary. I can't even recall which day of the week, that's how mundane it was. I was on my lunch break, sitting at the outdoor market by the river. You know the area with the umbrella-covered tables by the coffee shop?" At Leonard's silent nod, he continued. "I'd finished my lunch and was gathering up my things when I saw this little old lady sitting alone. I'd seen her there before. You know, it's a fairly small city and you see familiar faces when you have a routine. She usually sat with an older gentleman who seemed to cater to her, you know, adjusting the umbrella to keep the sun out of her eyes, offering his arm when they left, that sort of thing. I always assumed it was her husband because there was just something unspoken between them, like knowing what's needed without words." Dean gazed unseeingly at the far wall, reliving the memories.

"But then I started to see her without him. She'd sip her coffee and watch the boats go by, then stand up and quietly slip away. I guess I briefly wondered where he was, but I didn't really dwell on it; I had my own life to think about, my own problems, you know?

"Anyway, that particular day she was there as usual, but something about her caught my eye. She seemed smaller. More frail might be a better way to put it. But that's not even it. It's more like her, I don't know, her aura was being squeezed." Dean stopped and shook his head at the absurdity of his recollection. "I can't put it into words, but something just wasn't right. I didn't know her; she was just a little old lady who was part of the scenery. I usually went for a walk after eating, but for some reason, I just couldn't leave without asking her if she was all right.

"As I approached her table, I could see that she was crying. She wasn't openly sobbing or anything, but she had tears on her cheeks and she was holding a lace hankie." Meeting Leonard's eye, he repeated, "a lace hankie. That was a first for me. I thought that type of thing was only in books about Southern belles." Dean smiled at the thought of it. Leonard smiled as well, because he knew a lacy handkerchief would be the only kind Sissy would carry.

"She squinted as she looked up at me and I realized the sun was hitting her, so I reached over and tilted the umbrella as I'd seen the man do so many times before. At that, her smile almost broke my heart.

"I'd only planned to stop by her table to check on her, but that smile did me in. I introduced myself and asked if I could join her. We chatted for about thirty minutes before I had to get back to work, but we agreed to meet again the next day under an umbrella.

"For weeks, I looked so forward to my lunch breaks. Life didn't seem so mundane anymore. I woke up with a smile on my face because I knew I was going to see Sissy and just that thought alone made the world a better place. I got to glimpse life from her perspective, from that of a well-born woman who'd seen much over the years. One who had lost sons in war, family to tragedy, and hope in humanity. But also, one who'd helped others rebuild their lives after misfortune and persevere in the face of adversity. I saw the gentle soul who described how she'd held others' hands as they wept for their losses and the fierce warrior who'd stood up and demanded that the government bring our soldiers home safely.

"I told Sissy that she was a one-in-a-million woman, but you know the funny thing? She replied that, in fact, she wasn't. She was no different than most people. That most people are good and loving and kind. That most people are not only looking for love, but have an abundance of it to give. She wouldn't hear of it when I told her I didn't think so.

"She told me all about George, how he'd pursued her even after her gentle rebukes. Sissy said that's just how it was done back then. She confided that she knew she'd loved him that first night they met, but she made him work for her hand. Apparently, he continued to sweep her off her feet for the next sixty-three years, seven months, and three days. She'd laughed at my shocked expression at her detailed total, but said that when you were as blessed as they'd been, every day counted.

"Sissy helped me see that it's okay that my parents' marriage broke up. It's hard work for a relationship to last and sometimes it's just not meant to be. If two people aren't going to be happy together, better to go your separate ways especially if there are kids involved, that way you can still be good parents individually and hopefully meet in the middle. That lesson hit me the hardest. I always felt like I was somehow to blame for my parents' breakup or that our family was broken. It made sense to me, especially when neither of them remarried. But that wasn't it at all. I talked to my mom and dad and it was like what Sissy had said. They knew they couldn't live together anymore, but they still wanted to be the best parents they could be for us. And get this, neither one of them remarried because they still love each other and no one else ever measured up! They've actually started dating each other again." Dean laughed and shook his head. "Parents."

"Yes, Sissy was quite a woman. She could've made a king drop to his knees at her feet if she'd wished it." Leonard smiled in satisfaction. "And now that you know who we're here about, you're probably wondering the why of it, am I right?"

"The question had crossed my mind," Dean admitted.

"George and I were friends from way back, since before I can even remember. Once I became an estate lawyer, he and Sissy signed on as clients to help me grow my business. Long story short, I am Sissy's lawyer and her trustee. You, Mr. Bridges, are one of her beneficiaries."

Dean listened incredulously. "How could - why would she do something like that? I barely knew her. I didn't even know her full name."

"Sissy was quite adamant in her request to add you to her will. Believe me, I questioned her quite thoroughly about the amendment, seeing as she'd known you only a short time. No offense, of course."

"None taken whatsoever. I'd have been pretty suspicious in your position, too."

"Hearing you speak about her though, I now understand her decision. I've been asked to give you three items." Picking up a Manila envelope, he pulled out the contents and handed them to Dean. Looking down, Dean saw a folded sheet of pale-yellow stationery, a bank draft, and a little black notebook. He unfolded the letter and saw it was a handwritten letter signed by Sissy. His heart skipped a beat as he imagined her penning it just over a month ago. Her writing was surprisingly girly, full of big loops and swirls. He almost expected to see hearts dotting the i's. He smiled at the thought and refolded the letter, unprepared to read it at the moment. Next, he looked at the bank draft and audibly gasped. It was in his name in the amount of $20,000. To his twenty-four-year-old brain, it was a fortune.

He turned the notebook over and back again. It wasn't brand new, but it had no distinguishing features other than a black elastic closure. Slipping it back, the book automatically opened one-quarter of the way through to where a thin bookmark ribbon lay. Dean recognized the loopy handwriting; this was Sissy's diary. Fanning through the journal, he could see the pages were filled except for the last three that remained blank.

Curious, he flipped back to the bookmarked page and began reading. It was dated almost six months prior.

Happy anniversary, my love. I will be joining you soon. I've finished with the preparations and I believe everything's been taken care of. You always said I was better prepared than most with my checklists! I feel like a useless old woman just plodding along without a purpose. I'm going to our spot now for one last coffee. I can't wait to feel you in my arms again.

"Have you read this?" Dean asked, slack-jawed, the blood draining from his face.

"No. It wasn't in my instructions to do so. Are you okay?" Leonard responded, clearly concerned.

Dean looked back at the page. A couple of lines down, another entry was made, this time in blue ink instead of black.

Hello again, my love. I'm afraid you'll be waiting a little while longer. I met someone who needs me...

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