Page 4 of Wisteria Winds
She’d quickly learned that Wisteria Island was full of the same kinds of people. There were the people who wanted to be there. Some people needed to be there, like her, simply because they had nowhere else to go. And then there were the people whose families had sent them there because they didn’t want to deal with them, because they were too eccentric or problematic.
It sometimes seemed times had changed a lot from when she was a kid. Back when elders were revered instead of ignored. Back when their wisdom was important to younger generations. Or maybe she was just wallowing in self-pity and anger that her life had been so destroyed by the death of her husband. Her best friend. The rock she’d held onto for so many years. She felt adrift now, like a tiny leaf in the wide open ocean.
She was thankful that she’d had the choice and the funds to come to a place like this, to grow old with people around her to care for her, at least in some way. She was thankful the island had a nurse, and she had people who might become her friends one day.
But right now, she was so stuck in her grief that she didn’t know when that could happen.
A knock at the door startled her.
“Mrs. Whitman, it’s Bennett Alexander. I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she heard him say from the other side of the door.
She quickly wiped away a stray tear and smoothed her hair before opening the door.
“Mr. Alexander, please do come in. And you can call me Clara.”
“Well, only if you’ll call me Bennett,” he said, smiling as he stepped into the cottage. “I just wanted to see how you’re settling in. Danielle mentioned that you might need some help unpacking. I can certainly come over here after work.”
Clara felt a rush of embarrassment. “I’m afraid I’ve been a little slow to get organized,” she said, forcing a smile.
Bennett seemed very kind, with no trace of judgment.
“You know, grief moves at its own pace, Clara. There’s no timeline you have to follow. Many of the people on this island have experienced grief, just like you have.” He looked around the cottage. “But you know, if you want some help, we have a bunch of volunteers here who can help you get settled. They’ll be efficient and understanding, I promise.”
Clara hesitated, feeling her natural independence bubbling up to the surface. But it was at war with the overwhelming fatigue that had been her constant companion since losing the love of her life.
“You know, I…” she said, trailing off. “Actually, that would be very kind. Thank you.”
Bennett nodded. “Consider it done. I understand you’ve been in the world of music for a long time?”
“Yes. Robert and I actually met when we were both conducting. I was a rare female conductor, so I stood out like a sore thumb. We both played instruments as well, but mostly piano.”
“Music has always been a real passion of mine, though I lack any real talent,” Bennett said, laughing. “We do have a small music program here on the island. It’s nothing fancy, but some residents get together and play. They’ve been looking for someone with experience to guide them.”
She felt a flicker of interest for the first time in months. “Really? What sort of ensemble?”
“Well, they’re quite a motley crew, to be honest. I think we have a violinist, a cellist, a clarinetist, and a very enthusiastic but somewhat unorthodox pianist. They call themselves the Wisteria Philharmonic, which seems a little ambitious given their number.”
Clara found a small smile forming on her face. “That sounds interesting.”
“Well, they meet on Thursday afternoons at the community center. There’s no pressure at all, but if you want to, go ahead and stop by, even if it’s just to listen.”
When he left a few minutes later, Clara stood at the window watching him walk down the sidewalk. She felt a little spark of possibility for the first time since she arrived on the island.
Maybe there was still some music left in her life after all.
Danielle finished examining Gladys’s blood pressure and then smiled. “You’re looking good, Gladys. That medication change is working really well.”
“Oh, thank goodness. I was worried I would have to give up my pickle addiction,” Gladys said, rolling down her sleeve.
“Well, moderation is still key,” Danielle reminded her. “But yes, your numbers are much better than last month.”
She made notes in Gladys’s chart as her phone buzzed with a text from her mother. She quickly glanced at it.
Called several venues in New York. The Plaza is available June 15th. Perfect timing for a summer wedding. Sending you their brochure and pricing. XOXO, Mom.
Danielle sighed and put the phone aside without saying anything or responding to her mother.
“Wedding troubles already?” Gladys asked. As irreverent as Gladys could be, she was perceptive.
