Window With A View

Wilma sat on her enclosed front porch as the sun crept toward the horizon somewhere east of the city. The darker, predawn gray slowly faded into a paler version of itself as she embraced the remains of a cup of coffee no longer hot enough to ward off the mid-winter chill. Savoring the last few sips, she set the cup down on the table next to a book that a short time ago had been cradled in her lap. Reaching for the cord switch on the old lamp, she turned it off. She loved to read, always had, but these days her vision grew foggier. The glasses helped but she probably needed a stronger prescription — or that surgery her eye doctor talked about at her last visit.

Wilma’s morning ritual included watching her neighborhood come awake. Across the street, Don had started both cars in the driveway. Lois exited the front door and locked it. Don kissed Lois goodbye and they headed off to their jobs. A large gray cat appeared in the front room window of the lower flat where Don and Lois lived. He also watched as they left. Then, after completing his morning ablutions, he too went away. 

Don and Lois were good neighbors. Years ago Wilma and Lois became friends when they each surprised the other with a tin of homemade Christmas confections. Later they had exchanged recipes. These days Don always cleared the snow from Wilma’s driveway, sidewalk, and stoop. This particular winter that had been a real boon. He also did yardwork for her. And despite the pains he took in looking after her in these ways, Don would not accept a dime in compensation. He was even the one to call the emergency number when Wilma had collapsed that hot day three summers ago, before Esther, her best friend, had died.

She’d known Esther since they were little girls. They had grown to be old women with grandchildren they had helped to raise. They had shared laughter and tears over many years. Now Esther was gone. Even her duplex was gone, torn down for an urban enhancement project, a hole punched in the memorabilia of Wilma’s childhood. 

As Wilma watched from her porch window, she saw a tiny figure weave in and out of view in the beveled glass. A little girl hopped down the steps that led to the upper flat next door and skipped along the sidewalk. Her coat looked several sizes too small. It was wide open as if it could not reach to close. The child’s wild mess of curly, blonde hair bore no hat. The tiny hands had no mittens. Her soiled backpack had seemingly once been pink. Wilma glanced at the thermometer hanging from the side of the porch. She squinted, struggling to read it. For certain the mercury was not much higher than thirty degrees. She watched the girl walk to the corner and stand there stamping her feet in the cold. Wilma did not take her eyes off of the child until she climbed into the school bus fifteen minutes later.

The duplex next door had been vacant for almost a year. The lower flat was still empty. Then last September a car and a van came and went for about a week. The car eventually stayed. A few months ago she had seen a youngish woman, slender with long blonde hair, leave from the front door of the upper flat. Other than that she only saw the child come and go on school mornings.

Lois had told Wilma that she and Don had been awakened on several occasions by noise coming from the duplex where the child and her mother lived. She had said once even a squad car had arrived. With Wilma’s bedroom all the way on the other side of her own house she had heard nothing. Still, she kept her eye on the little girl each morning.

***

In early April, Wilma was back on her porch in the late afternoon to water the lily Lois and Don had brought her for Easter. She looked up in time to see the school bus deposit the little girl at the corner. Wilma set the white enameled watering can on the table, and sat to watch the child walk past her house. The girl climbed the steps and pulled on the front door to her own flat. She stood there for some time, pushing the bell. Clearly unable to get any answer, the child disappeared around the corner of the building. Wilma left her porch and made her way to her own back stoop. She tried to look over the fence but saw and heard no sign of the girl. She went back to the window on her front porch but did not see her there either.

Wilma shrugged and went back to her kitchen. She gathered the ingredients for a strawberry pie, Don’s favorite. She had promised Lois she’d bring dessert for a small gathering for his birthday the following day. Wilma had a doctor’s appointment that next afternoon, so she wanted to get the pie to Lois ahead of time.

Wilma retrieved picture perfect strawberries from the refrigerator. She had gotten them at the fancy market in Shorewood. She’d had to take two different buses to get there, but for all Don’s kindnesses it was well worth it. Wilma had hulled about half of the berries when the doorbell rang. She went to the sink, rinsed her hands, then wiped them on the towel she kept tucked in her apron pocket. The bell rang a second and third time by the time she got to the door.

Through the leaded glass window she could see a mass of blonde corkscrews surrounding a small face. Wilma carefully stepped down into her front porch, opening the outer door. The child turned her head in the direction of home but said nothing.

“Yes, child. What is it?” Wilma asked gently.

The tousled head swiveled to look the other way, then down at her sneakers. 

“Yes?” Wilma repeated.

A pair pale eyes, almost grey, looked up, then focused again on the stoop. 

“May I…could I…nobody’s home. I see you watching me in the mornings. It’s cold. I can’t get in. I thought maybe I could sit in your porch and wait. I won’t touch anything…or anything. If you say no, that’s okay though…” Her courage spent, the child looked again toward her own front door.

Wilma was uncertain, but only for a moment. The little hands looked red. She had the child step into the porch.

“It is very cold. You should zip your coat.”

“Can’t.” The child set down her backpack. “See…” she demonstrated. “It don’t work.”

“Doesn’t work.” Wilma corrected.

“Yeah.”

“Do you know your mother’s phone number? I can call her, perhaps.”

“We ain’t got…”

“Haven’t got…”

“Yeah, haven’t got no phone at home. My mama has one, but it’s shut off a lot. I don’t know the number.”

“Well, you could wait here on the porch if you want to, but it is warmer in the kitchen and I’m busy there so I have to get back to it.”

“I…I think I’d like to come to the kitchen. I won’t be no trouble.”

“Any trouble.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Well, if we are going to keep company, we ought to introduce ourselves. I am Mrs. Montgomery. What’s your name?”

“I’m Kylie, Kylie Parrish. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Mont…”

“Montgomery. Why don’t you call me Mrs. M? Can you remember that easier?”

“Yup. Mrs. M.”  Kylie nodded. “Nice.”

“Alright, then. I’m gonna write a note and tape it to your front door. Can you wait here and be very good?” The mop head nodded.

Wilma wrote on the pad next to the phone that sat in the old nook in the wall. A small drawer beneath it held tape and more paper and pens. Wilma drew her sweater about her, going and coming as quickly as old knees in cold weather could take her. She shivered upon regaining the front porch.

“Let’s go. It’s warm in the kitchen.”

Kylie followed her to the back of the house. Wilma situated the child on the fold-out step stool at the red formica counter. She hung the child’s coat over the kitchen chair where she’d put the backpack.

Kylie sat quietly for a bit. Her eyes were wide with curiosity. Her head turned in every direction as she appeared to take in the bright, white warmth of Wilma’s kitchen. Kylie’s grey gaze came to rest on the bowl of strawberries.

“Whatcha makin?”

“A strawberry pie. The neighbor across the street. It’s his birthday. He likes strawberry pie and he does lots of nice things for me.”

“So, it’s kind of a thank you and a Happy Birthday present, huh?”

“Yes.” Wilma smiled. She picked up a choice red jewel from the bowl. “Would you like one? I need most of them for the pie. But you can have one.”

“Oh yes, please!” 

Wilma handed the child the berry and a napkin from the yellow ceramic dispenser on the counter. Kylie nibbled slowly as if to make it last. 

“Do you have homework you need to do? That’s where my grandson would sit and do his homework when he was little.”

Kylie laughed and pushed a mass of tangled hair from her face.

“Nope. I’m only in all-day K-5. We ain’t…haven’t got homework yet. Wish we did. I like school. I can read already. Been readin’ since I was real little my mama says.” Kylie grinned proudly, revealing a missing tooth. 

“Oh my! You lost a tooth.”

“Yup. The kids at school asked,“Did the tooth fairy come?” She leaves money for your tooth when it comes out they say. I think she don’t…doesn’t know who I am. We moved a lot. She ain’t…hasn’t ever come ‘cept once. At Grandma Parrish’s. She knows where Grandma Parrish lives. I miss her. She’s nice. Like you. Fact, she looks a lot like you, but maybe not as old…” Kylie suddenly looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

Wilma laughed. “It’s okay, child. I am old. And I’m fine with it, so you can be, too.”

Kylie grinned her relief. 

Wilma turned to the sink and rinsed the berries. 

“What’s next?”

“Well, I have to mix the berries with the sugar and spice and cornstarch. Then it just sits waiting for the crust.”

“Oh.”

“Would you like to read to me while I finish? I think I still have a box of my grandson’s old books from when he was little,” Wilma offered as she stirred the berries gently.

“Really? Yes, Mrs. M.! That’d be great.”

Wilma rinsed and dried her hands.

“You wait here a minute. No snitching a berry either.” She winked.

Kylie’s eyes went wide. “No, Mrs. M. I won’t.”

Wilma went to the back bedroom. It was chilly with the register closed. She found the packing box in the closet and selected a few of the books that seemed age appropriate for a kindergartener.

“Here you go. Those belonged to my grandson, Willis. He loved to read.” Wilma set them in front of Kylie on the counter. The girl touched them, lifting each one carefully as if it was a rare treasure.

Wilma began to measure out the flour and shortening for the crust.

“Wow.” Kylie watched her. “You got nothing written down. How do you know what to do?”

Wilma smiled. “It’s my mama’s recipe. So I’ve seen her make it many times over. It was her mama’s before that and her grandma’s before her. I’ll get this in the oven then we can check over at your house again. How’s that?”

The child’s ready smile seemed to fade a bit, unless it was a trick of the waning daylight. Wilma pushed the button that turned on the overhead fixture, an old confection of frosted glass.

“So, you can pick a book and read to me if you like, or just to yourself.”

The grey eyes lit up again. “I’ll read to you. I like to read out loud best. You can read, right?”

“Oh yes. I love to read. I do every morning. My eyes are best then. My thick glasses help.”

The child gingerly lifted a book, reverently opening the cover to the first page.

“One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish…” 

Wilma made quick work of lining the pie plate and weaving the lattice top over the bright-red filling as Kylie turned the pages. She noted that for one so young the girl read surprisingly well, with expression even. Wilma put the pie in the oven and after the first fifteen minutes she turned down the heat for it to finish baking while the juices got thick. She waited until Kylie was done reading the second book.

“Okay, Kylie. Let’s see if anybody’s home.”

“Yes, Mrs. M.” 

Kylie got down from her perch. The little girl struggled to get into the worn coat. The tag at the neck said 4T. Wilma bit back her thoughts as she helped first with the coat then the backpack. 

As they neared the front porch the doorbell began to ring over and over. Wilma felt a small tug on her sweater. Turning to look, she saw that Kylie had shrunk back from the inner doorway for a moment, looking up with an unnamed plea. Then the child took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

“It’s my mama.”

The window of the heavy oak door framed a young woman with disheveled hair as if she had just gotten up. She was wearing mottled, furry slippers, a thin sweater pulled across thinner shoulders. She glared at Wilma and the child through the window, but continued ringing the bell.

Wilma moved slowly, steeling herself against the fury in the face on the other side of the door. She opened it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Get over here Kylie!” The woman reached out and grabbed the little girl by the wrist. “I could report you to the police for this, you know!”

Wilma drew herself up to the fullness of her diminutive stature, and looked directly into eyes the color of Kylie’s that were filled with a feigned rage tinged with guilt. “I could say the same. I wonder what the police would say to a child wandering around the street with nobody home to let her in.”

Wilma looked at Kylie. The grey eyes were swimming in unshed tears and the face that had smiled all afternoon was awash in fear. “Mama…Mrs. M. was just bein’ nice. She just let me watch her make a pie and read to her. She has kid books….No police, mama…”

“Shut up! You’re as much to blame. I wasn’t gone, Kylie…” The young mother looked desperate now… “I was just resting and didn’t hear the bell.  I got up and no Kylie and then this note,” she pulled a crumpled scrap from her sweater pocket. The young woman’s bravado evaporated with her breath into the cold air.

Wilma stood her ground.

“That child needs a proper coat, hat, and mittens. And somebody awake to meet her from the bus. She can come here anytime she needs to if she can’t get in at home. You hear me? Anytime! And you call the police if you don’t like it. I’ll have a chat with them.”

The young woman stepped back from the porch. “Come on, Kylie,” she said meekly. “Say goodbye.”

Kylie looked from her mother to Wilma. A wan smile tested the waters.

“Goodbye, Mrs. M. Thanks for everything. The books and well… everything.”

“You’re quite welcome, Kylie. You both have a good night.” Wilma gave the mother a stern look in parting.

The next night Don and Lois listened as Wilma related what had happened as she helped with dishes after the rest of the guests had left. They all agreed to keep an eye out for Kylie.

In the weeks that followed the little girl came to Wilma’s door at least once or twice a week. One Saturday she came over and stayed the whole day, following Wilma around the house with a little dust cloth as Wilma cleaned. They had also made oatmeal cookies that day, special ones with chocolate chips in them. When Wilma walked Kylie home with a container of cookies, a young man met them at the door. He had a nearly shaved head. Piercings covered his handsome face, and tattoos oozed from beneath the sleeves of his tee shirt, spilling down his muscular arms to his fingertips. He smiled broadly at Wilma as she handed him the cookies, thanking her. Kylie’s face was blank at the sight of the man, but she obediently went up the steps after him. Wilma stood and watched her climb the stairs through the door’s window. She waited a moment longer and listened, but heard nothing. Then she went back home.

A week later the container from the cookies was sitting on Wilma’s stoop. Inside was a handwritten note of thanks, signed, “Amber.” There was also a handmade card in a handmade envelope covered in crayon scribblings and held together with tape. Kylie could apparently write as well as read. Wilma smiled.

All summer long Kylie would visit. Her mother would never say much whenever she came by to collect the little girl. One hot day Wilma coaxed Kylie into letting her wash her hair in the kitchen sink. She gently groomed the golden mass, just like she and Esther had done for each other’s hair as kids. Kylie was so proud of her new braids. Amber even smiled when she saw them.

“Thanks. Her hair is like her dad’s. I’m never sure what to do with it.”

“That’s okay. This will be cooler for summer.” Wilma assured her. “You let me know. I can help.”

One Saturday in early August, Wilma was heading out to volunteer at the Bethesda Thrift Shop. Amber and Kylie were standing in the drive as she came out the front door to head to the bus. 

“Are you going to be gone long?” Amber began, a note of desperation nibbling at the edges of her awkward question. Wilma looked at Kylie whose smile held a silent prayer. The child was again clad in a tee shirt that barely met the top of shorts far too tight to be comfortable.

“I am on my way to my volunteer shift at the thrift store. What do you need?”

“I…I, um...have to go to…work. I couldn’t find a sitter. Kylie loves being with you so much. But look, it’s okay. I guess…”

“I have a four hour shift and I was hoping to get a little shopping in when I’m finished. Kylie could come with me but she’d have to be very good while I worked. I could maybe find her something to do to help me.”

“Oh, mama. Yes, please let me go, please? Mrs. M, I’ll be very good, I promise. I’m a good helper, right?”

Wilma smiled. “Yes, Kylie, you are that.”

Wilma looked at the young woman she knew only as Amber. Tears welled in pale eyes that looked away, staring down the street at nothing.

“It’s okay. I will be glad to take her along. When shall I have her back?”

“I…I’ll be gone until six or so. Are you sure? I can call in…instead.”

“Nonsense. When we are done Kylie can stay by me until you call for her. How’s that? But now we must go. It won’t do to miss the bus.”

Wilma looked back when she and Kylie got to the corner. Amber was gone.

Kylie chattered about everything and nothing on the bus ride. She was excited by whatever she saw. Wilma remembered Willis at that same age, how things seen through his eyes were filled with wonder.

When they got to the store, Wilma gave Kylie a dust cloth. She told her to carefully dust only the bottom shelves, not move anything heavy or breakable, and take her time.

“If you get tired of that, come find me. You sure that this is what you want to do?”

“Mrs. M. I love to dust.”

The hours flew by. When the shift was over Wilma walked Kylie to the back room. There she hung up her smock along with the little makeshift one Kylie had worn to keep her clothes clean. 

“Come here, Kylie. This came in today and I want you to try it on.” Wilma held out a child’s parka, powder blue with a department store tag still attached. It was a size six. 

“Wow. It’s nice. It feels kinda big.

“Well that’s ‘cause your other one has gotten small. There’s a little room for you to grow, but let’s see…Yes, the sleeves look good.” Wilma zipped up the coat. “Cross your arms. Yes, that fits fine. Definitely room to grow. We’ll get it.”

“Wow for me? Mrs. M….”

“It’s not much with my discount and the half-off-color tag.”

“That’s so great. And the zipper works!”

Wilma laughed. “Yes, it does.”

They went to the children’s section and found some shorts and summer tops. They even found a pretty sundress, pale blue with little daisies across the bodice. It too had a store tag still affixed. They also found a pair of sandals in good shape with plenty of wear left in them that were Kylie’s size.

Their last stop before leaving was the children’s book and toy aisle.

“You may pick out a book and a toy, Kylie.”

The child looked up and down the toy aisle. She selected a box of wooden puzzles, carrying it with her to the book section. Wilma watched as she fingered each book, picking some up and turning the pages.

“Mrs. M? I really like the puzzles, but could I get two books instead? I ain’t …. I mean I haven’t,” Kylie smiled, “got any at home.”

Wilma smiled back, remembering how Willis had loved to read.

“You can get the puzzles and two books. How’s that?”

“Really? I didn’t ask that to get more…”

“I know. It’s fine, Kylie. Besides you were such a good worker.”

It was nearly eight when Wilma’s doorbell rang. Kylie, who had been curled up under the afghan on the davenport sat up with a start, crying out as if from a dream. Wilma calmed her.

“Kylie. It’s alright. It’s just your mama. Come.”

The child yawned and leaned into Wilma’s side as she opened the door.

Amber was standing not on the stoop but down on the sidewalk. There was something odd about the way she kept trying to look away, with her hair practically covering her face. The street lights had yet to make their appearance in what remained of twilight. Wilma could not make out much in the gathering gloom.

“Thanks so much, Mrs. M. I am so sorry it is so late.”

“It’s fine. Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes, just tired.”

“Well, Kylie is right here.” The child began to make her way down the steps.

“Oh Kylie! Wait! Your bag,” Wilma called out. She retrieved the brown grocery bag with Kylie’s things.

“Oh, what’s this?” Amber looked in the bag. “Mrs. M., you shouldn’t have.”

“No. Not so. She was a good worker, right Kylie?”

“I’m a good duster, mama.”

“Well, um. Thanks again.” Amber turned to put her hand on Kylie’s shoulder. “Let’s go Kylie.”

“Goodnight.” Wilma waved at Kylie when she turned back to look. She watched through the beveled glass of the porch window. The streetlight came on as mother and child reached the top of their front stoop. Wilma squinted, not sure of what she saw, if anything. The fleeting glimpse of a dark smudge across Amber’s cheek as she tossed back her hair must have been a shadow.

***

The weeks quickly passed into early autumn. Strangely, Kylie did not come. In fact, Wilma saw nothing of Kylie or her mother until the first day of school. Wilma sat on her porch coffee in hand, book in her lap, watching. Each morning Kylie glanced at the window as if to make sure Wilma was there. But she never came to the door. Wilma took to keeping an eye from the porch in the afternoons, but Kylie would walk past her house, climb her own stoop and go in the front door. Wilma could not see well enough to be sure, but it seemed the child now had a key.

In early November the temperature had dropped sharply. Those first days there had even been a smattering of snow, but it did not stay. Kylie had begun to wear her powder blue coat. She still had no hat or mittens, but the hood helped. 

Wilma had caught a chill. It quickly blossomed into a bad cough. Don had driven her to the doctor at urgent care one evening. Then Lois brought over some of her homemade chicken bone broth. They kept tabs on her. Wilma refrained from reading on the chilly porch for over a week. The fever passed after a few days, but she was still so tired. By the next Friday night Wilma felt a good bit better. She had a bowl of broth and toast then went to bed early.

Sometime in the night she awakened from a dream about her and Esther on the Fourth of July as kids. They were at the fireworks, sitting on the back of her daddy’s repair truck jumping with each bang, marveling at the colored flashes of red and orange and dazzling white.

Wilma began to cough and sat up to get a tissue. For a moment the flashing red seemed left over from her happy dream. Then she realized the lights and sounds were coming from the street. She heard a siren howl, then what sounded like shouting in the distance.

She turned on her bedside light and fumbled for her glasses. She slowly got out of bed mindful that she had not eaten much in days. She waited to make sure she was not dizzy then stood up, donning her robe and slippers. As she came to the front room, Wilma could see police cars and emergency vehicles lining her street which was blazing with the bright flashing from their lights. Squinting she could make out Don and Lois on the sidewalk across the street. She could still hear shouting. The police were barking orders and calling to each other.

Looking at the front lawn of the duplex next door, Wilma realized that’s where the activity was concentrated. She gasped at the revelation, but that brought on a coughing fit. It took her many minutes to catch her breath. Leaning on furniture and the wall she made her way to the porch. She drew the sweater she kept over the back of her reading chair about her. Wilma watched out the window as the police half dragged, half carried a man to a squad car. His long hair was pulled back. His torn tee shirt stained with something….

Wilma heard a cry from across the street. She saw Lois point, then cover her mouth as she crumpled. Don caught her in his arms. He cradled his wife as he guided her up their steps away from what she had seen. 

Wilma looked. Coming down the driveway past the building was a gurney with a covered body, a motionless form. Wilma drew a ragged breath. For right behind it followed a second gurney bearing a smaller form.

Wilma looked out her porch window, long after the lights and sounds and faces were gone. As she closed her clouded eyes, she saw a tiny face, a tangled mane, and a smile with a missing tooth.