Winter of the Blue Oranges a short story collection by Donnalee Dunne EXCERPTS The following are opening paragraphs from three of the nine stories in the collection Winter of the Blue Oranges The northwind swirled around the corner of the block, blowing crumbled wet leaves against Janey's legs -- cold, sticky leaves damp from last night's rain. She pulled her coat tighter and bent into the wind. She felt cheated. When she and Jeff moved to California she was supposed to be the one to stay home and paint. Jeff's income would support them until she got established as an artist. She had looked forward to staying home. She loved her garden and the fruit trees in the back yard. On an afternoon like this she would have a fire in the family room. Never would she venture out in the cold air. Nor would she wear high heels. She reached down to brush a leaf from her leg. "Another run. Stupid nylons." She sighed and walked faster. Only one more block and she would be home. One block and she would be warm. She pushed through her front gate and hurried up the steps, noting that hers was the only yard that still had rotting autumn leaves under the trees. Mulch, she thought. It's good for the soil. The front door closed behind her and she leaned against it smelling the warm air, letting the house enclose her. "Is that you, Janey?" "Yes, Dear. I'm home." She pulled off her coat. "Come in here a minute will you? I want to show you this." Her stomach tightened. All she wanted right then was to change clothes and unwind awhile. "Coming." She would sort out her mixed-up feelings later. Mozart softly filled the room, punctuated by crackling from the fireplace. Jeff greeted her with a huge smile that melted her irritation. "How was your day, Janey? As rough as yesterday?" Janey smiled back at her husband and shook her head, not so much as an answer to his question, but as a reprimand to herself for being so selfish. "I suppose it wasn't quite as bad. I wish -- ." She stopped herself before she complained about having to go to work when she knew how terrible Jeff felt because he couldn't right now. "What did you want to show me?" "Just this fire I made for you to relax by -- ." A howl from the teakettle interrupted. "And perhaps a cup of tea?" A part of Janey's mind wanted to do just that -- relax awhile. But as cold as it was outside things were going to freeze tonight for sure, and tender plants had to be covered. "Thanks, but I'd better change out of these clothes and get some things done in the backyard." She saw the hurt look on his face. "But first, maybe some tea?" Jeff rolled his wheelchair slowly toward the kitchen. Janey knew it would be much faster if she went for the tea, but she could hear the therapist yelling at her to let Jeff -- make Jeff -- do things for himself. So she flopped down in the comfortable old chair beside the fireplace and close her eyes and waited. The warmth and the music filled her body and mind, soothing, relaxing. How long she slept there she wasn't sure, but it was long enough for Jeff to have tucked a blanket around her and warmed up some supper. It was the smell of yesterday's roast beef gravy that woke her. She opened her eyes. "Aha. Sleeping Beauty has awakened. Come and have a hot beef sandwich -- the best this side of the Mississippi." "Hmmm. What time is it?" she yawned. "Bedtime. But you need some food first. It was a hard day, remember?" "Okay." Janey yawned again. "Supper. Sandwich." She struggled to wake up enough to eat. She pushed Jeff's chair ahead of her into the kitchen, taking care not to steer him into the door frame. It had only been a month since he came home from the hospital in this thing and she was not used to it yet. "Aren't we glad the microwave was invented? I might make a good house husband yet." He was trying to make her laugh, but as their eyes met, smiles faded. "House husband, indeed. A few months therapy and you'll be antsy to get out of here." "Oh, I don't know. You never minded being cooped up here all day." That undefined twinge deep inside her again -- but she was much too sleepy to do more than bury it with the rest. Supper was good, and she was more hungry than she had thought. "I never felt cooped. I felt free. You're lucky, you know, to stay here and do whatever you want all day." "You're lucky, you know, to be free to go out into the exciting world of business and let your mind grow." "Let my butt grow. Sitting all day is killing me." As soon as she said that she wished she could take it back. Look who is complaining about having to sit around. Her eyes flashed to his, then to the wheelchair. Jeff paused before he answered her. "No need to worry about gaining weight with my cooking. Anyway, it's late and that's it, Baby. Off to bed with you. I'll be wheeling on in as soon as I throw these things in the dishwasher." Janey needed no coaxing this night. Only two days working in that office and she was totally exhausted. She would sort out her thoughts tomorrow. She woke to moonlight streaming through the curtains. Opening one eye she glanced at the clock. Four thirty. She could sleep a couple more hours. The crystal clear moon was gorgeous. The scene would make a lovely painting, maybe with a jasmine vine. She bolted upright. "Oh, no!" She hadn't remembered to do anything about the plants in the patio. And her orange tree! Jeff moaned and rolled over. "What?" "I have to go cover the plants." She pulled on her boots with no socks and grabbed her coat. As she hurried through the kitchen she picked up yesterday's paper. She could use that to protect the potted plants. Paper was good insulation. But what about the orange tree? Stepping out on the patio was like climbing into the freezer. Her hands were numb by the time she draped the papers over the potted geraniums. Her mind was not fully awake, but she remembered reading that running water raised the temperature in orchards. The orange tree was close to the house, that would help some. She touched one of the golden orbs -- almost, but not quite ready to eat. It felt like an ice ball. She wished she had a heater for the tree, but then it had lived through frosts before. It was almost full grown. Yawning, she turned on the sprinklers in the back yard and went back to bed.   Ring of Truth No beginning. No end. Love, eternal and everlasting. That's what Mama's wedding ring meant. It was Beth's most precious possession now that dear Mama had passed on. She reached again to her bosom where the plain gold chain hung limply from her neck. The ring had been there close to her heart now for years . . . until this morning. That brother of hers had stolen it while she napped. She just knew it. Last summer he took Mama's brooch with the real ruby in it and hocked it to buy whiskey. That was the thanks she got for opening her home to him -- the no good drunkard. Her eyes narrowed as she planned her revenge. She wouldn't hit him with her cane -- not this time. Stealing Mama's ring deserved more. She peered at the clock on the kitchen wall over the stove. Only nine forty-five. Floyd would be over at Harry's Bar for a couple more hours before he came home for Meals-on-Wheels. He may be a rotten thief but he wouldn't be too embarrassed to return to eat lunch with her. Thinking made her hungry. The jar of canned apricots over by the sink would taste so good right now. She shouldn't -- they were for tonight's dessert. Her cane thumped beside her across the linoleum, past the stove, and stopped by the fruit. She hung the cane on her arm, and looked at the jar lid. A bit dusty. She took the yellow sponge from the sink to wipe the top. It had been down in the cellar since last June when she had canned them. Must have been when she and Mildred next door drove to Watsonville to buy fruit. Yes. Watsonville. That apricot orchard down by the river. They had taken Mildred's car because her own Buick had a dead battery. She needed to drive it more. She loved to get out in the country and put the top down. She opened the jar, spooned a few into a saucer and managed to get it to the breakfast nook without spilling. The plate clattered on the varnished table top and Beth slid onto the bench. "Curtains need washing." Talking aloud made her cough. She took a sip from her cough medicine bottle on the table. Jill can wash them tomorrow. She rather wished Jill could come more than once a week to clean. Even though the house was small, the company would be nice. Jill was fun to be around -- brightened up the house with her singing. Jill could fix anything, find anything. Maybe she will find Mama's ring. But, no. It was not lost. "Can't find what's not lost." The front door slammed. "Who you talking to, sis?" It was that damn thief brother of hers. It took all the control she had to keep her smile as he shuffled into the kitchen. There he stood, leaning his shoulder a bit on the doorway as he balanced on his walker. He smiled back in his boyish way, his baseball cap at a slight angle, as innocent as an angel he was. His punishment would have to include this thinking he's so smart attitude. How well she remembered this look that Mama always fell for. How many times she--Beth--knew the trouble that little monster go into and his so sweet look that made Mama blame her for everything he did. "You talking to yourself again, ain't ya?" How she'd have loved to tell him off as usual, but she only smiled and said as sweetly as her cracky voice allowed. "You're home early for lunch, dear. No one to talk to at the bar?" His smile faded as he turned back to the living room chair he called home. His "going home" was back to that dirty-brown broken down chair with its faded blue pillow stuffed in the seat where springs used to be. Beth had threatened to throw the thing out so many times. She finished the apricots and felt much better. Much more energy. She might even take those curtains down and wash them herself. Later. It was time for her show. Just as she reached the doorway to the living room she heard her TV come on. He'd tuned in the ball game. Damn it. It was time for her show! Voices of the Mind Henrietta Penelope Farnsworth knew she was going to die. The morning was already hot. Henrietta moved Perky's cage away from the window, much to the dismay of the neighborhood cat posing in the apple tree with the tip of its tail twitching as it did every morning about this time. She changed the bird feeder and gave Perky some fresh water. She should eat something too, but coffee was all she really wanted. A cup of hot, black coffee. A large cup. She didn't have to go to the office today. Mr. Johnson gave her the day off to tend to her affairs. At least he didn't fire her when she told him she would be dying. She didn't relish the idea of dying unemployed. Being a secretary was certainly no big deal, but it was something. She dressed in her best clothes and tied her curly red hair back in an elastic, making her look much younger than her thirty-four-and-a-half years. She looked at herself in the mirror. Not bad, gal. Not bad. But for heaven's sake get out of those black clothes. Wear the red. She stepped into her black pumps. Well, okay. Black shoes are okay. Henrietta tried to remember the conversation at the doctor's office yesterday. The receptionist told her to come in and pick something up about four this afternoon. She'd have to remember to do that. Then the receptionist said "You should make an appointment for six months . . ." Then her phone rang. Henrietta searched through her purse for her calendar. She remembered the receptionist say "yes, well, the chart here shows you need to make an appointment with a neurologist as soon as possible. Yes. I wouldn't delay. Doctor told you it could be very serious." She was replacing the receiver when Henrietta looked up. "Miss Farnsworth, is November the seventh all right?" "November. Yes. November is nice." What about the neuologist? Which one am I supposed to see? There were so many questions. What was wrong? Whatever it is serious. Maybe I'll die. I'm too young to die. I feel fine. "How long did you say I have?" she asked, panic encompassing her thoughts. "Six months. Come back in six months." Six months. Only six months to live. That's all she knew. She'd gone back to the office yesterday in a daze and asked for today off. But she felt great this morning. Must be in remission or something. She'd heard of that.

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