Shoe Strings

downtown and up a
side street into the foothills.   She
passed mobile homes, log cabins, and small structures she could only describe
as shacks tucked beside oceans of forests.   The rich smell of pine sifted through the car’s windows along with the
pungent aroma of the red clay earth.   She couldn’t have been farther from her life in the city if she’d taken
a shuttle to the moon.  
    The entrance to Bloodworth Cabins was marked with an
overhanging wooden sign dangling between two enormous tree trunks and a drive
that led straight up the mountainside.   This, she mused as she geared down to low, was not a driveway she’d want
to traverse in the winter.   Around
the second bend, the trees parted to reveal a wooden and stone structure as
quaint as the footbridge that led to what looked like a storage shed.   She pulled her car to a stop next to a
late model Lincoln Towncar.  
    Two oversized cats greeted her as she got out of her
SUV.   One was a shiny black and the
other a gray with brown stripes.   Angelita wasn’t sure what to do when they began purring and rubbing
furiously at her ankles.   Just as
she shook her ankle to dislodge the black cat, a tall man with a head full of
windblown silver hair walked around the side yard onto the drive to welcome
her.   He wore fraying khaki pants, a
well-washed golf shirt, and rubber boots.
    “Angelita?” he asked and walked to within a few inches of
her.   He removed a soiled glove and
offered his hand for a shake.
    She nodded and placed her hand in his larger one.   She could feel the calluses on the
underside of his tanned grip.   “Mr.
Bloodworth.   Thank you for letting
me stay.”
    “Thanks for inquiring.   And since you’re going to be here awhile, you’d better call me Cal.   I won’t think to answer to Mr. Bloodworth.”   He flashed a crooked smile complete with
dimples and a chiseled jaw.   Lita
grinned like a schoolgirl.   Despite
his age and shabby attire, Calvin Bloodworth was a devilishly handsome
man.  
    “Please, call me Lita.”   She turned to look over the crest of the property, shielding her eyes as
the sun had finally burned away the morning fog.   “You have a beautiful property,
Cal.   Your website doesn’t do it
justice.”
    “Thanks.   I’ve
enjoyed that view every day for the last thirty years.   My wife and I moved up here in ‘74.   Couldn’t see another living soul in any
direction.   Still just as peaceful
now, even with the few cabins and homes that have popped up over the years.”   He ran his hand through his mass of
silver hair.   “Tell the truth, I’m
glad to have some neighbors around.   Gets pretty lonely sometimes.”
    “And your wife?”
    “Oh, she passed eleven years ago next month.   Cancer.   Took her fast, mercifully fast.”
    “I’m very sorry.”
    “She’s in a better place.”   With a hand on his lower back, Cal
arched into a stretch.   “Way I’m
feeling lately, won’t be too long before I’ll join her.”
    Lita looked at Cal.   He couldn’t have been more than sixty.   How could someone as virile and robust
looking be near death?   “Are you
ill?”
    Cal laughed, a deep-chested rumble that seemed to come all
the way from his toes.   “Just
feeling my age.”   He walked with her
to the back of her car.   “You got
some luggage I can help you carry?”
    Lita struggled with the unfamiliar latch on the back of her
new SUV and watched as Cal, despite his claim to be aging quickly, heaved her
bursting-at-the-seams suitcase from the back as if it weighed no more than a
sheet of paper.   She gathered her
cosmetics bag, shoe suitcase, and purse before trailing after him into the
nearest cabin.  
    Cal set the heavy case down at the start of a small
hallway.   “You don’t travel light,
do you, Lita?” he said with a huff.  
    As she looked at the mountain of suitcases at their feet,
she had to agree.   “I’m a shoe
designer.   I’m afraid most of these
are filled to the brim with shoes.”
    He looked down at the zebra print wedges she’d slipped on
that morning.   “Oh, well…” Men were
always at a loss when it came to her line of work and most were surprised at
her success.   Few would believe the
humble beginnings that had inspired her first creation.  
    The Mommy Sandal, she’d called it.   At seventeen, seven months pregnant, and
no longer able to reach her toes, much less see them, her feet were a size and
a half larger than normal