Free Lotus Blossom by Hayton Monteith Page A

believe how good she is, Lotus.”
    “You shouldn’t forget that she considers you and Martha her children, not just friends, ergo your children are her grandchildren.”
    “Yes, I know that.”
    “I really should go . . . get my things ready.” “Yes. Be careful, little sister.”
    “Yes.” She knew she had to get off the line or she’d burst into tears. “I have to pack. Thank you for everything, Petras. I’ll see you and Martha when you come to Rochester at Christmas.”
    “Right. Listen, sweetie, take care, will you?” Petras sounded uneasy.
    “I will. Thanks. Good-bye. And, Petras, I’m fine, really I am.”
    She hung up and began to pack the few things she’d brought with her. Then she paid Mrs. Weltz, the owner of the house, who allowed her to use the house phone to call a taxi.
    “It was nice meeting you, dearie. Where should I forward your mail if any comes?”
    “Ah ... I don’t think there will be any mail,” Lotus hedged.
    “Seems funny you don’t want me to forward things,” Mrs. Weltz probed.
    “Well, you see, I didn’t have anyone write to me here,” Lotus turned away from the woman when the taxi service answered their phone. “Yes, I’ll be waiting outside the house,” Lotus told the dispatcher.
    Mrs. Weltz followed her out onto the rickety porch. “Won’t some of your friends here want to know where you’ve gone?”
    “No.”
    "Seems strange to me" Mrs. Weltz mutteredwalking with Lotus to the curb, her arms folded across her ample breasts. “You ain’t in trouble with the law, are you?”
    “I am not.” Lotus frowned at the sharp-eyed Mrs. Weltz.
    “You can’t be too careful in my business,” Mrs. Weltz explained. “There are a lot of folks who try to chisel helpless ladies like me.”
    Lotus stared at the large woman at her side, who probably weighed on the sunny side of one hundred and ninety pounds, and nodded.
    “You run a clean, decent house and there’s them that would spoil it for you,” Mrs. Weltz expounded, in no hurry to leave Lotus.
    Lotus glanced quickly at the sagging house behind them, then at Mrs. Weltz.
    “Cab won’t be here for a time yet.” Mrs. Weltz glinted at her. “Sure you don’t want to tell me where I can reach you?”
    Yes, I’m sure.” Lotus heaved a sigh of relief when she saw the taxi turn the corner and slow down. She waved.
    “It seems to me that by the time you get where you’re going on the bus, you might have mail that could be there to meet you if you had a forwarding address,” Mrs. Weltz pursued doggedly. “You are going on the bus, ain’t you?”
    “No, I’m taking a plane home—back East.” Lotus scrambled into the taxi and shut the door.
    Mrs. Weltz was still talking when the cab pulled away from the curb.
    She traveled to the airport in a gray haze, going through the terminal without really being aware of her surroundings. “Do you have a reservation for Sinclair? L. Sinclair?” she asked the ticket agent.
    “Yes, but there will be stopovers and you’ll have to change planes in Chicago,” the woman informed her.
    “Are you sure there’s nothing else?” Lotus had the feeling she should only take an express to the moon, not just a plane to Rochester, New York.
    “I’ll check, miss, but I’m sure that your reservation is the best we can offer.” The woman pressed assorted buttons on her computer, studied the answers, then pushed a few more and studied again. “I’m sorry, miss. You must make a stop at O’Hare.”
    Lotus nodded.
    “Have you any luggage?”
    “Just my duffel bag. I’ll carry it on.”
    “Have a good trip, Miss Sinclair.”
    “Thanks,” Lotus answered dully.
    Clutching her ticket in one hand, her oversized duffel bag over her other shoulder, she looked around the crowded waiting room, and took a corner seat, which was empty.
    She read and reread the typewritten instructions on her ticket. Flight 306 would be leaving Las Vegas at ... Not able to cope with arrivals and departures