Jan Christensen-The Scarf

First published in Whispering Willows Mystery Magazine, Premier Edition (defunct)

Synopsis: The scarf circles around in more ways than one. Will it make a complete circle?

When James said, "Go to hell, Ellen, I'm not putting the Christmas lights on the roof this year," and took another swallow of his beer, she lost her usual icy control. She took the scarf, and using a letter opener to twist it tight, she got behind him to wrap it around his drunken neck. She forcefully pulled until he stopped thrashing about.

Without looking at him again, Ellen put the scarf back into its box, taped silver paper all around and wrote out the tag. "To Lisa. Love Mother."

Last year, her mother had sent the scarf to Ellen for Christmas. The most garish thing she'd ever seen, it had a Hunter Green background, pink, mauve and rose flowers bordering the edges with some yellow and purple pansies thrown in. Pure silk. Probably forty or fifty dollars. For something she'd never wear. She knows I always wear blue, Ellen had fumed. Why does she do this to me?

She put the silver wrapped package into another box, and made out the label for Lisa in Texas. Then she got her coat to ward off the New Hampshire wind and cold and walked to the post office. When she came home, she called 911. The police were never able to close the case on James's murder. They suspected Ellen, but didn't have enough evidence, not even the murder weapon.

* * * * *

In Texas, Lisa unwrapped the gift from her mother the day after Christmas. She'd gone home to New Hampshire for the funeral, not because she wanted to honor her abusive, drunken father, but to show support for her mother. Mom seemed to be holding up well. Probably felt very relieved. Lisa didn't care if they ever caught who did it. Her father could rot eternally in hell for all she cared. She had a feeling the police suspected her mother, but she knew Mom couldn't do such a thing. Lisa took the scarf from its wrappings and looked at it with dismay. When would she ever wear it? She had a "blue-jeans" job. When she dressed up, she did it western style--dress jeans, boots, and a cowboy shirt. She'd never wear a scarf like this. It looked like something Grandma would give to Mom. No label on the box or the scarf itself told its origin, so she couldn't exchange it. Lisa sighed as she tried it on in front of the mirror over the couch. It looked worse than she'd thought it would. The dark green gave her skin a yellow cast. She frowned and took it off. Carefully, she put it back in the box.

Who would enjoy this bright piece of cloth? Her eyes fell on the letter she'd just received from her friend, Ginny, back home in New Hampshire. Discouraged from a messy divorce, searching for a job after being a housewife for four years, she'd sounded really down. They didn't usually exchange gifts, but this might be just the thing to cheer Ginny up.

* * * * *

The package arrived in Ginny's mailbox along with the junk mail and no responses to the resumes she'd been sending out. Discouraged, she felt only mild curiosity about the parcel. When she saw that it was from Lisa, though, she tore it open.

The dazzling scarf spilled out of the box onto her kitchen table, and Ginny gasped with delight. What a perfect gift. The card accompanying it had red flowers on a blue background. Inside, it said, "When you're blue, I see red." Lisa had written underneath, "I hope things are going much better for you. Write soon and let me know how you are." How could Lisa have afforded this beautiful scarf, Ginny wondered. They always wrote because neither could manage long-distance charges, and yet, here was this wonderful gift.

The next day she got a phone call from a doctor's medical assistant asking her to come in for an interview. She put on a gray suit she'd bought just for interviews and arranged the scarf at her throat. They hired her on the spot, and when Ginny arrived home she put the scarf away carefully.

She wore the scarf a lot, and it seemed as if many good things happened to her when she did. The evening she met her future husband, she had the scarf on with a new clip she'd bought especially for it. She was wearing it the night he proposed. She wore it on her wedding day and took it to the hospital with her when each of her two children was born.

The scarf, over the span of years, began to fade and become frayed around the edges. Reluctant to part with it, Ginny put it in a drawer for safekeeping. Soon after, Ginny died in a spectacular car crash. Tearfully, her eldest daughter went through her belongings, separating out the ones she, her dad and her sister wanted to keep, and giving the rest away.

* * * * *

Ellen had believed that with James dead, she would be better off. But he had cashed in his life insurance policies and gone through all their savings long before she murdered him. The house had a second mortgage, and she had no money to keep up the payments. Reluctantly, she sold it and moved into a cramped garage apartment. The only job she could find was at a local hardware store doing accounts receivable, part-time. She couldn't ask Lisa for help because she was almost as poor as Ellen. Besides, she was too proud. Ellen's own mother ended up in a nursing home and soon used up all her money. When she died, there was barely enough to give her a decent burial.

When Ellen reached her sixtieth birthday, the owner closed the hardware store and moved to Florida. Too young for Social Security, Ellen realized she'd have to go on welfare. Applying was the most humiliating experience of her life.

One day as she put her arm into the sleeve of her coat, the whole thing disintegrated, the seams splitting everywhere. Sighing, she threw it out and walked the few blocks to Goodwill with as many sweaters on as she could manage to ward off the terrible New Hampshire cold.

The warm air of the store felt good as she stepped inside. She found a decent coat, then browsed the rest of the shelves, killing time, staying warm. The scarf rested among some gloves, other scarves and belts. Her breath caught as she picked it up. It couldn't be the same one. How had it come here from Texas? She felt light-headed, dizzy. Clutching the scarf and coat, she made herself go to the checkout counter. Fortunately, no other customers were waiting in line. She paid for the items, put on the coat, stuffed the scarf into a pocket, and left the store.

Sleet greeted her when she stepped outside. Cold water got down her neck, and without thinking, she took the scarf and wrapped it around her throat. She hurried toward her apartment, hands in pockets to keep them warm. The sleet quickly turned to ice, and she had to slow down so she wouldn't slip. Not another soul was in sight on the road. They were smart, she thought, to stay inside during such foul weather.

As she rounded a corner, the wind pushed the scarf up over her face, blinding her. She tripped over a tree root and went down hard on her side, with her left arm pinned beneath her. She gave a little cry, then lay there a moment, trying to decide how badly she was hurt. A dull throb started in her hip, then became a pain so sharp she had to concentrate so she wouldn't pass out. After awhile, though, she lost consciousness. When she came to several hours later, numb all over, she lay in the same position, with the scarf covering her nose and mouth. She tried to scream, but could only make a small mewing sound.

She strained desperately to remove the cloth from her face. The end fluttered just at the corner of her eye, the material the only brightness in the drab landscape. Snow fell now, catching on her eyelashes. She couldn't get her arm to move. She grunted with the effort, and the scarf clung to her mouth, as if taking the breath away from her little by little.

* * * * *

When they gave Lisa her mother's belongings at the funeral home, she was surprised to see the scarf among them. She shrugged, supposing that her mother had bought two and kept one for herself.

Faded, the colors were now more pleasing to Lisa. She could cut off the edging and hand roll a new hem.

Then she could wear it. In remembrance of Mom.

THE END