She sat the silver tray on the coffee table...poured two cups of tea and dropped five sugar cubes into hers. She handed me a cupcake and I said, "Thank you Mrs. Lanehart." She kind of grimaced and said,"Thank you...the two words that are so over used and often not meant...I prefer a simple smile with a nod."
I smiled and gave her a nod. She smiled back and asked,"So...tell me...which of the bad rumors have you heard about me...the husband hooker is the most popular....sometimes they accuse me of being a Black Widow too...seven husbands and a few boyfriends probably stirred their little minds into a frenzy of telling tall tales."
I smiled and said,"I have heard a few Mrs. Lanehart...just rumors...I don't put much into what people say about other people." She took a sip of her tea and said,"A wise young man I see...you can call me, Thankful.....we are new friends and new friends should start by using first names."
I said,"Well...Thankful...you can call me Tommy." I took a bite of my cup cake and asked,"Why Thankful...I've never heard of anyone with a name like that." She chuckled and said,"My mum...my dear old mum was so thankful that my dad married her after she told him that she was with child....when I was two years old...he ran off and mum almost changed my name to, Mistake....but it didn't fit our last name of, Blooms."
I sipped at my tea and asked her to tell me more about her life. She lit up one of her cigars....sat back in her chair and said,"Do you really want to hear the tales of an old woman?" I said,"I sure do...I want to be a writer someday...I want to write great novels and travel the world...I would love to hear about your life."
She grinned and said,"Oh my...that is lovely...a young man with a dream...I knew so many young men with dreams...if you wish to hear...I wish to tell."
Thankful puffed at her cigar and began telling me about her amazing life. She was born in London, England....the year was 1880. She and her mum came to the U.S. in 1890. They stayed a short time in New York and finally moved to Indianapolis in 1884. That's where she began her story.
Thankful said,"I was a tad bit over fourteen.....living with my new stepfather and my mum....I didn't like the old goat but mum would always tell me that he was good support for us. It was the month of March...oh...a fresh new snow on the ground...I couldn't wait to play in the big, bright white world....mum helped me bundle up and I rushed out the door to climb the hillside behind our home."
She sipped her tea and went on,"I ran up the hill and rolled down....I was covered in snow...a boy that I knew from the schooling house came up to me and asked me if I would like a ride on his sled....I had never been on a sled and immediately agreed to ride it down the hill with him....I loved it...I wanted it to go faster and he would push as hard as he could before jumping on behind me."
"We were both so tired from pulling the sled up the hill...we laid down on the snow. I made a snow angel and laid down by him to make another. He smiled strangely and jumped on top of me...right between my legs he was....I shouted for him to get off as he kissed me...I struggled but he was just too heavy and strong...I felt the stiff thing about my upper thigh...and."
I cut her off...I was blushing and said,"I don't know if I want to hear that much...this is getting pretty personal."
She snarled a little...then smiled and said,"Well, Tommy, future writer and world traveler....if I leave out romance, sex and excitement...we have about three minutes left of this conversation....would you like me to continue with boring shit or tell you the good stuff?
What could I do...I was hooked...I simply had to hear about her life. I humbly begged her to continue and asked her to tell me everything and anything she wanted. She flipped her cigar ashes into an old green ashtray and continued her story.
