Sundays became Joy's favorite day of the week. After a month, she had made many friends at church, and although Pastor Pearly's sermons practically put her to sleep until he got wound up and started shouting his exuberance, she enjoyed the friendly, happy atmosphere he and his wife engendered.
The only downside was that every Sunday after Walker drove her back to the Jeromes, a sense of melancholia engulfed her because she would have to wait a week to see him and Misty again. So far, Misty hadn't spoken, but she had smiled and even laughed once. She would become especially animated whenever they searched the forest for fairies. As for her art lessons, she had now painted a toadstool, a leaf, and a grove of trees; always with a shade of lavender somewhere in the picture. Joy was amazed at the girl's acumen in lighting, shading, and perspective.
The only gloom to overshadow her visits was the afternoon return of Aunt Zena. The woman clearly did not like Joy and always scowled when she entered the dining room and found Walker and Joy sipping tea or coffee while Misty took her nap. She would give a curt greeting and then excuse herself. Shortly thereafter, Walker would drive Joy home.
It was on Joy's fifth Sunday at the Flemming home that Walker got called out on an emergency. They had been enjoying their tea while discussing Misty's progress when a motorcar sped up to the house. Walker had heard the approach and rushed to the front door, with Joy close behind. A young woman, probably not over twenty-five, ran up the porch steps and cried, "Dr. Flemming, Maynard fell from the hayloft and his arm is all busted up! It looks terrible!"
Walker ordered, "Get back in your automobile and I'll follow you!" As he grabbed his medical bag beside the door, he said to Joy, "I'll return as soon as I can to take you home. My aunt should be arriving soon."
Joy responded, "Don't you worry about me or Misty; you just go take care of your patient."
With his bag in hand, he smiled. "Thank you, Joy." He started to turn, but hesitated. "If my aunt says anything unpleasant, please don't let it disturb you."
"I won't."
He looked skeptical. "Promise?"
"I promise."
A few minutes later all that was left in the drive was dust. Joy peeked in on Misty. The child was lightly snoring with a smile on her face. Joy whispered, "Sweet dreams, my little fairy princess." She returned to the dining room to clean up the few dishes on the table. While she was rinsing them she was startled when she heard Aunt Zena's voice behind her.
"So I see you're already trying to move in and usurp Emily's place."
Joy couldn't believe the cruel words and jerked around. Remembering her promise to Walker not to let this woman disturb her, she inhaled and said calmly, "Walker was called out on an emergency for a man named Maynard who fell from his hayloft and broke his arm. His wife drove over, very distraught, and Walker followed her home in his motorcar. As soon as he returns he'll drive me back to the Jeromes."
The woman made a huffing sound. "Don't try to ignore what I just said, Missy."
Joy frowned. Walker's aunt was impossible. Rather than respond with a cutting remark, she returned to washing dishes, hoping Aunt Zena would leave. Sadly, the woman kept up her barrage of cutting remarks. She said, "I hope you realize that by filling Misty's mind with silliness about fairies and sprites living in the forest, you're not doing her any good. If she's ever to heal from her mother's death she must learn to face reality. And the reality is, her mother is dead and no amount of divertive tactics will change that."
Suddenly, Joy could no longer keep her promise to Walker. His Aunt Zena was rude, cantankerous, and downright cruel. With a ferocity that surprised even herself, she whirled around and said with deathly calm, "Why are you so mean and vindictive? What is it about me that causes you to hate me? Why does it bother you so much that I have chosen to seek a little adventure in my life by traveling and painting? Is your own life so pathetic you want everyone to feel as miserable as you? What happened to make you this…this…evil?" She gulped a breath and continued, "As for Misty finding enjoyment in believing in fairies and sprites, in case you haven't noticed, the child is now smiling and laughing occasionally, especially when she searches under flowers for beings that engage her mind with images of fairy princesses, and not the image of her dead mother. Yes, she will have to come to grips with her mother's death, but the journey there can be made easier for her. I recently lost my beloved grandfather, and I can tell you from personal experience that the image of him lying in his casket is not the one I want replaying in my mind. Using my imagination, I see him in the forest among the little people, just as Misty is beginning to see her mother, not in the finality of death, but in the beauty of creation. Whether it is imaginary does not matter." Joy's voice had risen in volume and she clamped her mouth shut.
During her tirade, Aunt Zena's eyes at widened and now narrowed. She lifted her head and squared her shoulders before sneering, "He'll never love you! Emily was the love of his life. You're wasting your time here."
Joy stood speechless. Had the woman not heard a word she'd said? Quietly, she responded, "If you continue along your path of spitefulness, you will drive a wedge between yourself and this family you love." She jerked back around, placed both hands on the sink in front of her, and tried to calm her raging emotions. She heard the door close.