The Youth Elixir: An extraordinary story of unselfish love and impossible decisions

Chapter 1

“I bid seven.” Matilda “Til” Beemis glanced at the cards in her hand and hid a smile. Her luck had finally turned. Even though seven was a stretch—with only an ace and a queen—if she got the trey, she’d be more than halfway to her bid.

She and her friends had gathered for lunch, cards and conversation. Today, the game was Pitch. They’d decided to play the version Call for Your Partner, a favorite of Til’s.

Geraldine Walker shook her head. “I can’t go eight.”

“I can’t even go five.” Beverly Raymond placed her cards face down on the table and heaved an exaggerated sigh.

Neither of the other two at the table in Geraldine and Beverly’s dining room was willing to take a chance and bid higher.

Til’s lips curved in satisfaction. Though she wasn’t positive she could get seven, she decided to embrace the mindset—go bold or go home.

“The bid is yours, Til. What are you looking for?” Lisa Rogan, the youngest of the five friends, shot a quick glance at the cards in her hands. No doubt wondering if she’d be Til’s partner for this hand.

Although Lisa was only fifty, decades younger than the other four women, Lisa had an “old soul” and fit in perfectly.

“Spades.” Til laid down her ace. “I’m calling for the three.”

Directly across the table, Rosemary Woodsen grimaced. When it came her turn to lay down her card, she placed the three of spades on the pile. “I’m afraid that’s the only help I can give.”

Til might have groaned on the inside, but she shot Rosemary a reassuring smile. “No worries.”

The truth was, Til had counted on her partner helping her reach seven. Now she was going to have to make it on her own. At least she was in familiar territory—she’d been on her own most of her life.

Unfortunately, this time if she failed, she wouldn’t be the only one who went down in flames. She would take Lisa down with her.

Think positive,Til told herself.

But when Geraldine’s lips curved, Til knew even a positive attitude wasn’t going to save her. Or Lisa.

After cards, the women moved outside for cookies and lemonade. It had been only two hours since they’d each enjoyed a red velvet cupcake with thick cream cheese topping for dessert.

No one appeared bothered by that, especially when Beverly announced she’d stopped by the bakery that morning and picked up a dozen Berger cookies. The soft cakelike cookies with a mound of rich fudge frosting were irresistible and had been a Maryland favorite for nearly two hundred years.

Talk on the porch quickly turned to a favorite topic—Rosemary’s upcoming wedding. Love had come late in life to the handsome woman with the long gray braid down her back. Not long after arriving in town, Rosemary had met Barry Whitehead and fallen head over heels.

“You two make such a cute couple,” Beverly gushed.

“Barry is wonderful.” A soft look filled Rosemary’s blue eyes. “I feel like I’m getting a do-over in life. Not that my life hasn’t been good,” Rosemary quickly added. “I’m so lucky to have Jenna and now Daniel.”

Rosemary had moved to GraceTown with her great-niece, who had also found a love of her own.

Expelling a happy sigh, Rosemary reached for another cookie. “Marrying the man I love makes me feel, well, I feel like I’m getting to try out life the way I once thought it would be. Who wouldn’t want that?”

Beverly and Geraldine exchanged a glance. Both in their seventies, they’d shared a home for close to fifty years. Happy with the life they’d built, they seemed to have escaped the concern with marital status, unlike many women Til had grown up with.

Pretty ribbons of silver threaded through Beverly’s light brown hair. As long as Til could remember, the retired RN had worn her hair in a soft coil at the nape of her neck.

Geraldine, her hair short and straight, had always marched to her own beat. She was unapologetically handy with tools and engines, skills Til envied.

For years, whenever Til or one of her friends needed help with anything—be it a sputtering car or a stopped-up sink—Geraldine got the call.

“I wouldn’t change a thing.” Geraldine’s gaze settled on Beverly, and for a moment, a soft look filled her eyes.

Beverly smiled back. “No do-over for me either. I’ve been blessed with a happy life and wouldn’t risk changing a thing.”

“Sometimes life forces you to change.” Lisa spoke for the first time since the discussion had begun. “Whether you want to or not.”

Til assumed her friend was referring to when she’d been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and her husband had left her while she was in the ICU during an MS relapse.

“Tom is a jerk.” Geraldine spoke what each of them was thinking.

“The thing is, lots of people viewed my diagnosis and divorce as the end of my life.” Lisa lifted her crystal tumbler of lemonade and took a sip. “For a moment, I did, too. Then Charlie came home, Hannah moved to town, and like Rosemary, I was given a fresh start.”

Beverly inclined her head. “I’m afraid you lost me.”

“I’m finally living the life I wanted but never got. Actually, I’m living the life I never even knew I wanted, because I can tell you that when Charlie was a teenager, I wasn’t exactly hoping he’d live with me forever.” Lisa gave a little laugh. “I’m not saying my life doesn’t have challenges, but it still feels like a gift.”

Geraldine’s gaze turned serious as she chewed on the words. “Is it really a new life or just part of your journey?”

“That’s what I was wondering, too.” Beverly slanted a glance at Geraldine, before shifting her attention back to Lisa. “The MS and the divorce resulted in lots of changes in your life, but you never stopped being the Lisa we all know and love.”

A thoughtful look crossed Lisa’s face as she bit into a cookie. She shrugged. “You may be right.”

“What about you, Til?” Rosemary asked. “Would you want a do-over?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” Normally, Til was quick to voice an opinion. Not this time.

The conversation had taken her thoughts down a road she rarely traveled. She’d never contemplated a life in which her parents didn’t die young, or her fiancé didn’t leave her, because what would be the point? Dreaming of something different wouldn’t change anything.

Besides, she had good friends and a sense of purpose in life. That was more than most people had.

Yet, at the same time, hearing her friends talk about the idea of a do-over stirred something inside Til.

It would be nice to know there was still plenty of time to discover new people and experiences, rather than to feel like all those opportunities were in the rearview.

Til wondered if who she was now had been forged by the challenges she’d encountered over the past nine decades. Would she be different if she’d been presented with different experiences and opportunities?

“C’mon, Til,” Beverly teased when the silence lengthened. “You have to have an opinion. You always do.”

Til offered a rueful smile. “The thing is, when you’re north of ninety like me, while you might have the desire for the new, there’s no point in pretending you’ve got the time.”

Instead of driving to the card party, Til had walked. When it came time to leave, she turned down Rosemary’s offer to drive her home and saw herself out.

Holding on to the rail, she carefully navigated the porch steps, then paused on the sidewalk outside the stately Victorian. Til found herself in no hurry to head home to an empty house…alone.

Why did that single word have her mood suddenly plummeting? She’d lived alone for most of her life and regarded her bungalow in the Maplewood Village area of GraceTown as her sanctuary.

Til sighed. This melancholy wasn’t like her. Neither was her current indecision about where to go and what to do now that the card party had ended. Especially on a lovely summer day when the sun shone bright in a cloudless sky of brilliant blue.

She thought of the recently released novel that she’d eagerly anticipated reading for months. She didn’t have the slightest doubt that sitting on her porch glider with that book would have her mood sunny in no time.

The book nestled in her handbag had Til quickening her steps in the direction of home. Halfway there, she changed course. Instead of turning right—which would have taken her to her front door—she impulsively turned left, in the direction of Maplewood Park.

Though eager to start reading, Til deliberately slowed her pace and reminded herself that life was a journey to be savored, not gulped.

A middle-aged woman with hair turning to silver straightened from the mulch she was adding around a large maple and flashed a smile. “You’ve got the right idea. It’s a perfect afternoon for a walk.”

Til knew Sally Hardy from the tutoring program for inmates at the local detention center. Like Til, Sally was a former teacher who believed strongly in the importance of literacy.

Gesturing with one hand to Sally’s yard, Til smiled. “It’s also a gorgeous day for yard work.”

“Yes, it is.” The woman laughed. “Though not nearly as much fun as a stroll.”

After a few minutes of conversation, Til continued on her way. Over the years, she’d watched the home that Sally and her husband had purchased go from dilapidated to showstopping gorgeous. The two-bedroom bungalow boasted a fresh coat of paint, new shutters and a yard that was the envy of the neighborhood.

The Maplewood Village area had experienced a resurgence in recent years when affordable housing in GraceTown had become nearly out of reach for most working-class families. Long-neglected homes in the area had been purchased by those who weren’t intimidated by fixer-uppers, as Til had heard the pretty lady on TV call them.

The park came into view, and Til quickened her steps, eager to take a seat on her favorite bench and crack open the book.

Familiar with the surroundings, she barely noticed the large crack in the wooden sign shaped like a tree, announcing this was Maplewood Park. The park had aged as badly as the sign, the playground area offering only a sad-looking metal slide, a broken merry-go-round and three u-shaped rubber swings.

The wooden benches scattered around the park were just as weathered, the metal holding the boards in place showing ample rust. Still, Til shivered with anticipation and picked up her pace.

Her favorite bench at the back of the park provided everything she needed—a place to sit, partial shade thanks to a leafy maple and a stand of hollyhocks.

Hollyhocks had been her dad’s favorite flower. Each time she saw the tall spikes of colorful flowers, she thought of him. Though he’d been gone longer than he’d been in her life, her dad remained alive in her memory.

After her mother died when she was nine, Til’s father became her entire world. Not once had he given her cause to doubt his love. He?—

Til came to an abrupt halt, what she was seeing putting a stop to her trip down memory lane.

In all the years she’d been coming here, Til had never seen anyone else sit on this particular bench.

Much less someone so young and vibrant.

The woman’s dark hair sported red streaks that matched the color of her lipstick. Her yellow shorts showed off long, tanned legs, and the white sleeveless shirt drew the eye to the tree of life tattoo on her bicep.

Til knew the symbol’s significance. She especially loved the part about remaining strong despite trials and hardships.

She wondered if that sentiment was why this young woman had chosen the tat. Curious, but not wanting to intrude, since the woman appeared lost in thought, Til silently began to back up.

There were other benches in the park where she could sit and read, or she could simply head home.

“Don’t go.” The woman, her blue eyes appearing almost violet in the light, focused on Til. She motioned her forward. “Please, join me.”

Something in the woman’s smile had Til halting her retreat and stepping to the bench.

When Til drew close, the woman rose with easy grace. She extended her hand in a curiously formal gesture. “Good afternoon. I’m Serena Nordine.”

Til took the hand with its shiny gold nails and gave it a firm shake. “Matilda Beemis. Everyone calls me Til.”

“What a beautiful name. Matilda.” The woman rolled the name around on her tongue as if savoring the taste of it, then flashed a smile and gestured with one hand to the blue sky. “Isn’t it a peach of a day?”

The expression that Til hadn’t heard since she’d been a girl made her smile. She liked that these old expressions were making a comeback.

When Serena resumed her seat on the bench and gestured for her to sit, Til sat beside her.

“You’re right. The day is absolutely gorgeous.” Til studied the young woman. “Do you live around here?”

“I’ve lived a lot of places.”

A woman of few words. Til understood. Her friends had told her that nowadays you had to be careful about how much information you shared with strangers.

“You don’t need to be careful with me.”

Serena’s comment had Til’s eyes widening. Was she that transparent?

“I realize this sounds crazy, but I trust you.” Til gave a little laugh. “Something about you is familiar.”

Serena’s violet eyes—there really was no other way to describe them—searched Til’s face. “How has your day been so far?”

“It’s been grand.” Til’s use of the word from her childhood had Serena smiling and Til elaborating. “I had lunch, then played cards with friends. One of the ladies will be marrying soon. There was much joy in the air when we spoke of her upcoming nuptials.”

“And perhaps a little sorrow?”

Puzzled by the odd comment, Til pulled her brows together. “What do you mean?”

“Your life has not followed the course you assumed it would.” Serena’s gaze turned thoughtful. “You once dreamed of a life with a husband. It was, after all, what was expected of most women in the 1940s.”

Though it had to be simply a good guess, Serena spoke the truth. While marriage and children were no longer the course in life that all modern women dreamed of, when Til had been in her twenties, marriage followed by children had been every young girl’s dream.

When Vince had returned from WWII and they’d met and fallen in love, Til’s future had seemed to be headed down the traditional path.

Not meant to be,Til reminded herself. After all these years, thoughts of Vince no longer brought an ache to her heart. Perhaps a bit of wistfulness for what might have been, but that was all.

She glanced down at her wrinkled hands, then farther to her serviceable shoes and smiled ruefully. Okay, she could admit—but only to herself—that she sometimes experienced a pang of envy when seeing a couple in love or a young woman with her whole life spread out before her like a pretty quilt.

Still, she’d never been one to dwell on what couldn’t be changed. At the grand old age of ninety-two, she wasn’t about to start now. She’d made the most of the life she’d been given. When life had given her lemons, she’d made lemonade.

Serena’s steady gaze had Til realizing the young woman was waiting for a response. “Yes, I’ve remained single. I’ve had a good life.”

“You’ve helped migrant seasonal workers learn to read.” Admiration shone in Serena’s eyes. “You’ve also helped local residents with low literacy skills.”

“I was a teacher. I enjoy opening the world to adults and children through books.” Til’s lips tipped up. Then the smile faded as a thought struck. “How is it you know so much about me?”

Serena waved an airy hand. “You’re practically a local celebrity.”

Til hooted out a laugh. “Hardly.”

“You continue to volunteer.”

“Not as much as I once did, but yes, I enjoy serving my community.” Enough about me, Til thought. “What is it you do, Serena?”

“Jobwise or in general?”

“Both.”

“I think of myself as someone who dispenses gifts to those who have earned a reward.”

Til shifted on the wooden bench. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I have something for you.” Serena’s gaze remained steady on Til’s face. “Call it a reward for a life well-lived.”

A squirrel chattered in a nearby tree while a bee landed on a hollyhock flower. Though leafy branches shaded the bench from the full heat of the sun, the day was warm. Nevertheless, Til experienced a sudden chill.

“I don’t need a reward.” She moved to rise, but Serena’s hand on her arm had her resuming her seat.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me or what I’m offering.” Serena’s voice was as warm as her hand. “Whether to accept the gift or refuse it is your choice.”

Reaching into her bag, Serena pulled out an ornate bottle containing a small amount of purplish liquid.

Intrigued, Til leaned forward for a better look. “The bottle is gorgeous.”

“Here.” Serena handed it to her.

Holding it securely, Til carefully tipped the bottle from side to side. There wasn’t as much liquid in it as she’d first thought—no more than two ounces.

Initially, she would have sworn the liquid was purple, but it now appeared pink. As she continued to stare, the color changed again, this time to a pretty blue.

“The bottle is lovely, and the way the liquid changes color is fascinating.” Til glanced at Serena and asked, “What’s in it?”

“You have a curious mind. It’s one of the things I admire about you.” Serena smiled, then her expression sobered. “This is going to be difficult for you to believe, so I need to request that you hear me out before you ask questions or offer comments. Can you do that?”

Til thought of the book in her purse and suppressed a sigh. It appeared she wasn’t going to get any reading done, at least not until she got home. But she had to admit that Serena’s words and the bottle fired her curiosity.

What could the woman have to say? Was she hawking some kind of vitamin supplement or energy drink? Or was it a sample of a healthy cocktail Serena had concocted? There appeared to be only one way to find out.

She would listen.