October Snow (24 page)

“Let’s get all this put away, and we’ll take her out back.”

Daisy pawed at the door in the kitchen that led to the deck for the ten minutes it took them to put the groceries away. As soon as Jo opened it, the dog took off down the steps, stopping at the patio at the bottom and barking at them to hurry up.

Jo smiled, watching her trot in circles, her tail waving back and forth rapidly. “Go ahead, babe. Go swim.” Daisy took off for the lake in an awkward gallop, with not a moment of hesitation as she leapt from the dock.

Jo came down the steps with the yellow ball, tossing it a few feet out in the lake. Daisy retrieved it, earnestly paddling back to the shore with the ball held high. She dropped it at Jo’s feet, then ran back to the edge of the water, waiting expectantly for Jo to toss it back in.

After a few retrievals, Daisy came to lay beside Max, relaxing in one of the oversized Adirondack chairs they had placed by the dock the day before.

“You tired already, Daizer?” Jo reached down with a towel, rubbing the dog vigorously.

“She did well, Jo. Don’t worry so much. She’s not a pup, after all.”

Daisy fell asleep a few minutes later, the ball between her paws.

“Want a beer?” Max asked.

Still studying Daisy, she nodded absently. “Thanks.”

She put her hand on Jo’s shoulder as she passed behind her. Jo reached up, taking her hand and squeezing twice, smiling up at her.

In the kitchen, looking out the window at Jo and her dog, Max wondered how Jo would cope when Daisy was gone. It seemed like she was completely loving and open only with her dog, as if Daisy was the only living creature she still trusted. She shook off the thought, wanting the day to be good. An easy, simple, nice day. No drama. Life happened on its own course, coming and going in whatever way it chose, and none of it could be controlled by mere desire.

Well that’s kind of fatalistic
. Her mind wandered to whether or not Jo would debate it as being “existentialistic” instead. She smiled at the thought, then suddenly remembered her college days, and reading Khalil Gibran: “Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of life longing for itself.” There was a time when she read the passage daily, until she had memorized it just for the comfort it had given her; but she hadn’t thought of it in years, and wondered why she would do so now.

She looked again at Jo and Daisy, and again, she decided to let the thought go.

She dropped four cans of beer into a small styrofoam cooler, emptied several ice trays on top, and hurried down the steps. “Here we go.”

Jo was leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed, her face to the sun. Max pulled out a can and nudged her with it. “Wake up.”

She took the can without opening her eyes and popped it open. “Let’s never leave,” she mumbled.

Max laughed. “Deal.” Her can hissed as she opened it. “You heard from the boys yet?”

“Not since Tuesday. Wedding’s today.”

“How’s come that doesn’t bother you? Or are you just pretending?”

Jo shrugged, opening her eyes and taking a long drink, staring at the water. “Keith’s life isn’t my concern. Got sunglasses on you?”

She handed them over. “Just seems weird, being married to someone for that long, and not caring what he does.”

“Yeah, I guess it would seem that way. These glasses are too heavy.” She set them on the sand, then tilted her head, shading her eyes with her hand as she looked at her. “Why didn’t you ever get married, Bim?”

Max stretched her legs out in front of her, leaning back. “I just never met the right guy.”

“That’s a completely average answer.”

Max grinned. “Yeah. Safe.”

“Yeah. And boring.” Jo waited. “So that’s it?”

“Yup.”

“Oh, please…You can do better.”

Max tilted her head to the sun, closing her eyes. “Actually, no I can’t. I never met anyone I wanted to marry.”

“How’s about relationships?”

“Eh.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Here and there.”

“Okay, fine. Next time you’re jonesing for philosophical debate, don’t look at me.”

“That’s low.”

“Eh.” Jo grinned, sensing victory.

“Geez.
Uncle
.” Max sighed, sitting up again. “Honestly, Jo, I never met anyone I wanted to spend a lifetime with.” She picked up the sunglasses, putting them on as she continued. “I did meet someone just before I started at the Academy in Concord, though. Lasted only a few months, but it was probably the only serious relationship I ever had.”

“What happened?”

“It didn’t work out.”

“I figured. Why not?”

They were silent for a minute, while Max decided how to answer. “I’ve never told anyone this. When you keep something hidden for so long, it just gets so locked up inside you, you can’t get the words out.”

Jo nodded, then waited quietly.

Finally, Max took a deep breath and said, “I got pregnant.” She saw Jo about to speak, and held her hand up to stop her. “Let me say it all.”

“Okay.”

“I found out eight weeks into training that I was pregnant. I dropped out not long after that.” She brushed her hair off of her face, then propped the sunglasses on top of her head, looking first at Jo and then back to the lake. “Brett–the father–took off when I was four months along. Five months later, I gave birth to a baby. A…I had a daughter.” She had always thought she would cry if she ever revealed it, but she felt more of an urgency to get it out there; at that moment, it was as if she were telling a simple story.

Jo watched her intently, wondering if she should ask the obvious question, and deciding not to.

“So, with no husband, no family, no one to help at all, I gave her away. I put her up for adoption.”

They sat quietly again for a while, then Max said, “She turned twenty five this year.”

“Do you know where she is?”

Shaking her head, Max said, “No. And no, I never looked for her.”

“I wondered.”

“If I was gonna let her go, then I needed to cut ties. Permanently.”

“Yeah.” Jo cracked another beer, handing it to her.

Dangling it between her knees, Max watched a couple of gulls chase each other across the lake. “It was what was best for her. I made the blunder, I decided I’d deal with the pain.”

Jo opened a can for herself. “But it doesn’t go away, does it?”

“No.” She crushed her empty into the sand. “It doesn’t. But as long as it worked for her…Well, that’s all right then.” She nodded, as if reassuring herself of the wisdom of a great unknown. “That’s all right.” She looked over to Jo, and was grateful to find no pity there, just understanding. “Anyway, I just never wanted to get involved with anyone after that. I don’t think it’s bitterness–well, no, I’m sure there has to be some anger there–but it’s more like, I don’t know, like I’m done. I felt
done
then. You know?”

“I do.” She hated feeling so sorry for Max. She hoped she was hiding it well. “Your parents never knew?”

“Actually, I called to tell them. They wanted nothing to do with me. My dad said, before I could even get the words out, ‘We don’t want to talk to you. Ever, for any reason. You can rebel against us from a distance, but don’t call here again.’ And that was that.”

Jo held out her hand. As Max took it, Jo asked, “What did you name her?”

Max pulled her hand away, rolling her head like her muscles hurt, looking into the distance. “Laura.” She looked pleadingly at Jo then. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay? At least, not for a while.”

Jo nodded. “Okay.”

Daisy stirred, and they looked down at her in unison.

“Say something, Max. I’m uncomfortable.”

“Why do I always have to break the moment?”

“Because you have a quicker wit.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m smarter.”

“Yeah, but I’m more wise.”

“Only ‘cause you’re older.” They smiled at each other then, and Max said, “Hey,
you
were supposed to be first up for the next misery moment. Remember?”

“Oops.”

“Oops, my ass. You welched.” They laughed, but discomfort still hung there, the sense that something was left undone.

“Max?”

“What?”

“Would it be okay to toast us both for Mother’s Day?”

Max was surprised to feel the tears well in her eyes. She held her can out to Jo, blinking quickly. “Just this once.”

They tapped. “To mothers,” Jo said.

“Yeah. To mothers. To us.” She looked lovingly at her friend. “Thanks, Bim.”

By nine o’clock, they had finished dinner and were relaxing on the deck. Jo swatted at her arm. “Black flies already,” she mumbled. “We didn’t get citronella, did we?”

“Nope.” Max waved one of the flies away from her face, taking in the last light of the fading sunset over the lake. “Guess we should head inside,” she said regretfully.

Jo’s phone was ringing in the dining room as they entered. She smiled as she checked the ID, flipping it open. “Sammy, what’s up?”

“Sam
meee
!” Max yelled. “You ever gonna show up here?”

Jo covered her ear, listening. “Monday,” she said to Max.

“Give me the phone.”

“Hold on, Sammy. Max is being rude.” She handed the phone to her, grabbing Daisy’s leash from the hook by the front door. “Don’t hang up until I talk to her. I’ll take Daisy out.”

When Jo returned five minutes later, Max was just closing the phone. “Sorry. She and Dave need to talk. They’re making plans for Tyler to stay with him for the summer.”

“Rats.” Seeing the amusement on Max’s face, she asked, “What? I feel like I never talk to her anymore.”

“You just talk so cute. ‘
Rats
’?” She handed Jo her phone. “Tell me, have you ever even
used
the ‘f’ word?”

“Rarely. I think, maybe when I was in labor with Johnny?”

“That doesn’t count. No woman in labor is responsible for anything she says or does.”

Jo laughed. “Agreed.” She sobered quickly then. “Am I being insensitive?”

“Oh, goodness,
no
. I’m the one who brought it up. C’mon, Jo, don’t be skittish about what we talk about.”

She slipped the leash over the hook on the front door. “You know, I think you’re the strong one, Max.”

She shrugged, heading toward the kitchen. “Let’s get a snack.”

“Already?”

“I’ve never had such an appetite.” She was rummaging through the freezer. “Oooh, ice cream. Let’s do coconut almond fudge.”

Jo set the spoons and a handful of napkins on the breakfast bar. “Want a bowl, or are we eating from the carton?”

“You always ask, and we always eat from the carton.” She tucked her leg under her as she sat across from Jo. “Maybe you were right. Maybe it’s not such a compliment, telling someone they’re strong.”

Jo looked at her quizzically, pulling a large bite of ice cream from her spoon with her teeth.

Max went on. “I didn’t make some sacrificial decision, as much as I just gave up. I mean, I waited for someone to step up–Brett, my dad, my mom,
someone
to ride in and save us–but when it didn’t happen, I had no other options.”

“No heroes.” Jo stared at the painting that hung on the wall behind Max, a watercolor of a small, blonde boy playing busily in the sand, the ocean in the background.

“Nope.” Max took a big spoonful of the ice cream, and her voice was muffled around it as she said, “Not even me.”

“Not true.”

“Huh?”

“You had options. You could have aborted her.”

Max regarded her as if she was crazy. “Yeah, right. I’m with Sammy on that issue.”

“It had to cross your mind, though.”

She met Jo’s level stare. “Yes, it did. And then, I rejected it.”

Jo slid onto the stool across from her. “You could have kept her, and gone on welfare.”

She snorted, reaching for another bite. “Oh, please, Jo–how long you know me now?” She dabbed listlessly at the container with her spoon. “She would have had no life whatsoever. I didn’t even finish my education. No money. Or family. Or
anything
. I took welfare until she was born, and that was bad enough. Trust me.”

“But that’s the
point
.” Jo was impatient now, wanting her to understand. “That’s what heroes
do
. They take the option that saves someone else. The loss–the pain–it stops with
them
. Like it stopped with
you
.”

Max thought she was becoming a bit too animated as she watched her jabbing the ice cream with the spoon in one hand, rubbing the top of her left thigh again, hard, with the other. “Okay. I’ll agree with that.” She grinned, hoping to break the moment. “But don’t expect me to say it out loud.” She smacked her lips. “Mmmm, that’s got to be the best-ever flavor of ice cream.”

Jo didn’t seem to hear her. “It’s like that Truman sign. ‘The buck stops here.’A hero is someone who makes sure that the evil stops with
them
.” She looked up then. “I think I need some music. Something fun.”

Max was relieved. “Your pick.”

“Disco.”

She wrinkled her nose.

“C’mon, Bim, you said my pick.”

“Geez. Okay. Be right back.”

“I’m getting tired, Dave.” They were sitting in the screened-in porch at the back of his town home, side-by-side on the wicker loveseat. “I had a wonderful time today. And tonight.” She smiled up at him, and he put his arm around her. “Thanks for dinner. You’re spoiling me so bad.”