Summertime Dream (16 page)

He scrambled for manners. “Ah, hello and thank you. Would you like to come in?”

He felt Margie come up behind him, silent on her bare feet, an unexpected, appealing sensation. He glanced back. She’d composed herself, and even managed a sweet, welcoming smile for his visitor.

“Hi, Mrs. Cabot.”

“How nice to see you again, Margie dear. How’s your Grandma Em doing? I have to give her a call. It’s been too long since we got together.”

“She’s doing great. I know she’d love to see you while you’re here. She and Grandpa Pete are away visiting Uncle Tim and Aunt Katie, but are driving home tomorrow. How’s Mr. Cabot?”

Mrs. Cabot waved a tanned, bejeweled hand. “I left him home in Florida grouching about his arthritis and new golf cart. He doesn’t like to fly anymore. I will definitely call Em before I leave.”

“We were sitting out on the back porch. Would you like something to drink? Wine? Iced tea? Water?”

“Iced tea would be perfect, thank you.”

Christopher carried a kitchen chair to the back porch and Margie refilled his wine glass and hers and poured Mrs. Cabot a glass of iced tea.

Mrs. Cabot settled into a rocking chair. “I can’t believe these old rockers are still around. Loretta, Fannie, and I used to sit in these. There used to be six of them lined up here on the porch.” After a sip of tea, she took a deep breath. “Now, Loretta. Your grandmother. She was a year ahead of my sister Fannie and me, but we were best of friends in high school. If my sister was alive, she’d be so happy to meet you. Fannie passed two years ago, and I miss her like the dickens.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. I can’t believe you never knew anything about Falk’s Bend and your family here. Amazing. Loretta did say she wished she’d never see this place again, but we always thought that was just teenage emotions. Things weren’t so good at the Falk home after Matthew, your great-uncle, died. Matthew was a real nice young man and the apple of his mother’s eye. She took his death very hard. What mother wouldn’t, I know, but losing him took the light right out of this home and Loretta bore the brunt of the changes. That wasn’t fair, of course, to poor Loretta, but grief has no logic.” She shook her head with a sorrowful breath and took a short sip of tea before jumping back into her story.

“Your great-grandmother Reba was always very proper, very old school. And was never quite right either after she lost Matthew. Your great-grandfather Carl was a controlling stick in the mud. Thought he was the boss of the town and of everyone just by being a Falk. You know the type, I’m sure. After Matthew died, he just became plain mean. He had certain ideas of what Loretta should do with her life. Mainly marry the right kind of boy and raise him grandbabies. Loretta, she was very bright and a little too wild for a town like Falk’s Bend. She drove her parents to distraction with liking all the wrong kind of local boys, and them liking her.” Mrs. Cabot grinned and winked at Margie. “Dex Taylor was one of those wrong boys.”

Margie’s mouth dropped open. “Mr. Taylor? Wow.”

Mrs. Cabot laughed. “The baddest bad boy of Falk’s Bend and, to use my granddaughters’ terminology, Dex was totally hot back then.”

“Wow. Just...wow.” Margie turned to Christopher. “Mr. Taylor taught calculus and trigonometry at the high school. I had him for algebra. He was scary hard.”

“Time changes us all. You should talk to Dex. The two of them were close. He might remember something about that summer that would give you more of a picture of her. You never know, she might have confided in him. He joined the Marines soon after Loretta disappeared.”

“Thank you, I will.”

“How she ever got Mr. Falk’s permission to go to college, I don’t know. He might have agreed just to get her away from Dex and the other boys here, without considering the boys she’d meet there. She called school her lifesaver. She only came home when she had to. Sis and I always hoped Loretta just found a boy, gave up on the drama at home, and simply ran as far away as she could to escape the grief.”

“Didn’t my great-grandparents try to find her?”

“Mr. Falk did, if only to drag her back and make her behave. I heard he even hired a private detective. Not that he was ever a nice man, but he went a little crazed after she disappeared. He once accused Fannie and me several years later of hiding her from him, loud as could be in the middle of the market. We were hurt and worried because she never contacted us, and we had no way to find her. To be honest, Fannie and I were afraid Mr. Falk had found her and something terrible happened.”

Christopher glanced at Margie, and he could see her mind was churning over those torn clothes and pictures as well.

“Now, I’ve been gabbing away here not letting you get a word in edgewise. Tell me a little of her life and yours.”

Christopher pondered the grandmother he thought he’d known versus the life she’d kept hidden. In his memories, no matter the challenges, she was always smiling. “I always remember her upbeat attitude and her smiles. I think she was happy with her life.”

He tried to share the Loretta he’d known, a woman very different from the flighty-sounding girl she’d described. His Grandma Loretta was smart and quick to laugh, dedicated and strong. Aware how Margie was listening as they poured more tea and wine and snacked on pretzels, he tried to make the telling for her, too, a chance to know him more, as she had shared with him. He shared the family stories he knew, the serious and the fun. How Grandpa Will had been in the Army, and Grandma had gone back to college while they’d travelled and raised three boys, finally becoming a professor herself. His dad and uncles had followed Grandpa into the Army. They’d taken pride in serving their country, despite the costs and losses. How Dad had met Mom, some of his own boyhood and their own travels as Dad made sure he kept his family with him when he could. How Dad supported Christopher’s decisions against choosing military service and for pursuing his business goals.

Purples stained the long orange sunset when Mrs. Cabot excused herself. “Oh my, how the time has flown. Thank you so much for the wonderful stories. I’m so sorry I never got to see Loretta again, but I’m so glad to have met you.” She shook his hand and hugged Margie. “You two make a lovely couple. Margie was the sweetest little girl and now she’s the loveliest young lady.”

Margie’s eyes widened. “Oh, we’re just friends.”

Strangely, the same denial didn’t come leaping into his mind. He draped an arm over Margie’s shoulders. “It’s been great meeting you too, Mrs. Cabot. We’ll walk you out.”

Finally, he and Margie were alone again. He wrapped her in the hug he’d wanted to give her earlier. She softened into him trustingly, feeling perfectly right in his arms, and slipped her arms around his waist.

“Better now?” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Mrs. Cabot’s unexpected visit had provided a good distraction.

“Much.”

“Ready to have some supper?”

“Yes. I’m so glad you’re staying.”

“So am I. So am I.”

****

Margie caught Joe downstairs in the morning, having coffee and antacids for breakfast before he left for work.

She tried to ease into her apology. “Joe, about yesterday.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He rubbed his sternum and winced.

Boy, he looked ragged. “I wish you’d see the doctor. Having heartburn as often as you do can’t be right. At least he could give you something that works better for you than those tablets.”

“It’s just heartburn. These work fine. I’m fine.” He downed his cup of coffee. “Don’t you have to go play house with your accountant?” he sneered and switched the channel to news.

Bitter tears sprang. She swallowed down the hurt. “I wanted to have breakfast with you, but now I think I’ll go have breakfast with Christopher. At least he doesn’t jump down my throat!”

Turning her back on Joe, she grabbed the food she had made last night from the fridge and filled the cooler. “I made lunch already. Tell Dad we don’t need anything.” She whistled for Penny, picked up the cooler and her tote, and hurried to the car.

Patting the car seat for Penny to jump in, she sniffled back tears. Why was Joe so hateful these days? Bossy, obstinate, well, that was his normal mode all her life. But this mean, hurtful bearishness? She turned the key in the ignition and laughed grimly. She was doing the same thing as Joe, stomping off to avoid talking.

If only she could remember exactly when he’d changed, so she could sort out why.

Last year was such a disaster. She remembered being so happy. Stressed out, yes, with planning her wedding and Debi’s and her doubts and anxieties over moving to Dallas, but, anxieties aside, she remembered the year beginning in happiness for them all.

She hated that she’d been so wrapped up in her own life she had missed any signs of Joe’s life unraveling. By the time the manure hit the fan, she couldn’t help either of them, let alone herself. Everything had crumbled: she was sick, she had her surgery, Eddie broke their engagement, and Joe and Stephanie had separated.

Joe and Stephanie had been on vacation before life imploded. Everyone had teased them about taking a second honeymoon, since they hadn’t gone anywhere just themselves since their honeymoon five years back. An auto accident had interrupted the trip and left them shook up with bumps and bruises. But…had it been then the fighting and silences had begun?

She focused on the last time she’d seen Stephanie. Stephanie had crept in alone right after the surgery, while Joe was working. She’d hardly talked, mostly held Margie’s hand tight, looking weepy and ill. Everyone had been stressed and scared in those days, and Margie hadn’t been in a frame of mind to comprehend Stephanie’s behavior that day as possibly foreshadowing the breakup.

Argh! Trying to figure this out without any facts was going to drive her batty. How could she possibly help them, if they wouldn’t talk?

She pulled into the driveway behind Christopher’s car. Penny squeezed out the moment Margie opened the car door and raced around the front yard, following her nose in a tail-wagging serpentine path around all the bushes.

Christopher appeared from around the back of the house and waved. “Morning.”

Penny wheeled around and raced up to the porch to greet him.

A wave of relief at the sight of him hit her so hard she had to take a deep breath. “Hi. I hope you don’t mind me and Penny coming over so early.”

“Love the company.” He winked and bent down to pat Penny. “There’s coffee and biscuits fresh from the oven, if you’re hungry. Just the pop out of a container kind, but good with the jam on them. I was going to scramble up some eggs as well.”

“Sounds good. Let me grab my things from the car.” She’d let Joe get her so wound up she’d left without grabbing something for breakfast.

“I’ll give you a hand.”

She popped the trunk. Hopefully, he’d like her lunch plans. She glanced at the plaid blanket and cooler. “I made us lunch for today. I thought, since you liked camping, and you were missing your trip, we could have our lunch as a picnic out at the river.”

“Sure. Sounds fun. I’ll carry those in for you.” He scooped up the blanket and cooler and she followed him inside. He filled a bowl of water for Penny and grabbed two plates from the cupboard. “Want to pour two coffees?”

In no time, they were seated at the kitchen table with plates of piping hot eggs and biscuits. Penny made herself at home under the table with her head resting on Margie’s foot, hoping for crumbs.

“So what do you plan for this morning?”

He split a biscuit and slathered on a spoonful of marmalade. “Get productive. I’m letting all calls go to voicemail this morning. I intend to make a big dent in the basement junk.”

“Great!”

After breakfast, Christopher headed downstairs and Margie tackled the formal dining room, sorting, listing, and packing the clutter of china, glassware and whatnots. Most was mismatched, but she put aside a nice and nearly complete Limoges dinner service that Christopher might like to keep. The work made the hours fly by and took her mind off Joe. Thuds, clanks, and crashes from out at the Dumpster marked Christopher’s progress.

At noon, Christopher poked his head in the dining room, all sweaty and grubby, but smiling. “Time for a break. I’m starving. Let me shower real quick and we can have that picnic.”

While he was upstairs, she washed up in the half bath and changed into a fresh top and shorts.

He returned freshly scrubbed, shaved, and his hair still damp, and looking cool and comfortable in a button-down blue plaid shirt and gray shorts. “By the way, I called Dex Taylor. Left a message with his wife. He’s away camping, but will be back tomorrow. She’ll pass on the message.”

“Oh, good. I still can’t imagine him as the town troublemaker. Wait until you meet him. Picture one of those Marine Corps drill sergeants you see in the movies, minus the shouting, that’s Mr. Taylor. He never had to raise his voice. He could scare us with just a stare.”

“I had a swim coach like that.” He grinned.

A few minutes later, they walked along the stubbly mowed track. Penny ran this way and that, sniffing everything.

Down at the river, a smooth shady patch of ground offered a comfortable place on the heavy humid day to spread the picnic blanket. Margie set out the lunch of chicken salad sandwiches, coleslaw, and chips. Christopher popped the two beers.

As they ate and tossed the sticks Penny kept fetching them until she wore herself out and sprawled out to snooze on the grass, their chatting rambled over everywhere, full of smiles and laughter, reminiscing about high school and college and friends, listing favorite things as diverse as what was their favorite Christmas gift ever and favorite Chinese takeout meal. Despite their very different lives, they had more in common than she’d guessed. Sharing with someone who didn’t know every last thing about her was a refreshing experience.

“Homegrown tomatoes from your garden, right? They taste great.”

“Thanks. Dad and I love raising them from seed and trying different varieties.” Gardening was the hobby Dad and she shared. There was something so joyful about babying their future vegetables from tiny seeds in the dark of winter into the sturdy vibrant plants they set out in spring.