Back to McGuffey's. Liz Flaherty

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СКАЧАТЬ T-shirt. “This is better than having my job back.” That wasn’t quite true, but close enough.

      Midway through the gift-opening, Marce ran to answer the door and came back with a huge express mail parcel. “It’s from your mom and Sarah,” she explained. “They called this morning to say it was on the way. I was hoping it would make it.” She produced a box knife. “Be careful with this. We’ve seen you cut things before.”

      Kate sat on the floor and opened the box carefully. “Sarah must have taped this,” she said, slicing through three layers of packing tape. “Mom’s more the ‘a piece and a promise’ type.” When Kate opened the flaps of the box, a soft aah went round the room.

      Kate stared at the contents of the gift for a moment in silence, holding her eyes wide and taking deep breaths. Finally, she covered her face with her hands, tears flowing inexorably between her fingers. Penny slid off the couch to sit beside her and put her arms around her.

      The box contained two quilts. Not new, but beautiful and handmade. One was a Double Wedding Ring pattern, made from hundreds of scraps of fabric on a cream-colored background. The other quilt was a blue-and-white Irish Chain, nearly identical to the one that had been on her bed when the house burned. It had been the first one she’d ever bought, when she’d still thought that things with Ben were going to last forever.

      “We know this was supposed to be a clothing shower,” said the note written in her mother’s scrawled handwriting, “but Sarah and I decided we just wanted you to be warm and safe, no matter how you were dressed.”

      When the party ended two hours later, Kate had enough underwear to get through a week, enough church clothes for three Sundays, and enough outfits to change clothes every day from Monday through Friday as long as she wore the black pants twice and didn’t spill anything on herself. There was a pair of yoga pants, sweats, sandals and a new pair of walking shoes with a card inside the box that read, “Meet you on the porch at eight o’clock—bagels are on you.”

      Her hairstylist gave her a supply of hair and skin products and the nail technician who’d gone to school on money Kate loaned her had given her ten appointments, free of charge. Tark Bridger and his wife had sent a gift card from Louisa’s Garret, the bookstore over on Alcott Street, a thoughtful gesture that made her eyes water.

      As she opened presents and laughed with the roomful of women, something stirred in the back of her mind, creating an emotional itch she knew she’d end up scratching at some point. Is this all there is of my turn? Have the bridal and baby showers Meg mentioned passed me by?

      The thought was painful, and she wondered if it was like a new phone or having the gas cap in a different place on a car—just something she’d have to get used to.

      She sipped from the glass of punch beside her, thinking how much time she’d spent at events like this. Playing games engineered for the guest of honor to win, hoping the gift she’d chosen would be a cause for happiness. It wasn’t till now, surrounded by her friends, that she truly believed the gift didn’t matter—it was the thoughts of the giver.

      “You know,” she said, holding a silk scarf against her cheek, “I think I’m pretty rich.” And as for that itch, well, she could live with that.

      Penny helped carry the bounty back to Marce’s room. “You don’t have any excuses now,” she said, slipping clothes onto the satin-covered padded hangers Morgan had included with her gift.

      “Excuses for what?” said Kate, hanging a peach-colored blouse beside brown crop pants and admiring the effect.

      “For starting a new life. You lost your job and now you have one. You lost your home and now you have one. You lost your clothes and now you have some. You even got a new roommate for Dirty Sally, since she prefers Lucy to you.”

      “I don’t want a new life.” Kate hung up a dress, arranging a matching jacket over it. “I just want the old one back.”

      “No, you don’t.” Penny caught and held her gaze. “You’re starting over, girlfriend. Do it right.”

      * * *

      SHE LOOKED DIFFERENT. Watching Kate step off the back porch to join him, Ben wasn’t sure how she’d changed, but she had. Her brown eyes looked brighter somehow, her hair shinier. Tendrils that escaped her ponytail fell about her face in perky golden-brown commas. The fact that she wasn’t wearing Dan’s old sweatshirt didn’t hurt matters at all. He wondered if that had anything to do with the women that had filled the bed-and-breakfast that afternoon. He’d gone into the kitchen to beg a cup of coffee, but had left empty-handed when he heard the noise from the rest of the house.

      He returned her smile. “Good day?”

      She fell into step beside him. “Real good,” she said, and held up one foot, giving it a little spin. “See my new shoes? Aren’t they pretty? How about you? Have you settled your future yet? Is it doctor or ski bum? Or maybe a bartender like those guys in that old Tom Cruise movie, Cocktail?”

      He tugged at her ponytail but was silent for a half block. The only sounds were the soft ones of their rubber-soled shoes and Lucy’s toenails against the sidewalk. When he spoke, he heard the hesitancy in his own words. “Everything I said before is true, but the first and most important reason I’m here for the summer is that my dad—” He stopped, reminding himself of his promise to his parents to not talk about Tim’s illness outside the family.

      But for years, Kate had been inside the family. She’d had her own toothbrush in the upstairs bathroom, her own pillow on the spare twin bed in Morgan’s room. Tim had taught her to dance and Maeve had shared the magic of Irish cooking with her. Kate and Dylan had been so close Ben had suffered a few bouts of jealousy, no less painful for being silent—they were still close as far as he knew and the thought of it still made him resentful. She’d been a bridesmaid when Patrick and Wendy got married. If it hadn’t been for Ben’s idiocy thirteen years ago—but, no, there was no way of knowing that.

      “Your dad?” Kate prompted, drawing Lucy to a stop before they crossed the street. “Don’t tell me he’s going to take a vacation and you came home to help in the bar. Tim never takes a vacation.”

      “More than a regular vacation, really,” Ben said, relieved she’d made answering that question so easy. “His and Mom’s trips back to Ireland have all been for funerals. Their families have always come here to visit. We know they get homesick, so we’re sending the folks to Ireland for the entire summer and we’re going to run the bar.”

      Sadness settled on Kate’s features. “Who’s sick? Your grandma in Cork? One of your aunts and uncles? Tim and Maeve would never leave McGuffey’s or you kids for that long unless they had no choice.”

      He should have known she’d pick up on that. The weight of knowing about his father’s illness and—worse—his prognosis, grew heavier with the effort to not talk about it. Maybe if he changed the subject, he could keep his promise.

      Ben looked around, searching for something to say that didn’t have to do with Tim. The mud was dissipating early this spring. The growers in the Northeast Kingdom would be planting their gardens in the coming days. “Are you planting a garden this year?”

      She shrugged. “Probably. Everyone on Alcott Street helps with it, plus Penny and Dan. One thing about a double lot is there’s plenty of space.” Her sigh was bone deep. “Especially now, with the house gone.”

      “Right. СКАЧАТЬ