Season of sisters, p.12
Season of Sisters, page 12
According to Mike, a couple doctors, and the National Mental Health Association website, Maggie was clinically depressed. She had a Zoloft prescription and a therapist, and she'd made an honest, though brief, effort with both. Neither seemed to make much difference. Actually, from her point of view, planning Grace's party had proved more beneficial than anything.
Which reminded her. "Did you check with Ben, Grace? Will you be free to shop florists on Saturday?"
"Yes." Talk turned to the anniversary party. As Maggie and Grace debated the wording of the invitations, Holly called in the pizza, then excused herself to wash up.
The older two women watched her leave, then after hearing a door close, Maggie observed, "That girl is downright allergic to anything that even hints at weddings, isn't she? We're a pair. She needs an antihistamine and I need an antidepressant."
"I need an anti-weary pill," Grace said with a sigh, leaning back in her chair. "All of a sudden I feel like I'm slogging my way through marshmallow cream. My get-up-and-go has got up and gone."
"I don't have any uppers, but I do have chocolate." Maggie gestured toward her purse. "Want to spoil your supper with a candy bar?"
Grace started to shake her head, then paused. "You know what? I think I'll take you up on that. I've learned not to wait for the things I want."
Maggie fished the Hershey bar from her purse and handed it over. "You seldom mention your illness. I'll be honest, Grace. I haven't quite known what to do or say to you about it, so basically, I haven't done or said anything. That's a ridiculous way to behave. So please, help me out here. Tell me how I can help you the most."
Grace reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Maggie, I have a loving family and a circle of dear, dear friends who are always happy to run errands for me, drive me to the hospital, cook for me, and pray for me. I love them dearly, and their support is precious beyond words."
"What I haven't had, up until now, anyway," she continued, flashing a shy smile, "is a friend like you. A friend who lets me be normal, who gives me the opportunity to be connected to the world in ways that have nothing to do with cancer. Because my life has revolved around my disease for so long now, my family and friends see me as a cancer patient first, a woman second. You don't. That's so refreshing. It's such a gift you give to me."
"That's sort of embarrassing since I didn't have a clue I was doing anything."
"That doesn't lessen the value of what you've given."
Maggie considered the point for a moment, then smiled as satisfaction rolled through her. "That's nice. Thank you."
"You're very welcome."
"I have to tell you though, Grace, you've done me a similar good turn. Helping to plan your anniversary party perks me right up." She gingerly touched her eye. "And now I actually have some color to my life."
"I feel bad about that."
"Why? You weren't the one who hit me. Besides, it was worth a little black eye to see my husband wallowing in guilt. Even though I think the elbow that clipped me might have been Justin's."
Noting Grace's sympathetic expression, Maggie knew a twinge of discomfort. "I sound bitter, don't I? I don't like that. I don't want to do that. It's so cliché and I've always taken pride in being an individual. It's just that the thought of his having a bimbo makes me crazy."
"Are you certain that gal was his bimbo?" Holly asked as she strode into the kitchen, bringing the fragrance of vanilla skin lotion along with her. "I hear he denied it."
"Of course he denied it. He's a man. Men always try to lie their way out of trouble." She frowned down at the smudges of dirt on her jeans. Bitter honesty made her add, "The worst part of it is, I'm not blameless in the matter. I wasn't being a good wife to him."
"Don't," Grace snapped, as forceful as Maggie had ever heard her sound. "There is never any excuse for faithlessness."
Whoa. Maggie's brows arched. Had she pushed a button, or what?
The arrival of the pizza forestalled any inquiries Maggie might have made into the subject. Following a brief debate over whether to use paper or pottery, Grace set the table with pretty plates that matched the sunflower pattern on the glasses they'd been using. Holly directed Maggie to the napkins while she topped off their tea, then put a vase filled with a trio of purple irises in the center of the table.
As they took their seats, Maggie couldn't help but compare this meal with the last time she'd had pizza. John, her second eldest boy, had invited the entire family for supper to celebrate landing a new job. He'd set the pizzas on the coffee table in front of the hockey game on his wide screen TV and passed around paper towels to serve as plates. Not a one of the men in her family had seen anything wrong in it.
That had been the last time her whole family had gotten together. That was the last time she remembered truly having fun.
She took a bite of pizza and as the taste of pepperoni exploded in her mouth, Holly dropped a conversational bomb. "I think I'm going to move to Louisiana in August."
Grace swallowed the wrong way and had to take a sip of tea to quiet her cough. Maggie stared at Holly in amazement. "What?"
"I mentioned that Justin came by last night. He pressed me about marriage again and I told him I'd decided to pursue my Ph.D. I've been accepted at Tulane. I'll be leaving town right after Grace's party."
"Well." Maggie sat back in her seat. "When did this all happen?"
"At the same time the words went tripping off my tongue."
"You lied to him?" Grace asked.
"Yes and no. I applied to a number of programs last year before he and I started seeing each other, and continued the process mainly out of curiosity to see where I'd be accepted. But I realized after I said it that leaving here might be the best solution for both of us." She picked a pepperoni circle off her pizza slice. "After Maggie's encounter with Mike at the festival, I'm a basket case. You know, Justin very well could have been there, too. Everywhere I go, I worry I'll run into him. Every time I open the newspaper, I brace myself to see his photograph at some hospital fund-raiser or read his name in the society column. It's hard."
Maggie couldn't argue with her. After all, Holly might well have walked right past Justin at the festival, and Maggie was haunted by the same fears of unexpected meetings with Mike. In some ways, she'd be glad when he finally shipped his boat to the coast. Then she'd quit worrying about having a starring role in Parking Garage Incident: The Sequel.
Grace sipped her tea. "Do you want to pursue your doctorate, Holly?"
She sighed. "I love my job. Bonham Middle is a great place to teach." After swallowing another bite of pizza, she added, "My dad will have a fit."
Her non-answer had certainly answered the question for Maggie. "Sugar, don't take this wrong, but I'm not so certain this would be a good move for you. I don't believe it's ever a good idea to run from life, especially if a man somehow figures into the mix. Seems to me like that's just what you'd be doing."
Holly licked tomato sauce off her fingers. "You're one to talk. Excuse me, but aren't you the woman who admitted to staying in bed for two days last week?"
"That's why I feel free to advise you in this case. Although, come to think of it, I'd feel free to advise you in any case. I'm always free with advice."
Smiling, Grace said, "Yes, we noticed that about you."
"The question is, do you hear me?" Maggie reached across the table and took Holly's hand. "Sugar, what's really keeping you from marrying that adorable man?"
Holly got that deer-in-the-headlights look as she fiddled with her napkin. "I told you."
"You told us bits and pieces. Not enough to truly understand."
Holly rose from the table and paced her kitchen. "Maybe you don't need to understand. Maybe if you were the friends you claim to be, you wouldn't pester me about it."
"Maybe in order to be the true friends you deserve, we should encourage you to face difficult questions. Holly, I agree with Maggie. This idea of moving... it's one thing to move forward, another thing to run away."
"I'm not running away from Justin."
"You're running away from life."
Holly's chin went up, but quivered slightly. "That's not true. Life is running away from me."
"Oh, sugar." Maggie spied the tears in Holly's eyes, heard the desperation in her tone, and decided they'd probably pushed hard enough for now. "Just mull it over a bit before you make a final decision. Something as big as this deserves careful thought and consideration."
Hoping to lighten the mood, she gave her hair a toss. "Besides, personally, I'll be in big trouble if you go. I need you to be my dating consultant."
"Your what?" Holly's mouth gaped.
"My dating consultant. I have my first date next Saturday. It's been years since I've dated, and I let my Cosmopolitan subscription lapse years ago. I need someone to catch me up on the dos and don'ts of dating in the new millennium."
Grace shook her head. "You're not really going through with this."
"Sure I am. He's a nice man and I've known him for years."
"Who?" Holly sank into her seat. "Who is he?"
"His name is Max McNab. He cleans my pool."
"Oh, God." Holly sank back against her seat. "She has a date with the pool boy."
"He's not a boy," Maggie testily replied. "He's definitely a man—a responsible man who owns his own business, I'll have you know. For the record, I don't see what's wrong with a woman dating a younger man. Men do it all the time. My husband is doing it."
"How much younger is Mr. McNab?" Grace inquired.
Not quite meeting her friend's gaze, Maggie shrugged. "I don't know. Ten years, maybe twelve."
Holly buried her face in her hands. "If she says one word about the length of his hose I'm going to die."
"Oh, stop it. I'm not going to have sex with the man. I'm going rock climbing with him."
"What?" Holly and Grace asked simultaneously.
"Rock climbing. Out at Mineral Wells State Park. Bill takes climbing trips all over the country. He's going to teach me how to get started. It's something I've wanted to do for a long time now. It's going to be one of the items on my Life List. Item number one, in fact." She rose and crossed the room to where she'd left her purse. Digging a small notebook and a pen from inside, she returned to the table, opened it, and wrote:
Maggie's Wish List
1. I will go rock climbing in Arizona.
"So, are y'all ready to help me figure out the rest of it?"
Holly set dessert—a chocolate ice cream-and-brownie sundae—and three spoons at the center of the table. "As long as you don't make sex with the pool boy one of the items, yeah. What else do you have in mind?"
"I just have a couple vague notions. Show us your list, Holly. Maybe that will give me some ideas."
They spent the next hour laughing and giggling as they offered up ideas and suggestions for Maggie's Life List while they cleaned up after dinner, then returned to the front flower beds to finish planting the petunias. Some of the suggestions were silly. Others, serious. All worth consideration.
"After all," Maggie said as she worked plant food into the soil, "collecting nail polish colors is as legitimate as collecting quarters."
By the time Ben arrived to escort Grace home, Maggie had settled on items one through three. "Rock climbing, touring the great churches of Europe, and winning a ribbon for my chocolate cake at the State Fair. I'm comfortable with those. For my number four, I still want to think a bit about the volunteer work. As much as I love my baby-rocking hours at Methodist Hospital, I'd like for whatever I add to be a different venue entirely."
"What about five?" Grace asked, eyeing the notes she'd taken during the discussion. "Have you made up your mind about it?"
Maggie glanced over Grace's shoulder at the rounded, regular writing on the yellow legal pad. She smiled. What was listed in the number five slot had come directly off Holly's list, her number twenty-one. "I will do something deliciously wicked," she read aloud. "Yes. Oh, yes. That one is definitely on my list. It's my number five. In fact, I have something already in mind for my number five."
"Not the pool boy," Holly groaned. "Please, tell me not the pool boy."
"No, not the pool boy." Maggie gave a sly smile. "But it does have something to do with water."
* * *
As was her habit, Holly remained in her classroom during lunch period on Friday to grade weekly tests. She had considered putting off the task until this evening just to give herself something to do, but she had a handful of students who regularly stopped by after school on Friday to get their scores. She didn't feel right about making them wait just because her social life had imploded.
She finished her first period exams and had started on the second when a knock sounded on her door. She glanced up to see one of her students from last year waving at her through the narrow rectangular window. Holly motioned for the girl to enter the classroom.
"Hi, Miss Weeks," Taylor Dodd said.
"Hello, Taylor. How's algebra going?"
"It's so hard," she said. "I'm doing terrible. I hate it." She gave her blond ponytail a dramatic toss, then sighed heavily.
Recalling the girl's tendency toward theatrics, Holly arched a skeptical brow. "What's your average?"
"Ninety-four."
"Ninety-four on a one hundred point scale. Have your parents grounded you yet?"
"No, of course not." The girl flashed a grin. "I'm office aide this week and I have a message for you from Mr. Thompson. He wants you to come to his office right away."
"Oh? Am I in trouble with the principal?"
Taylor's eyes rounded. "I don't know. Did you do something bad?"
Immediately, she thought of Justin. Holly shook her head. "I guess I'd better see what he wants. Please tell Mr. Thompson I'll be right there."
Holly slipped her shoes back on, rummaged in her desk drawer for her keys, and locked her classroom door behind her. With the children at lunch, the seventh-grade wing was relatively quiet, and her footsteps against the tile floor echoed off the walls as she made her way down the hallway.
She rounded the corner and turned onto the main corridor leading to the cafeteria and the school office. With her thoughts on why the principal had sent for her, she didn't notice the children holding the poster right outside the lunchroom until one of them called her name.
The sign was decorated in glitter and gold stars and read: CONGRATULATIONS, MISS WEEKS!
"What's this?" she asked as they motioned her into the cafeteria. Holly stopped abruptly as her eyes went wide. Her students—a boy and a girl from each of her six classes—were lined up on either side of the doorway, each child with a yellow rose in his hand. They quickly surrounded her, pressing the flowers upon her.
Holly laughed with delight as she collected golden buds, then abruptly fell silent in surprise as she heard Mr. Thompson announce, "Faculty and students, please join me in congratulating Bonham Middle School's Teacher of the Year, Miss Weeks!"
The cheers and applause brought tears to her eyes. The testimonials from her students made her laugh.
When the time came to return to her room for afternoon classes, she all but floated down the hall. It was the best day of her teaching career.
As she drove home, she wanted desperately to share the news with her best friend. Except, her best friend wasn't speaking to her anymore because she'd banished him from her life.
The grief in his expression when she sent him away would be burned on her mind forever.
That was three weeks ago now, and every day since she'd second-guessed herself, wondered if she'd said the right thing. Done the right thing. Justin's absence left a huge hole in her life. She missed making love with him, of course, but it was so much more than that. She missed his enthusiasm. She missed seeing his smile. She missed his stupid jokes and the heat of his body lying next to her as she slept. Most of all, she missed their daily talks when they shared the minutiae of everyday life and offered each other insight and opinion and support.
Justin would be so proud of the Teacher of the Year award. Middle-school teachers seldom had an opportunity for professional recognition, and Justin had complained about that in the past on her behalf. She imagined telling him about it. She could picture the light that would dawn in his eyes and the beam of his smile. He'd pick her up and whirl her around. Maybe do his "wah-hoo" noise of celebration. Then he'd kiss her, a big, smacking, you-are-such-a-WOMAN kiss. That would probably lead to sex, and celebration sex was always among their best. Come to think of it, had they ever had celebration sex because of her accomplishments?
No, it had always been Justin's accomplishments they'd celebrated. She'd tried to get him to make love after her first—and only—bungee jump, thus meeting goal number twelve on her Life List, but he'd gotten snippy about it. Justin did not like her doing anything the least bit risky.
And yet, he wanted her to marry him. What could be riskier than staking his future on her? Go figure.
At home, she changed clothes and tried not to reach for the phone. She held off by working in her yard until dark, then sitting down with a bowl of microwave popcorn to watch a rented movie. Under the circumstances, her choice of romantic comedy was a poor one, and when the ending credits rolled on the TV screen, she cratered. She put her mind on hold and allowed her heart to take control.
Holly grabbed her purse and keys and dashed for the garage. She made the half-hour drive to Justin's house in just over twenty minutes, anticipation rising in her blood with every turn of the tires.
She didn't even know if he'd be home. She had no clue what his hospital schedule was this week. But she prayed he would be there. She needed to share her news. She needed to see him.
Oh, Justin. I've missed you so much.
Justin's home was a two-bedroom brick cottage in the hospital district of Fort Worth. Built in the 1930s, the house had been completely updated by the previous owner. It had charm and character and a small enough yard to give a busy doctor the pleasure of home maintenance with minimal commitment. The best feature of the cottage was its big front porch. Holly had spent many a night sitting on the porch swing necking with her fella.
