Mary turned from the refrigerator when Grant walked in from the garage.
“Hey, love.”
He leaned in for a kiss. “Morning,” he said, running a hand across her back. “Looks like you got some good sleep.”
“Yeah?” That was encouraging. Early mornings these days weren’t pretty. It was probably best if he didn’t see her until closer to noon – by then she usually managed to get dressed and put on a little make-up. She gave him a long, speculative look. If she didn’t look like hell, perhaps she should take advantage of the situation. At night, she was too wiped out to do anything but sleep.
“What’s going on today?” he asked.
“Not a lot. I was just thinking about supper.” Among other things, she added to herself. “I may need to run over to the grocery store.”
Grant frowned. “Why can’t Rita or Sara go for you?”
“I can still manage to get myself to the store,” she told him. “Besides, Rita is off, and Sara went to Tulsa.” She cocked her head, waiting for a response. “No appointments, either.”
He took a seat at the bar and picked up the newspaper, then turned toward her, apparently missing the invitation in her voice. “Oh. You need something? Got a honey-do list for me?”
Clearly, she was a bit rusty. Disappointed, Mary swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d never had to hint this hard with her husband, and it made her feel needy – if not invisible. He was so polite. Very accommodating. Which wasn’t bad, but it worried her. She couldn’t help but wonder if her sickness had made her more of a patient than a wife. So often she looked tired and pale, and felt lethargic. And had the drooping lip. Maybe it was all a huge turnoff.
She bit her lip when dumb tears sprang to her eyes. With a hand on her hip, she stared at him.
His eyes widened. “What?”
“Grant, I just told you I’m free all day, and no one else is here. And a honey-do list is what comes to mind?” Glancing away, she choked out a forced laugh. “Where is your imagination?”
She looked at him then and saw the surprise on his face change to something else. A slow smile spread across his face.
“We haven’t taken advantage of certain retirement benefits in a long time,” she said softly.
He pushed back the chair and came toward her. “Now that’s a problem I can fix.”
* * *
Mary ran a hand over the heavy arm that circled her waist. “That was nice,” she murmured.
Grant scooped her closer to his chest, and she snuggled in, happily sated and glad she’d made the suggestion – and had the energy to follow through.
“Very,” he whispered against her hair. He held her a few moments longer, then stirred. “I should probably get up and get some things done. Want to make me a grocery list?”
She stretched her legs and smiled up at him. “No. I feel like getting out. I’ll take a rain check on that, though.”
“You got it.” He gave her one last squeeze, then pushed back the covers.
Mary freshened up, then dressed slowly, not because she had to, but because she could, and she wanted to enjoy the feeling of warm contentment as long as possible. No need to rush, anyway. She eyed the comfortable black leggings dangling from one of the chairs, but decided against them, and reached for jeans instead. The form-fitting leggings might reveal too much. And she didn’t mean her tush. She had plenty of tasteful long sweaters to cover that. But her left leg was beginning to show signs of atrophy. Though they worked it in therapy, she was losing muscle. It probably wasn’t noticeable to anyone else, but it made her self-conscious.
She let Grant help her into the car then drove the short distance without incident. Driving was no problem. It was getting in and out of the car that challenged her. She’d figured out a system, though, and pulled the cane across her lap and out the open door.
Inside, she hooked the cane onto a cart and made her way to the meat counter, arriving just in time to hear Regina Daniels request a pound of ground beef. Mary lingered a few feet away, pretending to look at another display. But when Joe, one of the butchers, spotted her, he hollered. “Be right with you Mrs. Logan. I’ve got those fillets ready for you.”
Mary groaned inside, sure that Regina would make some connection between their meat selections and feel marginalized. That was confirmed with a hostile glance from Regina. “Figures,” she muttered, loud enough for Mary to hear.
Take the high road, Mary reminded herself. She pasted on a smile. “Hello, Regina. How are you?”
Without making eye contact, Regina returned a stiff “fine.”
Mary could not comprehend the woman’s attitude. After all, it was her son who’d vandalized Mary’s home. And then Grant had given the little hoodlum a job. “I understand Bobby landed a nice management position. That’s wonderful.”
Regina took the package Joe offered, then turned to Mary.
“That’s right. Bobby and I are leaving, and the way I hear it, you won’t be around much longer, either. I guess Whitfield is going to have to survive without both of us.”
The air whooshed out of Mary’s lungs, Regina’s cruel words hitting like a sharp slap in the face. The warm comfort of the day shattered in an instant against such toxic spite and animosity.
“I guess bad things just happen, don’t they?” Regina snapped.
“Yes.” Mary whispered. “They do.” With a heavy heart, she searched Regina’s face, and registered the dark circles under her eyes, and fine lines around her mouth. It’d obviously been a difficult six months. They’d taken their toll on her spirit and her appearance.
Mary considered lashing out. Telling this miserable woman good riddance. It might be fun to make a scene in the grocery store. To release her own anger and frustration over her terminal diagnosis. Give folks something new to talk about. But she couldn’t muster the energy. Couldn’t shake the frost that had settled over her. Instead, she spoke evenly, holding her emotions in check. “I hope your new place makes you happy.”
Regina stared hard, as if suspecting something other than sincerity in Mary’s words. “Thanks.” Then she sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry for your family. I– It’s–” She stuttered over her words. “Well, I’ve got to be going.”
Mary stood rooted in place.
“Mrs. Logan?” Joe called her name.
With shaking hands, Mary slowly pushed the cart forward.
“Can I get you anything else?” he asked.
Mary looked at the display and her mind went blank. What else had she come for? “Oh, um, let’s see,” she stammered. She shook her head. “No. I think this is good. Thank you.” She tucked the package of steaks into the cart and moved on.
After wandering the aisles in a fog, she mumbled a greeting to the cashier and handed over her credit card. As Gary loaded her groceries, she hoped whatever was in those bags would be enough to create a decent meal.
Mary started the car but didn’t budge. Regina’s words haunted her. How long before she was forgotten in Whitfield? Had she done anything worthy of remembering? Did all the little things she’d done over the years, the volunteering, casseroles, and committee work amount to anything? She wanted to believe it did, that she’d made a difference in people’s lives if only in a small way. As a member of the Library Board, her name was now on a plaque in the new library. Even if people didn’t remember her, they’d enjoy the new facility for years to come.
Her greatest contribution to the world, of course, was three caring and intelligent children who’d grown up to be good, productive citizens. Feeling better, Mary reversed, then pulled out of the parking lot. Still, she drove slowly as she continued to process the disturbing encounter with Regina. Facing her mortality in such a real way made everything she did – or didn’t do – so much bigger. Every minute more important.
By the time she turned onto her street, Mary was determined to stay involved in the community. It was the only way to stay useful and true to herself. Maybe no one would remember ten or fifty years from now, but she’d go out on a high, knowing she’d done everything she could in the time that was allotted to her. There was pride and courage and satisfaction in that.
In her head, she mapped out a plan. Working around therapy and doctor’s appointments, she’d schedule one thing per day up until the week before Sara’s due date. That gave her all of April, and the first week of May.
Grant must’ve heard the garage door go up. He was out of the house before she could even open her car door. He helped her out and grabbed a paper bag. “You go on in. I’ll take care of these.”
“Thanks, love.” Inside, she put a cup of water in the microwave for tea and waited for him. As soon as the groceries were put away, she took the cup and headed for the office.
“Nap time?” Grant asked.
She had to admit, it didn’t sound half-bad. But she was determined to put her plan into action first. Or at least get started. If she nodded off and did a face-plant on her keyboard, so be it. “No. I think I’ll try to do a couple of things on my computer. Maybe I’ll just go to bed a little early tonight.”
“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”
With a smile on her face, she simply nodded. He didn’t need to know all the details, and he would never know about her run-in with Regina.
Mary settled into the padded desk chair, and opened her laptop, then reached for her calendar. Hopefully, she’d remember how to access all the online schedules. A wave of guilt rolled over her as she looked at the blank pages of her calendar. The hibernation had been good for her, but it had also been self-indulgent. Now it was time to do her share. To give those people who’d stepped up and filled in a break. As long as this damned disease would allow it. She said a silent prayer for more good days and began typing her name on shift openings at the food pantry, carefully cross-checking with her personal calendar.
The one thing on her calendar that she didn’t need to be reminded of was Sara’s baby shower. Two weeks to go. They were cutting it close, but Sara had insisted it be after the library opening. Dana and Claire were teaming up as hostesses with input from Annie and Elise. And a couple of Sara’s friends from Dallas were driving up Friday night. With Annie home, too, it’d be a full house.
Mary glanced toward the closet where she’d hidden her stash of gifts for the shower. Her primary activity for tomorrow would be getting those wrapped up while Sara was away. It’d take some time since she’d naturally gone overboard buying gifts for her first grandchild. Whew. Hibernation had been good for her, but hard on her credit card. Online shopping was a wonderful, dangerous thing, even for a sluggish woman with a short attention span.
* * *
By the time baby-shower weekend rolled around, the packages sat like a towering centerpiece on the dining room table.
“Mom, I think you might have gotten a little carried away,” Sara said Friday night as Mary set the last bag on the table and fluffed the tissue paper.
“Oh, dear, you might be right,” Mary teased. “Which ones should I return?”
Annie laughed and gave Sara a nudge. “We can take them to the church if it’s too much of a burden for you,” she told Sara.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sara said, breezing out of the room.
Mary stifled a yawn as she slid an arm around Annie’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze.
“How you holding up, Mom?”
Though she was fading fast, her smile was automatic. “Hanging in there, sweetheart. I’m so glad you could come and spend the night.” She cherished every minute with her daughters – and was also grateful for the extra set of hands, and the unconditional support in making this a special time for Sara. “Be sure to tell Blake we appreciate him fending for himself this weekend so that you could have some girl time,” Mary said as they headed for the family room.
“Not a problem, Mom. He gets it.”
Mary glanced around the room at the tables laden with snacks and drinks. Seems like old times, she thought. Like days past when her house was full of kids and their friends. That had always given her so much satisfaction. She got pleasure just watching Sara and her friends having fun. After dinner, Elise had gone back to Claire’s house, to spend some one-on-one time with her mother, but Annie and Sara and her two friends from Dallas were still going strong.
These days, eleven o’clock looked a lot different from Mary’s point of view. She should probably give the girls some time alone, anyway, and make sure she got a decent night’s sleep. It was possible she’d over-extended this week. She’d spent a couple of hours at Claire’s place helping to decorate for Sara’s shower. And she’d taken a few more ibuprofen tablets than she had any other day that week. Her joints ached, but she refused to miss out on any of the festivities. Having both girls home and the chance to get to know Sara’s friends was a rare treat worth a little extra discomfort.
Still, she wanted to be alert and functioning tomorrow. Claire had confirmed attendance from fifteen people. Since the furnishings in her house had been pared down to bare bones, she had plenty of room to bring in rented tables and chairs. It promised to be a fun day.
* * *
Pink balloons greeted them at Claire’s front porch the following day. And inside, there was pink everything – pink tulle around the chairs, flowers and booties on the tables, a beautiful sparkling punch, and a sideboard candy station with evidently every kind of pink candy Claire could get her hands on.
Sara’s wide grin extended beyond the hand at her mouth as she took in the pink fairy’s handiwork. “Oh, my gosh. This is beautiful.”
Mary pulled her into a quick hug. “Enjoy, sweetie.”
Claire greeted them and also pulled Sara into a hug. “Wow, Claire, thank you so much. I can’t believe how fabulous this looks.”
“It’s been a ton of fun,” Claire told her.
Other guests moved in behind them, and Mary pushed forward. She needed to get out of the way before she got run over. She dropped her purse onto the sofa and pulled out her camera. Her plan was to find a good vantage point and snap as many photos as possible.
“I’ve already taken a ton of pictures of the cake and decorations,” Claire told her. “I want to get some of you and the girls before things get crazy.”
“Okay,” Mary told her. “But give me a head start before you round up the girls. There’s a lot to maneuver around.”
Claire shot her a quick look, frowning. “You feeling all right?”
“Just a little stiff.” Mary waved her off. “Sitting cross-legged on the floor for children’s reading hour at the library on Thursday may not have been the best idea.”
“You were doing children’s hour?” Claire’s voice went up a notch or two.
“Yeah, is that a problem?”
“Maybe not if you sit in a proper chair. How the hell did you get off the floor?”
Mary laughed out loud. Trust Claire to be real. “Climbing bookcases. It’s my superpower.”
Claire shook her head. “Come on. Let’s start the fun and games.”
Claire and Dana took photos in combination after combination of guests and family. Then Claire nudged Dana. “Let’s get one of the two of you.” Mary’s throat tightened as she realized this might be the first photo of Sara with the woman who could potentially become her mother-in-law. She couldn’t ask for a better one.
Sara beckoned to Maddie, and then Mary. “Come on. You guys get in here, too. One more, Mom.” One turned into several as they added Annie, and then Claire and Elise. Finally, Mary sank into an armchair, and turned her attention to Claire, who was banging a spoon against a glass, attempting to begin the activities.
When the games were over, and the prizes distributed, everyone began making their way to the luncheon tables, and regrouped. Penny Archer, director of the food pantry, sidled up to Mary. “Sure is nice to have you back, Mary. I hope we didn’t work you too hard this week.”
Claire turned, eyebrows arched. “You were at the library and the pantry this week?”
“And she’s helping us get organized for the Spring Fling,” Jane chimed in.
Mary wanted to muzzle her. The Spring Fling was the annual local arts and crafts event at the church. Mary’s only role was calling artists and vendors to double-check their attendance and requirements. Easy to do from a sitting – or lounging – position. She didn’t miss the look Claire exchanged with Dana.
“Wow,” Claire said. “You’re keeping yourself busy.”
“Making calls. I can’t run but I can still run my mouth. Imagine that.”
Dana leaned across and squeezed Mary’s arm. “I’m glad you feel up to it.”
A few minutes later, when the guests were seated and ready to enjoy the sesame chicken salad and fruit Claire and Dana had prepared, Claire flopped down beside Mary. “You trying to kill yourself, or what?” she whispered.
“I’m trying to be normal.”
“Ha! That’ll be the day.” Claire gave her a light nudge. “Sounds like you might be overdoing it a bit.”
Mary knew her friend was concerned. Still, the criticism rankled. “I know what I can handle, Mother.”
“What happened to hibernation?”
Mary shrugged. “Hawaii.” She raised her brows. “Seemed like a pretty good reason to come up for air, don’t you think?” She pushed up her sleeve. “Unfortunately, my golden tan has disappeared. Thank you, Kansas.”
“Ah, the magic of vitamin SEA. All right, then. I’d better get back to my hostessing duties.”
Mary grinned. “Because, speaking of overdoing it…”
Mary considered joining her in the kitchen and attempting to help out. That would be normal. But she decided not to risk it. She might be more hindrance than help. Instead, she joined the conversation about baby names and nurseries.
“I have a name picked out, but since I’ve already told everyone it’s a girl, I’m keeping the name a secret,” Sara told them.
Mary was dying to know, but she hadn’t pushed. She agreed that a secret was more fun.
“And the nursery is almost finished.” Sara glanced at Mary. “I think my dad is putting the crib together today.”
Mary nodded. “I believe that was the plan.” It would be the finishing piece. The small playroom that had later become the kids’ study room was now transforming to a nursery. Since it was upstairs across the hall from Sara’s room, Mary wouldn’t spend much time there, but they’d have plenty of baby gear in the main living space as well. Her own rocking chair was on order.
Dana clapped her hands. “Okay, ladies, grab your drinks, get a refill, and let’s see what’s in all these gorgeous packages.”
Looking around, Mary debated whether to head to the powder room or try to discreetly fish her Advil out of her purse – until she realized she’d left the purse in the living room. Asking Annie to get it would just alert her that Mary needed something. Suck it up, Buttercup, she told herself. She flexed her knees under the table before standing. Three steps later, she let out a sharp yelp as her cane caught on a chair leg, and her knee buckled.
“Mom!” Annie gasped.
“Mare!” Claire caught her arm as Mary grasped the chair to steady herself. Only one knee connected with the floor. But every head swiveled her direction.
Embarrassment heated Mary’s face. The last thing she wanted was to be center of attention. Hanging on to the chair, she stood as straight as possible, willing her legs to stop trembling. She forced a smile. “I’m fine. Just got tangled up. Annie, could you grab my purse off the sofa, please?” Mary jerked her head at Claire. “Go start.”
Dana quickly changed places with Claire. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Just a bruised ego,” Mary told her. “Really. You go on in.” Mary swallowed the pill, and took a moment to regain her composure, then quietly joined the group. A chorus of oohs and ahs broke out as each gift was unveiled. So many adorable outfits, bibs, blankets, books, and toys. So much fun only weeks away now. Her eyes met Sara’s, and she grinned. Looked like the shower was meeting expectations – not only to make sure Sara had the necessary equipment for a baby, but to heighten the excitement and anticipation of her arrival.
Sara stood to pull some pink fluff from a long, flat box. She held it against her face. Eyes shining, she looked at Dana. “Oh, my gosh. It’s so soft. Did you make it?”
“I did. I’m glad you like it.”
The hand-knitted blanket was cotton-candy pink with matching satin edging. “Oh, that’s a keepsake for sure,” Mary said. She was constantly amazed at the range of Dana’s talents. And her patience. Mary silently thanked her friend, once again, for being so loving and supportive toward Sara and this baby.
“Last one,” Claire said as she deposited a huge box next to Sara. “This one is a group effort.”
With her stomach in the way, Sara stood sideways to rip the paper and reveal a snazzy car seat.
“Wow, that looks like the Maserati model,” Mary said. “Very nice.”
“Only the best for this munchkin,” Dana told her.
“This is much nicer than the one we got for my car,” Mary added.
“You’re still driving?” asked Marcia Hurst, their new librarian. She’d been a late addition to the guest list, having become acquainted with Sara during the planning for the grand opening.
“Oh, yes.” Mary caught the surprise in Marcia’s eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ve still got my license. And if my legs give out on me, I’m getting a car with hand controls.”
“Really?”
There was no mistaking the doubt in her voice. “Absolutely,” Mary countered, glancing around the room. “We’ve been looking online. It’s amazing what they can do. I’m not going to spend the rest of my days sitting around the house.” She glanced at Sara. “Oh, the places we’ll go with this little sweetheart,” she said, borrowing a line from Dr. Seuss. So they might not make in any farther than the city park, or the backyard, but damn it, she wasn’t ready to admit defeat.
It took Mary a moment to realize that an uncomfortable silence had settled over the group. Having just witnessed her clumsiness they probably thought she was unstable and about to put her granddaughter in danger – a thing she would never do.
Sara, bless her, broke the tension. “We might even want to put this seat in your car, Mom, since it’s bigger and easier to get in and out of.”
For once, Mary cheered the fact that Sara wasn’t a worrier.
“It’s good to have two, anyway,” Dana added. “It’s a hassle to switch them out.”
Mary shot her friend a grateful smile. “Exactly. Who needs that aggravation?”
With the mood restored, Mary took a long drink of her pink raspberry punch, glad to turn the stage back over to Sara, where it belonged. Looking around, her heart warmed as she realized how far Sara had assimilated into the Whitfield community. Sure, some of the guests were Mary’s friends, but the mayor and the new librarian were there because of their new relationship with Sara. She’d become acquainted with them and other business leaders. She’d become personal friends with the cute gal she’d hired as a graphic designer and reconnected with a high school classmate.
Truth was, she fit right in. Mary knew Sara didn’t really want to be back in Whitfield, but it seemed to be growing on her. Or maybe she’d just accepted the situation for now and would high-tail it back to Dallas when Mary– when she no longer needed to help her. Or Tulsa? Mary doubted Sara had a burning desire to live in Tulsa, either.
Was it possible that her daughter could be part of a new generation of Whitfield women? Young women who raise their children, form lasting friendships over school events and volunteering and hold the community together?
The only thing that would make Mary happier was if she were around to see it.