Thanksgiving came as a welcome distraction. It took her mind off what she’d done. If she’d had time to think about it she might have regretted her impulsive decision. She was sure she’d been right about Jason. Breaking off would have eventually happened anyway. What bothered her was, now what? Not knowing the answer, helping her mother gave her a chance to put off making any immediate decisions about her future.
This year for Thanksgiving, besides Coryn’s aunts, her father’s two sisters and their husbands from Redding, her father’s lawyer Martin Prentis and his wife Lucille, old time friends, several other local couples had been invited. When Coryn asked her mother why some of these were being included in what had always been a family occasion, the answer was, “Well, Neil wanted some of the people that are urging him to run for the assembly. Actually as a kind of courtesy.” That was also the reason her mother gave for having the turkey and most of the trimmings catered.
“But what about your famous candied sweet potato casserole and creamed onions?” asked Coryn in surprise. These were two of her mother’s specialties.
“Oh, everyone’s on a diet these days,” was the offhanded reply. “With the extra people Neil invited, it just seemed—” she paused, “I haven’t been doing much entertaining lately…”
Coryn accepted the explanation. Preoccupied with her own new problems it sounded reasonable enough. She pitched in to help with some of the details of preparing for her parents’ guests. These mainly consisted of polishing the silver, arranging the flowers, and creating a cornucopia of fruit as a centerpiece for the buffet table.
Coryn moved through the day itself as if playing a role, smiling, chatting, answering questions about her life in L.A. casually. She was glad when evening came and all the guests had left. It was only when she was alone in her own room that she then faced the decisions she had made, the steps she had taken and confronted what she would do next.
Thanksgiving morning Mark got up late. The day was gloomy and windy. The sky dark, heavy with clouds threatening rain. He got up, put on his bathrobe and slippers. As he passed through the living room, he flipped on the TV. In the kitchen he dumped some cornflakes into a bowl, then clicked on the automatic coffeemaker.
The sound of the TV blared and he went to turn it down. The famous New York Thanksgiving Day parade was being telecast with its marching bands, floating air-balloon figures, baton twirlers and horseback riders. He watched for a few minutes, hoping the Bartons had turned it on for Ginny. She loved it. She recognized all the cartoon characters and called out their names, clapping her hands happily. His heart twisted. He missed her. Maybe he should have stayed in San Raphael with her, in spite of the memories.
The scene changed to a commercial and Mark went back out to the kitchen. His coffee was ready and he poured some into a mug. Gulping it, he stood staring out the window over the sink. It was beginning to rain. A gray steady rain that he knew would last all day.
Good thing there’d be marathon football. From California to Florida some of the biggest college teams would be playing. It would fill up the empty hours of this long day yawning ahead.
Noon found him still in his bathrobe in front of the TV, not knowing which team was even playing, which was winning or losing. Mindlessly watching the constantly moving figures on the screen, Mark’s thoughts were far from points and scores.
He used the remote to change channels. Sleet fell heavily at the traditional Army-Navy game. The players battled through the soggy turf. Click, click. Sunshine in Florida. Click. In Michigan snow fell.
Mark’s finger poised above the button, mesmerized by the picture of snow flurries. Snow. Always reminded him. How could it not? Squaw Valley nearly four years ago.
They’d been on one of their favorite vacations, their first since adopting Ginny. A ski weekend. It was wonderful. Ginny at two was fun, easy to take with them, enjoying everything. Shari was the skier. It was a sport she loved, and she was a good skier. Mark was a klutz on skis and had taken Ginny sledding so Shari could be free to run the slopes.
Then the unexpected, the unthinkable, happened. A freak accident. The ski lift broke, tumbling skiers thirty feet. Shari had hit her head and had been killed instantly.
A minute before, she had been laughing, waving down at him as he held Ginny in his arms. “Just one more time,” she had pleaded when he suggested they call it a day, go back to the lodge. She had been having such a good time…
Click, click, Mark switched channels. Then he stood up, turned off the set. He looked out the window. A gray veil of rain darkened the afternoon. He turned abruptly and hurried to his bedroom, flinging off robe, pajamas as he did. Couldn’t stay holed up like this another minute. Rain or no rain, he was going jogging. He pulled on his sweats, tied his running shoes and left the house.
Stepping outside on the porch, the cold, wet wind stung his face. He warmed up by running in place a few minutes, then set out through the misty rain.
An hour later he was back, blood tingling, muscles aching, but feeling better. After a long shower, he shoved a frozen pizza into the microwave and studied the TV listings. The movie channel was playing a John Wayne retrospective. The Quiet Man was scheduled next. Why not? Mark got the pizza out, put it on a tray and carried it into the living room and settled down in his easy chair. Some Thanksgiving, he thought with grim humor. Next year, it would be different. He’d make sure of it.
He settled back to lose himself in the movie. In two more days he’d go back to San Rafael, bring Ginny home and life would get back to normal.
Yet, it would never seem the same without Shari. Ginny needed a father and a mother.
For some reason, Coryn Dodge came into his mind. Her eyes, so clear and candid, yet still holding a kind of mystery. What was she really like when you got to know her? Mark had the impression there were layers to her personality. Things he would find interesting, intriguing, exciting. Not that he’d ever know. She was going back to L.A. after the holiday.
The morning after Thanksgiving Coryn awoke at seven. Her inner alarm clock working, she guessed, it was the time she usually got up to get ready to leave for the office.
It took her a few minutes to compute that she didn’t have an office to go to, didn’t have to fight the early-morning freeway traffic. L.A. and everything there was now history.
Tossing aside the covers, she got out of bed. Outside, early-morning fog swirled She pulled on a sweater and an old pair of jeans she found in her closet and went out into the hall.
The house was quiet. On her way downstairs she passed her parents’ closed bedroom door. They must be still asleep.
To her surprise her father was in the kitchen, making himself a cup of coffee, something she had rarely seen him do. He looked preoccupied. When he saw her, he lifted his eyebrows.
“You’re up early. Thought you’d sleep in this morning after being up so late last night.”
“I was awake. I thought I might as well get up,” Coryn said. Ranger rose from his place under the table and, tail wagging like a metronome, came stiffly over to her. She rubbed his head, “Mornin’, old fella.”
“’Fraid you’ll have to make coffee. I settled for instant,” her father said. He glanced down at the newspaper on the table. “I’ve got an early meeting and didn’t want to take the time.”
“That’s okay.” She moved past him, got the canister of coffee down and started to measure it into the paper-filter cup. She gave him a curious look. He seemed on edge, as if something troubling was on his mind.
“By the way, Coryn, I haven’t told you how glad I am you decided not to go back to L.A.” He folded the paper and pushed it aside on the table. “I hope you won’t try to get another job for a while. I was serious when I suggested you help with my campaign, if there is one. But aside from that, it would be nice for you to be here, keep your mother company. I think she gets pretty lonesome. Not good for her.” He paused. “Your mother misses you, honey. You know, the only chick, the empty nest syndrome. She’d love to have you home for a while. We both would.”
That her self-confident, self-absorbed father needed her had never occurred to Coryn before. That he would verbalize it caused a little pinch of anxiety.
Her father glanced at his watch, took a final sip of his coffee, then set down his coffee mug. “Got to be off. Meeting at eight.” He put his hand on her shoulder, kissed her cheek. “Think about it, honey. We really love having you home.”
After her father left, Coryn felt puzzled. She thought of the subtle tension she had been aware of between him and her mother. Did he think her presence would act as a buffer somehow? Distracted by the thought, she plugged in the coffeemaker, and shoved two pieces of wholewheat bread into the toaster. While waiting, she stood at the sink staring out at the gloomy landscape. Wind tossed the limbs of the tall pines in a wild dance against the pewter sky. She had forgotten how long, dreary Rockport winters could be and suddenly felt depressed. Sometimes she had also been depressed in L.A. sunshine. So how she felt had nothing to do with the weather. Rather, she had shut one door of her life, slammed it actually, and she couldn’t see another door to enter yet. The sound of the toast popping up diverted her attention. Enough of this, she told herself, as she buttered it. She’d read somewhere that physical activity was the best antidote for depression. As soon as she’d had some coffee she would take a walk.
Still, she couldn’t shake the conviction that something was wrong here. Terribly wrong. Maybe this was just some sort of temporary phase. She’d noticed her mother’s reaction to that Falvey man talking to her father about running for the assembly. Maybe they’d disagreed over the possibility of his going into politics. Whatever it was, it was upsetting the usual smooth surface of the Dodges’ home.
A walk, that’s what she needed. A long walk. She took down her jacket from the peg near the back door and put it on. Ranger’s tail began to thump. His leash hung on one of the other pegs. All she had ever had to do was rattle it and Ranger was up and ready to go.
“Want to go, fella?” Coryn asked, automatically reaching for the leash. Ranger tried to get to his feet, slipped on the vinyl floor. He sank back down, put his muzzle between his front paws, looked up at Coryn, as if to say, Sorry, these old bones won’t take me where I used to run.
Coryn replaced the leash, stooped down to caress the dog affectionately, kiss the top of his head. “It’s okay, boy. Another time.”
Outside it was damp with the chill of a typical north-coast winter day. Hands deep in her flannel-lined pockets, head bent against the wind, Coryn quickened her pace. Gradually, new energy kicked in. She felt a tingling sensation in her arms and legs. Her heart rate increased.
She walked on mindlessly in the chill air, paying little attention to where she was going. Fog dripped from the tall Douglas firs along the way, she felt it beading her scarf. She tugged up the collar of her jacket, looked around. She had come much farther than she had meant to, preoccupied with thoughts that tumbled like a child’s alphabet blocks, the numbers and letters on them making no sense. She stopped, shivering with cold, to get her bearings. She had walked out of the familiar residential area into an older section of town. In the distance, through the fog, she saw the blurry lights of a neon sign spelling out the words Al’s Diner. It had been a favorite hangout in her teen years. She was about two blocks from the high school. She hurried toward the diner. She decided a cup of hot coffee would warm her up for the homeward trek.
The air inside the diner was steamy, thick with the smell of frying bacon and sausage from the grill. She ordered a coffee at the counter then slipped into one of the red-vinyl booths.
The waitress brought the coffee in a thick white mug, set it down in front of her and whipped out an order pad. “Our special today is potato pancakes or apple turnovers with sausage.”
Coryn stared at the woman for a stunned moment. It was like being in a time warp. The same red V-shaped apron and headband. She must be a hundred years old. Hadn’t she worked here when Coryn was in high school?
The waitress waited, her pencil poised. “So which will it be?”
Coryn shook her head and said, “Just this coffee, thanks.”
The waitress looked a little offended then went off, pocketing her order pad.
Still feeling somewhat dazed, Coryn wrapped both hands around the mug to warm them and cautiously took a sip of the scalding-hot coffee.
“Coryn.”
Hearing her name made her jump. She set down the mug, spilling a little, and looked up, right into Mark Emery’s warm brown eyes.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He stood beside her table. “I was just surprised to see you. I mean, I thought you were going back to L.A. after Thanksgiving.”
“That’s okay. It was just that I was sort of spaced out.” She mopped up the spill with the edge of a paper napkin.
“May I join you? Or would you rather be alone?”
“No. I mean, fine. Please do.”
Mark slid into the seat opposite her. “I always stop here to get coffee to go and a doughnut to take to the office with me. I was surprised to see you here.”
“This used to be an old high-school haunt. I was out walking, and just thought I’d drop in to warm up.”
He opened the top of the plastic coffee container he’d been holding and spooned in some sugar from the dispenser. He stirred his coffee for a minute while looking across the table at her.
Even at this early hour, Coryn Dodge looked undeniably attractive. Her eyes bright, her skin glowing from the outdoor exercise.
“I thought you’d be back in L.A. by now.”
Coryn shook her head. “Not yet. I’m staying through Christmas. Maybe longer. It depends.”
Her vague answer seemed to puzzle him. He gave her a quizzical look, then said, “I’m afraid I have disturbed you.”
“Not at all,” she quickly protested.
“You sure? You seem…”
“I’m sorry. I guess I was just doing some heavy thinking. Not advisable this early in the morning.” She gave a small laugh. “I guess if I decide to stay in Rockport, I have to figure out what I’ll do. I’ll have to find a job of some kind. I don’t even know where to look. This town has changed a great deal since I lived here.”
“For the better?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure. It seems like I’ve been away for a long time. At least it feels that way.
“Meaning L.A. is light years from Rockport.” He sounded amused but his eyes were sympathetic. “It does take getting used to. But I’m finding I like the slower pace, the laid-back life-style.”
Mark checked his watch. “Gotta run. I’ve an appointment out in Field’s Landing. I’m doing a feature on seniors. It’s turned out to be fascinating. Each person I’ve interviewed is different. Some regard old age as the end, while others are like kids, enthusiastic, looking forward, trying new things.” Mark shook his head. “Funny, some people are old at fifty, others young at eighty.” Mark took a final sip of his coffee and stood up. “It was nice seeing you again. Now that you’re staying, maybe we’ll see each other again.”
“It’s a possibility.” She smiled. “It’s a small town.”
He smiled then, too. A smile that brought a warm light to his deep brown eyes and caused Coryn’s pulse to quicken. Then, with a wave of his hand, he was gone.
Coryn remained a few minutes thinking about the coincidence of running into Mark so soon after their encounter in San Francisco. It was a small world. Chances are they would see each other somewhere again. That is if she really decided to stay in Rockport.
She left the diner and started back toward home. So many jumbled thoughts crowded into her mind. She knew she had made the right decision about Jason. That wasn’t what troubled her. What she should do next was the problem. Her father’s words this morning had bothered her. There was something beneath his casual suggestion that she stay home for a while. But what?
Her parents had always seemed completely content together. In fact, sometimes she had even felt they didn’t need anyone else—not even her-to be happy. The ideal couple. That’s how she had always thought of them. That’s why it seemed so odd-Coryn brushed aside the worrying thoughts that crept back. Was her parents’ perfect marriage coming apart?
She turned in the driveway and saw the kitchen light was on and her mother was standing at the window. When she saw Coryn she smiled and waved. Coryn waved back, feeling reassured. Maybe she had let her imagination run away with her. Everything was fine. Just as it had always been.