A week went by, then two. Mark hadn’t called. Coryn was wracked with all kinds of doubts.
Why hadn’t he called? Was he on assignment, out of town? Maybe Ginny was sick. Some childhood illness, like chicken pox or mumps? Still, he would have called, wouldn’t he? He must have seen how fond she’d become of his little girl. She would have sent her a funny get-well card or a book or a game she could play in bed.
As each day passed, Coryn had to wonder if she’d handled things wrong again. With Mark, as she had with Jason. Come on too strong, seemed too eager? But with Mark, everything had felt so natural. So relaxed. So right. There’d been a spontaneous camaraderie, shared interests.
There was definite physical attraction, as well. She was sure of that. His kiss the evening they’d gone to the play, the kiss on the beach, the kiss that evening they’d spent together at his house. That had not been a casual kiss. It had awareness, excitement and passion. Passion held in check, but nevertheless, it had been there. What’s more, Mark couldn’t have mistaken her response to the kiss. Had she opened herself up too soon? Maybe that was it.
She’d thought a lot about relationships since Jason. She’d decided that Jason’s rules of no strings, no commitment was shallow and wrong. Integrity, generosity, accountability was what she was looking for, what she wanted to give. Mark had too much character to play games.
By the end of the second week she hadn’t heard from him, Coryn gave up making excuses. There could be any number of reasons. She wasn’t going to allow herself to brood. She hated that she had regressed to listening for the phone, hoping Mark would call. Nonetheless, one afternoon when the phone rang she jumped to answer it.
“Hello.” She sounded breathless, eager, even to herself. However, it was a woman friend of her mother’s. Disappointment washed over her.
“Coryn? Is that you? It’s Lucy Prentis. Is your mother on her way?” Her voice sounded extremely annoyed. “We’ve been waiting forty-five minutes.”
“On her way?” Coryn repeated vaguely.
“Yes, of course.” The irritation in Mrs. Prentis’s voice increased. “This is our bridge day. The four of us have been playing bridge twice a month for nearly fifteen years. This is the second time your mother hasn’t shown up.”
Coryn felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. “She isn’t here, Mrs. Prentis. Maybe she had an appointment…I really don’t know.”
“An appointment? None of us ever make an appointment on our bridge day.” The woman’s tone was full of exasperation. “I simply don’t understand it, Coryn. She could have at least called so we could have gotten a substitute. As it is…we’ve wasted another—”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Prentis.”
“Never mind. It’s not your fault. I just wish if Clare has something else she’d rather do on these days, she would say so. Not ruin it for all of us.”
Coryn didn’t know what to say. Lucy Prentis and her mother had been close friends for as long as she could remember. It seemed odd that her mother would have forgotten a long-standing bridge date. Then she felt that elevator-drop feeling in the pit of her stomach. Or was it so odd? Not in light of the other puzzling incidents Clare had exhibited in the time Coryn had been home.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Prentis,” Coryn said. “I’ll tell Mom you called.”
The phone clicked. Coryn could imagine the expression on Lucy Prentis’s face as she went back to the bridge table to inform the other two ladies that Clare had done it again.
Coryn put down the receiver. She felt a kind of sick jolt. She’d been so self-absorbed lately, preoccupied, she hadn’t been aware that her mother might be having problems again. As she stood thinking about it, the back door opened and Clare walked in wearing an old sweater, jeans, gardening gloves. Her face had a smudge of dirt on one cheek and she had on a battered canvas hat. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. Seeing Coryn, she smiled. “I’ve been planting bulbs. They’ll be gorgeous in the spring, grape hyacinths and jonquils.”
Coryn started to tell her about Mrs. Prentis’s irate call but something held her back. Her mother looked so happy she didn’t have the heart. She would find out soon enough. Lucy Prentis wasn’t known for tact.
Her mother seemed perfectly normal. Coryn was lulled into thinking that some of this might have to do with menopause. When she looked up symptoms for this what she learned felt rather reassuring. The severity of problems depended on the individual woman.
For the next ten days Coryn’s attention focused on her mother. But even under this alerted observation Clare seemed normal. She went about the house doing the usual things. Perhaps she was a little quieter, a little distant, but on the whole herself.
Late one afternoon her mother tapped on Coryn’s bedroom door, leaned in to say she was leaving to go to the grocery store. An hour later when Coryn went downstairs she found Clare sitting in the kitchen, staring blankly, her eyes confused, her expression troubled. Her car keys and grocery list were on the table in front of her.
When Coryn came in, her mother looked at her. “Darling, the craziest thing, I can’t remember where the grocery store is. I’ve driven around, but I keep turning down the wrong streets, I just don’t know…” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head helplessly.
Coryn felt a clutching sensation. She seemed to go on automatic. Somehow her voice managed to sound steady as she asked, “Do you still shop at ReddiRite?”
“Yes, of course. I always have. That’s what makes this so insane.” Her mother was genuinely baffled.
Gathering herself together quickly, Coryn asked, “Well, don’t worry, Mom. I’ll drive you.” She attempted a laugh. “I think I remember how to get there.”
Clare still looked unconvinced. “I just don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. I feel so foolish.” She sounded exasperated, but she didn’t protest Coryn’s offer to take her.
The supermarket where they had shopped for groceries for as long as Coryn could remember was only a short distance away. It was, however, nearly five o’clock and the parking lot was crowded with late shoppers and people shopping after work. Coryn finally found a space, pulled in and turned off the engine.
Instead of immediately getting out of the car, Clare remained sitting there. “Want me to go in and help you, Mom?” Coryn said after a moment.
“Oh, honey, I don’t know. Suddenly, I’m not feeling so well. Would you shop for me?”
Again Coryn felt a rush of anxiety. “Sure, Mom. Give me your list. I’ll make quick work of it.”
Her mother fumbled in her handbag and brought out a long slip of paper, and gave it to Coryn.
“Will you be okay? Would you like me to get a cola out of the soft-drink dispenser for you to sip while I shop?”
“I’ll be fine, dear. I’ll just roll down the window, get some fresh air.”
Inside the store, Coryn looked at the list and had another shock. Her mother’s handwriting was almost illegible. The scribbled items staggered crookedly down the page. It was hardly coherent. She’d just have to play it by ear, Coryn decided, pocketing the list. She grabbed a cart and started down the first aisle.
She felt breathless, disoriented. If only she had someone to talk to about her mother. Someone objective and not as involved in the situation as her father, someone with whom she could discuss her worry. But who? Mark’s name came to her. If anyone, he would be the one compassionate enough, sensible enough. Mark would be the one, if she told anyone…
It was then that she saw two familiar figures just ahead of her, Mark and Ginny. She started to hurry to catch up with them then stopped herself. She felt awkward. It had been over three weeks since that evening at their home that had seemed so comfortable, so mutually enjoyable. She’d hoped-no, more than that, expected him to make another date. For just the two of them to go out to dinner, where they could talk. She had felt they were on the brink of something to be explored.
Suddenly Coryn was stricken with feelings of insecurity. Maybe she’d read too much into their being together. She had felt happy and hopeful. She loved Ginny, too. Had already begun to imagine how she could make the little girl’s life happier…create a home that would be what Ginny had said wistfully a dollhouse family should be—with a daddy and a mommy.
As Coryn hesitated, Ginny turned around, saw her and waved. “Hi, Coryn.” She tugged on Mark’s sleeve. “Look, Daddy, there’s Coryn. Oh, Coryn, I have something so exciting to tell you!” Was it Coryn’s imagination, or did Mark look embarrassed? He had too honest a face to hide what he was feeling. He did seem ill at ease. Why?
Then the blow struck. Ginny’s little face was flushed, her eyes alive with excitement. “Oh, Coryn, I got my kitten! Orange, like I wanted, ‘cept she has little white paws. And I called her Sunny just like I said.”
It took all Coryn’s effort to keep from looking at Mark. The three of them were supposed to have gone to the animal shelter to help Ginny select a kitten. It was something Mark had talked to her about. Something they had planned to do together. She was the one who had persuaded Mark to allow Ginny to have a pet.
Swallowing her hurt, Coryn said, “Oh, I’m so happy for you, Ginny. I bet she’s precious.”
“She’s in the car in a box. We couldn’t bring her into the store.”
“Ginny, you were going to pick out the right kind of kitty food,” Mark said.
Coryn glanced at him. He was definitely uncomfortable. Had he forgotten he had asked her to go with them? Or had he just thought better of the idea? Thought better about everything?
Stupidly, she felt like bursting into tears. Something like this shouldn’t throw her. People forgot appointments, arrangements, plans…every day. Well, some people did. But not Mark, a small voice inside her head taunted.
When Ginny had gone happily down the aisle on her proud-pet-owner errand, it left the two of them standing awkwardly. A few inches apart. Worlds apart.
“I’ve been assigned a special feature series,” he told her finally. “Lots of research into local stuff. Lots of interviews, that sort of thing. I’ve been swamped. Haven’t had much free time.”
Coryn stiffened. He didn’t need to make excuses. She got the message. He’d had second thoughts about them. He wasn’t planning to see her again anytime soon. And to think, she had almost…
“That should be interesting.” She kept her voice even. “I’ve been busy, too, working on updating my résumé,” she said briskly, smiling brightly. “Trying to make myself irresistible to a prospective employer.” The minute she had said that, she could have bitten her tongue. “Well, employable anyway.”
A cheerful voice came over the store’s PA system. “Howdy, shoppers. Today’s smart shopper’s specials are on canned whole-kernel corn and hearty salsa in aisle four. Thanks for shopping Reddi-Rite.”
Ironic, Coryn thought, my heart is breaking in the canned-foods department of the supermarket. She had to get away, yet she seemed rooted to the spot.
Coryn felt immensely thankful when Ginny came back with a large box of dry cat food and wedged it carefully beside the laundry detergent and cornflakes in Mark’s cart.
“Well, I better get on with my shopping. Mother’s waiting in the car for me,” Coryn told Mark. “Bye, Ginny,” she said to the little girl. Swiftly she wheeled her shopping cart around Mark’s and rushed down the aisle, not looking back.
Well, she didn’t need things spelled out. It couldn’t be any clearer. She could read between the lines. She’d had plenty of practice, hadn’t she? With Jason. She was smarter now. At least she had thought she was. Of course, Mark hadn’t tried to con her, use her the way Jason had. He was putting it right on the line.
Mindlessly she put food items in her cart. How on earth she would make a dinner out of any of this she could only guess. She knew she had not gotten half the things on the unreadable grocery list. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting out of there as quickly as possible. Out of the store. Away from Mark.
She stood at the checkout counter, biting her lower lip nervously, praying he didn’t finish his shopping and join the same line or the one opposite hers. Her face felt stiff and stretched.
How many times did it have to happen to her before she saw the light? Showing your true feelings only made you a target. Being honest meant getting hurt. She thought she’d learned. But Mark seemed so different…Mark seemed—oh, how did she know? She wasn’t good at reading people. Hadn’t experience taught her that, if nothing else?
“We’re all in this alone,” comedian Lily Tomlin had quipped. Maybe that was true. You couldn’t count on anyone. Trust anyone. How could she have forgotten that? Been crazy enough to hope?
Oh, why was the woman ahead of her being so slow? Coryn tapped her foot impatiently. The woman was carrying on a long explanation with the clerk about getting the wrong kind of dishwashing detergent. The clerk was sending the bag boy back down the store to exchange it for the right one. More delay. Coryn began to feel hot, choked. Exasperated. Desperate.
Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw Mark and Ginny approach. She looked down into her cart, as though seeing if everything was there. Finally, the line moved. She unloaded her items onto the counter. The cash register was clicking. The clerk said something she didn’t hear, she got out her wallet, hand poised to pull out the necessary bills. Thank goodness, at last. Her purchases were bagged, put back into the shopping cart and she rolled it toward the exit door.
Outside, the rush of cold air in her face revived her. Then she heard a voice behind her. “Miss, miss…”
She whirled around.
“Your change, miss.” It was the bag boy. “You forgot your change.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said, thrusting the money into the pocket of her jacket. She stowed the groceries in the trunk of the car.
It was only when she was behind the wheel, fastening her seat belt that she realized her mother was no longer on the passenger side. Her heart literally stopped. She turned cold. Where in the world was she?
It was getting dark now and the shopping center was crowded with shoppers, cars. Coryn pulled the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. Standing beside it she looked around frantically. Which way could Clare have gone? Breathing hard, Coryn walked back toward the Reddi-Rite entrance.
People in a hurry pushed loaded carts out through the automatic doors. No sign of her mother there. Should she go right or left? A number of smaller stores flanked the large grocery building. She couldn’t have got too far, Coryn told herself. She’d only been in the store fifteen, twenty minutes.
Her heart hammered as she hurried down the sidewalk, checking the entryway into each store along the way. Then she saw her mother. She was standing in front of the display window of the variety store at the end of the block. Weak with relief, Coryn hurried toward her.
“Mom!” she said, grabbing her arm. “You scared me half to death. I didn’t know where you were-”
Her mother turned to her with a wide-eyed stare. “Why, honey, I’m sorry…I just was doing a little window-shopping. Look at that dear little carousel. Isn’t that sweet? Wouldn’t that make a darling gift for Mark Emery’s little girl?”
The mention of Ginny was like salt in an open wound. She was still smarting from the hurt of what had just happened. Her own pain caused her voice to be sharp. “I don’t know, Mom.” She tugged at her coat sleeve. “Come on. It’s late and we better get home before Dad. He’ll be worried.” He’d be even more worried if he knew about today, Coryn thought. She put her hand through her mother’s arm and led her back to the car.
Dear God, what next?
Coryn was taking deep breaths as she got back in the car and slid behind the wheel. Her hand shook as she inserted her key into the ignition. Pulling out of her space, she went forward to make the turn into the highway, and saw Mark’s station wagon. Foolish tears stung her eyes. She remembered an especially happy time they were all together. On their way home from the beach…singing.
It hurt, but then, she’d been hurt before. It was her own fault. Expecting too much, taking too much for granted.
Well, what had she expected? To dump on Mark right there in the middle of the canned section between sliced pineapple and cream of chicken soup? To tell him how worried she was about her mother? And even if she had and he had listened sympathetically because he liked her mother, what could he do? She would just have made him uncomfortable. People only listen to other people’s troubles if they have to, or if they’re paid to. That’s all they can do, for fifteen minutes or an hour, at most. Then they go their own way, back to their own lives, feeling relieved that your problem, the one they’ve just heard about, isn’t theirs. It’s as if troubles or disasters were somehow contagious. If you get too close to one, you might contract it yourself.
Oh, I don’t blame you, Mark, Coryn thought as she turned into the driveway. I wouldn’t want to hear about this, either. If I had a choice. Which I don’t.
“God help me,” she prayed aloud as she got out of the car. Saying it, she knew only He could.