shook her head, placing the shoe back on the worn carpet. Then she turned for the stairs, heading for bed.
She woke first, finding him facing the back of the couch, snoring loudly. She smiled, then nearly shouted; Laurel sat at the kitchen table, looking pensive.
“Good lord honey, you scared me to death!”
Laurel stood, leading Andrea to a chair. Then she peered around the corner. “Grandma, who the hell is that guy?”
“You make any coffee yet?”
“Grandma…”
“Start some coffee honey. I need some joe.”
In jerky movements Laurel did as she was told, but Andrea was just as shaky from feelings not conjured since right after Carl died. A widow at sixty-two wasn’t that old, but she wasn’t a filly either, some odd stretch of years that to anyone younger looked like a vast field of emptiness. Sexual barrenness, Andrea sniffed. That sound caused Laurel to turn her way.
“What?” Andrea asked.
“Grandma…”
“Coffee first.”
Laurel clucked, which made her grandmother smile. Then Thom choked, and Andrea nearly got up. They had slept together all night only a few times, and he had made that sound when he was close to waking. But she needed a few minutes with just Laurel, not that Andrea had any idea of what she was going to tell her.
As the coffee brewed, Andrea closed the door to the living room. Mostly to keep the scent of coffee away from him, also to give the women some privacy. Laurel didn’t even let the pot fill, liquid dripping right into the cups. Both women took it black, and Laurel brought the mugs straight to the table, then reached for her grandmother’s hands. “All right, coffee’s cooling. Now who is he?”
Andrea stroked young fingers, then placed a soft kiss on Laurel’s knuckles. Laurel sighed. “Grandma, you can tell me anything.”
“Can I?”
Laurel glanced at the closed door. “You know all my secrets.”
For the first time, Andrea wasn’t staring at a child. “I suppose I do. But you won’t believe me if I tell you, so…”
“Grandma,” Laurel smiled.
“Honey, anyone else know about your baby?”
Laurel looked away, shaking her head.
“That’s what I thought. And that’s fine, it’s your private business. That man in there, he’s my private business. Now I’ll tell you, if you really wanna know. But like I said, you won’t believe me and…”
“Of course I’ll believe you.”
Andrea rolled her eyes.
“Grandma, what? Is he a criminal or something, or…” She giggled, then cut it off. “Did Grandpa, you know…”
“Did he what?”
Laurel sniffed her coffee, then tried the edge. “Did Grandpa, oh God, I can’t even say it.”
“Did he have an affair? You think Thom is Carl’s illegitimate child?”
Laurel’s nod was slight, her eyes on her coffee.
“No, he’s not Carl’s illegitimate son.” Andrea snorted, then smiled. “Although that’s a great excuse, maybe what I’ll tell people.”
“Grandma…”
“Laurel, you won’t believe the truth. Let’s just go with that. Carl had an affair and…”
“Grandma!”
“Well, it sounds plausible.” It was probably the only rationale any of them would accept. Thom was some lost soul, and Andrea sighed. This wasn’t what she had wanted to do that day. She hadn’t planned to go fishing either, had thought she might watch an old movie, or maybe one not so old, so many channels, but nothing good was ever on. Instead she was going to try explaining how a man from 1962 had turned up at her house…
Laurel stood, then pointed to the door. Andrea turned to Thom in his bare feet, otherwise dressed as he was last night, gaping at Andrea’s granddaughter.
Laurel helped the unstable man to a chair, his eyes all over her. He looked to Andrea, then asked for coffee. Laurel brought him a cup, black like theirs. He sipped it slowly, which made Andrea smile. “You always drank it so hot.”
He nodded, then gazed at the young woman. “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to frighten you, any of you.”
Andrea took his hand, then looked at Laurel. “It was just unexpected, for everyone.”
He nodded, then gripped her hand. “I’m gonna get my boots.”
“We’ll be here.”
He stood, giving Laurel another look. Then he left the room. Andrea heard him mumbling to himself. Then he headed up the stairs. “Probably forgot to pee,” she said.
Laurel nodded, then stared at her grandmother. “He looked at me like he knew me. How can he know me?”
“He thought you were me.” Andrea drank her coffee. “Honey, he’s not from here.”
“No shit.” Laurel took a drink of hers. “Where the hell’s he from?”
The toilet was loud, had been for years. Carl used to fix it, but that task had been lost, like so many other things. As Thom clomped down the steps, Andrea smiled, seeing more than fleeting interest in Laurel’s face. That was just how Andrea had viewed Thom the first time she saw him.
He cleared his throat, then entered the room. “I might like a bath today. Or you might want me to take one.”
“Both,” Andrea said. “Thom, this’s Laurel, my oldest granddaughter. I have three, and two grandsons. All of them were out with you last night. Laurel wants to know who you are. What should I tell her?”
In mid-drink, he struggled not to spit it out.
“I want the truth Grandma. If he’s not Grandpa’s…”
Andrea smiled. “I told you he’s not Carl’s son.”
“Who’s Carl?” Thom asked.
“Who do you think?” Andrea rolled her eyes again. “Carl was my husband and…”
Thom had taken her hand, but he stared at Laurel. “Christ, you look so much like her.”
Andrea blinked away tears, the scene as if Thom had woke in his own time, or maybe just a few years later, when Andrea was a little older. But she had married Carl, was already pregnant at Laurel’s age. All of life’s different paths swirled in the kitchen. Andrea took a small sip, washing them back down. “Laurel, if I tell you the truth, you have to promise to believe me. I won’t lie to you, but it’s pretty darn…”
Laurel nodded, still staring at Thom, his hands clasped around Andrea’s.
“I knew your grandmother…” He gazed at Andrea. “Years ago.” She nodded, and he continued. “We were…” He paused, then took a long drink.
He didn’t speak again, and Andrea finished. “We were lovers honey. Thom was my first, but he disappeared. And now, well, he’s here, fifty years too late, but there you go.”
On the sofa, the story wound from Thom into Laurel with Andrea between them. Andrea received sensual squeezes from Thom, crushing grips from Laurel. Sometimes Andrea closed her eyes as he spoke, especially when he called her Andy. She could be sitting on her mother’s couch, Thom trying to explain himself, once her parents let him in the house.
That yes, he was older, a whole decade, but Andy was so good for him. He had tapped his foot, clad in the boots she had purchased, then waved his arms, gesturing toward the ceiling as if showing how much he loved her. That spilled through his voice now just like it had then. He was still in love with her.
He began caressing her wrists, and she looked at him; his eyes were needy, his mouth twitched, he was so young. Then she peeked at her grandchild, who was crying silent tears. Andrea pulled from Thom’s grasp, embracing Laurel. “Oh honey, it’s all right, really.”
“Grandma, this’s, this’s…”
“Crazy, impossible, I know. But honey, I told you I wasn’t gonna lie. Thom hasn’t either.”
Laurel looked at him, then to Andrea. “Are you really trying to tell me he’s from 1962? That’s bullshit!”
Thom laughed, then slapped his leg. “Yeah, sure sounds nuts to me.”
She glared at him. “Who the fuck are you?”
Andrea bit her tongue as Thom spoke. “Th
at’s some mouth on you honey.”
“Don’t honey me, asshole!” Laurel stood, but trembled. “Maybe you’ve got her conned, but let me tell you…”
Andrea stood, then grabbed her granddaughter. “Stop that right now. If you don’t believe me, then just go. I won’t have that sort of talk here.”
“But Grandma…”
“Laurel, I’ve told you once. I won’t say it again.”
The younger woman crossed her arms, then shook her head. She stomped off, slamming the kitchen screen door.
Thom raced after her. Andrea followed, finding him with the screen ajar, standing half in and out of the house. Then he turned to her, his face equally split.
“What Thom?”
“I, I…”
She approached with care. “Are you gonna stand inside or out? Make a choice.”
“What choice do I have? I didn’t do anything. Why’d this happen to me?”
She shook her head, then shrugged. Taking his hand, Andrea brought him back into the kitchen.
She didn’t answer the phone until after lunch, by which time Thom was asleep. She spoke quietly in the kitchen, then stepped to the front porch, calling Sam back from her cell. The yard hadn’t changed much since Carl died, but it was altered from when Andrea had lived here as a young woman, when she met Thom. She had been raised in this house, then reared her daughters here. Samantha only wanted to know if that guy was still around.
Andrea couldn’t tell if Laurel had spilled the beans. “Yeah, he’s still here. Napping on the sofa. What else you wanna know?”
“Mom…”
“Sam, he’s here, and he’s not going anywhere. Now this phone’s beeping, probably needs to be charged. I’ll talk to you later. Bye-bye.” Andrea hit the red button, then
50 Years Waiting Page 3
