At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories)

by Bretton, Barbara

  He had no right to do this. All they had left between them was the secret of the love they had shared. They had been apart for over eight years now. He had taken lovers. He had a daughter to love, while she had a cat name Pyewacket and a few memories. What more could he possibly want?

  The storm had yet to turn into a full-fledged nor'easter but it was bad enough to keep her inside most of the day. Laquita had taped her ankle and after thanks to the ice and elevation, Gracie could get around with only the slightest limp. She ran out once to buy some more apples and brown sugar at the market and was forced to endure some very embarrassing comments from Raymond at register one and half the produce department. Despite the possibility of even greater embarrassment, she swung by the animal hospital to see Doctor Jim who greeted her warmly.

  "So you're back," he said as they grabbed coffee in his office. "How's the big city treating you?"

  "Not too well," she said, suddenly tired of putting a good face on everything. "I screwed up royally and I'm on suspension."

  She gave him the details, sparing nobody, and he nodded.

  "What would you have done?" she asked him. "Would you have suspended me for saving a healthy animal from being put down?"

  "Yes," he said, "and then I would have taken you out to dinner to thank you for doing it."

  He didn't ask why she had left Idle Point but she did notice an open copy of the Gazette on his desk.

  "Will I see you at the Adamses' Thanksgiving table tomorrow?" he asked.

  "Absolutely," she said, hiding her surprise. She had had no idea that the Adamses and Doctor Jim were friends. "Please tell me that Ellen is making her famous candied yams." She remembered them fondly from church suppers when she was a little girl.

  His face clouded and she instantly knew she had said something terribly wrong.

  "Ellen died last year," he told her, his dark eyes welling with tears. "She put up a brave fight but in the end she lost."

  She didn't know what else to do so she hugged him.

  "Come back home to stay, Gracie," he said as she said goodbye. "You know this is where you're meant to be. Don't wait until it's too late."

  #

  Doctor Jim's words lingered with her as she pared apples and rolled pie crust. Don't wait until it's too late. She was barely thirty years old. Not even at the halfway point in her life.

  "Doctor Jim said the strangest thing to me today," she said to Ben, who was putting together a window seat for Pyewacket. Pye watched the endeavor from atop the television set across the room. "He said I should come back to Idle Point before it's too late. Do you have any idea what he meant by that?"

  Ben put down his hammer and considered her question. "He's still pretty raw from losing Ellen. That can make a man sit up and take notice of how quickly it all spins by."

  "I'm not exactly AARP material yet," she said dryly as she reached for the cinnamon. "There's plenty of time."

  "I thought that too, Graciela. I was only forty-one when your mother was killed in that car crash."

  She stopped what she was doing. She all but stopped breathing. This was the first time in her entire life that he had directly referenced her mother's death.

  He leaned back on his heels, hammer dangling from his right hand, and met her eyes. "You've probably heard some talk along the way about your mother and me."

  She leaned against the counter for support. "Yes," she said. "I have."

  "Most of it was true," he said. "We had what you'd call a difficult marriage but I loved that woman with all my heart and in the end I know she loved me too."

  "I-I'm sure she did, Dad." You don't know what Simon told me, Dad. She was leaving you, taking me with her. She was going to run off with another man.

  "We had our troubles, don't get me wrong. At one point we were going to throw in the towel and call it quits once and for all, but then out of the blue you came along and it was like God opened up the gates of Heaven and let us in."

  She looked down at her hands, willing herself not to cry. For almost thirty years she had dreamed of the day her father would open up to her and now that he was, she wanted to turn and run. You're pretty good at that, aren't you, Gracie. You proved that Monday with Noah.

  "I wasn't her first choice," he said. "She loved somebody else all through high school but I was always there. I knew what I wanted and I was willing to wait." The best-looking, most popular couple at Idle Point High. King and Queen of the Senior Prom. The ones most likely to elope on graduation night and live happily ever after. "Except it didn't happen that way," Ben said with a small laugh. "You see, the King of the Prom wanted more out of life than your mother could give him. He loved her but he didn't love her enough to look past her family and the fact that she lived in one of those shacks near Milltown. He tried, I'll give him that, but in the end he couldn't separate the girl he loved from the family she came from and he married somebody else."

  "Ruth Marlow," she said in a whisper.

  "You knew?"

  "I saw the yearbook a long time ago," she said.

  "Your mother was a beautiful woman," he said, memory softening his weathered features. "Prettiest girl ever to come out of Idle Point."

  "I've heard... things," she said, forcing each word out with increasing effort. "That my mother was—" How do you ask your father if your mother, his wife, had been unfaithful to him?

  "She was a good mother," he said fiercely. "The best. She loved you with her heart and soul and she would never have done anything to hurt you."

  "I know but—"

  "When we found out she was expecting you, everything changed. After all those years of praying for a miracle, we had one right there growing in her belly—" He stopped for a moment as the memories threatened to overcome him. "I didn't ask," he said fiercely. "She came to me with a miracle. I wasn't about to ask why."

  Or how. He didn't say the words but Gracie heard them just the same. Simon had been telling the truth. She had often wondered how he could hate his own child, the child of the woman he loved, and maybe this was the answer. Her birth had brought Ben back into the picture for good.

  "The day of the accident," she began, her voice quavering. 'Where was she going?"

  Ben looked at her curiously. "You had an appointment with the pediatrician. One of those six-month checkups. The doctor said he had never seen your mother look happier or more beautiful."

  "You're sure we were on our way home?" she persisted. "You're positive?" Simon had said that she was on her way to be with him, that the three of them were going to run away together and leave Idle Point and everyone in it far behind.

  "Yes," he said. "She stopped at the convenience store for a quart of milk and the chocolate donuts I like. Eb found them in the back seat."

  Gracie's knees gave way and she grabbed for a kitchen chair. Truth mixed with lies. Lies mixed with truth. She saw clearly now how much Simon must have hated her. Her birth had put an end to his dreams of a future with Mona. Whatever else her mother had done wrong in her life, in the end she had chosen to stay with the man who had loved her unconditionally right from the start.

  Ben helped steady her. "I shouldn't have told you all of this," he said, looking so much older and sadder than he had a few minutes ago. "We weren't saints, your mother and I, not by a long shot, but in the end we found our way back to happiness because of you. You were the one who turned us into a family."

  He placed his hand on her shoulder. She reached up and placed her hand on top of his.

  "I love you, Graciela," he said, his voice breaking on her name.

  "I know," she said, leaning her head against his arm and closing her eyes. "I know you do." She tried to tell him how she felt but the words weren't there. Not yet. But for the first time in her life, she knew it was only a matter of time.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ben had headed out around two o'clock to a bachelor party given by his A.A. friends from Bangor. He asked her to tell Laquita that he would pick up the wedding favors fr
om the printer while he was there. Gracie finished the pies around four-thirty. There was something comforting about rolling dough and arranging the strips in a latticework pattern the way Gramma Del had taught her to do. It made her feel connected to family and tradition and after so many years away from home that felt good.

  She set the pies to cool on the counter then cast a sharp look at Pyewacket. "You wouldn't would you?" she asked the sleeping feline then set up a barrier just to be sure. Laquita had called awhile ago to say she'd swing by around five o'clock to pick up Gracie so they could shop for a wedding outfit for her which meant Gracie had less than thirty minutes to shower and change.

  Apparently there was more to being her father's best man than she had realized. There was wardrobe, for one thing. Laquita had suggested that she wear a variation on the bridesmaid dresses and when Gracie asked where she could purchase one on such short notice, Laquita had laughed and said she'd show Gracie after work.

  "Very funny," she said when Laquita pulled up in front of the big house on the hill that evening. A wicked wind drove the rain into the windshield at an alarming rate making the brightly-lit house look like a haven. "The Chases are selling bridal wear these days?"

  "Not quite," Laquita said, "but you do need a dress and this is the best place to find one."

  "I'm not following you. Don't tell me Mrs. Chase is a seamstress."

  "Not that I know of," Laquita said as they both exited the car, "but my mother is."

  Gracie felt like the slightly slow third-cousin twice-removed. "And your mother is—"

  "Living here," Laquita supplied. "Along with my father, three brothers and my baby sister Storm." Plus three cats, two dogs, and a half-dozen parakeets. "I can't believe nobody told you. It was big news around here for quite awhile."

  Gracie tried to imagine the stately mansion bursting at the seams with pets and children but that was more than her brain could handle. She wondered what Gramma Del would think of this remarkable turn of events. Somehow it made sense in a strange kind of way. She would never forget the sight of Mrs. Chase laughing at the kitchen table with Laquita's flamboyant aunts as if they all shared a particularly juicy secret. How long ago was that, she wondered. Another lifetime at least. Mrs. Chase had looked as comfortable at that old Formica table as she did in her own drawing room and Gracie remembered being struck by that fact. It had seemed most remarkable at the time.

  "I can't go in there," she said, thinking about Noah and all that had transpired between them. "Especially not after those newspaper stories."

  "Oh, don't worry. You won't bump into anyone. We respect each other's privacy. Mrs. C. gave my family the entire downstairs except for the main rooms. We have the garden extension, the rooms built off the kitchen, the old servants' quarters. I haven't seen Mrs. C in at least two months."

  All Gracie could do was stare at Laquita in amazement. For a town that hadn't changed an iota in its two-hundred-plus year history, it had sure been busy the last ninety-six months. Next thing she knew, she would find out Ruth Chase had taken a lover and was planning to move to Monte Carlo.

  "There's no way I'm coming here for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow."

  "Will you stop worrying? I told you, we have completely separate living quarters. Besides, I hear Noah is taking his mother and Sophie out to some fancy restaurant in Portland."

  They hurried through the downpour to the back door, the one she remembered so well from the days when Gramma Del cooked for the Chases. She even remembered the gouge the size of a quarter dug into the frame when six-year-old Noah accidentally hit it with a baseball bat. The kitchen itself was much the same as when Gracie had last seen it, a warm and inviting haven on a cold and rainy night. Rachel Adams had added touches of her own that had made it even more appealing. One wall was now lacquered a deep red and hung with shiny copper pots of varying shapes and sizes. The cabinets had been restored to their original pine and the floors tiled in a shade that reminded Gracie of toasted almonds. Pots of flowers hand-picked from the greenhouse graced the countertops, the table, the refrigerator. The smells of cookies and pies and breads were downright intoxicating. Huge piles of fresh vegetables awaited tomorrow's Thanksgiving feast while a big pot of chili simmered on the back burner.

  The second that door closed behind her, she was five years old again with Gramma chopping carrots at the sink and Noah coloring at the kitchen table and Ruth Chase hovering nearby. Some of her happiest moments had been spent in this kitchen. Some of her very best days. She had to shake her head to physically drive away the memories.

  "Rachel!" Laquita's voice rang out as they approached the back hall. "We're here for a fitting."

  Two shaggy mutts bounded into the room, both with tails at full mast.

  "They're the image of Wiley!"

  "They should be. They're his offspring." Wiley was almost fifteen years old now. He spent his days sleeping at Ruth Chase's feet, dreaming of his youthful exploits.

  Gracie knelt down on the tiles and let the animals sniff her hands and forearms before she started to pet them. It was one of the first things they'd taught her at veterinary school and it had saved her numerous trips to the ER. "Are they yours or the Chases'?"

  "Both," Laquita said. "The lines get blurrier every year."

  An alternate universe, that was what it was. Gramma Del, are you watching this? The Adams-Chase household! Can you imagine?

  "Let's check out the sewing room," Laquita said. "They're probably all in there."

  "Great." Gracie was a shameless snoop. She peeked in every room they passed as they walked down the back hallway toward the sewing room. She saw a beautiful den with two sofas and a fireplace. She saw three bedrooms, each one more handsomely appointed than the one before. Two baths. One Jacuzzi. A laundry room that would make the Maytag repairman proud. There wasn't a fingerprint or speck of dust anywhere. Gracie had seen operating theatres that weren't as perfectly maintained.

  The sewing room was at the end of the hall, to the right of the door that led out to the garden. Shouts of female laughter spilled into the hallway. Gracie felt a sharp pang of envy that Laquita had been lucky enough to be part of such a happy family. When she was a little girl she used to wish she could be part of Laquita's family, just sneak into the little house by the river and blend right in with the crowd. Ben was a lucky man. No more lonely Christmases, no more New Year's Eves spent with a bottle of Scotch and a handful of memories. The Adams clan would see to that.

  "Well, there you are!" Rachel Adams leaped to her feet to greet them. "We were wondering if the two of you had forgotten about us."

  "You knew I had to work," Laquita said with the weary sound of affectionate exasperation Gracie had heard in the voices of countless other daughters over the years. "We didn't even stop for supper."

  "Of course you didn't," Rachel said, enveloping her oldest child in a big hug. "You knew I was making chili for everybody."

  Gracie stood in the doorway, feeling awkward and jealous and all points in between. The room was a jumble of midnight blue satin, ivory lace, a large black sewing machine near the window, tea cups, platters of cookies, and more adorable young women than you would find on the pages of Seventeen Magazine. They all looked like variations on Laquita with long shiny dark hair and deep brown eyes and lush figures.

  Rachel stepped away from her daughter and opened her arms wide. "Gracie Taylor!" she exclaimed. "Welcome to the family."

  So many familiar names attached now to almost grown-up bodies. Even Storm, the baby, looked like a young woman now and not a little girl.

  "I feel so old," Gracie said with a laugh as they all trooped into the kitchen for bowls of chili and homemade bread. "What happened to all the little kids I remember?"

  "They grew up," Rachel said with a shake of her head. "Sometimes I think that's why I had so many of them. I was hoping one of them would stay little for me."

  For a moment Gracie understood. How hard if must be to watch your child grow up and move away fro
m your circle of protection. Still, if appearances were any indication, Rachel and Darnell had done a great job with their kids. She asked about the boys—Morocco, Sage, and Joe—and wasn't surprised at all to hear they were in college and doing well. They were expected home any minute for Thanksgiving Day weekend.

  "Laquita was our wild child," Rachel said, casting a fondly bemused glance at her eldest daughter. "Sometimes I think we asked too much of her and that's why she needed to rebel."

  Laquita, who was about to bring a spoonful of chili up to her mouth, groaned. "Like Gracie really wants to talk about that," she said. "Helloooo, Rachel. I'm about to marry her father, remember?"

  "This is a small town," Rachel reminded her daughter. "We don't have any secrets. Besides, I'm just commenting on how well you turned your life around."

  Giggles erupted from the knot of teenage sisters at the far end of the table. Gracie's heart sank.

  "I love the Gazette," the one named Cleo piped up, her lovely dark eyes dancing with mischief.

  "Me too," said Vienna, her twin. "Especially that new column..."

  They convulsed in laughter that garnered a sharp look from their mother.

  "Quiet," said Rachel in a tone Gracie could only describe as maternal warning mode. "I'm sure Gracie has been teased quite enough about Noah's column."

  Gracie couldn't help it. She groaned then rested her forehead on the tabletop. "Why does everyone think he's writing about me?"