by Gail Cleare
Her eyes half-lidded as she relaxed and hugged Lulu close, Bridget remembered the first night she waited on the Longworth family and met their eighteen-year-old son.
Cole was tall, aristocratic, and clean-cut, headed to Yale in the fall. He absolutely reeked of old money and entitlement. That boy looked at Bridget as though she were an ice cream cone on a sweltering day in the desert. He just couldn’t peel his eyes off her. Naturally, she went right back to her bunk and changed from ponytail-with-tendrils, artsy, Danskin to loose-and-straight, preppy, J. Crew. She knew a good thing when she saw it, and he was the most beautiful sight she had seen all summer.
She remembered sneaking off after clearing tables to go skinny-dipping. Cole’s smooth, nearly hairless body was lean and toned from rowing on the crew team at his exclusive prep school. All these years later, Bridget could barely picture his somewhat generic face, but she still remembered those sculpted arms. His skin was the color of honey, and his hair was licked with blond from the sun.
She took him to the reservoir down the road, and they snuck under the fence. A big white moon was shining on the water, and it helped them find their way down the hidden path to the beach. Swimming was forbidden there, but the summer kids did it all the time.
Cole stripped off his T-shirt and shorts to stand there nude, daring her to follow. He watched while she slowly unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her bra, but before he could grab her, she wriggled out of her pants and jumped into the water. She knew there was a pretty deep drop-off where kids liked to cannonball into the water. Bridget flipped up her feet and dove like a seal, disappearing.
She heard him jump in and swim to where he’d last seen her. Bubbles rose as she floated back to the surface, gliding up along his slippery body. She could still remember feeling his erection bump against her as she slid past and pressed her breasts against his chest. He held her there while they floated in the dark water, wrestling, and he filled her mouth with his eager tongue. Her lips were bruised and swollen when she looked in the bathroom mirror before going to bed. She lay in her bunk that night and stared at the knotty pine ceiling, a maddening throb between her legs and her nipples tingling, and decided he would be the first. She wanted him. It was that simple.
That summer, Cole taught Bridget things about sex she had always wanted to know. Indoors, outdoors, in cars, in the barn, in the pool house, on the golf course, anyplace where they could sneak out of sight for ten minutes. They made love on the garage roof in the dark and lay there afterward, naked and sweating in the hot breeze, watching the stars. They talked about life, about sex, about protecting themselves from AIDS. He showed her how to carefully roll a condom onto his erect penis, and she loved the way he swelled even larger at the touch of her hand.
“Doesn’t it make the feeling less intense?” she asked, stroking him.
He nodded, watching her hands. “It’s worth it though, don’t you think? You should go on the pill too. All the girls are on it now. It’s safer.”
“In what way?”
“Condoms break sometimes. You should still use one unless your partner has been tested for diseases, but only birth-control pills are a hundred percent effective against getting pregnant.”
Bridget was coming into her power as a woman. She saw how it affected him when she licked him or squeezed or straddled him and bounced. In those moments, he was her slave. He would have done anything she asked just to be allowed to touch her breasts. Now she understood what it meant when other men looked at her that way, and she realized it could be used to her advantage. Sex could be a gift, a tool, or a potent weapon.
The affair went on for the whole of July and part of August. He had to go home, and so did she. They planned to get together when Cole was at Yale, which was only a couple of hours from Amherst, where Bridget’s family lived. At the end of the month, she missed her period. Weeks later, still nothing. She told Nell, who told their mother. Mom helped her write to Cole and wrote to his mother. But that was the end of Bridget and Cole’s relationship. When the letters arrived, his parents took over. They refused to be involved with her pregnancy, and Cole never communicated with her again. Bridget’s father talked her into doing what he thought was best, to have the baby and give her up for adoption. She had always felt that it was probably the same story for Cole. She didn’t blame him. Neither one of them ever really had a choice.
Bridget sighed, stroking Lulu to comfort herself.
She napped, on and off, until the sun came up over the landing strip and she smelled bacon and coffee. She took Lulu to the ladies’ room, where the poodle relieved herself on a doggie training pad and drank from a paper cup.
If only they hadn’t been so young when they met. Cole might have been the one. After all, they’d made a beautiful little girl together. Wherever she was, she had a mother who loved her and always would.
Too bad she’d never know.
Chapter 19
Mary ~ 2003
Mary shaded her eyes with her hand as she drove along Lakeshore Road. In the second weekend of October, the trees were at peak fall foliage, and the red maples and orange oaks glowed with rosy light. The wooded mountains along the highway coming north from her apartment in South Amherst had been utterly spectacular, but at the lake, it was all reflected in the water for a double vista—even more beautiful to Mary’s eyes. The crisp air wafted in through the open driver’s window.
“Hey. Here I am at last.” She waved to her friends, who sat gathered on the dock across the street for the sunset view, then she pulled into her driveway and stopped in front of the garage. Jake ran over and pulled the sliding door up, holding a squirming Winston while she drove inside. Mary stepped on the parking brake and turned the engine off, glad to be at home in Vermont again. She stepped out of the car and popped open the trunk to unload her things.
“Howdy, neighbor.” Jake doffed an imaginary cap. He put Winston down and watched him race to Mary’s side. “I knew you’d make it in time for the sun.”
She laughed as she reached down to pat Winston, who was leaping for attention. “I’m in time for the cocktails, not the sunset.”
“But it’s always time for cocktails…”
“Ha. Not after I brush my teeth, Jake. I do have some scruples.”
“So unless you brushed them in the car on the way up here, you’re right on time?” He winked at her and stroked his shaggy salt-and-pepper moustache, grinning.
“Exactly.” She closed her eyes for a second, turning her face toward the warm rays shooting across the water.
Jake’s voice came from close by. “Okay, then let me take your bags inside while you go join the party.”
She opened her eyes. He was standing with one arm propped against the car next to her shoulder. He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the cheek, and she ducked to open the car door and put it between them. She frowned a warning at him, but he just grinned again.
“There’s a chair and a gin and tonic waiting for you. Just watch this little rascal on the road. He’s feisty tonight.”
Mary grabbed her bag of snacks and tucked Winston under her arm. “Thanks,” she said, backing away. Then she turned and strolled across the street to walk down the dock and say hi to the group of neighbors who were clustered there with coolers and trays of appetizers. She chose a seat next to Ginnie.
“Hello, my dear.” Mary greeted her friend with a hug around the neck. She found the drink Jake had mixed for her and took a long sip.
Ginnie’s hands were busy with her plate and cup, so she didn’t return the hug, but she smiled and welcomed Mary to the gathering. “Ready to help out for the big day tomorrow? We’re all exhausted, but everything is ready. We’re celebrating.”
When Mary had come through town, she’d seen the town green was set up for the annual Fall Festival. One of the events was a charity auction that Jake and Ginnie had been runnin
g for years. Jake donated some of the used furniture he and Adam had been unable to sell at the antiques barn, and others in town did the same. The money raised was donated to the Hartland Public Library.
“I saw the stage and chairs set up and waiting,” Mary said. “It all looks wonderful. I like the new striped awnings over the food booths.”
The conversation moved along and around them as Mary and Ginnie put their heads together.
“You look a little tired. Is driving back and forth to Massachusetts taking its toll?”
“No, no… it’s fine. I just stay in the slow lane and let everyone pass me. I wish I could see better in the dark. My new glasses don’t work very well. I can’t read the signs at all. Luckily, I know the way.”
“I hate wearing glasses, don’t you?”
“Yes. It’s bad enough still getting hot flashes at night. At my age, that’s supposed to be over and done with. Now I need reading glasses to look at a menu and distance glasses to drive my car. It’s ridiculous.”
“I know.” Ginnie fanned herself with an empty paper plate. “For me, it’s hot flashes all day long too. I feel so damn grouchy. It’s like bugs are running around under my skin. Know what I mean?”
Mary looked at her. “Not really,” she said, one eyebrow raised. “Bugs?”
“Oh, you know.” Ginnie’s eyes flashed with impatience. “That itchy, crawly feeling. Right before the heat explodes and you start sweating. I can’t stand it. And Jake… he’s so cool and collected I’d like to kill him.”
“Well, you are a few years behind me,” Mary said. “It does get better as time goes by.”
“Still, it’s just not fair that Jake gets to look more and more handsome every year while I have sagging skin and the joys of menopause. Memory loss, weight gain, a new allergy to my laundry detergent… sometimes I think I’m losing my mind.”
Jake rejoined the group, pulling up a lawn chair next to the two women. “So,” he said, pulling his cap down to meet his sunglasses. “What are we talking about, girls?”
“You really don’t want to know.” Mary laughed.
“If you say so, I believe you. Anybody need a refill?”
“Yeah. Here you go.” Several of the men tossed their empty cans at him. Jake fielded the empties deftly, opened a cooler, and tossed beers toward his buddies, who caught them with smooth expertise. The sound of tops popping echoed across the water as they all watched the sun settle down onto a bed of pines across the lake.
“There she goes,” Jake said, and everyone nodded. The sun moved faster then, slipping down behind the jagged silhouettes. It was whole, then half, then quickly it sank to just a thin sliver of gold that coated the rim of the horizon with dazzle. And then it was gone.
Mary’s neighbors applauded, and from the docks down near the town beach came whistling and cheers.
Everyone began to stand up and fold their chairs, gathering their things to head for home.
“Good night, all,” Mary said, waving as some of her friends went off down the street. She turned to Ginnie, who was still sitting in her chair. “Need a hand with your things?”
“I’ve got it,” said Jake, hoisting their cooler up onto his shoulder. “Come on, Virginia. Time to go.”
“You go,” Ginnie said with a nasty gleam in her eye. “I’ll stay with her for a change. It’s my turn.”
Mary glanced at Jake uneasily. He shrugged and turned to go. As he passed his wife, he reached down and took her hand, tugging on it.
“Come on, Virginia. Time to make dinner. Be a good girl, and I’ll treat you to my world-famous cabbage steaks tonight.”
The dark mood seemed to pass, and Ginnie laughed. “Oh, no, anything but that.”
“Cabbage steak?” Mary said, doubting her ears.
Ginnie glanced at her as they walked across the street. “He must have cooked it for you one of these nights. When the two of you…” She turned her head, and her voice trailed off.
Jake frowned and shook his head silently at Mary, who had taken a breath to protest. “Virginia, don’t get yourself carried away with imaginary trouble.”
“Oh, I won’t, Jake. I don’t have much of an imagination. You ought to know that.”
Mary quickly went up her driveway into the garage, where Jake had left the light on by the kitchen door.
“Come, Winston. Bye. See you tomorrow.” She waved and reached up to slide the garage door closed. She saw them walk down the sidewalk to turn the corner onto their street.
What on earth had that been about? There was nothing going on between her and Jake anymore and no reason for Ginnie to behave that way. No reason at all. All these years, they had been nothing but friends, the three of them. Despite substantial temptation. Mary had been lonely, and Jake was always very… attentive. Ever since they’d met, there had been such a strong attraction between them. It had not been easy to resist, but Mary didn’t want that kind of trouble. There was too much at stake for everyone.
She hoped it was just the menopause starting that had upset Ginnie. They did say some women had a hard time with depression when their hormones were changing.
Feeling a little spooked, Mary went inside and carefully locked the kitchen door.
Chapter 20
Nell ~ 2014
When Nell went back to the hospital early the next morning, she immediately noticed a difference in the manner of the nurses standing at the desk in Intensive Care. They greeted her with cautious eyes.
“What’s the matter?” she said, immediately fearful. “What’s happening?”
She peered into Mom’s cubicle, where the lights were dimmed and the TV was turned off. It was strangely quiet inside. Nell realized that the breathing tube had been removed from her mother’s mouth and the constant sucking noise of the machine had been silenced.
“Fantastic. The doctor took away that awful machine, thank God.”
The women looked back at her without comment.
“It is good news, right? She’s better, isn’t she?” Nell could see Mom’s chest moving up and down, proof that she was breathing on her own. She wasn’t coughing or wheezing. She still looked frail and shrunken in the bed, though, as if the infection had taken its toll on her strength.
“The doctor wants to talk to you, Mrs. Williams,” one of the nurses said. “We really don’t know anything except that her condition is still serious. I’m sorry.”
“Oh. All right. Is he here now, at the hospital?”
The nurse suggested that she sit with Mom while they paged the doctor. It was good to see her mother’s face again after days of seeing the ugly breathing tube taped into her mouth. Mom slept on, stirring every once in a while. Her eyes would flutter open for a moment then close, and she would drift back off. Once, she muttered something incomprehensible in protesting tones and tried to sit up, looking around wildly without focusing then falling onto the pillow again, asleep.
Nell asked the nurses to check on her. They said it was probably a reaction to the drugs, and not to worry. But it didn’t seem right to Nell. She felt something was on Mom’s mind—something had changed. The day before, she hadn’t been upset. In fact, the opposite. They had spent the day together happily, and her mother had seemed peaceful, even serene.
Nell went out to the nurses’ station. “Was anyone here to see her earlier today? Before I came?”
“No, nobody’s been by today,” the nurse said. “Not since I went on duty at nine o’clock anyhow.”
Nell paced back into Mom’s cubicle.
She sat in the bedside chair and stared at her mother. Then she noticed something on the little table that hadn’t been there yesterday, a book about gardening. She picked it up and looked inside the front cover.
“Virginia Bascomb,” the spidery handwriting said, inscribed in blue ink acro
ss the title page.
Nell’s jaw tensed, and her eyes hardened.
A knock came from the doorway, and she turned to see Dr. Hicks standing there. His expression was solemn, and when he smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes. He beckoned, and she went out into the hallway to hear the news.
“What’s happening? How is she?”
“We removed the breathing tube late last night,” he said. “Keeping Mary on the respirator any longer would have made it hard to wean her off it. The infection has improved, and her lungs will probably continue to clear. Of course, there’s always a chance of reinfection.”
Nell knew that secondary infections were common in hospitals, where super-bacteria that resisted antibiotics lurked. “So we’re not out of the woods yet?”
“No. But if all goes well, she could move to a rehab facility in a week or two. Her insurance won’t let us keep her here if she’s stabilized.”
“How long would she be there?”
“It’s hard to say. Maybe a month, maybe two, maybe… six. She might recover well and go home again. Or she might go from there into a nursing home, where they can care for her permanently. To be frank, she’s very weak, and at her age, the odds are not great.”
“I see.” Nell swallowed hard.
“You do know, I hope, that when your mother was admitted, she signed a DNR order? Is this something you have talked about?”
“A what?”
“A do-not-resuscitate order. It means that if she arrests, we are not to try to revive her. She doesn’t want to be kept alive by machines.”
Nell stared at him. Obviously, he thought there was a real possibility that this might happen. Her heart sank, and she swayed, a bit nauseous.
The doctor’s cell phone rang, and he turned away to answer it.
Nell folded her arms close to her body and walked outside to sit on the bench near the hospital entrance. Sunlight beat down on the top of her head as the day warmed up. She leaned back against the brick wall, her emotions spinning. She had been fooling herself. Mom would probably never get better, not really. This was the beginning of the end. Things would never be the same again.
