Just One Thing (16 page)

“That evening, after dinner, Connie brought me down her Grace Book, and I started reading her memories of her sister. I entered a memory of my own that night and as I wrote about Gracie’s antics, I laughed. And I realized I’d passed the tipping point. My memories might not beat out the pain, but I could sometimes smile at a thought of Gracie. I don’t think a mother can ever totally recover from losing a child, but that night I started to heal. I think I finished my healing process here, with you.”

Sam seemed flustered by that and simply asked, “Did you continue to write in Connie’s Grace Book?”

“Yes. She left it out after that. Even Conner wrote in it. Connie took it with her when she went to college, but sometimes, I think of a Grace story and email it to her and she adds it.”

I hadn’t seen the Grace Book in a long time and I suddenly felt an urge to read it again.

I’d call Connie and ask her to bring it next time she came to visit. Maybe for Thanksgiving.

“One thing,” I said to Sam.

“The bar in Pittsburgh finished what Grid had started. I finally came back to life. But my life wasn’t in Pittsburgh. I told my mother I was leaving Pittsburgh and moving here . . .”

“Sam, sweetie, you look great,” his mother said in her customary greeting.

Sam figured he could walk in with a full-blown case of the flu and her greeting would be the same, because after seeing him comatose and then in recovery, anything else was gravy.

“So do you, Mom.” He kissed her cheek and followed her into the living room. She’d called and asked him to come over, which worked out well for him, because he’d planned on calling her anyway. He’d put off telling her his plans because he knew she wasn’t going to be happy, and he figured he’d given his mother enough unhappiness for one lifetime.

“Mom, I wanted to—” he started, but she interrupted.

“Sam, it’s been a long time since your father died. Since then it’s been just the two of us. But, as you know, I’ve been dating for a while now and Richard and I are planning to get married.” She said the words in a rush, as if afraid of his reaction.

Sam had watched his mother with Richard, and the news wasn’t exactly a surprise. “’Bout time he made an honest woman of you,” he teased, then hugged her. “Congratulations, Mom.”

She let out a long exhale, as if she’d been holding her breath.

She’d been nervous, Sam realized. “Really, Mom, I’m so happy for you.”

This time she sighed, but it didn’t sound like nerves. It sounded more like contentment. She smiled then. “He’s coming over in a bit. He wants to ask your permission, which I know must seem old-fashioned, but he likes you, Sam.”

“And I like him. Seriously, I’m happy for you, Mom. He’s a lucky man.” He figured there would never be a better time, so he added, “And I hope you’ll be happy for me. I bought a bar.”

“You bought a bar?”

“Well, I discovered that I’m a pretty good bartender. People seem to like talking to me. But I’m not really satisfied working for someone else forever, so I bought a bar.”

“I thought maybe you’d go back—” she started.

He cut her off. “There’s no going back for me, Mom. Buying the bar is about moving on to the future.”

She didn’t react for a minute as she digested that, then finally she nodded. “Well, moving into the future is great.” She was poised to hug him.

He quickly added, “It’s not in Pittsburgh, though.”

His mother’s arms fell back to her side. “Where is it?”

“South of Erie. Less than two hours from your place. Close enough to visit whenever you want. I promise to get a place with a guest room for you and Richard.”

At her fiancé’s name, her face brightened. “I guess we’re both moving on.”

“But never moving away from each other. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Sam.”

“Mom and Richard will be here for Thanksgiving,” he said. “I’d like you to meet them.”

I nodded. “I’d like to meet them, too. I mean, it’s only fair. You’ve met my mom.”

“Speaking of your mom,” Jerry said from the far side of the bar. “You ever bringing her back in?”

I nodded. “I’m betting we can talk her into it.”

“Why don’t you invite her to Thanksgiving?” Sam offered. “Your kids, too, if you think they’d come.”

“Thanksgiving?”

Jerry chuckled. “I think the boy is inviting you to Thanksgiving, too. He just neglected to include that part.”

Sam rolled his eyes at Jerry. “Of course, you’re invited, too. Since Mom and Richard are coming, I thought I’d put together a traditional Thanksgiving dinner here at the bar for anyone who doesn’t have somewhere else to go. I could use a hand. That was a hint,” he added in case I missed it.

“Lucky for you, I have two hands that don’t need much of a hint.”

I walked home that night and it felt like it could snow at any moment. There’s a certain crispness that hits right before the snow. The ground felt crunchier under my feet and there wasn’t a cloud overhead, just a black, black night sky filled with stars and a half-moon.

I could see my breath in the moonlight and I was thankful I’d worn my heavy wool socks. I’d have to pull out my boots soon, not just because of the potential snow, but simply for the warmth.

I watched my breath come out in vivid puffs and felt a sense of anticipation. I’d call Mom and the kids tomorrow. It wouldn’t be a traditional Thanksgiving, but somehow I didn’t think they’d mind. I knew I didn’t.

That week, I was happy. I added a picture of The Corner Bar to the tapestry. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t added it before. It had become a very important part of my life.

No, it was more than the bar. It was the people. Sam. Jerry. Joanie, the waitress and occasional cook. She never really waited on me. To be honest, I’d hardly noticed her until recently. She’d flitted at the edges of the bar, steering clear of Sam and me on Mondays.

I realized that everyone gave us a wide berth and I knew it wasn’t because they wanted a barrier between us, but rather it was because they were being considerate of Sam and me.

I hadn’t noticed the others until lately. It was as if I was so focused on Sam and our one-things that I hadn’t taken in the rest of the bar. But now, working on the picture of its exterior, I was very much aware that there were more people inside than just Sam and me.

That awareness stuck with me on Monday. I waved at Joanie, who was serving a table at the back of the bar, and I gave Jerry a friendly chuck on the shoulder as I walked by. “Mom said she’d come to Thanksgiving. The kids, too.”

His eyes lit up. “I’m glad.”

I was, too. I was glad that I was here, in this bar, surrounded by friends. I was glad it was Monday. I know most people groan on Mondays because their weekend is over and they have to get back to whatever their work is. When I was teaching, I’d occasionally contract a case of Monday-morning-itis. But when I’d moved to the cottage, there’d been nothing to separate the days. No school days and weekends. No church on Sundays. One day had simply bled into another.

Until I started coming to The Corner Bar.

I’d been in limbo and now . . .

Sam slid a Guinness my way as I took my stool.

“Look, you put a little shamrock in the foam.”

“I worked on it all week.”

“You’ve got mad Guinness skills, Sam.”

“One thing?” he asked amicably.

I hadn’t come with a topic in mind, but looking at the Guinness, I knew what I wanted to say. “Lee and I gave our marriage another chance. We dated and then one day, he said, ‘Let’s make it official,’ and we went down to the courthouse and were married again. Just the two of us, a judge, and some staff who served as witnesses.”

“Not the kids?”

I shook my head. “Lee said that our marriage before had been about the kids; now it was time to be selfish, to make it about us. He asked where I’d like to go on a second honeymoon and I answered without hesitation—Ireland. We planned on spending two weeks there.

“It was summer vacation for me, so I could do it, but I worried about Bernie. I wanted to see if Connie or Conner would come home and stay with him, but my mother offered to take the dog. She wasn’t happy to see me back with Lee, but she said she wanted to show her support.”

“She loves you,” Sam said.

I nodded. “So we got married at the courthouse; then we went to Ireland.”

The small white cottage stood nestled on Glenariff Glen. Lexie could see the sea from the house. Lee said things smelled fishy, but Lexie thought the entire area smelled of the sea and of magic—of new beginnings and hope. She reveled in it.

They planned to use the cottage as a home base and branch out from there to explore the Irish countryside. Her family was from the area. A grandfather, five generations removed, had come from here.

They walked through Glenariff Forest Park every day. There was a long trail, with a wooden bridge walkway. Lexie felt almost content as they stood, looking at the small waterfall.

Only almost content because there was some niggling little worry at the back of her mind. It didn’t matter what they were doing; it was there. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. On the surface things were good. But she found herself watching Lee for signs of that changing.

Lexie pushed away her worry and concentrated on the waterfall. It was spectacular. She’d been to Niagara Falls any number of times in her life, since Buffalo was only a few hours
away. This was not that kind of waterfall. It was small and surrounded by rocks and foliage.

“It’s so green.” The words were just a whisper on an exhale.

“Do you want to go somewhere today?” Lee asked. “Giant’s Causeway? The cemetery? You know there are Morrows there. You always said you wanted to look for your past here.”

She took his hand and realized why she hadn’t started looking, hadn’t started doing any of the things she’d planned on doing. “I don’t want to look at the past today. Not mine. Not ours. Not even distant family members. I want to look to the future, Lee.”