Moments In Time (11 page)

11

H
OME.
S
HE PONDERED THE WORD AND THE IMAGES
it called up.
Where is my home now? Could it ever again be here, in this house we’ve taken over bit by bit until it’s reflective as much of me as it is of his mother? Can I go back to that house we’ve shared for so long in the States, the house we’d resurrected from ruin and made our own, where we greeted each new child, every one save Jesse a
nd Lucy conceived under its roof?
And how could I go back to my hometown, with seven children in tow, no longer the girl from Kelly’s Mills upon whom fortune had bestowed more than anyone could ever have imagined: a storybook romance; a long and happy marriage to a well-known celebrity; beautiful, healthy children.

The irony of it was not lost on her, that she had all but hidden J.D. from her conservative family for so long, fearful her parents—most particularly her father—would have dismissed the man she loved as a witless, shaggy-haired punk who couldn’t find a real job. And now she could not face going into that house and telling them it was over, her marriage had failed, that she was once again headed for divorce court.

Looking back on how she had so closely guarded her relationship with him, she could all but feel that same sense of impotence that had seemed to envelope her and render her mute every time she had tried to mention his name under that roof. A rock-and-roll singer would have been he
r parents’ dead-
last choice as a son-in-law.
We are always our parents' children,
she sighed,
no matter how old we get. We always carry the same expectations within us, theirs as well as our own
…

K
elly’s
Mills, where Maggie had been born
and raised, was a pleasant two-hour ride northwest of Philadelphia. Virtually unchanged since her childhood, it boasted wide boulevards, lined on both sides with tall oaks and maples and pines. The large, comfortable old clapboard houses, built toward the turn of the century or earlier, spoke proudly of its past as a well-to-do college town, made accessible by the railroad, made prosperous by its fabric mills, which were located on the outside of town and still operational. A large town green overlooked a picturesque lake surrounded by playgrounds and picnic areas. A tidy business district where the merchants sold their wares from the old brick buildings, carefully renovated, lined both sides of two blocks on Main Street. She could just as easily be driving into any one of a thousand towns, in Indiana or Massachusetts, Kentucky or Minnesota.

She loved the familiarity of it, loved seeing herself in memory’s mirror skating on the frozen lake as a child, seated in one of the oak booths in the local soda shop after school, riding her bike to the little brick library by the lake, climbing the steps of the old firehouse to attend dances there on Saturday nights as a teenager. She wished she could bring J.D. there, so she could show him who she was and where she’d come from.

She turned off the main road onto her old street, driving slowly, noting all the changes in the neighborhood—a new paint job here, a new fence there—until the large pale yellow three-storied house with the dark blue shutters came into view. She couldn’t wait to see her family. She’d hardly
seen them since she’d met J.D., and she was embarrassed that it had taken a major family event—her cousin Kathleen’s wedding—to bring her home again.

Colleen, the youngest Callahan, was watching for her, half seated on the railing around the big front porch, which wrapped clear around to the driveway side of the house. She jumped off as the car pulled into the drive and was at Maggie’s door to open it and pull her sister from the car when the engine was shut off.

“You’re awfully strong for a sixteen-year-old. Where’d those muscles come from?” Maggie hugged her, planting a fond kiss on her forehead. Was it her imagination, or had she had to stretch just a little higher to reach the top of that freckled face? “And why aren’t you in school?”

“Lacrosse. Softball. Tennis. Swimming.” Colleen rattled off her athletic pursuits proudly, then added, “I had my last final yesterday, so I didn’t have to go today.”

“My sister, the jock. Well, they’re all good activities. Keeps you out of trouble. Less time to spend with the boys,” Maggie teased.

“That’s what her father’s hoping for anyway.” Mary Elizabeth Callahan, a tiny dumpling of a woman, walked across the grass to greet her oldest child. “Whether or not it’s true is a different matter. How are you, sweetheart? You look thin. Are you eating?”

“Yes, Mother, I’m eating.” Maggie laughed and hugged the small woman fondly. “What’s this, do I see a few more silver threads among the gold?” She pretended to scrutinize her mother’s hair.

“Yes, more and more each week, or so it seems. I’m starting to feel like old Otto here.” She held the leash of the family dog. He’d been purported to have been half boxer, half spaniel when they’d gotten him fifteen years earlier. Neither breed accounted for his long shaggy gray coat, which now was showing a lot more white than Maggie’d noticed the last time she’d been home. She patted him affectionately.

“Taking Otto on walks these days, Mom?” Maggie opened the trunk to hoist a basket of laundry onto her hip.

“Well, I hate to let him run loose anymore. His vision isn’t what it used to be, and since they started to build that new housing development out there on what used to be the old Shields farm, we’ve had so much traffic out here that I’m just afraid he’ll wander into the road and get hit one of these days. So I let him out in the back most of the time, since it’s fenced, but he still likes to check on the action out front, so we go for a little walk once or twice each day, depending on the weather. Does us both good.”

Kevin, Maggie’s only brother, pedaled up on his bike, dropping it amidst the jungle of azaleas that flanked the left side of the porch. A stem look from his mother sent him back to stand it up. He gave Maggie a brief but affectionate hug and, on instructions from his mother, removed the travel bags from the backseat of the car and carried them into the house.

“Where’s Dad?” Maggie inquired, setting her purse on the counter in the kitchen and looking around. Even though it had been a year since her mother had redecorated the house, the cream-colored walls and light blue cabinets still came as a surprise to Maggie, whose mind’s eye still saw the old white cabinets and green walls she’d grown up with.

“He should be along any minute now. His last morning class is at ten, so he should be rolling in any time now for lunch, then he has two classes this afternoon.” Her mother removed a container of homemade soup from the refrigerator in anticipation of her husband’s arrival, telling Maggie, “It’s your favorite, chicken vegetable. What would you like with it?”

“Maybe just a small salad if you have some lettuce and cucumbers. I’ll make it, Mom, assuming that you haven’t moved things around too much over the past few months.” Maggie rummaged around in the fridge until she found what she was looking for.

She sat across the table from her mother in the alcove, which was flanked with windows framed by blue and cream plaid curtains, chatting about old friends, catching up on local gossip. Mrs. Callahan rose to answer a ringing telephone just as Maggie’s father came through the back door.

“There’s my baby girl. Come give the old man a big hug. That’s the way.” Frank Callahan entered the room, and his presence filled it. He was a large bear of a man, with a full head of white hair and a muscular build. He looked more like the stereotypical Irish cop than the college history professor that he was. He could not conceal his joy at having his oldest child home again, even if it was only for a few days. He clearly adored Maggie.

“Hello, Daddy.” She kissed him and let him hold her for a minute.

“Glad you could finally find some time to join us, Maggie. It’s been so long since you’ve been home. I was starting to worry you’d been kidnapped by one of those gooney Canadians that play hockey in the arena. What have you been up to that’s so important that you don’t have time for your family anymore?”

“Well, we’ve been real busy at work, a l
ot of activities, you know…
” Maggie shrugged nonchalantly.

“Sure, sure. I know how hard you work at that place. More likely a busy social schedule.”

“Sometimes.” She smiled.

“Well, you just watch out there, Margaret. You get a lot of weirdos coming and going around there. I don’t know why you ever left that job you had with that accounting firm,” he chastised as he shuffled through the morning’s delivery of mail, then tossed the pile back onto the counter.

“It was boring,” she told him for the ninety-fifth time, hoping that there would not be another discussion regarding her career choice.

“Accounting is supposed to be boring,” he remarked dryly, disappearing into the refrigerator and emerging with an apple.

“That was Aunt Peg, dear,” said her mother, reentering the room. “She’s really in a tizzy over this wedding. You’d think she’d be used to it by now. Kathleen’s the last of the group to get married, not the first. If she survived the other five weddings, she shouldn’t be worried about this one. And she’s positively beside herself that you haven’t picked up
your dress yet. The shop called her again this morning to tell her that one of the bridesmaid’s dresses was still in the back room.”

“I’ll run over right after lunch. It’s already been fitted. All I have to do is pick it up and pay for it,” Maggie pointed out. “I don’t understand what all the fuss is about. The wedding’s better than twenty-four hours away.”

“Everything is a big deal to Peg,” her father reminded her. “Been that way all her life. Everything’s a crisis. I married into a family of hysterics, and that’s the simple truth.”

“She’s afraid the dress won’t fit right, Frank,” Mary Elizabeth defended her sister, adding, “and truthfully, Maggie does appear to have lost weight.”

“I haven’t lost weight, and the dress will fit just fine,” Maggie told her mother.

“Peg ought to be more worried about the fit of Kathleen’s dress,” her father mumbled, then was silenced by a ste
rn
look from his wife.

“I can’t wait till you get married again, Maggie, so I can be in the wedding,” Colleen said, passing through on her way to the backyard, her long red curls bouncing.

“What makes you think I’ll get married again?” Maggie stabbed a fork full of lettuce.

“You’re too pretty not to,” Colleen told her as she patted her sister’s head on her way past the table.

“Thanks, baby,” Maggie said with a wink.

“Colleen, I’d like to remind you that in the eyes of the church, your sister is still married. To Mason,” her father called after her.

“Not now, Frank,” chided his wife.

“Mary Elizabeth, they were married in the church. A civil divorce does not technically relieve the
m of their vows…
”

“Enough, Frank.” Turning to Maggie, she said, “If you’re finished, you’d better run down and pick up that dress. Did you bring your shoes? Good. Why don’t you see if Colleen wants to drive down with you?”

“What was that comment about Kathleen’s dress not fitting?” Maggie asked Colleen as they drove into town.

“Oh, boy,” Colleen told her, grinning with mischief. “Big scandal. Kathleen’s pregnant. Can you believe it? Of course, I’m not supposed to know.”

“Who told you?” Maggie tried not to register any reaction. The
re but for the grace of God…

“Aunt Eleanor,” Colleen giggled.

“Aunt Eleanor?” Maggie laughed, trying to imagine their eighty-seven-year-old great-aunt delivering such news to a sixteen-year-old.

“Well, she didn’t exactly tell me. I just sort of overheard her say something to Uncle Paul that they were lucky it hadn’t happened sooner, what with all her running around, and that Kathleen’s twenty-four and it was about time she got married anyway.” Colleen confided the family gossip with a very grown-up air.

“She said that?” Maggie chuckled. “Well, looks like not too much gets past the old girl. And she’s probably right— Kathleen always had a bit of a wild streak.”

They walked into the dress shop, and Maggie identified herself to the saleswoman, who went into the back room and returned with the dress, insisting that Maggie try it on. Kathleen, whom Maggie’d always thought to have abominable taste, had chosen baby blue organza gowns for her attendants, scooped neck, puffy-sleeved numbers with huge bows on the side of the dropped waist. Maggie groaned and tried it on. She met Colleen’s gaze as she walked back out of the dressing room.

“Cute,” said Colleen, nodding with a straight face.

“And here’s the headpiece,” cooed the saleswoman, pinning a sort of half-cap, which also sported a huge bow, to the side of Maggie’s head.

“Very cute.” Colleen echoed the saleswoman’s saccharin tone.

“It’s a little big through the waist and hips.” The saleswoman frowned, her voice fraught with accusation.

“It’ll be fine,” Maggie assured her as she walked back into the dressing room, anxious to take it off.
Thank God Jamey won’t be here to see me in this,
she thought.

Maggie sighed deeply as they pulled back into the Callahan driveway.

“Oh happy day,” grumbled Maggie, seeing the red car parked out front, “Ellie’s here. My very favorite sibling.”

“Maggie, good to see you finally found your way home,” said Ellie Callahan Marsh, tucking a stray length of straight blond hair behind one ear and smiling unenthusiastically.

“Hello, Ellie. How’s it going?” A lukewarm greeting was the best Maggie could muster. For some reason known only to God, the two eldest Callahan children had always been at each other’s throats. It had been a source of pain to their mother through the years.

“Maggie, how’d you like the dress? Isn’t it out of this world?” Ellie leaned back against the kitchen counter.

It figures,
thought Maggie,
that Ellie would like it.
“That’s one way of describing it.” She looked at her mother, who’d known instinctively that Maggie would hate it.