Season of Sisters (22 page)

Following an awkward silence, Mike added, "I was going to call you. Let you know."

Maggie's words dripped sugar. "How kind."

"Yeah," he snapped back. "I think so."

Upstairs, Grace shot Holly a significant look. "It's time."

Downstairs, the conversation died again, the quiet filled only by the chatter of a pair of mockingbirds perched on the eave. Finally, Maggie said brightly, "Well. My friends and I were getting ready to leave when you drove up, so we'd best get moving. I'll go tell them..."

As the screen door squeaked, Holly looked at Grace. "Let's get her out of here before she starts crying. She's not going to want him to see that."

Holly bounded downstairs, reaching the bottom as Maggie sailed into the house and headed for the kitchen. "I think we're about done here, don't you, Holly? Grace seems certain of her decision. Are she and Sadie out back?"

"Here I am." Grace's smile was both tender and concerned as she entered the kitchen. "Sadie stepped out to the porch."

Maggie nodded, her teeth tugging at her lower lip. "We're all decided on the cake, aren't we? We can leave? I don't want Holly to be late for her driving date with her dad, and of course, I must get ready for my date. Did I tell you we canceled rock climbing in favor of the symphony? I told you he's not a stereotypical pool man."

"I'm ready whenever you are, honey."

"If only I'd been ready twenty minutes ago," Maggie grumbled, tossing a brittle grin over her shoulder as she gathered her notebook from the kitchen table.

Compassion melted through Holly. She touched Maggie's arm. "Want me to go beat him up for you?"

"You sound like my boys," Maggie said with a laugh that quickly developed a hitch.

Seeing her friend's eyes go glassy with tears, Holly made quick work of handing Grace her purse and gathering her own backpack, then leading the way toward the front door. Sadie stood with Maggie's husband on the porch. Holly barely refrained from sticking her tongue out at Mike Prescott before turning to Sadie with genuine pleasure. She offered her thanks for a lovely morning, then stepped aside while Grace and Maggie said their good-byes. Mike, she noted, had walked to the far end of the porch, where he stood with his hands shoved into his pockets, gazing out toward the peach orchard.

Holly couldn't help herself. With lizard-like speed, she stuck out her tongue. Grace, sweetheart that she was, caught her at it, darted a glance around, then mimicked the action.

In a show of support, they flanked Maggie for the trip across the yard toward the car. Halfway there, Maggie surprised them both by halting abruptly. She pivoted, lifted her chin, and marched boldly back to the porch. Standing at the base of the weathered white steps, sunlight glinting off her golden hair, she propped one hand on her hip and looked up at her husband. "Mike? Would you answer one question for me before you leave town?"

He turned around. "I told you, Maggie. Cindy is only a friend. I'm not sleeping with her."

"That's not what I want to know. Well, I do want to know that, but it's not the question I intended to ask. I want to know, Mike, when did we stop being friends?"

He hesitated for only a moment. "July 8, 1996."

Maggie shook her head, her brow furrowed, her confusion evident. The sound of her husband's voice cut across the yard like a sharp, hot knife. "Chicago. The Raycom Industries national meeting. I gave the keynote. My first big public speech. I wanted you there with me, but you wouldn't come."

"I remember now. Steven had a track meet. The state championship."

"You thought it was more important to be with him than with me. I resented it and that made me feel about half an inch tall. What kind of a father resents his own son?"

"I didn't realize." Maggie clasped her hands in front of her, her eyes round and glassy with distress.

Holly glanced at Grace, angled her head toward the car. She'd passed her comfort level of eavesdropping and she thought it time to give Mike and Maggie their privacy.

Grace, however, appeared rooted to her spot.

"You didn't say anything," Maggie continued. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have—"

"What?" Mike braced his hands on his hips, his narrow-eyed stare never leaving Maggie. "Disappointed our son by not being with him during what was then the biggest accomplishment of his life? I wanted you at that track meet, too. I wanted to be there. Did you ever stop to think how I felt when y'all called to tell me that his relay team won? That my son was state champ and I didn't get to see it because I was in Chicago busting my ass to make the money that paid for the damned shoes he wore to run in? Y'all were laughing and carrying on. So excited. Not a one of you said you wished I'd been there."

"But we did miss you, Mike."

"No, Maggie. You didn't. Not really. Because you were accustomed to my not being there. I seldom got to go to the track meets and the baseball games and the band contests. I had to work. Back then, I had a mortgage to pay. Car payments to make. Two thousand dollar trumpets to buy. Remember? We didn't always have money. By the time my machine patent paid off and I was able to meet our financial obligations without working sixty hour weeks, the boys were damn near grown. They wanted to do things with their friends, not their dad. Little League days were over. It pisses me off every time I think about it."

His eyes blazed blue fire. "My boys grew up, too, you know, Maggie. You're not the only one who's lost something. At least you got to enjoy having children around when we had them. I missed out on the biggest chunk of it. So next time you want to loll around in bed feeling sorry for yourself, you think about that."

She took two steps backward as if reeling from a blow. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she breathed, "I didn't know... you never told me." A cry caught in her voice as she added, "I thought you were happy doing what you wanted to do. Building yourself a career."

When Mike spoke again, the anger had disappeared from his voice. Weariness replaced it. "I wasn't unhappy. I liked my job. I was proud to provide for my family. It's just that sometimes... well... I was jealous of you. I felt left out. You were closer to the boys than I was. As long as you were at the state track meet and the ball games and recitals, everything was right with the world. And that's the way it should have been. You always were a damned good mother."

"But not so good a wife?" Maggie looked away from her husband, blinking away tears. "If I'd realized how you felt, I'd have come to Chicago, Mike."

"I know." The smile that briefly touched his mouth was the saddest thing Holly had ever seen. "But if I'd had to ask, then it wouldn't have meant as much to have you there."

"But—"

"Maggie, it's the same argument we used to have about me sending you flowers. You want them, but if you have to ask for them, they don't mean much. No, it was better all around that you attended the track meet."

"Better that I lost your friendship?" she asked, a shrill note to her voice. "Better that I lost your love?"

He sighed. "I loved you, Maggie. That didn't stop. I just couldn't count on you to be there for me. I couldn't count on you to be my friend, so I quit wanting to be yours. I quit caring as much."

Maggie swayed and Holly stepped closer, ready to offer her a hand should she need it. She looked as pale as Sadie's vanilla icing, and Holly halfway expected her to drop in a graceful Southern faint.

But Maggie showed the steel in her magnolia by keeping her spine straight, her chin up, and the quaver out of her voice as she said, "I'm sorry, Mike. Have a safe trip and enjoy your time with Steven and John."

She paused, looked him straight in the eyes, and spoke with sincerity as she added, "I hope you find what you are looking for out there."

The three women made the return drive to Fort Worth primarily in silence. Surprisingly, it was a soothing silence, the kind that comforted rather than disturbed. Halfway home, Maggie asked if they'd like to listen to music, and Grace selected James Taylor. "My oldest boy gave me this album years ago. Of course, it wasn't an album. Albums were passé even then."

"Cassette tape?" Maggie asked.

"Eight-track."

Holly grinned. "Earlier this year the science teacher whose classroom is next to mine brought an eight-track player to show his students. You'd think it was dinosaur bones the way they reacted."

Soon the three of them were singing along to "Oh, Mexico" and "Walking Man." Holly could carry a tune, though she'd never been considered a good singer. Maggie's voice was throaty and sexy, but she couldn't hit a high note for beans.

Grace, on the other hand, sang like an angel. Hers was the kind of voice that seeped through a person's skin and sank into her bones. It was the kind of voice that filled a person's heart and touched her soul. It was the kind of voice that brought tears to Maggie's and Holly's eyes.

Especially when Grace crooned, "You've got a friend."

Chapter 10

A
horn honked and Holly glanced first at her wall clock, then out the front window. The Gray Swan—with the top up, surprisingly enough—waited at her curb. She opened her front door and waved. "Be with you in a minute, Dad. I've got to find my shoes."

Holly grabbed her purse off the coffee table, then combed the house for her sneakers. She finally found them lodged behind the door in the dining room. Without stopping to put them on, she detoured through the kitchen to find her sunglasses, snatched up her keys, and headed out.

Holly looked forward to this afternoon with her dad. She could use a few light, playful hours following the trip out to Sadie Prescott's farm and last night's debacle at Justin's house.

Before she could guard against it, she wondered what the doctor was doing today. Was he working? Playing? Playing with Jenna Larson?

"Don't go there," Holly warned herself aloud as she locked her front door behind her.

The sidewalk felt warm beneath her bare feet, and the sensation suddenly brought to mind a long forgotten memory of a particular summer day. Holly had been about seven years old, maybe eight, and she was helping her mom put away groceries. Her dad was lying on his back on the kitchen floor, his head in the cabinet beneath the sink, a wrench in his hand. He wore a blue chambray shirt and faded blue jeans. He'd asked her mom something—Holly couldn't remember what—but she vividly recalled her mother's response:
It's hot enough to fry an egg on the driveway.

At the time, Holly had been putting a carton of eggs into the fridge. What happened after that had been anything but pretty.

Laughing, Holly opened the passenger door. "Dad, do you remember that time—Justin?"

Holly backed up, checked the car. Yeah, it was her dad's car. Why was Justin driving the Gray Swan?

"Hi, Holly."

"Oh, God. Is something wrong with my dad?" He
never
let anyone else drive his car.

"Your dad is fine. I called him looking for you and he suggested I fill in as driver this afternoon."

Holly shook her head. She couldn't believe this. Justin. On a Saturday-Sunday drive. "No. This is our special time together. Dad wouldn't do that."

"I told him it was important. Please, come with me, Holly. Let me talk with you. I need to explain about last night."

Heaven help her, she wanted to know. She wanted to hear him say that Jenna meant nothing to him, that he didn't want two-point-three children who attended Montessori school. That he only wanted Holly, that he couldn't live without her, that he wanted to marry her and live happily ever after with her.

Jeeze Louise.
Was she living in a fantasy world or what?

Nevertheless, Holly climbed into the car and shut the door.

They didn't speak as they drove through her neighborhood. Once on the highway, Justin headed west. "I thought we'd drive down toward Granbury, if that's all right with you. I heard you took a trip north toward Decatur earlier today. Somebody's farm?"

"Yes. A relative of Maggie Prescott. She's going to make the cake for Grace's golden anniversary party."

"That's nice. You've gotten chummy with those two lately, haven't you?"

"They're friends."

He nodded, drove in silence another few minutes, then said, "The range of ages between y'all makes for a rather unusual friendship, doesn't it? Don't get me wrong. I like Grace and Maggie very much. It's just sort of surprising to me that you'd befriend women twice and three times your age."

"You're adding extra years to both of them. No woman appreciates that." He also sounded almost... jealous. With the morning's discussion about friendship still fresh in her mind, Holly found herself encouraged by the notion. If Justin was jealous of her burgeoning friendship with Grace and Maggie, maybe having her for a friend still mattered to him. Maybe she hadn't lost her best friend, after all. He was here, wasn't he?

Because he was here, she made an effort to explain.

"I feel close to them. We have a strange sort of grandmother-mother-daughter thing going on, yet we're girlfriends, too. We have nothing in common and we're so much alike. They are interesting women, so much more so than women my age. Plus, they care about me. I know they truly care."