Homecoming (3 page)

“We all still play,” Lizzie said. “In the summer everyone from my mom on down is out here. If my dad didn’t have to tote that damned oxygen tank, he’d still be playing.”

“It’s pretty unique. You’ve got to admit that.”

“That’s small-town Vermont for you. Eighteen different neighbors, all allowing a bunch of people to traipse along their property, whooping and hollering when a disk lands in the net.”

“Sugar Hill is too small for me,” Jill admitted, “but sometimes Burlington’s too big. Know what I mean?”

“I do. I live there, you know.”

“Burlington?”

“Uh-huh. I moved about a year ago. For a
guy
,” she emphasized. “Never a good idea.”

“What happened?”

Lizzie turned and headed back towards the house, but when they got close, she stopped. “I need a little light to be able to talk.”

A vivid memory, of the older kids torturing the baby of the family, formed in Jill’s head. “Still afraid of the dark?”

“Of course not. I just prefer light.”

Jill could see she’d offended her. Probably because she was still afraid of the dark at…god, she had to be thirty now. “So, I had a good job at the Gardner Museum in Boston, but I met this super guy who convinced me to move to Burlington when he got a big promotion to be brewmaster at Camel’s Hump Brewery.”

“Oh, right in town. I know just where that is.”

“Yeah. It was a good job, but it didn’t work out between us.”

“Was this a recent thing? Your breakup?”

“Really recent, but I haven’t made a point to tell everyone. My mom knows, but she usually keeps things to herself—unless she has some other purpose in spilling your secrets.”

Jill laughed. “Now
that
sounds like your mom.” She looked at the way the unflattering bulb in the porch-light made Lizzie’s fair skin take on a green tinge. “What happened, if you don’t mind saying.”

“Mmm.” She seemed to think for a minute, or maybe she was deciding how much to tell. “I want to have kids, right?”

“Uhm, sure. Most people do.”

“Right. So I’ve spent the last five years looking for a guy who’d be a good father, and damned if I didn’t find him.”

“The brewmaster.”

“Yep. He’d be an awesome dad. Reliable, patient, gentle, fun-loving. All of the things you wish your dad had been.”

“I wish mine had been home,” Jill said, wincing when she caught herself. “Sorry. I shouldn’t bitch about him.”

Lizzie put a hand on her arm and looked up, empathy showing in her pale eyes. “It must be a bitch to have your dad be the town slut.”

Jill couldn’t help but laugh at her term. “Yeah, it was hard, but…” She started to laugh. “It must not be very hard now, since he’s home a lot more.”

“He wore it out,” Lizzie agreed, laughing even harder. “Oh, that’s good.” She wiped at her eyes and took a breath.

“I always wondered how much people talked about my dad and his…hobbies. Apparently, it’s common knowledge.”

“Pretty much,” Lizzie agreed, her smile having vanished. Her eyes held a certain sadness, or maybe that was sympathy Jill saw in them. “Do you remember my mom’s mom? Grandma Sophia?”

“Sure. Of course,” Jill said, thinking of the spritely, no-nonsense old woman.

“Have you seen her?”

“Here?” Jill’s eyes bugged out. The woman would have to be well over ninety.

“Where else? She and my grandpa are still going strong. Go find them. They always liked you.”

“I will. I’ll get right on it.”

“Oh,” Lizzie said, obviously recalling she’d been telling a story. “Anyway, I was at the market with Grandma one day, and your dad came in. I remember her saying, ‘That man’s too good looking for a town this small.’”

Nodding, Jill said, “She might have had a point.”

“I was just a kid,” Lizzie added, clearly finding the incident funny. “I didn’t know what the heck she was talking about. But it stuck with me.” Her gaze grew more focused as she cocked her head to one side. “Probably because you looked so much like him. I didn’t want you to be in trouble for being good looking.”

“Not to worry,” Jill said, laughing at the concept. “I might look a lot like my dad, but I didn’t inherit his need to take a bite of every apple.”

Lizzie let out a sigh, looking a little melancholy. “Good old reliable Jon would never have cheated on me. I’m certain of that.”

“But he wasn’t right for you?”

“Not sure. But I clearly wasn’t right for him. It turns out that I have to find a guy who wants to put up with me for fifty years,
then
make sure he’d be a good dad. I had my priorities screwed up.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Jill said. “Like I said, I’m single—again. It’s no fun.”

“We should get together and have coffee. I work at Hollyhock Hills. Are you anywhere near there?”

“That’s no art museum. What do you do there?”

“I milk cows.”

Eyes wide, Jill just nodded. “I guess someone has to…”

Lizzie slapped her on the arm, a little harder than was necessary. “I work in development.”

“Oh, you’re the one who tries to talk little old ladies into leaving you their estate. So other people can milk the cows.”

“Something like that. I’ve been lucky to work for organizations I love. Even though it didn’t work out with Jon, I’m going to stay in Burlington. I missed the hell out of Vermont.”

“That makes two of us. I feel a little sorry for people who live in the boring states.”

“I haven’t traveled around the US much, but I’ve never been anywhere I like better.”

“Same goes for me. I’ve never gone far from home, but I’m settled now. Burlington’s been a great home for me.”

“Home,” Lizzie said dramatically. “I wish I could afford a home. I’m competing against thousands of students for a decent rental. I was hoping Jon would let me stay and pay rent for a while, but he wanted me out by sundown.”

“Ouch. I’m lucky enough to own a house close to work. I can walk when it’s not below zero or a white-out.”

“Didn’t we have a great winter?” Lizzie asked, rolling her eyes. “I never thought I’d miss a Boston winter.”

“All part of the charm of Vermont.” Jill inclined her head towards the house. “You don’t think your brother left, do you?”

“He might have,” she admitted. “He hates crowds. I can’t believe he came at all, but then I can’t believe his wife threw a big party for him. I’m not sure if she thought he’d like it, or she was punishing him.”

“I’ll do another loop and try to track him down.” She put her hand on Lizzie’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Give me a call one day. We’ll go have coffee.”

“Got a card?”

“Sure.” Jill pulled her wallet from her back pocket and extracted a business card.

Lizzie took her hand from her pocket, and flicked the card between her fingers. “Comptroller, huh? No wonder you can afford a house.”

“I’m also old,” Jill teased. “If I remember correctly, you used to call Mark and me old, mean jerks.”

Smiling brightly, Lizzie said, “You don’t seem like a jerk…now. Or mean.”

“I’ll take that compliment, even though it was backhanded.” As she walked towards the house, she said one last time. “Don’t forget to call. Spring is just around the corner, and it doesn’t last long.”

***

It took two hours to make the rounds, but Jill was buzzing with the high of being welcomed so warmly back into the family, from nonagenarian grandparents to a darling little girl who was the current youngest Davis.

Chris, Adam and Tim had set up a plumbing and heating shop close to Bellows Falls, and each one made it a point to demand she come visit. Donna, the eldest, and her husband lived in Portland with their five kids, and they were equally insistent on extracting a promise to visit. Now Jill stood next to Kristen, trying to get used to how a twenty-eight year old fresh-faced third grade teacher looked now that she had a smattering of gray in her dark red hair, and crow’s feet etched upon the corners of her eyes. Kristen was…forty-six, Jill decided, always having to take her own age, add eight years for Donna, then work her way down the line.

“You’re still teaching?” Jill asked.

“Oh, sure. You can’t get out once you start. The retirement benefits are too good. I’ll get nearly half of my salary if I stay for another six years.”

“That’s pretty young to retire,” Jill said.

“Yeah, it is, but my oldest, Jeffrey, is getting married in April. I assume he and his wife will have a baby or two in the next six years. I could be happy babysitting for them.”

Jill forced herself not to look shocked. Jeffrey had been in kindergarten the last time she’d seen him, so imagining him old enough to marry was tough. More than that, it struck her how differently you looked at the world when you had kids. She was just six years younger than Kristen, but she felt like she’d just barely gotten to where she wanted to be at work, with one more promotion a real possibility. Retirement was something far, far off in the future. You could be more selfish, and more career-defined when you were childless.

After she and Kristen parted, Jill moved around the cramped room, still searching for Mark. There were so many redheads moving around, she kept thinking she’d seen him, but it was always a twenty-something guy, probably one of Janet’s grandkids. Damn, the Davises clearly didn’t have a problem with fertility. Maybe Lizzie didn’t need a husband. She could just click her heels together and a baby would appear.

After a few hours, Jill had to concede that Mark didn’t want to be found. She’d spoken to everyone she knew, and wasn’t in the mood to track down everyone’s kids to spend a few awkward minutes trying to remember names. Since she hated making her way around a crowd, saying the same pat goodbyes to everyone, she had, over the years, perfected the fade out at parties. She slipped out without a word, then called the hosts the next day, apologizing for not saying a proper goodbye. Now seemed like the perfect time to execute her move.

A couple with a sleeping baby in tow were slowly heading for the front door, pausing to say multiple goodbyes. After moving as quickly as she could to retrieve her coat, she went out and held the screen door open as they wrangled a carseat out, then followed them to the street.

The neighborhood was packed with cars, bumper to bumper all the way down to the river. Her car was down close to the babbling stream, and she took advantage of the opportunity to stand on the rock-covered bank and simply listen. It was damned cold, with snow still blanketing nearly everything, but she’d gotten overheated at the party and was happy for the chill.

As she stood on the very familiar road, lifting the collar of her jacket against the wind, she opened her senses and took everything in. There might have been nicer sounds than a gently flowing river, but she hadn’t heard them yet. The scraggly saplings along the banks were stripped bare, and they swayed, naked, in the breeze. A cold winter’s night smelled so damned good, with wood smoke wafting along on the wind and tickling her nose.

Jill took her phone from her pocket and checked the time—11:25. She counted down the distance to her house each time she made the trip, knowing it was 138 miles from Sugar Hill to her front door. She’d only had one drink, but was worn out from socializing. With an unhappy grunt, she got into her car and drove to her parents’ house. She almost referred to it as home, but that was a slip. Home was Burlington. And maybe, if things worked out, a little piece of the Davis home could be hers once again.

The lights were on
, which was good. Or bad, depending on the day. At least her mother wouldn’t call the cops, which was always a possibility when she was startled. The police must have had the house on the top position of their GPS. The thought made her laugh to herself. If you needed GPS in Sugar Hill, you shouldn’t be driving. Six hundred people, many of them Davises, maybe twelve roads, some of them unpaved.

Jill closed her car door loudly. Yep. There she was. Her mother stood in front of the picture window, peering out at the driveway. By the time Jill reached the front door, it was open.

“What are you doing here?”

She flinched a little. This was what she was used to, but after being treated so kindly, it was jarring.

“It’s too late for me to drive home. You don’t mind, do you?”

Her mother was still fully dressed, protected against the sixty-two degree temperature she always had the thermostat set at.

White turtleneck, dark blue cardigan, blue and black lumberjack plaid woolen over-shirt and gray corduroy slacks. Her basic uniform from September until June. Then she changed to an oxford-cloth shirt and khakis. If Jill ever woke from a long coma, she’d be able to tell if it was summer or winter by her mother’s clothing. That is, if her mother took the trouble to go all the way to the hospital. That wasn’t a slam-dunk.

“I guess not,” Nancy Henry said, stepping back to let her only child in. “But you should have called. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know, Mom. And I’m sorry. But I know you’d rather I surprised you than fell asleep at the wheel.”

“That’s a stupid thing to say,” she snapped. “Who’d want that?”

“Exactly.” Jill scooted past her mother to head for the bath. She’d had to pee for an hour, but wasn’t about to wait in a huge line for one of the two bathrooms at the Davis house.

When she emerged, her mom was sitting in her preferred chair in the living room, watching one of her favorite channels. Yet another frantic emergency room with a shooting victim being tended to. For someone who didn’t care much about people, she sure did like to see doctors working furiously to save strangers’ lives.

Standing there as her mom’s attention was fixed on the screen, Jill spent a minute looking at her. She wasn’t a bad looking woman by any means, but anyone would agree that Rich Henry could have done better.

She was just past sixty, with surprisingly dark, long hair that she’d always worn in a braid. She’d decided long ago that doctors caused most health problems, so she’d avoided them almost completely, proud of the fact that she hadn’t been inside a doctor’s office in twenty years. Luckily, she was seemingly healthy, and had very good habits. No smoking, no drinking, low stress, a moderate diet and plenty of sleep.