Tara frowned, the joy of Bella’s new accomplishment lost in the moment. The whole day had been so weird, so long and strange, and now even Justin felt distant. It was like she was standing outside her life looking in.
He returned his attention to his plate, scraping up the last few bites. He gathered the spattered food from the top of the table and got up to put his dishes in the sink, then came back. “Come on, babe,” he said, taking her hand. “Let ‘s go up to bed and you can tell me all about Blanche and Bella.”
Resigned but not resolved, she complied.
* * *
Winnie tugged washing from the front-load washer, the bane of her existence, and shoved it into the dryer. Straightening with a groan, she rubbed the small of the back. What on earth had ever inclined designers to move away from good old top-load washers? She’d been complaining about it for years, yet it did no good. She should just go buy a top-load model, but it wasn’t in her nature to buy anything new when the old one worked fine.
Wandering into the kitchen, feeling off and more than a little down, she switched on the radio. Tara was always trying to get her to use a playlist something-or-other on the tablet, but she enjoyed having another voice in the house, even if it was just a disk jockey and commercials.
Then again, she’d always enjoyed the radio, even as a child. Her parents had owned a big old-fashioned model, with a pointed top, tweed speaker cover, and two big knobs.
Back in college, the radio was the only way to hear the latest hits. She and Claudia didn’t have money to go out and buy records. Thoughts of that old radio spun her back into memories, to one evening in particular. She’d hoped to hear the latest Cream hit so she could discuss it with Thomas, but instead there had only been news.
She’d switched off the radio and dropped back onto her dorm-room bed. The news in those times had been too depressing. Hearing about the war always felt horrible, the stories were so graphic. The numbers of dead soldiers they spouted were unreal, as if they were talking about cord wood -- not people. How could so many people be dying and everyone just sat around, helplessly listening. Then again, the protests weren’t much of a comfort either. Fighting in the streets here in the states certainly didn’t seem to be stopping the war in Vietnam. It was almost Christmas, and instead of festive music and gift giving commercials, all she heard about was the number of deaths, marches, and rallies, and the police beating protestors of all kinds and dragging them away.
Then again, maybe Thomas had been right about protests getting people to talk about the issues, because just a few months ago, back in October, the marchers who burned their draft cards in front of the federal building in San Francisco had been beaten and arrested by the police. Yet at a protest there this morning, the police had not cleared the protestors. The group been allowed to sit and stand in front of a busload of draftees, to keep from being taken away to the war. Some had even burned their draft cards openly in defiance. It was a change that people were allowed to say how they felt, to show that they wouldn’t stand by quietly while more men died.
She’d have to talk about it with Thomas. He always knew some point of reference that she hadn’t considered. Then again, he’d also want to talk about her going skiing with him over Christmas break.
She rolled over onto her stomach and propped her chin on her hands, ignoring the books and papers spread across her bed to study for finals. The thought of having a week with Thomas all to herself was enticing, but what would her parents say if she didn’t come home? She could only imagine how that would go over. Then again, when her mother had been her age, she’d had two kids and was making her own Christmas traditions. So why shouldn’t Winnie be allowed to do the same?
Maybe she could tell them she was going skiing alone, or with some other kids. She was pretty sure that her parents would disapprove of any trip she took with Thomas before she was married. As if a piece of paper made it all okay.
She frowned. They wouldn’t want her going anywhere alone, nor with Claudia or other students either. As far as Smithville folks were concerned, it was still Victorian times, and young women didn’t travel without a chaperone. She scoffed, doubting that women in Smithville even had bank accounts in their own name. Before she came to Pittsburgh, had she ever known a woman with a job, other than a nurse or school teacher?
No, it was becoming clear that if she wanted to live her life, the way she saw fit, with no interference or judgy, prying eyes, she’d have to live away from Smithville.
She rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling. So, what did her future look like? Would she stay in Pittsburgh after she graduated and get a job? What kind of a job? Would she have her own apartment? That idea felt utterly strange. She’d never lived alone.
First things first. What about the ski trip with Thomas? An image of the two of them curled up in front of a fireplace, alone, felt perfect. Beyond perfect, more like out of this world! The only thing she knew for sure, was that this trip would mean she’d finally make love to Thomas. She sat up, suddenly feeling hot and clammy. Things between them were going so well that it was only natural that they continue with the relationship as nature intended. She’d held out ridiculously long as it was. Maybe it was her roots, or worry over her grades, or just the craziness of all that was happening on campus, but for whatever reason, they’d waited to make love. A ski trip together would be the perfect time to take that step. No school, no friends or roommates who might come busting in, just time alone in a ski lodge! It wasn’t like this was free love, that meant you didn’t feel bound. Not that she judged anyone else, that was their business, but she felt very bound to Thomas, and she liked it that way. That’s what felt right to her.
But— would it feel like Christmas without her parents and all the traditions of home? She doubted there would be a Christmas pageant at the ski resort. Would they even have a Christmas tree in their room? Probably not.
And what about Claudia? Her friend had already announced that she wasn’t going to be stuck in Smithville for weeks straight, subjected to Roy’s opinions. Likely because Roy was pretty much like their folks. Where would Claudia go, and with who? The dorms would be closed, so staying in their room wasn’t an option.
So, this was growing up; trying to decide to whom you owed your time -- your parents, your lover, your friends, or to tradition.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, Winnie tottered to the oversized gas oven and collected the tea kettle, cursing the pain in her back, hips, and ankles. “Getting old ain’t for sissies,” she muttered.
Now that Tara wasn’t bringing Bella to play in the mornings, Winnie knew she had slowed down, slept in, and was maybe even dragging a bit. Highly uncharacteristic.
Was she in a funk? She certainly missed little Bella and the laughter and curiosity the child brought to the house each morning.
Winnie plopped the kettle onto a burner and collected a teacup. As she reached for the box of tea bags, she caught sight of her lumpy arthritic fingers and she faltered, staring at her hand as if it were not her own. Was she even the same woman she’d been all those years ago? The young, idealistic Wynona who had longed to learn everything and loved with abandon?
She pulled the tea box from the cupboard and frowned down at it. What had she said to Tara a few days ago? Only one kind of tea?
With a long sigh, she put the box on the counter. She’d become set in her ways. Her young self could not possibly have foreseen the tormented woman she’d become, nor the person she’d morphed into on the other side of overwhelming grief. That naive young woman would have been horrified and saddened.
She scoffed. Old Winnie was sad about the turn her life had taken. The only way to survive had been to lock it all away. So why was she reliving it all now?
Her hand lowered to pat her apron pocket. The letter was there; she’d been keeping it close. For better or worse, that communication from her old friend had cracked the vault of memories wide open.
She dropped onto a
stool, and her gaze settled back down to her hands. Old Winnie had never made peace with Wynona. She’d put that girl away, set her aside. Never given her a chance to be part of old Winnie’s life. But it was clear now that Wynona still lived inside her. Wynona had run wild through open fields as child with Claudia. Learned to drive with Roy, and fallen in love with Thomas. And it was all still there in old Winnie’s attitudes and thoughts, in her heart.
The kettle rose to a whistle, breaking the spell, and she rose from the stool, banishing the thoughts once again.
Maybe it was high time she tried a different tea.
“Stuff and nonsense,” she grunted, stubbornly selecting her usual breakfast tea from the box. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, and that was that.
She filled her tea cup with steaming water, then settled back onto a stool at the kitchen island and stared across the room to where sunshine poured through the window. Her watery eyes glazed over, and she was no longer in Smithville.
It was Christmas Day 1967, and she sat outside across the picnic table from Thomas, squinting into the afternoon sun, their breath forming puffs of steam as they spoke. Thomas looked so very handsome in his crisp, dark, ski pants and jacket, with the white turtle neck showing at his neck and cuffs. She couldn’t help but think of those same pants, slung across the back of the chair in their room that morning. As a matter of fact, all their clothing had been strewn about the room. She’d been nervous, unsure, but Thomas had been so tender, so charming. He’d made her laugh, told her she was perfect, made her feel beautiful and sexual. His encouragement and kindness, his humor and love, had washed away her inhibitions and she’d reveled in all the new sensations.
She smiled at him and cupped her hands around her steaming mug of cocoa, blushing at the thought of them spending hours in bed in their lodge room. They’d been snowed in the day before, with nothing to do but lounge by the fire and make love. As a matter of fact, she wondered how many runs down the slope Thomas would insist upon, before they headed back to their room.
The sun reflected and sparkled off the fresh snow, making the morning feel magical and surreal. They’d exchanged Christmas gifts that morning, each watching with anticipation as the other tore open the wrapping paper. He’d given her handmade silver earrings, and she’d given him silver cufflinks from the same shop near campus. And they hadn’t even planned it that way.
Thomas raised his mug for a toast. “Merry Christmas, my dear,” he said, his eyes shining with happiness.
Winnie lifted her mug to bump his. “Merry Christmas,” she replied, her eyes snapping with joy and anticipation, certain this would be a Christmas memory she’d never forget.
He tried a sip of the steaming cocoa. “A hot drink always helps my asthma on cold days,” he said, basking in the steam and aroma of his mug. His eyes met hers over his cup, and he lowered it back to the table. “What are you thinking?”
“What do you think I’m thinking?”
He didn’t answer, just watched, as she took a drink of her cocoa, then licked a drop from the rim of her mug.
He cleared his throat and one eyebrow rose. “It’s almost a shame the weather is so good.”
She laughed, delighted that he was thinking the same thing she was. “It is, isn’t it.”
The cocoa cooled quickly in the crisp morning air, and soon enough, they rose and clomped across the snow in their stiff ski boots to return their mugs and retrieve their gear.
Winnie gazed up at the mountain shrouded in fog, and then back to the busy ski lift. “It’s hard to believe this is actually Christmas Day.”
Thomas was busy buckling his skis and didn’t respond.
“Back home, I’d be helping momma stuff the turkey.”
He straightened, fussing with his scarf as he watched her gaze wistfully off across the mountain. “Do you wish you’d gone home?”
Her eyes met his. In truth, it did pinch a bit to be away from home on a holiday. She missed the country-style, decorated tree and the treats her mother always baked. She’d missed her father stoking the fire and reading from the bible on Christmas Eve. But this time with Thomas was precious. Or maybe, delicious was a better word. There were no schedules, no rules, no one judging them. The freedom and the … adultness of it, was so liberating. For all anyone knew, they were a married couple. It did feel as if she were playacting, with this being so new and all, but the intimacy, the laughter, the playful banter, the pure romance of it, made up for missing her parents and traditions. “I’m glad I came.”
“Me too,” he said, enjoying the view of her backside as she bent to buckle her skis. “I’d hate to think of missing you in that outfit.”
She straightened and cocked a hip, accentuating her figure in the tight ski pants and snug, argyle sweater. “This bulky thing?” she asked, putting her hand on her hip and tossing back her hair.
The doorbell rang again, jarring Winnie back to the present. She slid from the stool and headed toward the door, still amazed at how it had been to feel sleek and sexy. Healthy.
She shook her head, wondering where on earth her wits had gone. It had been years since she’d even thought about such a thing.
But even as she reached for the doorknob, she knew that was a lie. Deep in her heart, in her woman’s soul, all these years she’d longed to be held and cherished, loved and petted, even if she hadn’t allowed the thought to fully form.
* * *
Tara and Bella stood at their own open front door, watching Justin leave for work. Tara’s hand distractedly stroked Bella’s hair.
Last night had been anther late night, with Justin vacant and lost. She’d practically begged to know what project he was working on. With her own business out of her hands, she was bored and longed for input. She wanted to talk shop. Plus, he’d been so out of it, so distant and distracted, she longed to reconnect with him on some level, even if it was work talk. She’d have been happy to argue with him about him tearing some old building down. But she’d gotten nothing from him, and this morning he’d practically sprinted out of the house, unwilling to share one single detail.
Something was up -- she could feel it in her bones. She and Justin may not be on the same page lately, but they’d been together for years, and she knew when he was hiding something.
Her eyes narrowed as an idea formed. Before she could change her mind, she hefted Bella up onto her hip. “Want to go play with Nana?”
Bella bounced on her hip and clapped her chubby hands. “Nana!”
At the bottom of the steps they met Blanche coming down with a basket of cleaning supplies. “Good morning,” the older woman greeted with her usual bright smile.
It almost irritated Tara that the woman was always so happy. She had a good grump going and didn’t want it ruined. Besides, how could someone who’d been married seven times be so dang agreeable?
Blanche stopped to talk. “It is a beautiful, sunny day, it really is! What are you two lovelies up to?”
“I’m taking Bella to see Winnie,” Tara replied grinning down at Bella, purposely leaving out any information on what she planned to do.
Blanche adjusted the heavy basket. “Well, have a good time.”
“Thanks,” Tara replied. “You too.” For once she was happy not to be stuck at the house washing laundry and cleaning toilets.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Tara pulled in Winnie’s drive. A blue ’57 Chevy pickup truck was parked at the curb. “Julia’s here,” she said to Bella. “Want to see Aunt Julia?”
Bella bounced in her seat. “You-lee!”
“Okay, okay, give me a minute,” Tara said, opening the car door to unbuckle the baby.
As soon as her feet hit the ground, Bella took off up the driveway toward Winnie’s back door. Tara followed, lugging the diaper bag, wincing as she watched her daughter run toddler style, with her top half one step ahead of her bottom half.
Bella reached the house and banged on the back door with both fists. “You-lee, Nana!�
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The door swung open, and Tara saw Julia bend to scoop Bella up and cover her face with kisses.
The petite blonde put Bella down in the kitchen and stepped back to let Tara in. “Good morning,” Julia sang, “I didn’t know you were visiting Winnie today.”
“I didn’t either,” Tara admitted, dropping the heavy diaper bag onto the counter.
“Oh, my Bella, my darling,” Winnie chimed, picking up the little girl for a hug and a kiss. She looked over the baby to Tara. “I’m happy to see you two!”
The warm welcome soothed Tara’s nerves, but her determination stayed intact. “Hi, am I interrupting?”
“Of course not,” Julia laughed.
Tara looked to Winnie for validation, but the old lady seemed perfectly happy with Bella. “I was wondering if Bella could play here for a while,” she asked, biting at her bottom lip.
Winnie eyed her in speculation over Bella’s head. “You okay?”
“Bubble juice!” Bella chanted, squirming to be put down. Winnie let her down onto the floor and the little girl ran straight to Julia. “Bubble juice, pwease!”
Julia glanced at Winnie for approval, then opened the fridge to get Bella a cup of soda.
“I’m fine,” Tara lied, not meeting Winnie’s eye.
“Do you have shopping to do?” the old lady questioned.
Tara shook her head distractedly. “Yeah, shopping.” Then she frowned. “You know I don’t give her soda.”
“Sorry, dear,” Winnie said, not sorry at all.
Julia pulled up a stool. “Winnie and I were just talking gardening, as usual.” She smiled at Tara. “Join us?”
Winnie lifted Bella into her chair, and the little girl clutched her sippy cup of sprite. “Yes, have some tea,” she said to Tara.
But Tara was in no mood to chat. “No,” she said with her hand on the doorknob. “I need to get going.”
Hometown Series Box Set Page 133