A Place Called Home

by Jo Goodman

  “The moment passed.” Mitch pushed away from the door and flopped on her sofa. “Are you working late?”

  “Mi-itch.” Exasperation pressed Thea to make two syllables out of his name. “What happened?”

  He shrugged. “We had a couple of Heinekens—a vastly underrated diplomatic beverage, by the way—and talked. I had a Reuben. He ordered the turkey club but didn’t eat much. We both had fries. Afterward, we shot darts.”

  “You shot darts?!”

  “Yeah, he’s pretty good, too. I won best two out three then I got the hell out of there before he made it three out of five. The man’s competitive.”

  “You shot darts,” she said softly.

  “Uh-huh. So, are you working late tonight? Don’t forget tomorrow’s the Fourth. You get a day off and there’s a parade and people throw candy at you from fire trucks. I mostly go after the Tootsie Rolls if there aren’t a lot of kids around me.”

  “That’s very mature of you. Now tell me what Joel said. What’s he going to do?”

  Mitch frowned. “How should I know? It wasn’t that kind of talk. I planted seeds and we’ll see what happens.”

  “You ... planted ... seeds.”

  “Yeah.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “Thea, the man’s sixty-one years old, and by the look of things, he’s done okay for himself. I wasn’t going to sit there and tell him what to do.” He stopped, thought about what he’d said to Joel, then added, “Well, not tell him much. It’s up to him and Gina.”

  Thea pressed her lips together briefly as she considered. “Are you hopeful?”

  “Let’s put it this way,” he said. “They were good seeds and the ground was fertile.”

  Laughing, she got to her feet and dropped into his lap. “Farmer Baker,” she whispered, putting her arms around his neck, “you wanna plow the lower forty?”

  Thea stood on the curb of Connaugh Creek’s Main Street and dodged candy missiles while Mitch made a surreptitious search of the street and sidewalk for midget Tootsie Rolls. There was a toddler giving him a lot of competition.

  “She’s cramping my style,” he told Thea.

  “You are a sick man. You really would take candy from a baby.”

  “Look at her. She must be at least four and already she has no heart.”

  Rolling her eyes, Thea moved so she was standing in front of him. She found his arms, brought them around her waist, and held them there. She leaned back against him. “Just keep you hands on this tootsie.”

  Mitch nudged her hair with his chin. “Firecracker.”

  “You better believe it.”

  “Mmm,” Mitch murmured against her ear. Thea was wearing navy blue shorts and a white cotton top with silver-glitter stars. Her red hair was like a burst of fire in the sunlight, giving the impression the fuse had already been lit. Which it probably had. “Look. Here come the bicycles.”

  Thea glanced down the street and tried to pick out Emilie and the twins in the sea of children pedaling their way. She caught sight of Case almost immediately. He was flanking the large group, coming up on their curbside. Like every other kid’s bike, his was decorated with crepe paper streamers woven in the spokes and around the handlebars. Red-and-blue streaks in his pale hair helped him stand out. In the event that wasn’t enough to catch the judges’ notice, Case had a horn he tooted whenever he was confident enough of his balance to take one hand off the plastic grip.

  Emilie spotted Thea and Mitch before they saw her. She waved with both hands, showing off until she was certain she caught their eye, and for a little while after that. “Hands on the wheel!” Mitch yelled.

  Emilie grabbed the handlebars so hard the bike wobbled and she almost took a spill.

  “Okay, now you’ve embarrassed her,” Thea said. “Look at your parents. Do you see them embarrassing the kids?” Jennie and Bill were sitting in lawn chairs a few feet away. Jennie had just pulled her camera out and was yoo-hooing to get the children’s attention so she could take pictures. Bill was unwrapping a midget Tootsie Roll. “Never mind. It will scare you.”

  Mitch laughed. “I know. Do I have some great genes, or what?”

  Grant pulled in front of them just then for an Uncle Sam hat adjustment. Thea refitted it on his head so it wouldn’t fall over his eyes while Jennie took more pictures than a paparazzo. “Careful,” she said, and gave him a push off. “Love you.”

  “Aunt Thea!” Grant ducked his head, the hat fell forward, and he had to adjust it again. His legs churned on the pedals so he could catch up with his brother.

  “Now who’s the embarrassing one?” Mitch whispered. He opened his arms again to allow Thea to step back in his embrace.

  “Sssh,” she hushed him, dashing away the tears that had suddenly filled her eyes. “I’m having a moment.”

  Mitch let her.

  The parade ended thirty-five minutes later with fire trucks and emergency vehicles representative of the nearby municipalities bringing up the rear. It was an impressive display of community and volunteerism and wholly fitting of the spirit of the Fourth.

  Thea and Mitch caught up with the children on their walk from Main Street to the park. They all wandered the grounds eating hot dogs and homemade pie and listening to a brass band play show tunes and Sousa marches in the gazebo. There was a double-header All Stars ball game in the afternoon. Case and Grant were up first with the younger players, then their Little League heroes took the field. Afterward Thea and Jennie went to the pool to watch the kids swim while Mitch played in a cornhole tournament with his father.

  “Do you think there are perfect days?” Thea asked Mitch as they were walking back to his house. The children were riding ahead on their bicycles, weaving in and out of each other in a spontaneously choreographed pattern.

  “I never thought about it,” Mitch said. “You think today is one of those days?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Mitch found her hand and slipped his fingers through hers. “There’s still burgers on the grill and fireworks to come.”

  She smiled, dropping her head to his shoulder for a moment. “It just keeps getting better.”

  They had a backyard cookout. Mitch’s sister and brother-in-law joined them, along with Jennie and Bill. Emilie was allowed to invite a friend to keep the squabbling with the twins to a minimum. There was more food than they could possibly eat, sustained laughter throughout the preparation and cleanup, and some prickly exchanges when politics came up front and center. At dusk the children were finally allowed to have their sparklers. They paraded around the yard, air writing with wands of light and alternating between playing Star Wars and Harry Potter.

  When it was time to return to the park to watch the fireworks, Mitch managed to get Thea to hang back with him while the others went on ahead.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “We won’t be able to find them if we don’t catch up.”

  “They won’t get lost.”

  “I’m not worried about—” Thea looked at Mitch suspiciously. “What is going on.”

  “Nothing. I swear.” He took her hand and guided her toward the curb so they could cross the street. “Come on.”

  “The park’s the other way, Mitch. Everyone else is—”

  “The best fireworks view is this way.”

  “But—”

  He started across the street, pulling her with him. “Trust me.”

  She did. They walked counter to the direction of the park for three blocks, dodging people and cars going the other way. It did seem odd to Thea that no one else appeared to know about what Mitch called the “best fireworks view.” Apparently it was also the best-kept secret in town.

  The cross street signs read Elm and Orchard when Mitch turned Thea off the sidewalk and onto the private walkway of a large Victorian style home on the corner. The wide lemonade porch wrapped around two sides of the house. White gingerbread accented the eaves and gables. The trim on the porch was also white and the house was painted pale yellow. The
home was situated so charmingly on the wide corner lot that a white picket fence would have been overkill.

  “Who lives here?” asked Thea.

  “No one right now.” Mitch easily overcame her slight resistance and pulled her up the steps to the porch. He released her at the front door and searched his pocket for a key. “I got the key from Gina. Sommers Realty has the listing.”

  “This is the house she showed you last week?”

  “Uh-huh. After months of dragging me out of town to look at homes in places with names like Woodfield Glen Timber Crest Estates—which have no trees, by the way—she finally heard me when I told her that wasn’t where I wanted to live.”

  “So she found this place? Amazing.”

  “I know. She says she did it by thinking of the last place she’d ever want to live.”

  Thea chuckled. “Well, there you go.” She stepped inside when Mitch opened the door for her. He reached behind her and flipped a switch, flooding the foyer with light. The entrance hall was wide with hardwood floors, white wainscoting, and a staircase that curved gently to the second floor. She allowed Mitch to take her hand again and lead her through the downstairs, one room flowing into another: living room, dining room, kitchen and family room, pantry and laundry.

  “Grab that newspaper on the counter,” Mitch told her before they circled back into the entrance hall. “Gina will blame me for putting it there.”

  Thea picked up the folded paper and slipped it under her arm. “What’s in the basement?”

  “A basement.” He caught her arch look. “Okay, half of it’s been remodeled into a playroom. The rest is storage. Come on. There’s more.” Mitch led her to the staircase and up the steps. He showed her to rooms he’d picked for the kids. There was even an additional bedroom that would work for when the twins no longer wanted to share sleeping quarters.

  Thea listened as Mitch described his thinking about how he and the kids would fit into this house. There was finally space for all his books and treasures that were crammed into the small guest room in his home. The kids would still share a single bathroom, which wasn’t a bad thing in his opinion, since it forced a little cooperation.

  “You have it all worked out,” Thea said, forcing a note of enthusiasm into her voice.

  “You don’t like it.” It wasn’t a question.

  “No,” she said quickly. “No, I like it. I like it a lot.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  Thea shook her head. They were standing in the doorway of the large master bedroom, similar in size and layout to Mitch’s current bedroom. She was trying not to think of where she would put the king-sized bed, or what the dresser would look like with her favorite perfume atomizer sitting on top. “Nothing. Really. This is lovely. I’m happy you found it. It’s perfect.”

  “I don’t know about perfect, but it gives us more elbow room.” He inched toward her. “Though cozy works.” Mitch bent and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “I haven’t made any decisions yet. Whether or not I make an offer depends on what happens with another offer I’m preparing to make.”

  “Another offer? There’s another house?”

  In the distance there was a loud BOOM. He drew back. “Come on. You don’t want to miss the fireworks. This way to the attic.”

  Childhood memories of a dark, airless attic with dead sash flies scattered on the floor and windowsills did not make Thea particularly enthusiastic about following him. She was pleasantly surprised to find that after climbing the narrow staircase, this floor of the house had been completely gutted and remodeled to create an aerie. She immediately filled the space with Mitch’s drafting table, his towers of magazines and newspapers, his computer sculpture, and a dead plant. It was exactly right for him.

  BOOM!

  South-facing French doors framed a shower of sparks against an inky sky. Thea let go of Mitch’s hand and hurried over to the doors. “Do they open?” She rattled them.

  “Sure.” He dimmed the lights and crossed the room to her side. “The door sticks sometimes. There’s a balcony out there. It’s safe, but be careful. It’s small.” Mitch found the latches, jiggled them a little, then drew the doors inward. “Go on.”

  Thea stepped out. BOOM! Whirligigs of gold light made a high-pitch whine during their dizzying descent. A spray of blue and green and purple followed, one bouquet of color blossoming after another. “Oooh! Beautiful.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I love fireworks. Come out here and ooh and aah with me.”

  It was a good offer, so Mitch followed her, shutting the doors behind him. A pool of light from the interior outlined the perimeter of the balcony. They stood leaning against the railing for a while, Mitch adding dry color commentary until Thea poked him in the ribs with her elbow. “Ooh and aah only,” she told him.

  Mitch complied for a few minutes. “You know we can sit down,” he said. “Here, give me that paper. I’ll spread it out under us.”

  “I can do it.” She slipped it out from under her arm and unfolded it. Out of habit she glanced at the headline. Frowning, she looked at Mitch. “I think this is today’s paper.” She squinted at the date. “It is.”

  “Something wrong with that?”

  “Well, you know what this means, don’t you? Someone else has been in the house today. Other people are interested in this place, Mitch. Have you talked to Gina about a deposit?”

  BOOM! A net of red, white, and blue light was cast across the sky. Strontium. Magnesium. Beryllium. The explosion of rockets sprayed sparkling color in all directions.

  “Aaah,” Mitch said on cue. “Or were you supposed to say ooh first?”

  Thea ignored that. “Did you hear me? Someone else is interested in the house.”

  “I’m sure a lot of people are,” he said casually. “It’s a great house. I just don’t know if it’s for us. And there’s still that other offer.”

  “What do you mean? What other offer? I thought you liked this place.”

  “Boy, I’m really going to have to draw you a picture, aren’t I?”

  Thea frowned. “What do you—” She stopped as Mitch took the paper from her hands and opened it up.

  “Good thing I already have,” he said, “because I don’t have a pen with me now.” He snapped the paper, folded it lengthwise, then in half. It was now open to the editorial page and Mitch’s cartoon was front and center. “You told me once that you looked at my work every day. I took you at your word.”

  She was still looking at him, not the paper. Thea’s expression was contrite. “I do look at your work every ... well, almost every ... well, this morning I was in a hurry to get up here.”

  “Thea, it’s okay.” He stepped closer to the French doors to make use of the attic light and held the paper so she could see it clearly.

  Thea looked down. In a simple pen and ink line drawing, Mitch had connected all the dots.

  It was a house. This house. Peaked roof and gingerbread. Lemonade porch. A sagging banner was strung from one upper-story window to another. It read: IN(TER) DEPENDENCE HALL. The figure in the forefront—perfectly recognizable as Mitch—was on one knee preparing to light a large Roman candle. Leaning over the attic balcony, watching the sky, was a slim figure with cropped hair and eyes too big for her face. The caption below the cartoon was printed in neat, block letters. OF THEA I SING.

  Overhead, in the midst of an explosion of fireworks was a simple message.

  She stared at the paper, then at him. “Yes. Yes! YES!” Dropping the paper, Thea launched herself into his open arms.

  “Oooh,” he said.

  “Aaah,” she said.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  For some it was the grand finale. For the two people slipping behind the balcony rail at Elm and Orchard, it was a great beginning.

  Epilogue

  The bride was escorted down the aisle by her father. She was glowing; he was reserved. The mother of the bride stood in the pew of honor occasionally pressing a handkerchief to her eyes, wa
iting for her husband to join her. The groom’s vision was darkening at the periphery—and he thought he might embarrass himself by being sick—but at the center of all that he saw was his radiant bride, and he knew he did not want to be anywhere else this afternoon. The groom’s children, on the other hand, had a long list of places they’d rather be, but no one cared, least of all their father.

  Thea slipped her arm around Mitch’s as the congregation was directed to be seated. She whispered to him, “Do you think we looked like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, scared for one thing.”

  He shrugged. “I was. But you looked like you knew what you were doing.”

  Thea chuckled under her breath. On the other side of her, Case and Grant had already grown bored by the proceedings and were drawing pictures of monster trucks on the service program. Emilie, though, was watching with a great deal of interest and occasionally making notes.

  At the back of the church a baby whimpered softly. A few heads turned. When the same baby began crying in earnest, most of those gathered smiled in understanding. It was always an iffy proposition to have an infant at a wedding, but in this case the infant was the child of the bride and groom and the howling took on a deeper meaning to many in the congregation. There were those who thought it was a distinct sign of approval and an equal number who thought exactly the opposite.

  Gina, who felt her breasts swell and begin to leak, knew the truth. It was only that her baby was hungry. She took Joel’s hand without the priest’s prompting and squeezed it reassuringly. For a moment it seemed as if that was all that was holding him up.

  Once tiny Sara Strahern’s greedy mouth clamped around a bottle of expressed milk, she was mostly quiet. During the exchange of vows, she was asleep, and in the receiving line, she was a star. Her smiles, even those prompted by a bit of gas, were remarked on by everyone. People commented that she certainly took after her mother—or her father—depending on which side of the church they were seated.

  It was late in the afternoon when Mitch and Thea corralled the kids to leave the reception. Emilie and the twins had made friends with Joel’s grandchildren and had disappeared several times to explore and adventure in other parts of the country club. When Case and Grant returned with grass stains on their knees and a convoluted story involving the eighteenth hole, ducks in a pond, and a lost titanium golf club, Mitch decided it was time to get out of Dodge.