On Blue Falls Pond

by Susan Crandall

  They sat down, Ovella in the wing chair and Glory on the pristine white sofa.

  Ovella said, “I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you. I thought we’d agreed on Sunday afternoon.”

  As always, Ovella made Glory feel like a bumpkin with no manners. “Yes, we did. And I’m sorry for just showing up like this, but I have some things on my mind and really need to talk to Walt.”

  “I see.”

  “Not that I didn’t want to see you, too,” Glory added, much too late from the look in Ovella’s eyes. “But I would have waited as we’d planned . . .”

  “Of course. Would you like something to drink? Iced tea, perhaps? You look dreadfully wrung out, dear.”

  “Tea would be very nice, thank you.” Glory felt as uncomfortable if she were in an audience with the president.

  Ovella smoothed her hands over the knees of her linen slacks. “I’ll be right back.”

  Glory offered her a smile as she got up and left the room. What Glory had felt like saying was, Don’t hurry.

  While Ovella was gone, Glory got up and looked at the collection of photographs arranged on the grand piano, a new addition since she’d last been here. It was nothing short of a shrine to Andrew; all that was missing were little lighted votive candles.

  The photos ranged from Andrew’s birth, documenting every stage of his life up until an awards banquet a week before his death. There were shots of Andrew and his parents, Andrew and his football team, Andrew and his prom date, Andrew on a fishing trip, Andrew with his buddies at college graduation, Andrew and the mayor of Dawson, Andrew seated at his desk in the president’s office at the paper mill, Andrew and a U.S. senator, Andrew toasting his parent’s thirty-fifth wedding anniversary—but not a single photo of Andrew and Glory.

  She’d known Ovella had little love for her, but until this very moment, Glory hadn’t realized she’d held no place in this family—or in Andrew’s life—as far as her mother-in-law was concerned. Glory had thought herself beyond being hurt by rejection from Ovella Harrison. She was wrong.

  She turned her back on the display, determined not to allow negative feelings to interfere with her visit with Walt. As she moved back toward the sofa, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the fireplace mantel. It was worse then she’d imagined. Much worse. She had puffy, bloodshot, raccoon eyes from crying without the benefit of waterproof mascara. Her hair was limp from the heat and humidity. Her skin was pale enough that it looked translucent. Stepping closer to the mirror, she swiped a finger under her eyes trying to get rid of some of the mascara. It didn’t help.

  She didn’t want to greet Walt this way. She picked up her purse and made her way to the powder room. If Ovella was offended that she didn’t ask, tough.

  As Glory stepped into the half bath, she thought she heard the back door open and close. She hurried to get her face washed, thinking Walt had come home.

  After scrubbing with scented hand soap and mopping her smeared mascara with a tissue, Glory looked like Plain Jane but at least no longer like local wildlife. She applied ChapStick—the only thing even close to a cosmetic in her purse, and stepped back out into the hall.

  She listened for voices, to see if Ovella and Walt were still in the kitchen, or in the living room. She didn’t hear anything except the ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the entry hall and the purr of the central air-conditioning. Upon returning to the living room, she saw Ovella and two glasses of iced tea, but no Walt.

  “There you are, dear,” Ovella said. “I was getting worried. But I see you look much better.”

  Glory tucked a strand of hair self-consciously behind her ear. “I didn’t realize what a mess I was. It’s been a rough day.”

  “I can see that.”

  “I thought I heard Walt come in,” Glory said.

  Ovella cocked her head slightly and said, “No. He hasn’t come home yet.” She got up and handed Glory a glass of tea. “Here, have something to drink. You’ll feel better.”

  Disappointed that Walt hadn’t arrived to save her from one-on-one conversation with Ovella, Glory took the glass and sat back on the sofa.

  A few strained seconds passed while they both sipped their tea.

  When Glory couldn’t stand it anymore, she broke the silence. “I don’t know if you know why I came back.”

  Ovella set her tea on a coaster and raised a brow. “I did hear that Tula was having some health problems. I assumed that was what brought you back after all this time.”

  Glory looked at the glass in her hands for a moment. Then she said, “Yes. It’s her eyesight.”

  Ovella nodded sympathetically. Then she said in a neutral tone, “I understand you’re seeing Eric Wilson.”

  Glory’s head snapped up. “Not exactly. We’ve run into one another because Gran watches his son, that’s all.”

  “Oh.”

  Glory wanted to get this conversation steered in another direction. “I came by to explain why I spent so long away; I’d like to wait until Walt comes ho—”

  “Do I see Glory’s car in the drive?” Walt nearly shouted as he entered the house through the kitchen door.

  Glory set down her glass on the coaster Ovella had placed next to her and jumped off the sofa. When Walt appeared in the living room door, grinning from ear to ear with his arms spread wide, she hurried into his embrace.

  He wrapped his arms around her tightly. “How’s my girl?”

  She pulled slightly away so she could look into his eyes. “With a welcome like that, how could I be anything but great?” She kissed his cheek.

  He wrapped an arm around Glory’s shoulders and escorted her back into the living room. “Mother, isn’t it good to have our girl home?”

  Ovella smiled. “Glory was just about to explain why she’s stayed away so long.”

  Walt eyed the iced-tea glasses. “I could use one of those, Mother.”

  “Of course. I’ll be right back.” She looked at Glory. “Don’t start your story without me.”

  As soon as she was out of the room, Glory said, “While Ovella’s in the kitchen, I want to tell you how much it meant to me to have you with me at the hospital that night. I know it’s taken me far too long to thank you. It had to be a horrible night for you too, but you made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered.”

  He glanced toward the door, then looked back at Glory. “It’s very considerate of you not to bring this up in front of Ovella. She’s still having such a hard time. She’s practically keeping the Dixie Bee in business single-handedly; she takes fresh flowers to the cemetery every other day.” He shook his head, as if wishing things were different. Then he took Glory’s hand and smiled. “And there’s absolutely no reason to thank me. I was right where I wanted to be. You’re family—and family sticks together when things get rough.”

  “Still—”

  “Here you are, dear.” Ovella swept into the room as gently as a breeze.

  Walt took the glass from her with an appreciative smile, then took a long drink. “Now that’s what a man needs after a long, hot day at the plant.”

  As Ovella sat down, she said to Glory, “I did tell you that Walt had to come out of retirement, didn’t I?”

  Glory nodded.

  “Eh, retirement is for old folks,” Walt said with a grin. “I was getting so bored, I thought I’d dry up. It’s been good for me.”

  Ovella agreed, “Of course it has. Just look at that healthy glow.” She reached across the small space and patted his knee.

  Glory smiled at the genuine affection that passed between her in-laws; it showed in their smiles and glittered in their eyes. It was hard to believe that a couple who showed such respect for one another had raised a son who turned out to be a husband like Andrew.

  “I know I’ve just dropped in, so I won’t keep you,” Glory said. “I just wanted you both to know that I’m sorry if my staying away for so long hurt either one of you. I was an emotional wreck when I left. The longer I stayed a
way, the harder it was to think about coming back.” She looked at her hands in her lap. “I probably should have stayed and faced the . . . changes in my life.”

  “So you’re staying now?” Walt said hopefully.

  “I’m not sure. I think I might. Granny’s eyesight is failing . . . I guess I’m trying to take stock and actually plan a future instead of blowing on the wind.”

  “That’s a very wise idea,” Ovella said.

  Walt added, with a wink and a smile, “As long as that plan involves staying in Dawson. There’s probably a position in my office, if you’re looking for good, steady work.”

  “Now, Walter, don’t push,” Ovella said softly.

  Glory stood. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, with a little laugh. Walt, bless his heart, had to know she wasn’t qualified for any type of corporate work. But she had no doubt he was sincere in his offer. After all, Walt was the one who tried to get Andrew’s will overturned to make her the beneficiary. Glory had put a stop to that immediately. Since then, he’d been making discreet offers of financial assistance.

  “Do you have to rush off?” Walt asked. “Stay for dinner.”

  “Yes,” Ovella chimed in. “Please. We’ll eat on the screened porch.”

  “Thank you, but I should be getting home. I’ve been gone for hours, and Granny has just had another episode with her eye. I shouldn’t have left her this long.”

  Walt and Ovella walked her to the front door. Walt gave her a solid hug and Ovella air-kissed her cheek.

  Glory said, as she opened the door, “Now that I’ve barged in this evening, I won’t bother you on Sunday.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re welcome anytime.” Ovella sounded entirely sincere. “Sunday will be no problem. You might like to bring a suit and swim.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. But Granny has arranged a family dinner after church. I was going to have to duck out on the cleanup detail to come. Can we make it another time?”

  “We understand,” Walt said. “Let’s get together sometime next week for dinner.”

  “Oh, yes, that’d be lovely,” Ovella agreed.

  “Sure. Give me a call.”

  Glory got in her car and an innocent comment Walt made suddenly rang clearly in her mind, “ . . . she takes fresh flowers to the cemetery every other day.”

  As Glory drove away, she wondered why there hadn’t been any on the baby’s grave.

  Chapter Nineteen

  AS GLORY TURNED onto the lane that led to Granny’s house, she was glad it was six-thirty; the last thing she wanted was to finish this day by running into Eric’s ex, especially since she’d managed not to cross paths with Jill so far. It was silly to feel guilty for sleeping with Eric; he and Jill were divorced. But after all of the emotional unbalance of the day, Glory didn’t think she was prepared to throw those feelings into the mix.

  As she rounded the curve, her heart sank when she saw an unfamiliar car parked in front of Granny’s house.

  To be safe, Glory decided to turn around, head back to the road, and take a little drive. Even if it wasn’t Jill inside with Granny, Glory wasn’t in a social mood.

  Just as she slowed to a stop so she could make a U-turn, Jill came out of the house leading Scott by the hand. She looked directly at Glory’s car. Crap.

  Jill didn’t get in her car; she just stood there, looking expectantly in Glory’s direction. There was nothing to do but drive on up to the house.

  Before Glory got out of the car, she took one quick glance in the rearview mirror, knowing full well what a mess she was. She squelched the groan her reflection prompted. There hadn’t been a miracle makeover while she’d driven to the hollow.

  Feeling like the ugly stepsister to Jill’s Cinderella, Glory got out.

  Jill smiled her brilliant cheerleader smile. Glory responded with what she was certain appeared to be a washed-out, haggard one of her own.

  Jill said, “Hello, Glory. It’s been a long time.”

  “It has—a very long time.” In fact, Glory couldn’t remember Jill ever speaking to her—certainly not when they’d been Jill Landry and Glory Johnston. It seemed that Jill had given her a cordial hello or two after she’d become Glory Harrison.

  “Are you glad to be home again?” Jill asked amiably. “I know living out here is probably much more comfortable for you than the Harrisons’ mansion in town.”

  Although the pleasantly cloaked dig rankled, Glory said smoothly, “I came home for Granny. It wouldn’t make sense to be staying in town.”

  “Of course, I just meant . . . well, you know, Mother and Ovella are such dear friends . . . the Harrisons were devastated when Andrew was killed. It would be a daily reminder if you were in the house. And I know you and Ovella aren’t exactly cut from the same cloth.”

  “You mean she doesn’t like me.” How about a “Sorry about your husband and baby”?

  “Now I didn’t say that. I just meant the Harrisons are from a different world than the rest of us. And it has to be especially awkward for you—without Andrew as a buffer.”

  At least Jill included herself in the great unwashed masses, Glory thought. “We get along all right. In fact, I was just there for a visit.”

  Jill’s eyes widened before she caught herself and schooled her features. “You came straight from there?”

  Glory touched her hair and decided to keep this from dragging into an even more cumbersome discussion. “Yep. I was quite a contrast to Ovella’s Estée Lauder finish.”

  Jill burst out laughing, a genuine laugh, not one manufactured for politeness. Which caused her to go up a notch on Glory’s scale in likability.

  Jill said, “Oh, I can just see it now! Did she actually allow you to sit on the furniture?”

  “The white sofa in the living room, actually. I have to admit, I didn’t exactly give her the opportunity to stop me—or get a garbage bag for me to sit on.” Glory was laughing, too. It felt good, like a warm spring rain after a long, bitter winter.

  When their laughter died down, Glory made a point of speaking to Scott, who was standing like a statue holding his mother’s hand. “Hi, Scott. Did you have a good afternoon with Lady?”

  At mention of the dog’s name, Glory could swear she saw a flicker in the little boy’s eyes. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

  Jill said, “Those puppies are just darling. If I didn’t have to be at work all day, I’d think about taking one.”

  “You know, it might not be a bad idea to think about a dog for Scott. I was just reading an article about companion dogs for children with special needs.”

  Instantly, Glory could see she’d said the wrong thing.

  Jill said, “Scott isn’t a child ‘with special needs.’”

  “I didn’t mean . . . it’s just that he seems to enjoy being with Lady. He’s more—animated around her.”

  “All little boys like dogs.”

  Glory thought most three-year-olds preferred active, playful, yipping puppies to a sedate older dog like Lady, but she kept that thought to herself. “He does seem to like Lady. He’s started following her around the house.”

  “Really, there’s nothing wrong with Scott. Obviously, Eric has said something to color your thinking.” Before Glory could say anything, Jill went on, “I’m glad I agreed to take him to a specialist, just to have all this nonsense put to rest.” Jill’s gaze sharpened. “If you had children, you’d understand.”

  She didn’t seem to notice Glory flinch.

  Jill continued, “They’re all so unique and develop at their own pace. Scott’s life has been upset by the divorce. I think we made a serious mistake in thinking he was too young for it to affect him. It would probably be best for Scott if Eric and I reconcile; in fact, we’re talking about it.” Her blue eyes showed neither malice nor calculation.

  Eric and Jill were talking about getting back together? It felt as if Jill had given Glory a slap across the face followed by a backhanded return; a one-two punch. Eric had sai
d they were coming to an agreement on what to do for Scott—but reconciliation?

  It took Glory a second to recover. “I’m sure you’ll do whatever needs to be done for your son.” Her voice sounded wooden, but she couldn’t help it.

  “Well,” Jill said cheerily, “I shouldn’t keep you. Tula had dinner ready to put on the table when I came out.” She led Scott to the driver’s side and opened the rear passenger door.

  Glory studied her, trying to put this conversation in some perspective. Outwardly Jill had been pleasant enough. Had there been spiteful undercurrents? Or was that just Glory’s guilt and fatigue coloring Jill’s statements?

  Glory supposed it really didn’t matter. The fact was, Jill and Eric were considering reconciliation and Glory felt as though the last prop holding her upright had just been knocked out from under her. She’d made a huge mistake in allowing herself to rely on someone else. She’d told him he couldn’t save her; but suddenly she realized just how much she’d grown to count on him to do just that.

  “Good night, then,” Glory managed. “Have a nice weekend.”

  Jill’s head popped back up and she looked across the top of the car. “Oh, we’re going to have a great weekend! Eric and I are taking Scott on a picnic tomorrow afternoon.”

  With a grimace that she hoped appeared to be a smile, Glory waved and went inside. A few minutes later she heard Jill’s car start and roll slowly away from the house.

  “Why, child, you look like the wrong side of a bad Saturday night,” Gran said when Glory entered the kitchen.

  “It’s been a long afternoon. I’ll tell you about it later. Right now I need a shower. You go ahead and eat.” As she passed through the kitchen, she kissed Gran’s cheek and asked, “Did Charlie stop by this afternoon?”

  Granny stiffened. “Yes, and you got no business sendin’ people to check up on me.”

  “He wasn’t checking up on you. He was supposed to be asking what he could do to help set up for the reunion on Sunday.”