by Jane Peart
She stood at the checkout counter, biting her lower lip nervously, praying he didn’t finish his shopping and join the same line or the one opposite hers. Her face felt stiff and stretched.
How many times did it have to happen to her before she saw the light? Showing your true feelings only made you a target. Being honest meant getting hurt. She thought she’d learned. But Mark seemed so different…Mark seemed—oh, how did she know? She wasn’t good at reading people. Hadn’t experience taught her that, if nothing else?
“We’re all in this alone,” comedian Lily Tomlin had quipped. Maybe that was true. You couldn’t count on anyone. Trust anyone. How could she have forgotten that? Been crazy enough to hope?
Oh, why was the woman ahead of her being so slow? Coryn tapped her foot impatiently. The woman was carrying on a long explanation with the clerk about getting the wrong kind of dishwashing detergent. The clerk was sending the bag boy back down the store to exchange it for the right one. More delay. Coryn began to feel hot, choked. Exasperated. Desperate.
Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw Mark and Ginny approach. She looked down into her cart, as though seeing if everything was there. Finally, the line moved. She unloaded her items onto the counter. The cash register was clicking. The clerk said something she didn’t hear, she got out her wallet, hand poised to pull out the necessary bills. Thank goodness, at last. Her purchases were bagged, put back into the shopping cart and she rolled it toward the exit door.
Outside, the rush of cold air in her face revived her. Then she heard a voice behind her. “Miss, miss…”
She whirled around.
“Your change, miss.” It was the bag boy. “You forgot your change.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said, thrusting the money into the pocket of her jacket. She stowed the groceries in the trunk of the car.
It was only when she was behind the wheel, fastening her seat belt that she realized her mother was no longer on the passenger side. Her heart literally stopped. She turned cold. Where in the world was she?
It was getting dark now and the shopping center was crowded with shoppers, cars. Coryn pulled the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. Standing beside it she looked around frantically. Which way could Clare have gone? Breathing hard, Coryn walked back toward the Reddi-Rite entrance.
People in a hurry pushed loaded carts out through the automatic doors. No sign of her mother there. Should she go right or left? A number of smaller stores flanked the large grocery building. She couldn’t have got too far, Coryn told herself. She’d only been in the store fifteen, twenty minutes.
Her heart hammered as she hurried down the sidewalk, checking the entryway into each store along the way. Then she saw her mother. She was standing in front of the display window of the variety store at the end of the block. Weak with relief, Coryn hurried toward her.
“Mom!” she said, grabbing her arm. “You scared me half to death. I didn’t know where you were-”
Her mother turned to her with a wide-eyed stare. “Why, honey, I’m sorry…I just was doing a little window-shopping. Look at that dear little carousel. Isn’t that sweet? Wouldn’t that make a darling gift for Mark Emery’s little girl?”
The mention of Ginny was like salt in an open wound. She was still smarting from the hurt of what had just happened. Her own pain caused her voice to be sharp. “I don’t know, Mom.” She tugged at her coat sleeve. “Come on. It’s late and we better get home before Dad. He’ll be worried.” He’d be even more worried if he knew about today, Coryn thought. She put her hand through her mother’s arm and led her back to the car.
Dear God, what next?
Coryn was taking deep breaths as she got back in the car and slid behind the wheel. Her hand shook as she inserted her key into the ignition. Pulling out of her space, she went forward to make the turn into the highway, and saw Mark’s station wagon. Foolish tears stung her eyes. She remembered an especially happy time they were all together. On their way home from the beach…singing.
It hurt, but then, she’d been hurt before. It was her own fault. Expecting too much, taking too much for granted.
Well, what had she expected? To dump on Mark right there in the middle of the canned section between sliced pineapple and cream of chicken soup? To tell him how worried she was about her mother? And even if she had and he had listened sympathetically because he liked her mother, what could he do? She would just have made him uncomfortable. People only listen to other people’s troubles if they have to, or if they’re paid to. That’s all they can do, for fifteen minutes or an hour, at most. Then they go their own way, back to their own lives, feeling relieved that your problem, the one they’ve just heard about, isn’t theirs. It’s as if troubles or disasters were somehow contagious. If you get too close to one, you might contract it yourself.
Oh, I don’t blame you, Mark, Coryn thought as she turned into the driveway. I wouldn’t want to hear about this, either. If I had a choice. Which I don’t.
“God help me,” she prayed aloud as she got out of the car. Saying it, she knew only He could.
February
Chapter Fifteen
The next two days passed in an agony of indecision for Coryn. There was no use denying it any longer, there was something seriously wrong with her mother. She had to find out what. Dr. Roger Iverson had been their family physician as long as she could remember. Surely her mother had gone for a yearly physical checkup at least. Maybe she had told him about some of these memory lapses, the headaches, the lack of usual interest and energy. Certainly he could prescribe something that would help her. A mood elevator or maybe just some super vitamins.
The only way to find out was to make an appointment with him and talk to him herself. She planned to do it as soon as possible.
Coupled with this new worry was the disappointment about Mark Emery. The shattering of her brief hope for new happiness.
Both these things weighed heavily on Coryn’s heart early that February morning when she came into the kitchen. Her father was alone. He put down the paper. “Good morning, hon. Your mother’s sleeping in. Would you do a favor for me? Stop at the cleaners? Tonight’s the banquet at the Highland Inn and they’ve got the suit I want to wear. Your mother was supposed to pick it up yesterday but evidently forgot.”
“Sure, Dad,” Coryn said quickly. Her father was frowning as if annoyed at another incident of her mother’s memory slips.
Coryn again considered discussing her concerns about her mother with him. But he seemed so preoccupied and even a bit on edge this morning. He focused on the banquet, she realized.
The banquet was the annual fund-raising event for the benefit of the local heart association. Her father had reserved a table for them and some friends. Coryn had also forgotten about it. Even though it wasn’t a blatantly political event, she knew by now that her father would be doing some networking there.
Later that morning, Coryn drove to the nearby small shopping mall where Wilson Dry Cleaners was located. The Dodges had been customers there for years. Both husband and wife worked in the establishment. When Coryn walked in, Mrs. Wilson was at the counter waiting on someone else.
After she finished with him, she turned to Coryn. “You’ve come to pick up your father’s cleaning, right? It’s been here over a week. I called and left a message for your mother but I guess she doesn’t remember.”
Mrs. Wilson cast a sympathetic glance at Coryn then went to the rotating clothes rack. After spinning it around a few times, examining tags, she took down two plastic bags and brought them back to the. counter.
As she removed the sales slips and rang up the amount on the cash register, she said, “I’m glad you’re back in Rockport, Coryn. I’m sure it’s a comfort to your dad to have someone looking out for your mom these days.”
She shook her head. “Such a pity.” She glanced over both shoulders then leaned closer, lowered her voice. “Let me tell you, I know what it’s like. I grew up with it. Both my paren
ts were alcoholics, and it was tough.”
Coryn pulled out her wallet and extracted two bills. Her ears rang. She couldn’t believe what Mrs. Wilson had just said. What she was implying! Coryn felt her face flush hotly, then the blood drained from her head. Everything buzzed around her. The smell of the steam irons, the rhythmic slap of the mangles came from the back of the shop, Mrs. Wilson’s flat voice merged into a droning hum. Coryn held out one icy hand for the change the woman was counting out, then turned and practically ran out of the store.
Back in the car, she sat very still for a long time. The old saying “It takes one to know one” sprang into Coryn’s mind. Mrs. Wilson had somehow got the idea her mother was an alcoholic? That was idiotic. Her mother hardly ever touched liquor. To be identified as an alcoholic was outrageous. How had Mrs. Wilson ever got an idea like that?
* * *
The banquet room of the Highland Inn was filled with people. Elegantly gowned women chatted together. Men in dinner jackets streamed back and forth from the bar to their tables. The who’s who of Rockport always turned out for this event. Dignitaries, aware of the importance of being seen at these community affairs, greeted people as they made their way to the head table; the mayor, members of the board of supervisors, directors of the Rockport Chamber of Commerce.
As Coryn entered with her parents, she saw Mark sitting at the press table. For a moment their glances locked. Coryn felt heat begin to rise into her face. She nodded. A brief smile touched her lips. These weeks of silence from Mark had renewed Coryn’s resolve made after Jason, not to let herself be vulnerable to any man. Yet, she had let it happen again. Mark—and let’s face it, Ginny—had become important to her. The hurt she now felt was doubly bitter.
As they made their way to their reserved table, her father was stopped several times by well-wishers. “Go for it, Neil!” and “Let me know when you decide. I want to help.” These and other such remarks made Coryn realize her father was much more intent on running for the state assembly than she had assumed.
Coryn glanced at her mother. She looked lovely as usual, perfectly groomed except…before they left the house, Coryn had noticed that Clare was wearing two different-colored shoes. When she had called it to her attention, her mother had been embarrassed. Coryn had downplayed the incident and her father had not been aware of it. She was glad she’d made the appointment with Dr. Iverson. There must be a reason for all this.
When her father’s conversation with someone seemed to be dragging on, Coryn felt her mother’s thin fingers clutch her arm and she turned to look at her. Clare’s lips were pressed tightly together and her eyes were wide and frightened. She looked almost ill. Alarmed, Coryn asked, “Mom, are you okay?”
“Yes, dear, fine. Just a little dizzy for a moment.” They had reached their table and Coryn helped her to a seat With a shaky hand, her mother lifted the water glass and took a few sips. What had caused this-whatever it was-panic attack? Was it something someone had said? Didn’t Clare want her husband to run for public office?
Under any other circumstances Coryn thought her mother would make the perfect politician’s wife, beautiful, gracious, with all the social skills to charm constituents.
Feeling protective, Coryn took a seat beside Clare. Two other couples, old friends of the family, came to the table to join them. Immediately the conversation became general and lively. Neil came last. He was smiling broadly and seemed excited. Obviously he enjoyed all the attention. Knowing him as she did, Coryn knew her father considered the prospect of taking on the incumbent assemblyman a challenge, one he would assume with pleasure. But if her mother’s problems were serious or got worse? The question hung unanswered in Coryn’s mind.
Coryn glanced at Clare again. She seemed to have regained her composure. She and Lucy Prentis were discussing the Friends of the Library plans to fund the new reference room at the main library. For the moment she seemed all right. Relieved, Coryn sighed
With conversations going at full tilt on either side of her, Coryn had a chance to look around the room. The press table was in her direct line of vision. It was disconcerting to realize that Mark was seated so he could observe her, which he was doing at the moment.
She felt uncomfortable. Conscious of Mark’s regard, she lowered her eyes and looked down at the salad the waitress had just placed before her. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so bad about it if she knew exactly why Mark had cooled.
A spattering of applause brought her back to the present. Don Moore, the president of the chamber of commerce was at the mike.
“Tonight I’d like to introduce some of our prominent citizens who are here supporting this project. These are people we all know and love because they are always there, ready to be counted on for whatever will help our county.”
One by one he announced names, and people at various tables stood up to enthusiastic applause. Then Don Moore said, “Neil Dodge, who we hope is going to answer a groundswell of support to be our next north-coast assemblyman at the state legislature.” Her father rose to his feet.
Everyone at their table began to clap loudly. There were exclamations from every corner of the room as her father smiled and waved his hand. The applause went on for a long time until Neil sat down. There was a buzz of congratulatory comment from all sides. Glancing at her mother, Coryn saw her face had turned deathly pale. A few minutes later, Clare murmured something and struggled to get up from her chair. She stumbled slightly, sat down again. Then, with great effort, she rose, steadied herself on the back of the chair and started toward the exit into the lobby.
Coryn’s father, deep in conversation with the man to his left, did not see her mother leave. With growing concern, Coryn watched Clare’s progress across the room. She was weaving visibly. A stab of fear pierced Coryn’s heart. She put down her napkin and darted a quick look at her mother’s place. Her wineglass was untouched. She looked back at Clare. She was definitely wobbling. Quickly, Coryn pushed back her chair and walked to her side.
Taking firm hold of her mother’s arm, she whispered, “Lean on me, Mom.”
Swaying slightly, Clare leaned against her. Slowly they moved forward. As they did, Mark Emery suddenly appeared on the other side of her. Holding her arm steadily, he walked with them out the door into the lobby. There they eased Clare into one of the velvet chairs.
She raised her hand and passed it wearily across her forehead, murmured, “Thank you.” She closed her eyes for a few seconds. “I don’t know what came over me. I felt so dizzy.”
“It’s terribly hot in there,” Mark said quickly. “All that crowd and noise. I felt a little woozy myself.”
Clare looked relieved, and Coryn shot him a grateful glance.
“Let me get you some water,” Mark offered, then left to do so.
“Do you want me to take you home, Mom?” Coryn asked.
Alarmed, Clare said, “Oh, no, I’ll have to go back. Your father will be upset if I don’t.”
“You don’t have to, Mom. Not if you don’t feel well.”
“I’ll be fine. Just give me a few minutes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, dear. Honestly.”
Mark came back with a glass of water, handed it to Clare.
She took it with her hand visibly shaking. “Thank you, Mr. Emery. You’re very kind.”
Mark stood there, an anxious frown on his face. He glanced at Coryn, thinking she looked especially lovely tonight. She was wearing the same deep blue dress she’d had on the day of the New Year’s open house. She seemed unconscious of his presence. She was concentrating totally on her mother. He sensed her distress, longed to reach out, touch her, say something comforting.
Coryn felt Mark’s gaze upon her and tensed. The situation could not have been more awkward. This was the first time they’d been in each other’s presence since that awful day in the supermarket. Coryn felt embarrassed yet aware of his sensitivity, coming to their aid as he had. It was that very quality in him that had drawn her to him
. It had caused her to let down her defenses, to dream, to hope. Almost tongue-tied with nervousness, Coryn murmured, “Yes, thank you.”
Whatever Mark was feeling, he said, “Not at all. Gave me a chance to skip the rest of those boring speeches.” He grinned “I had to leave to go by the paper anyway.”
He paused, then asked Coryn, “Is your father really planning to run for the assembly?”
“I guess he’s thinking seriously about it.” She glanced at her mother apprehensively. But she seemed her calm, poised self once more.
“I’d like to have an interview. That is, when he’s ready.”
“I’ll tell him,” Coryn replied.
“Well, I’ll say good-night to you both. I hope you feel better, Mrs. Dodge.”
“Oh, I’m fine now. Thank you again, Mr. Emery.” Clare smiled her brilliant smile.
After Mark left, Coryn asked, “Ready?”
“Yes, darling, ready.” Her mother seemed completely restored. “Ready to face the roaring lions in the den.” She slipped her hand through Coryn’s arm, pressed it slightly. “Don’t mention my little spell to your dad. He’d worry. Unnecessarily. He’s got so much on his mind just now.”
They went back to their places at the table. Coryn glanced around. No one seemed to have missed them or noted their return. Coryn would have felt less at ease if she had known their table companions were purposely avoiding mentioning their sudden departure, that curious eyes had followed them as they had made their way to the lobby, and suspicious whispers on wagging tongues had spread malicious rumors from table to table.
Chapter Sixteen
The day of Coryn’s appointment with Dr. Iverson, she felt nervous. Now that she had arranged to see the doctor, she was afraid of what he would tell her. At least, maybe after talking with him, she’d be able to get some handle on what was wrong with her mother.