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April 1 dawned clear and bright and Margie puttered around in the kitchen in bathrobe and slippers humming to herself. This was the day she was to work with Sherrie on the layout of the first issue of The New Hope Weekly, a free advertising issue with a few local news items. She felt that for the first time in a long while she was working on something important, something entirely free of a husband and daughter’s demands on her time and energy. It didn’t even matter that Lydia had her mind on her own things. Maybe the house improvements could wait. Maybe she should just get into this new work and blend into the community and forget trying to find all the details of That Night. She bet they’d come out eventually. Just their presence was going to make people remember, and they couldn’t keep silent forever.
Margie was so deep in thought she didn’t hear Lydia come into the kitchen and was startled when she said she was ready to go over to the gym and see what it looked like after all these years.
“You are?” Margie asked. She turned toward Lydia, raised spatula in hand, and bits of scrambled egg dripped onto the stove. She quickly dabbed at the drips and pulled the pan off the heat. “What are you going to look for?”
“Nothing in particular.” Lydia was staring out the door window that looked onto the porch. “You want to go with me?”
“Well, sure, sometime. I’m busy today.”
“I thought it might be a good idea to check it out before that meeting they’re talking about. Ought to check out the schoolhouse, too. See what shape it’s in. Get more informed so we know what they’re talking about when those businesses are proposed. I suppose the town could use some industry.”
“You want some eggs?” Margie asked as if she’d not heard a word Lydia had said.
“As long as you’ve got enough.” Lydia left the window and poured herself some coffee while Margie dished out the eggs and gingerly plucked out the hot toast from the toaster and placed it on the plate. “How come the fancy food this morning?” she asked her sister.
“Just felt like it. Sort of a celebration, maybe. My first real workday with Sherrie. That’s why I can’t go to the gym.”
“But you’ll be done my noon, won’t you?”
“How would I know? I’ve never done this before. And don’t forget you’re supposed to take those flyers over to the school today. You’ll get to meet Pearl and see what her fifth and sixth graders are up to.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” Lydia took her coffee to the table and poured a cup for Margie. They sat down, bowed their heads in prayer, a habit from childhood training they both continued. “I’ll walk down with you, then.” Lydia didn’t mention last night’s visitation, yet she still felt a quivering inside, something pulling at her, a kind of urgency, as if she had to know something before some other thing occurred, or could occur, perhaps.
The Return Page 9