A Place Called Home (48 page)

“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, waiting 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.

On the way home, the twins fell asleep in the backseat while Emilie stared thoughtfully out the window. Mitch watched her in the rearview mirror. “What are you thinking, Em?”

She glanced at him. “Why do brides wear white?”

Mitch looked at Thea. “You field this one.”

“Coward,” she whispered. To Emilie, she said simply, “It’s tradition.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Thea reached across the console and patted Mitch lightly on the knee. “Sometimes the best explanations are the simplest ones.”

Emilie fiddled with her shoulder harness, pulling it away from her chest and letting it slip back. “Do you think I could wear pink?”

“Sure,” Mitch said, keeping it simple.

“Was I at my mom and dad’s wedding?”

Mitch gave Thea a quick grin. “Back to you.”

Thea turned slightly in her seat so she could see Emilie better. “No, Em, you know you weren’t at the wedding. You were born about ten months later.”

Emilie considered that. “I wish I could have been there. I think Sara was lucky.”

Mitch chuckled. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Do you want to watch the video tonight?” asked Thea. In the course of the move to Elm and Orchard Mitch had come across a recording of Kathy and Gabe’s wedding. They stopped everything they were doing, hooked up the DVD player and TV, and sat down on the floor to watch. The quality certainly wasn’t hi-def and the camera work was jumpy, but those production values were immaterial in contrast to the power of the images. In retrospect the bride and groom looked absurdly young. There was no doubt, however, that they were deeply in love. Listening to them exchange vows again was poignant; watching them do the chicken dance at the reception was very nearly hysterical. In the end they all laughed more than they cried and the disk was carefully re-boxed and placed with other keepsakes and moved to their new home. “I know just where we put it,” Thea went on. “It’s no trouble to get it out.”

“No,” Emilie said. Then, in adultlike tones, she added, “I think one wedding is enough today.” She turned back to staring out the window, planning her gown, bridal party, and reception right down to the number of flowers on her cake.

Much later that night, after the kids were tucked in bed, Mitch found Thea sitting in the darkened family room watching the DVD she had offered to show Emilie. She hit the pause button and made space for him on the sofa.

“It’s all right,” he said, putting her legs over his lap and running his hands lightly over them from knee to ankle. “There. That’s nice. You’ve got great gams, Thea Baker. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Your father,” she said dryly.

Mitch chuckled. “Yeah, well, he’s always been a leg man.”

“And you’re not?”

“I have diverse interests. Legs
and
breasts.”

“That doesn’t exactly make you a Renaissance man.” Before he could respond, she aimed the remote at him and hit the mute button. Mitch’s mouth clamped shut. “I’ll be darned. It works.” She hit it again. “Are the kids all down?”

“Down, but not out. Case and Grant are nodding off. Emilie wanted to read in bed for a while so I said okay.”

Thea nodded. She laid the remote on the arm of the sofa and settled more comfortably into the corner. “Mmm. That feels good,” she said softly as Mitch continued to massage her bare calves and feet. “I thought it was interesting that Emilie passed on watching this.”

“Don’t put too much stock in it. She might decide to do a marathon of viewing tomorrow.”

“I know. And that’s okay. I just can’t remember her passing on an opportunity to do anything related to Gabe and Kathy before. It’s hard to know whether to feel relieved or concerned.”

“She’s working it out, Thea. So are the boys.” They had marked the first anniversary of Gabe and Kathy’s deaths quietly, honoring their memory by making a contribution to the Mothers Against Drunk Driving chapter in their community. It was a bittersweet time for Thea because it fell on the heels of her first year being drug free. “We’re all still trying to know how to think about it. Their misfortune. Our blessing. I mean, what do you do with that except thank God that you’re able to move on?”