Page 27 of Below the Far Horizon
“That’s where some good has come,” he said, and she nodded.
Time for a subject change. “Mrs. Donegan’s probably wondering what in the world is going on. We better go in.”
She didn’t really want to move. She could stand and talk to Trevor all day. Just like they’d never left each other, like he was still her best friend.
He grinned, and even that reminded her of the time they spent together. So much of it had been spent laughing. She loved that grin. Loved tracing his lips with her finger, kissing them with her own.
She couldn’t think like that. Instead, she unlatched the gate. He pushed it open and allowed her to go through first. She didn’t wait for him, but they walked single file up the walk and onto the front porch. She glanced at him as she lifted her hand and knocked on the door.
His eyes were thoughtful, almost as though he were remembering too. Did he feel it? Feel the laughter and the pull of the happy memories? The way they seemed to fit together, and how talking to him was easy and enjoyable. Did he feel the same brightness deep down in his soul? The same feeling of just being with the perfect person?
There was no white-hot, burning passion. But rather a simple, easy, friendship-type feeling. The idea that there could be more. That shewanted to be closer to him, that snuggling in his arms would feel like she had come home. Even more than walking into her mother’s house and smelling the old, familiar scents that brought her childhood back in full memory.
They didn’t say anything as they waited for Mrs. Donegan to open the door. She could hear movement in the house, and though it took a while, she didn’t knock again. The older woman probably just moved slowly and needed some time to get to her door.
Eventually, the door cracked open, and Mrs. Donegan, the same yet older, stood in front of them. Same white hair, but maybe a little bit whiter and much thinner. The same smiling blue eyes, although more crinkles and perhaps even more deeply set in the sockets. Same faded housedress, the same friendly smile. But older.
It reminded her that she wasn’t a little girl again. She was a woman, and she should be making more mature decisions. Maybe one of those decisions should be to reach out to her friends. Was that the mature thing to do?
“Hello. Mrs. Donegan?”
“That’s me. Are you selling something?” the lady asked, not sounding belligerent, exactly, but like she was going to send them packing if they were.
“No. Your birthday is tomorrow, and we made some things for you. But I don’t think you remember me. I’m Grace. Grace Honea,” she said, supplying her maiden name and not her married name of Tyack. She hadn’t considered, but she could go back to using her maiden name. She wouldn’t mind losing the name of the man that she had married, who had betrayed her. It wasn’t like she had children who would care.
She shook that thought away to consider later. It was the first time she had thought about it, and she didn’t want to do anything rash.
“Grace! You and Claire used to be good friends.”
“We did. And you probably remember Trevor Gillett too.”
“I do indeed. A handsome young man back in the day, and you’re still that way. Are you two back in town?”
“We are,” Trevor answered while Grace was trying to figure out how to. She supposed his answer was correct. She didn’t know for how long. She had just been thinking that morning that she wouldn’t be able tomake a living making crafts, but…her mother had for years. Maybe if she was careful, maybe if she worked hard, which she didn’t mind the thought of at all since she loved crafting. It would be a dream come true to be able to make a living doing something she loved.
But what about when the thing that she loved doing became work instead of fun? Whether it was working or fun, at least she wouldn’t have a betraying, cheating scoundrel of a husband stuck to her anymore.
The thought should have made her happy, but it made her sad instead. Still, the things that Trevor and she had just talked about came to her mind, and she determined that she was going to go out of her way to look for the positive things and focus on those.
“I just moved in with my dad, and Grace just moved in with her mom. Apparently, the two of them are seeing each other.” Trevor lifted his shoulder as though saying, who knew?
“Oh my goodness. Well, that’s news!” Mrs. Donegan said, stepping back from the door as she opened it. “Please come in. I’d love to catch up more. My goodness, Don Gillett and Gita Honea seeing each other. Wow. Who would have thought?” she said, shaking her head as she stood back and waited for them to walk in the house.
Grace hadn’t exactly expected to have a long, drawn-out visit, since she still had to go to the grocery store, after she checked on her mom again, but the whole point of their visit was to spend a little time with Mrs. Donegan and make her smile during a time that should be happy but might have been sad. If they ended up spending time sitting around her table talking, that was time well spent.
Thirteen
“Please sit down. Would you like some coffee or tea?” Mrs. Donegan indicated the kitchen table.
It was a little bit chilly outside, but Trevor would have preferred to sit out on that beautiful front porch. Of course, the memories were harder out there than they were in here. They spent precious little time in the farmhouse. Mrs. Donegan had made them treats galore over the summer. They’d usually eat them outside. Sometimes on the porch, but more often, they ran in, grabbed their treats, and then ran back out to the barn loft or even down the steep trail beside the cliff to the lake.
“I’d love some tea, please,” Grace said.
“I’d take some coffee, if it’s not too much trouble. I already had a cup today, so don’t make anything special for me.” He typically only drank one cup a day, but for Mrs. Donegan, and to make her smile, he would drink two.
She seemed happy to have people to serve, to visit with, to talk to. And she seemed almost gleeful at the idea of his dad and Grace’s mom being together.
“You two were together for a while in high school, weren’t you?” she asked as she shuffled around the kitchen. When she was younger, Trevor would have called it bustling, but now…it was more like a slow shuffle.
