Page 3 of Remembering You
But at least the joke earned her an earnest laugh. “Inanimate objects are good like that.” The drumming of his fingers against his paper cup came to a halt. “Well, hey, maybe you and I could… well, maybe we could go out. I’ll take you to Jolie.”
Was he… was he askingherout? Nerves jostled in her belly, swirling like she’d managed to swallow a tornado. Eighteen years. It had been eighteen years since she’d felt like this. It was… foreign. And she felt a giddy excitement, mixed with a little bit of nausea.
He cleared his throat, pulling her attention back to him. And the fact that she was sitting there silently staring at him, mouth gaping.
“So, what do you say? Have dinner with me?”
She opened her mouth to respond, only… nothing came out. In all these years since Jim’s death, she’d been asked out before. But she’d never wanted to say yes.
Until now.
The bells at the front door jingled and Cam and Lydia came racing over to her, interrupting them.
“I, uh—”
“Hey mom,” Cam said, walking around Chris and bending to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, how are ya?” Her son smiled at Chris, extending a hand. “Not sure we’ve met before.”
Marty composed herself just in time to say, “Cam, this is Dr. Chris Foster. The new pediatrics and neo-natal surgeon. Chris, this is my oldest son, Cam and his fiancé, Lydia.”
Chris took each of their hands, smiling. “Nice to meet you.” Then, looking to Marty, his mouth tipped up at the corners. “Why don’t you get back to me about that question. You have my number from the hospital, right?”
She nodded. “I do. I’ll, um, check with Richard. You know, make sure he can reschedule and let you know.”
Chris smiled and impossibly, his chin dimple became more defined with the grin. He waved and exited, Marty following him with her eyes the whole way out.
Lydia slid in across from Marty and opened up a giant white wedding binder. “He seemed nice. Andcute.”
Cam slid in beside her, draping his arm over her shoulders. “Nice guy. But… who’s Richard?”
* * *
After coffeewith Cam and Lydia, Marty turned into Steve’s veterinary practice on a whim. She didn’t usually just pop in to visit her kids at work, but with a hot coffee and a paper bag of day old croissants from Elsa, she figured it was as good of an excuse as any to get a quick hug from her son.
Putting the car in park and climbing out with the bag of croissants in one hand and a tray of coffees in the other, she pushed through the front doors, waving at Amanda, his veterinary technician who was sitting at the front desk on the phone.
She smiled at Marty and covering the receiver of the phone with her cupped palm, whispered, “He’s in with Yvonne and a rescue puppy.”
Marty nodded, crossed over to Amanda’s desk and placed one of the coffees in front of her with a wink.
Amanda’s smile widened and she silently mouthedthank youto Marty before answering the person on the phone about an appointment next week.
Marty took a seat in the waiting room where the speaker system hummed quietly with old tunes from Marty’s generation. A DJ on the radio crooned quietly in the background. “That was Linda Ronstadt. But now, we’re gonna pick it up a bit with some ABBA.”
Marty felt herself smile, settling back in the chair and closing her eyes as ABBA played in the speakers.
Thirty years ago…
I opened my eyes just as the bus driver announced, “Maple Grove. Pulling up to Maple Grove. We’ll have a ten-minute break before heading up to Portsmouth.”
One of my favorite ABBA songs played on the speakers as I stretched in my seat, enjoying the tune. Then, standing, I gathered my bags and my vision board that I had so carefully brought with me from home. My vision board that I began three years ago by clipping images and stories out of magazines to create. I rolled the poster board and tucked it carefully under my arm as I clumsily dragged the rest of my bags behind me and down off the bus.
Snow crunched beneath my feet and I shivered, tying my scarf tighter around my neck, hearing my mama’s voice chiding in my head. ‘Who moves to New England in the middle of winter?’
I just smiled, looking around the snowy wonderland of Maple Grove and inhaled a crisp breath into my lungs. “I do,” I whispered. Every summer I used to come to Maple Grove for summer camp. And every summer, I cried so hard when I had to go back home to North Carolina in August. Home might have been in the south, but my heart was here in Maple Grove. I was nineteen and halfway through my nursing degree when this internship popped up in my favorite town—Maple Grove. It was fate. It had to be. And when I discovered that my credits transferred easily to UNH and the commute to classes was only thirty minutes, I was sold on the idea. All doubt disappeared.
It had taken months of working to save up to move here, but it was worth every penny. Worth every cup of coffee I had to brew and every plate of greasy eggs and pancakes I had to serve while maintaining my 3.9 GPA.
Looking down at my clothes, I shivered again, noting that my bell bottom jeans and fringed suede jacket may not be warm enough for the winters here. Hiking my bags over my shoulder, I grunted and made my way over the snow bank that was, no joke, taller than me.
