Page 48 of Dreams of Falling
Margaret nodded. “And I’m hoping Boyd will be able to talk some sense into Reggie.”
Ceecee sat back against the sofa, unwilling to take sides. She was proud of Boyd’s service, and she did believe being a veteran meant something about a man, about his sense of honor and duty. But she couldn’t imagine the pain of being left behind while the love of her life marched off to war—pain that countless other women had suffered since the beginning of time. Neither could she imagine using emotional bribery to keep her love by her side.
For the first time in her life, she was thankful for her strict upbringing. It helped her put herself in someone else’s shoes, to understand why Reggie felt the way he did. She’d been taught that the right choice wasn’t always the choice that would make her happiest. And that was something Margaret had never learned.
Ceecee stood, then leaned over to give her friends a giant hug. “All right, then. It’s out of our hands for the time being. Let’s get ourselves dressed, clean up the house, and get back home.”
“What will we do then?” Margaret asked.
“We’ll wait,” Ceecee said.
Margaret nodded. “You’re right, of course. Thank you. Both of you. For being here and listening without judging. It means the world to me.”
Ceecee straightened, but Margaret pulled on her hand. “Do you remember that day we put our ribbons in the tree?”
“Of course.”
“Bitty wished to be a significant artist, but we both wished for a good man we could love forever. And our wishes came true. As soon as we get home, we’ll have to put more ribbons in the tree.”
“Saying what?”
“That the three of us will always be friends. That no matter what, we will stick together and be there for one another.”
Bitty frowned. “Do we need to put that in writing and stick it in the tree? Because I thought that sort of went without saying.”
Margaret sat up and took one of their hands in each of hers. “It just makes it official, that’s all. No matter what happens down the road, I want to make sure you two know how much you mean to me, and how much I rely on you, and how much I want you to rely on me.” She squeezed their hands. “Deal?”
“Deal,” Ceecee and Bitty said in unison.
Four hours later as she watched Margaret turn the key in the front door lock for the last time, Ceecee knew they weren’t leaving as the same three girls they’d been when they’d arrived. They were three women on the cusp of something grand and exciting. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t push back the dark shadow of uncertainty about life’s unpredictability. Nor could she forget her mother’s warnings about her friendship with Margaret, about how jealousy could be easily disguised as admiration.
She climbed into the front seat of the convertible, then tilted her head back to feel the sun on her face, uncaring of the inevitable freckles or the small seed of apprehension that had taken root the moment she’d said good-bye to Boyd.
seventeen
Larkin
2010
I stood on Front Street in the historic downtown district, admiring the tidiness of the neatly lined-up nineteenth-century buildings, the brightly striped awnings over storefronts, and the inviting chairs and tables sitting in front of several restaurants. The clock tower on top of the Old Market Building that contained the Rice Museum was like a well-known neighbor, as were the slanted parking spaces crawling up both sides of the street like a caterpillar.
So many cute and trendy boutiques and eateries had cropped up in my absence. Or maybe they’d always been there, but I’d never noticed. I had rarely eaten out, mostly because Ceecee loved to make my favorite comfort foods. That was probably one of the reasons why I hated to shop, too. Nothing had ever looked good on me, at least nothing stylish and trendy. After one attempt at shopping with Ceecee left me dissolving into tears in the dressing room, I relied on Ceecee to buy things and bring them home for me to try.
My mother, during her sewing phase, did attempt to make cute clothes for me. And she succeeded—except where fit was concerned. Her creations were always at least a size too small. More than once during this phase, she’d promised that if I’d stop eating Ceecee’sbrownies for one month, she was sure I could wear the new yellow skirt or the adorable navy blue tunic and matching blue-and-white capris. They’d hang in my closet, unworn, a challenge as much as a spotlight on my failure. Not that I saw it as a failure then—it took several counseling sessions after I’d moved to New York to understand that I didn’t see the need to change at all, because I’d been made to believe that I was perfect.
I did a mental eenie-meenie-minie-moe and picked a shop called Miss Lizzie’s with women’s clothing in the window that looked like it was meant for my age group. Even though it was easier now to find clothes that fit, I was still uncomfortable with the whole process. I’d compromised on a completely black wardrobe for my New York professional life, loose and comfy long tunics and soft pants, the occasional knit dress—always worn under a baggy sweater—and even a pair of black capris for when the weather turned hot.
Before I’d left for the hospital that morning to visit my mother, I had made the mistake of asking Ceecee which black knit ensemble would work for my date with Jackson that evening, and was given the quick and firm answer of absolutely none of them. After assuring her that her time was better spent visiting my mother in the hospital than shopping with me, she’d left, allowing me another hour to keep trying to come up with an outfit. And all for a man for whom my feelings ricocheted between adolescent hormonal urges and the stark reality of maturity telling me that I was too smart to still be infatuated with him. The man he was now still housed the boy he’d been, and whether or not he remembered him, it wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
I was halfway across the broad sidewalk when I heard my name and turned to see Mabry, still wearing her scrubs from work and holding the grubby hand of a smiling and ice-cream-coated Ellis. The little boy smiled brightly at me through sticky lips.
“Hi,” he said with Bennett’s smile, and my heart melted a bit.
“Hello, Ellis. It’s nice to see you again.”
Mabry gave me a look of reproach. “We thought we’d have seen you since the last time. Guess you’ve been busy.”
She kept her eyes innocent, but I knew she must have heard about the sunrise trip through the marsh with Bennett.
