Chapter Five
Five
Growing up in the Edgemoor neighborhood of Bellingham, Maggie and her brothers and sisters had explored the trails of Chuckanut Mountain and played along the shores of Bellingham Bay. The quiet neighborhood offered views of both the San Juans and the Canadian mountains. It was also situated next to Fairhaven, where you could browse through unique shops and galleries, or eat at restaurants where the waiters could always tell you about the freshest catch and where it had been brought from.
Bellingham lived up to its nickname of “the city of subdued excitement.” It was laid-back, comfortable; the kind of place where you could be as eccentric as you wanted and you would always find company. Cars were bandaged with every kind of bumper sticker. Competing political yard signs sprang from people’s lawns like spring-flowering bulbs. Any kind of belief was tolerated as long as you weren’t pushy about it.
After Maggie’s sister Jill picked her up in Anacortes, they went to the historic Fairhaven District for lunch. Since Maggie and Jill were the two youngest siblings in the Norris family, only a year and a half apart in age, they had always been close. They had gone through the school system one grade apart, attended the same camps, shared the same crushes on teen idols. Jill had been the maid of honor at Maggie’s wedding, and she had asked Maggie to be the matron of honor at her upcoming wedding to a local firefighter, Danny Stroud.
“I’m glad we’re stealing some private time,” Jill said as they shared tapas at Flats, a small Spanish restaurant with oversized picture windows and a tiny outside patio lined with flower boxes. “Once I bring you to Mom and Dad’s house, you’re going to be swarmed and I won’t get to talk to you at all. Except that tomorrow night, you’re going to have to make a little time to meet someone.”
Maggie paused in the act of lifting a glass of sangria to her lips. “Who?” she asked warily. “Why?”
“A friend of Danny’s.” Jill’s tone was deliberately casual. “A very cute guy, very sweet—”
“Did you already ask him over?”
“No, I wanted to mention it to you first, but—”
“Good. I don’t want to meet him.”
“Why? Have you started going out with someone?”
“Jill, have you forgotten the reason I’m in Bellingham this weekend? It’s the second anniversary of Eddie’s death. The last thing I want to do is meet someone.”
“I thought this would be the perfect time. It’s been two years. I’ll bet you haven’t been on one date since Eddie died, have you?”
“I’m not ready yet.”
Their conversation was interrupted as the waitress brought a bayona sandwich, a grilled pepper sausage and cheese on crusty peasant bread. It was always cut into three parts, the middle being the most succulent, smoky, and melting section of all.
“How will you know when you’re ready?” Jill asked, after the waitress had left. “Do you have a timer that goes off or something?”
Maggie regarded her with exasperated affection, reaching for the bayona sandwich.
“I know a ton of cute single guys in Bellingham,” Jill continued. “I could fix you up so easily. And there you are in Friday Harbor, hiding. You could at least have opened a bar or a sporting-goods shop, where you could meet men. But a toy shop?”
“I love my shop. I love Friday Harbor.”
“But are you happy?”
“I am,” Maggie said reflectively, after consuming a delicious bite of sandwich. “I’m really okay.”
“Good, now it’s time to go on with your life. You’re only twenty-eight, and you should stay open to the possibility of finding someone.”
“I don’t want to have to go out there again. The chances of finding real love are about a billion to one. I had it once, and there’s no way it will happen again.”
“You know what you need? A provisional boyfriend.”
“Provisional?”
“Yes, like when you get a provisional driver’s license so you can brush up on your skills before you get the real one. Don’t worry about finding a guy to have a serious relationship with…just pick someone fun to help you get on the road again.”
“I guess that would make me a Class C dater,” Maggie said, entertained. “Could I do that while unaccompanied by a parent or guardian?”
“Absolutely,” Jill said, “as long as you practice safe driving.”
After lunch, they stopped by Rocket Donuts at Maggie’s insistence. She ordered a selection of doughnuts that included oblong confections covered with maple frosting and topped with strips of bacon, doughnuts crusted with chunks of Oreo cookies, and fried cake doughnuts drenched in Guittard Chocolate.
“Those are for Dad, of course,” Jill said.
“Yep.”
“Mom will kill you,” Jill said. “She’s been trying to cut back his cholesterol.”
“I know. But he texted me this morning, begging me to bring him a box.”
“You’re an enabler, Maggie.”
“I know. That’s why he loves me best.”
The long driveway leading up to the house was congested with a half-dozen vehicles, the three-quarter-acre lot swarming with children. A few of them ran to Maggie, one of them showing her where he had lost a tooth, another trying to entice her into a game of hide-and-seek. Laughing, Maggie promised to play with them later.
Entering the house, Maggie went to the kitchen, where her mother and a group of siblings and in-laws were all busy cooking. She kissed her mother, a voluptuous but trim woman with a silver-gray bob and a beautiful complexion that had no need of makeup. She was wearing an apron that proclaimed: SEEN IT ALL, HEARD IT ALL, DONE IT ALL. JUST CAN’T REMEMBER IT ALL.
“Those are not for your father, are they?” her mother asked, with a stern glance at the box of doughnuts.
“It’s full of celery and carrot sticks,” Maggie said. “The box is just for presentation.”
“Your dad’s in the living room,” her mother said. “We finally got surround sound, and he’s been glued tothe TV ever since. He says the gunshots sound real now.”
“If that’s what he wanted, you could have just driven him to Tacoma,” one of her brothers said.
Maggie grinned as she went to the living room.
Her father occupied the corner of a big boxy sofa with a sleeping baby on his lap. As Maggie walked into the room, his gaze fell to the box of doughnuts in her arms. “My favorite daughter,” he said.
“Hi, Dad.” Leaning over, Maggie kissed him on the head and placed the box on his lap.
Her father rummaged through the box, found a maple-bacon doughnut, and began to devour it with an expression of bliss. “Come sit by me. And take the baby…I need two hands for this.”
Carefully Maggie settled the warm, sleepy weight of the baby onto her shoulder. “Whose is he?” she asked. “I don’t recognize this one.”
“I have no idea. Someone handed him to me.”
“Is he one of your grandchildren?”
“Could be.”
Maggie answered questions about the store, and the latest goings-on at Friday Harbor, and whether she had met anyone interesting lately. She hesitated just long enough to make his eyes brighten with interest.
“Aha. Who is he, and what does he do?”
“Oh, it’s no one, he’s…there’s nothing. He’s taken. I talked to him on the ferry on the way over here.” Feeling the baby twitch in his sleep, she put her hand on his tiny back, soothing him with a circling stroke. “I think I sort of accidentally flirted with him.”
“Is that bad?”
“Maybe not, but it makes me wonder…how do I know when I’m ready to start going out again?”
“I’d say involuntary flirting is a sign.”
“I feel weird about it. I was attracted to him even though he’s nothing like Eddie.”
Eddie, before his illness, had been sunny, lighthearted, a prankster. The man she had spent time with this morning was darker, quieter, with a reserve that hinted of deeply felt intensity. She hadn’t been able to stop from imagining, in the most private corner of her mind, about physical intimacy with him, and it had seemed so potentially volatile that it had scared her. And yet that was part of the attraction. She remembered having wanted Eddie because he had been safe. But now she had caught herself wanting Mark Nolan for the exact opposite reason.
Lowering her head, Maggie kissed the sleeping baby in her arms. He was vulnerable but solid against her, his skin a miracle of smoothness and downy warmth. Briefly she remembered a moment in those last ephemeral days of Eddie’s life when in quiet desperation, she had wished that she’d had a baby with him. Any way to keep a part of him with her.
“Sweetheart,” her father said, “I’ve never had to go through what you did with Eddie. I don’t know when the grieving process ends, or how you finally know when you’re ready to move on. But there’s something I’m sure of: The next guy will be different.”
“I know. I knew that. I think what’s bothering me is the realization that I’m different.”
Her father gave her a vaguely owlish look, as if the comment had surprised him. “Of course you are. How could you not be?”
“Part of me doesn’t want to change. Part of me wants to stay the same person I was when I was with Eddie.” She stopped when she saw her father’s expression. “Is that crazy? Do you think I need to see a therapist?”
“I think you need to go out on a date. Wear a nice dress, enjoy a free meal. Give someone a kiss good night.”
“But once I move on from being Eddie’s widow, who’ll remember him? It’ll be like losing him all over again.”
“Honey.” Her father’s voice was quiet and kind. “You learned a lot from Eddie. The things about him that changed you for the better…that’s how he’ll go on. He won’t be forgotten.”
“I’m sorry,” Shelby said, as Mark brought her a mug of hot tea. She was curled up on the sofa, dressed in gray cashmere loungewear. She was about to say something else, but instead let out a violent sneeze.
“It’s fine,” Mark said, sitting beside her.
Pulling a tissue from a box, Shelby blew her nose. “I hope it’s just allergies. I hope you don’t catch anything. You don’t have to stay with me. Save yourself.”
Mark smiled at her. “It takes more than a few germs to scare me off.” Opening a bottle of cold medicine, he shook out two tablets and handed them to her.
Shelby picked up a bottle of water from the coffee table, downed the tablets, and made a face. “We were going to such a great party,” she said dolefully. “Janya has the coolest apartment in Seattle, and I was going to show you off to everyone.”
“You can show me off later.” Mark draped a throw blanket over her. “For now, focus on getting better. I’ll even let you have the remote.”
“You are so sweet.” Sighing, Shelby leaned against him and blew her nose again. “So much for our sexy weekend.”
“Our relationship is about more than sex.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Pausing, she added, “That’s number three on the list.”
Mark flipped slowly through the cable channels. “What list?”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you. But recently I read a list of five signs that a man is ready for the C-word.”
Mark stopped channel-flipping. “The C-word?” he asked blankly.
“Commitment. And so far you’ve done three things on the list of what a man does when he’s ready for commitment.”
“Oh?” he said cautiously. “What’s number one?”
“You’ve gotten tired of nightclubs and bars.”
“Actually, I’ve never liked nightclubs.”
“Second, you’ve introduced me to your family and friends. Third, you’ve just indicated that you think of me as more than an outlet for sex.”
“What’s four and five?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I tell you, you may not do them.”
Mark smiled and gave her the remote. “Well, let me know if I do. I’d hate to miss anything.” He put his arm around her while she looked for a movie on demand.
The silences between them were usually comfortable. But this silence was tense, questioning. Mark was aware that Shelby had given him an opening. She wanted to set new parameters for their relationship, discuss where they might be headed.
Ironically, that was exactly what he’d wanted to bring up this weekend. There was every reason in the world for him to commit to Shelby, and tell her that he had serious intentions. Because he did.
If marriage with Shelby would be anything like dating her, it was what he wanted. No craziness, no screaming, no arguing. His expectations of the whole thing were reasonable. He didn’t believe in fate or a great destined love. He wanted a nice, normal woman like Shelby, with whom there would be few surprises. They would have a partnership.
They would be a family. For Holly.
“Shelby,” he said, and had to clear his throat, which had started to close up, before he could go on. “What do you think about…being exclusive?”
She turned in the crook of his arm to look at him. “You mean, you and me officially being a couple? Not seeing other people?”
“Yeah.”
Shelby smiled in satisfaction. “You just did the fourth thing,” she said, and snuggled back against him.