The Homecoming
Page 54
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Iris blushed again and felt so juvenile. “Possibly.”
“I can’t believe I went pounding at your door! He’s been so adamant that you’re just friends that when I saw his car there in your drive, I wondered if something had gone wrong! I didn’t even think! I just wanted to know he was all right!”
“That’s completely understandable,” Iris said.
“No, it’s not, it’s completely ridiculous. I know you kids think I grew up wearing poodle skirts to the soda shop, but that was the generation ahead of us. I was born in ’49—I came of age in the sixties! Free love, Haight-Ashbury, Vietnam, make love not war... Please, we were wild and daring. I married a man seven years older than me—I thought my parents were going to die! He didn’t have two nickels to rub together, either, but he just romanced me and I was sunk.”
Norm? Iris thought. Rule number one for Seth—he was not allowed to turn into a crabby old fart who just ignored her.
“At least you and Seth have some advantages. You have educations, good jobs, have known each other forever,” Gwen said.
“I’ve always loved Seth,” she said. “But, Gwen, we just admitted our true feelings last night. What if it doesn’t work out? Again?”
“Ach, don’t borrow trouble—if it’s meant to be, it works out. If not, just break an old woman’s heart and think no more of it.”
Iris burst into laughter. “You have a very mischievous side.”
“So it’s been said. I just want you both to be happy, together or otherwise. He’s my baby and you’re like a daughter. I’ve wanted this for longer than I can remember. And I promise—I’ll stay on my side of the fence.”
Iris was surprised to feel her eyes blur. She suddenly sniffed.
“Iris, what is it?”
She pursed her lips and shook her head, trying to gather strength. “I miss my mother at the strangest times,” she said. “I wish the two of you were sitting here with me, listening to my lame explanations and excuses and...and letting me tell you how much he’s always meant to me. I’ve missed him, Gwen. Seth is a good man.”
“I know, sweetheart, I know. And it’s good you’ve finally realized it. He desperately needs help picking out some undershorts!”
Iris laughed. “They’re awful, aren’t they?”
“I bet they were on sale. He’s a good boy, but he’s a little tight like his father.”
* * *
Seth called Iris in the early afternoon. “Why don’t you do whatever Saturday chores you have, then come over here. I’ll cook and you can see where I used to hang my hat before I found a way to stalk my obsession in Thunder Point.”
“Are you trying to avoid your mother? Because I talked with Gwen and she’s not going to be a problem if you’re at my house.”
“No, there’s no avoiding my mother. She’ll notice if my car is at your house and she’ll notice if your car is gone all night. And I hope your car will be gone all night. I just want to spoil you a little. I’m not a bad cook.”
At six o’clock she walked into a simple but classy town house in a nice little complex just north of Bandon. He had a yard the size of a postage stamp, a patio that could hold two people comfortably, a living room, dining room, kitchen and two upstairs bedrooms. After seeing the family tartan boxers, she was a little concerned about his furnishings, but it turned out he’d been friendly with Pottery Barn and had quite decent furniture.
There was no sign of another woman here. No distinctly female touches. And it seemed Seth was willing to spend hard-earned money on some things—like his furniture and his mattress—but there was no question he’d purchased his towels and dishes on sale.
She kicked off her shoes and sat at his small dining room table, letting him serve her. He, of course, wore his shoes. That simple thing filled her with great tenderness for him; the shoes kept him even and steady.
They each had wine and she touched his glass with hers. “We’ve really overcome quite a lot in our lives, haven’t we? Multiple losses and adjustments,” she said. He’d had his losses, his career plans shifted, the trials of dealing with a disability. As for Iris, she’d been raised an only child by a single mother, then had buried her, leaving her very alone.
“I think we cut them in half by moving forward together,” he said. “What do you think?”
“I think I’d have a real hard time turning back now.”
“Good. That’s exactly what I want to hear.”
Fifteen
Iris went to Thunder Point High on Monday morning, walking on rainbows. It was when she was standing outside her office door, saying good morning to students, that she realized with some shame she hadn’t thought about Troy all weekend. Well, she’d been on her honeymoon! And she hadn’t broken up with him or cheated on him or anything like that. But still...
She knew how Troy felt about her, how much he hoped she’d change her mind and try again with him. It was pretty irrational of him and she had convinced herself that it all boiled down to the fact there wasn’t much of a dating scene in Thunder Point once you graduated high school. That was how their first date had started—they were colleagues, both single, and he’d asked her if she wanted to go hiking. Then they’d met for a beer or two, went rafting. Then they’d kissed, and when they kissed she’d thought, That was certainly nice. A few weeks later they’d tumbled into bed and it was likewise very satisfying. Iris was looking for the right man, but she wasn’t a nun.
It took hardly any time at all to realize that she enjoyed spending time with Troy—rafting, snorkeling, hiking. And there was no question that she enjoyed sex. But what was not happening within her was longing. She’d just tried to ignore that little missing link, right up until Troy suggested they think about moving in together.
That’s when she’d hit the brakes. The guidance counselor and the history teacher? Living together?
Thunder Point wasn’t the most conservative town or high school on record. In fact, they were pretty easygoing about such things. Except when two teachers started dating or living together, it was expected that they were a serious couple, headed for at least a very long-term relationship if not marriage. There was spending the occasional night together, discreetly, and then there was sharing an address. The latter required intentions that wouldn’t set a poor example for students. After all, part of her job was teaching them that sex between loving couples could be a positive thing, and sex for sport and kicks could be fraught with danger.
“I can’t believe I went pounding at your door! He’s been so adamant that you’re just friends that when I saw his car there in your drive, I wondered if something had gone wrong! I didn’t even think! I just wanted to know he was all right!”
“That’s completely understandable,” Iris said.
“No, it’s not, it’s completely ridiculous. I know you kids think I grew up wearing poodle skirts to the soda shop, but that was the generation ahead of us. I was born in ’49—I came of age in the sixties! Free love, Haight-Ashbury, Vietnam, make love not war... Please, we were wild and daring. I married a man seven years older than me—I thought my parents were going to die! He didn’t have two nickels to rub together, either, but he just romanced me and I was sunk.”
Norm? Iris thought. Rule number one for Seth—he was not allowed to turn into a crabby old fart who just ignored her.
“At least you and Seth have some advantages. You have educations, good jobs, have known each other forever,” Gwen said.
“I’ve always loved Seth,” she said. “But, Gwen, we just admitted our true feelings last night. What if it doesn’t work out? Again?”
“Ach, don’t borrow trouble—if it’s meant to be, it works out. If not, just break an old woman’s heart and think no more of it.”
Iris burst into laughter. “You have a very mischievous side.”
“So it’s been said. I just want you both to be happy, together or otherwise. He’s my baby and you’re like a daughter. I’ve wanted this for longer than I can remember. And I promise—I’ll stay on my side of the fence.”
Iris was surprised to feel her eyes blur. She suddenly sniffed.
“Iris, what is it?”
She pursed her lips and shook her head, trying to gather strength. “I miss my mother at the strangest times,” she said. “I wish the two of you were sitting here with me, listening to my lame explanations and excuses and...and letting me tell you how much he’s always meant to me. I’ve missed him, Gwen. Seth is a good man.”
“I know, sweetheart, I know. And it’s good you’ve finally realized it. He desperately needs help picking out some undershorts!”
Iris laughed. “They’re awful, aren’t they?”
“I bet they were on sale. He’s a good boy, but he’s a little tight like his father.”
* * *
Seth called Iris in the early afternoon. “Why don’t you do whatever Saturday chores you have, then come over here. I’ll cook and you can see where I used to hang my hat before I found a way to stalk my obsession in Thunder Point.”
“Are you trying to avoid your mother? Because I talked with Gwen and she’s not going to be a problem if you’re at my house.”
“No, there’s no avoiding my mother. She’ll notice if my car is at your house and she’ll notice if your car is gone all night. And I hope your car will be gone all night. I just want to spoil you a little. I’m not a bad cook.”
At six o’clock she walked into a simple but classy town house in a nice little complex just north of Bandon. He had a yard the size of a postage stamp, a patio that could hold two people comfortably, a living room, dining room, kitchen and two upstairs bedrooms. After seeing the family tartan boxers, she was a little concerned about his furnishings, but it turned out he’d been friendly with Pottery Barn and had quite decent furniture.
There was no sign of another woman here. No distinctly female touches. And it seemed Seth was willing to spend hard-earned money on some things—like his furniture and his mattress—but there was no question he’d purchased his towels and dishes on sale.
She kicked off her shoes and sat at his small dining room table, letting him serve her. He, of course, wore his shoes. That simple thing filled her with great tenderness for him; the shoes kept him even and steady.
They each had wine and she touched his glass with hers. “We’ve really overcome quite a lot in our lives, haven’t we? Multiple losses and adjustments,” she said. He’d had his losses, his career plans shifted, the trials of dealing with a disability. As for Iris, she’d been raised an only child by a single mother, then had buried her, leaving her very alone.
“I think we cut them in half by moving forward together,” he said. “What do you think?”
“I think I’d have a real hard time turning back now.”
“Good. That’s exactly what I want to hear.”
Fifteen
Iris went to Thunder Point High on Monday morning, walking on rainbows. It was when she was standing outside her office door, saying good morning to students, that she realized with some shame she hadn’t thought about Troy all weekend. Well, she’d been on her honeymoon! And she hadn’t broken up with him or cheated on him or anything like that. But still...
She knew how Troy felt about her, how much he hoped she’d change her mind and try again with him. It was pretty irrational of him and she had convinced herself that it all boiled down to the fact there wasn’t much of a dating scene in Thunder Point once you graduated high school. That was how their first date had started—they were colleagues, both single, and he’d asked her if she wanted to go hiking. Then they’d met for a beer or two, went rafting. Then they’d kissed, and when they kissed she’d thought, That was certainly nice. A few weeks later they’d tumbled into bed and it was likewise very satisfying. Iris was looking for the right man, but she wasn’t a nun.
It took hardly any time at all to realize that she enjoyed spending time with Troy—rafting, snorkeling, hiking. And there was no question that she enjoyed sex. But what was not happening within her was longing. She’d just tried to ignore that little missing link, right up until Troy suggested they think about moving in together.
That’s when she’d hit the brakes. The guidance counselor and the history teacher? Living together?
Thunder Point wasn’t the most conservative town or high school on record. In fact, they were pretty easygoing about such things. Except when two teachers started dating or living together, it was expected that they were a serious couple, headed for at least a very long-term relationship if not marriage. There was spending the occasional night together, discreetly, and then there was sharing an address. The latter required intentions that wouldn’t set a poor example for students. After all, part of her job was teaching them that sex between loving couples could be a positive thing, and sex for sport and kicks could be fraught with danger.
