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“Yeah, if anything comes of it, you’ll be the first to know.”
They drove in San Diego rush-hour traffic but got to the hospital on time.
“Well, I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” Lila said, waving when they took him back to the waiting area.
“Goodbye. If I don’t wake up, take care of Tilly for me.”
“Yeah, you’re not getting out of it that easily,” Lila said.
But she was a little worried.
Chapter 6
Thanksgiving
Big Mike and Roberta Saint usually prepared for the winter holidays with the care of the Last Supper. But not this year.
“I’m calling to let you know we’re going to my sister Carol’s house in Julian for Thanksgiving dinner,” Roberta had said the week before. “Of course you’re welcome to come along, but I thought you’d probably spend the day with your folks.”
“Have a nice Thanksgiving,” Aisling said, relieved to get the news she wouldn’t have to spend the day with Mike’s family. It was too painful.
Then the kicker. Her parents were flying to Michigan to spend the holiday with Aisling’s pregnant sister, Mary Margaret, and her four children, while her Air Force husband was deployed.
“Please come with us,” Cindy Murphy said.
“Mom, I don’t think so. Frankly, it feels a little weird that you’re going to Mary Margaret’s and leaving me six weeks after my husband was killed.”
Gasping, Cindy didn’t think Aisling would pick up on the slight as fast as she did.
“I know! I’m so sorry. But she’s miserable with this pregnancy and being all alone while Greg is in Afghanistan. She really needs our help. You’re back to work and seem to be doing okay. I feel like Daddy and I are the last people on your list to visit. We haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“Mom, come here, then! I work full-time, remember? I’m doing the best I can.” Here, she burst into tears, such a dichotomy that Cindy wondered if Aisling wasn’t taking drugs. “You and Da have visited once since Mike died. Once! You’re home all day, remember? The girls haven’t bothered to see me, either.”
She suddenly wondered why she was begging her mother. If they didn’t want to see her, to hell with them. “Mom, you know what? I’m sorry I yelled at you. Go to Mary Margaret’s for Thanksgiving. Give the kiddos hugs from Auntie Aisling. I have to go now.”
With that, she hung up, holding the phone in her hand, looking off into space. Six weeks after her husband’s death, she was truly alone, with no prospects even for a Thanksgiving meal with family. If her sisters called her for an invitation now, it would be last minute and she’d say no.
Then she thought of Devon, who had gone back to work on light duty. They hadn’t seen much of each other in the past few weeks, arranging their schedules so someone was always with the dogs. She would arrive after work just as he was preparing to leave for his three-day shift. They’d have enough time to chat for a bit. Then when it was time for her to return to work, she’d leave early in the morning before he got home.
On the first days she was there on the mountaintop alone, she watched marathons ofSex in the Cityand binged on chips and onion dip, or hot fudge sundaes, or takeout from Wong Fu’s.
The next round of days off, she felt sick and ended up sleeping for ten hours each night. During the day, she had bursts of short-lived energy where she’d shop and cook meals to freeze, or take the dogs on long hikes. The rest of the time, she read paperbacks, sometimes one a day.
Finally, on the Monday before Thanksgiving, they had a day off together.
“Do you have to work Thursday?” she asked Devon. “Because I’m ready to volunteer to go in to work so someone with kids can have the day off.”
“Yes, Thanksgiving is my holiday this year. I have to work tomorrow thru Thursday,” he said. “But I’ll have the next three days off. Do you want to have a delayed Thanksgiving dinner?”
“You mean on Black Friday? That sounds perfect to me. Yes, the answer is yes. I have to work the next two days, but Thursday was my holiday. I’ll offer to work if I can have Friday off, and we’ll have a long weekend together.”
Realizing what she’d said, she flushed, embarrassed that she’d made the comment about them being together when it had never been a motive to be together that they acknowledged. They were together to mourn the loss of Mike, not because of what they meant to each other.
“Yes, that sounds perfect,” he replied, seemingly comfortable with the notion that they would purposely set out to betogether.
“So, should we shop for a turkey?”
“Yes! I never thought going grocery shopping would be something I’d look forward to,” Devon said.
