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Chapter Eight
“Molly,” Bridget sighed in exasperation, “I thought I told you to wear your blue pants.”
“But the white sweats with the side stripe look cooler,” Molly argued, her mouth curving downward in a rebellious pout.
“You’re growing up too fast.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Don’t talk back. They won’t look so cool when they’re all grass-stained. Go up to your room and change before Jim gets here,” she ordered.
“Aw, Mom!” was the grumbling response. Molly turned to leave the kitchen, then stopped. “How come Jim is taking us to the picnic?”
“Because he asked us to go with him.” Bridget added the silverware to the picnic basket.
“Yeah, but he’s asked you out a lot lately and you haven’t gone with him. How come you decided to go with him this time?”
“Because Jim is leaving,” she explained. “He was offered a position at his former college.”
“I thought he was teaching at Technical.” Molly frowned.
“He was, but he persuaded them to release him from his contract so he could take this other job. In fact, he’s already moved. The picnic today is a kind of farewell party for him.”
“I thought we were having the picnic because it’s Labor Day.”
“Wow, are you whiny. Okay, Molly, that’s enough,” Bridget declared, giving her daughter a warning look. “You can talk until Jim comes if you want, but you’re still going to have to change your pants before we leave.”
Molly flashed her an angry look and flounced from the room. The half-smile curving Bridget’s lips didn’t last long as she thought about the coming afternoon picnic. Her first instinct had been to refuse when she learned Jonas had been invited. The two men hadn’t gotten along at Bob and Evelyn’s party back in April, to say the least.
But Jonas was old friends with the others. He couldn’t very well have been left out. Still, it was one thing to go out with him for an occasional date or meet him on the street or in her store and quite another to see him at an informal gathering like this picnic. Yet she didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing—the antagonism between Jim and Jonas had died down, as far as she knew—and she’d decided to attend.
There had been another reason for her acceptance. All summer—actually, pretty much since Jonas’s return—she’d kept turning down Jim’s invitations to go out. It hadn’t seemed right to accept them when it was Jonas she secretly wanted to be with.
Bridget knew Jim had been confused by her sudden reversal, but she couldn’t explain her reasons to him. She couldn’t explain her reasons to anyone. But Jim was leaving and she wasn’t going to turn down his last invitation.
Bridget had stopped kidding herself about Jonas. The ten-year separation hadn’t ended her love for him. But it seemed the better part of wisdom to take it as slowly as possible from here. There were hard questions to be asked on both sides—and when they got around to doing that and dealing with the honest answers, both of them might find it difficult to trust each other the way they once had.
A car pulled into the driveway, a horn honking. “Molly!” Bridget called. “It’s Jim. Are you ready?”
“Coming!”
The scarlet leaves of the sumac set fire to the roadside. The rusty, cone-shaped seed clusters were thrusting upward to the gold sun. Hills and mountainsides Were beginning to don their autumn coat of many colors, the red hues of the sugar maple predominant.
It was a scenic drive to Brookfield. The white of a church spire gleamed brilliantly against the background of russet reds and golds of a distant hillside. The closer they came to Allis State Park, the quieter Bridget grew, pretending to admire the colorful scenery. Jim pretended not to notice her silence as he responded to Molly’s steady stream of talk from her seat in back.
Jim slowed the car as they entered the small community of Brookfield with its cluster of old houses, beautifully preserved. Bridget’s tension increased while Molly leaned eagerly forward.
“Are we really going to cross the floating bridge?” she asked.
“We are unless you want to get out and swim across Colt’s Pond,” Jim teased.
They turned a corner and the floating bridge was at the bottom of the small incline. Buoyed by barrels, it offered passage over the narrow pond.
“We haven’t been over this in ages.” Molly squeaked with excitement.
“Don’t wriggle around or you’ll capsize us,” Jim teased.
The car rolled slowly onto the wooden planks atop the barrels. The bridge took its weight, dipping slightly, permitting water to flow over the boards. The tires made a soft splashing sound as Jim drove slowly across.
