time she thought about him she drank heavily. Dean hoped she wasn’t doing that tonight. Although tonight she had to go to work at her job as a waitress, so she wouldn’t be drinking.
“I’ll be back at ten. If I’m late, stay put. I’ll be here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And, champ, don’t worry. The girls will fall over themselves to dance with you.”
He wasn’t worried about other girls, only Claire. Her parents were wealthy, her father a lawyer, and Dean knew there was no way they’d be allowed to date. But tonight he was going to dance with her.
The moment he saw her, his stomach lurched, as it did every time he managed to catch a pass he thought was out of his reach. In a pink dress, with her blond hair hanging down her back, she reminded him of Cinderella, a ridiculous fairy tale Bunny used to read to him. Dean wanted to be Claire’s prince and that frightened him, because he’d never had thoughts like that before. He considered running out of the gym, but she walked over to him and all he could do was stare.
The music started and he took her hand. They did all the crazy moves, laughing and joking, and then a slow number came on. As he held her he knew he was in love. He was just a kid, but he still knew.
DEAN PACED.
Claire, where are you?
CLAIRE SHOVED HER KEY into the lock and opened the door at the lake house. The heat was stifling and she quickly turned on the air-conditioning. As cool air wafted from the vents, she carried her bag to a bedroom, though she didn’t know how long she was staying.
Long enough to accept her future.
She put the perishable foods she’d picked up at a convenience store in the refrigerator, and left the other groceries on the counter. Tugging on a pair of shorts and a tank top, she realized her body was already going through changes. A month ago the shorts fit fine. Now…She grabbed suntan lotion and hurried out to the pier. Their lot sloped down to the water’s edge. She sat cross-legged on the planks and methodically, without thinking, applied lotion to her arms, legs and face. Her fingers smoothed over a tiny lump of cellulite and she stopped. Damn! She was too old to have a baby.
What was she going to do? She wasn’t a frightened eighteen-year-old. As a mature woman who had learned to be strong, independent and resourceful, she should find this easy.
But it wasn’t.
Sunlight danced off the rippling water with a blinding array of sparks, warming and refreshing at the same time. She breathed in the clean air. Since it was Friday, the lake was busy with boats, skiers and swimmers, but their house was secluded in a cove among gnarled oak trees, away from the crowd. People were making the most of the last weekend before school started. Public schools, that is. College started the following Monday.
The afternoon sun heated her skin and her thoughts.
She was pregnant for the third time, at age forty-three.
All sorts of emotions engulfed her—denial, anger, confusion, defiance, anxiety and fear. How could she accept this? How could she not? She ran her hands up her arms as a feeling of déjà vu came over her.
At eighteen, she’d been frightened and worried. Being older didn’t change those feelings, except she was angry with herself because she knew better than to act so recklessly. She was angry with Dean, too.
The June trip to Cancun had been a celebration of Sami getting her master’s in education, their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary and of finally getting out of debt. They were happy, and had enjoyed their time with the girls. Claire had forgotten to pack her diaphragm so Dean had bought condoms. They’d laughed about it, feeling young. Evidently it hadn’t worked—as it hadn’t twenty-five years ago.
The heat became unbearable so she strolled back to the house, where the air-conditioning cooled her heated emotions. After getting bottled water out of the refrigerator, she went into the bedroom and fished the letters out of her bag. Curling up on the sofa, she untied the worn ribbon and felt as if she was opening a part of her soul.
For a moment she just stared at the letters and wondered why they were so important to her. Every time she and Dean had moved, she’d tucked the letters in a safe spot.
Why?
She wasn’t sure. Maybe it was because they depicted her dedication, her love and her accomplishments as a woman, as a wife and as a mother. Or maybe deep down she knew one day she would need them for guidance and inspiration.
For twenty-five years she’d tried to be the perfect wife and mother. When Sami started school, Claire became a teacher’s aide so she would be close in case the girls needed her. The family had also needed the money.
When she was growing up, her father had wanted her to follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer. That plan was derailed when she became pregnant in high school. But as Claire worked in the school system, her goal had changed. She loved working with kids, mostly the young ones, whose minds were waiting to unfurl with just the right incentives and the guidance of a caring teacher.
As those thoughts ran through her mind, Claire realized she’d forgotten about plans with two friends, Nita and Joan, for tomorrow. They were going to a spa for the works, to celebrate Claire’s return to college full-time. Then they were meeting the guys for dinner.
She reached for her cell, but just fiddled with it, unsure of what to say. “Guess what? I’m pregnant.” Even though her friends would understand, she wasn’t up to saying those words yet. When she was stronger, she’d call and cancel.
So many times she’d tried to go to college to get her degree, so she could teach instead of being an aide, but life’s crises kept getting in the way. Now that their youngest daughter had graduated, Claire was ready to embark on her own career, fulfill her dream.
But now…
She slipped a finger beneath the flap of an envelope. What had her life been about? What had kept her from getting her degree before now? As she unfolded a letter, her body trembled with old fears. Each page was filled with I love you’s and plans for the future. Wonderful plans that only a teenager could believe.
Jan 9, 1983
My darling Dean,
I haven’t seen you in two days and I feel alone, so I close my eyes and I can see you. Your dark hair curls into your collar and I remember the texture, the feel of it against my fingers. And I see your smile, that lazy grin that makes me warm all over. But your eyes are what comfort me. Those soft, caring blue eyes that tease me, tempt me and make me a little crazy. I love you so much…
In a trancelike state, she glanced through the floor-to-ceiling windows to the view of the lake. Her parents had forbidden her to see Dean. He wasn’t the type of boy she should be dating. His mother was a waitress and not up to the Thornton standards for friends and acquaintances. Dean had no future. He was a football jock who would be washed up before his time. Claire deserved better, her father had said, and though she might not agree then, she would thank him later.
As a teenager, those words hadn’t meant much to her. All she knew was how Dean made her feel. Ever since third grade she thought he was wonderful, even when he untied her bows. In junior high they’d become an item, and that had never changed all
