Alma Mater (26 page)

wrapped her forefingers around the binocular strap— "youth slips away
and with it the idea that the future is exciting. I go from day to day."

They walked through the woods, the pine needles softening their
tread.

"You can only live one day at a time," R. J. finally said. "And maybe
what we lose are our illusions. Something better takes their place."

"I haven't found something better. You have the girls. Your hopes are in their future—don't you think?"

"Sure, but I have a future, too. Starting up our nursery." She jammed her hands in her pockets. "I don't know how we're going to do it, Bunny.
It's hard, hard work and we can't afford to hire help, but dammit, we're
going to do it."

"I'll do it to lose weight." Bunny could perform hard labor, which
wasn't to say that she liked it. "And to make money. I don't feel that
I have a place at the dealership anymore. Don asks my advice. He's
good about that, but when I drive in, it's not like the old days. It's gotten so big, people have offices, and there's different departments, and
I'm just Don's wife."

"Oh, sugar, they know you were the brains behind it. The Wallace
girls came to you to find their Cadillacs. People know."

Bunny lifted her binoculars to inspect a huge nest in a tree. "Hmm,
raptors, or could be a squirrel. Never saw so many squirrels as I have this year."

"Charly called Frank yesterday afternoon at the office."

"I knew it!"

R. J. smiled. "Now we don't know anything yet, but he made an ap
pointment to talk to him first Saturday in December."

Bunny, binoculars now again on her chest, clapped her hands. "I
knew it. A Christmas engagement."

"Don't put the cart before the horse." R. J. linked her arm with her
sister's. "I reckon he will ask for our daughter's hand—but, oh, Bunny,
she's young. They're both so young."

"Youth is wasted on the young. Who said that?"

"Most recently, you." R. J. pulled Bunny closer to her.

"Young but pliable. They'll grow together more easily, and they

get along great. They're a good pair, and it is a brilliant match. That
won't be lost on anybody."

"Least of all you."

Bunny laughed at herself. "When the money's gone love flies out
the window. The money will never be gone for Vic if she marries that
kind of wealth. A beautiful girl like that, my God,
R. J.,
it's like seeing you at twenty-two all over again. Different haircut. Different clothes.
It's eerie."

"My love didn't fly out the window."

"You're the exception that proves the rule. But for most people,
money and love are intertwined. That's all." She paused. "But Vic and
Charly are cute together. They just kind of fit."

"Seems like it."

"His family will set him up, you know."

"I hope so."

"It'll be less of a burden for you."

"Vic's not a burden."

"I didn't mean that. You know what I meant."

"I'd be a liar if I said I didn't wish for some help. Or at least, free
dom from worry."
R. J.
stopped as they emerged from the woods, the
late afternoon sun bright on the small, old peach orchard.

"Mom's peaches. Still producing," Bunny said in wonder.

"Got a lot up, too. The scarlet tanagers and orioles love what's left.
Fruit trees just fascinate me."

"Lot of work."

"Bunny, everything's a lot of work."

"I suppose that's why it's important to do work you like."

They heard a horn toot in the distance, and Piper started barking.

"Bet the girls are back from college."
R.
J. quickened her step. "Vic said she'd drop off Jinx." R. J. smiled radiantly. "This is going to be a sumptuous Thanksgiving. I have so much to be thankful for."

"Let's start with good health. God, I sound like an old fart, and it
used to drive me crazy when Mother would say that, but it's true."
They stepped over the fallen peaches.

"It must be fun for Vic to have a close friend her own age," R. J.

thought aloud. "Mignon's so much younger. That always worried me.
It was like having two kids who were not exactly sisters. Vic and Jinx
were more like sisters than Vic and Mignon. Now she and Chris are
like two peas in a pod. But
1
must say, Mignon has grown up so much
in the last few months."

"You're a good mother, R. J.," Bunny said.

R. J. beamed. "Thanks, Bun."

"1
envy you, and then sometimes I think, would I have wanted to get up three times during the night with an infant, and the measles, whooping cough, and mumps? And the back talk.
1
don't know if
1
could have done it."

"You could have. Are you kidding? Our mother raised us right."

They both laughed as they crested the last small rise before the house came into view. Then, like two college kids themselves, they
raced back to the house, Bunny holding on to her binoculars.

Vic and Chris, petting an exuberant Piper, saw them running
toward them.

"Girls, we're home!" R. J. laughed as she ran ahead, looking back
over her shoulder.

"I'd win if
I
didn't have these binoculars!"

"The Bunny lavaliere," R. J. called as she reached her eldest daugh
ter, giving her a bear hug. Then she gave one to Chris as well.

Bunny, a little out'of breath, followed suit. "Happy Thanksgiving!"

_T

here are times in life that are so radiant, so perfect, that they
stay etched in the mind forever. We smile in remembrance,
knowing that we can never fathom exactly why they were so

great
_;
they just were.

This Thanksgiving holiday at Surry Crossing was like that.
R.
J.,
Bunny, Vic, Mignon, and Chris laughed in the kitchen, at the table.
Frank carved the turkey with coaching from Don. Jinx escaped her
mother to join the Savedges. The Wallaces came over, providing their
usual unrehearsed entertainment. Piper ate all the turkey scraps she
could hold.

Everyone piled into three cars to go to the football game. At the old, brick stadium, the cool air accentuated the excitement.
Cheerleaders worked the crowed into a frenzy, holding green-and
yellow pompons high in the air. The tribe fans waved pennants, their
own pompons. Some wore green-and-yellow baseball hats, others
wore green-and-yellow face paint. Bunny kept lending her binoculars
to everyone until the last quarter. She couldn't bear to part with
them then.

Charly scored the last touchdown. The stadium became a sea of green-and-yellow pompons
_;
the screaming shook the foundations.

After the game, the Savedge party waited outside the locker room
along with Charly's mother and father. He emerged to another chorus

of triumph. He kissed his mother first, then Vic, then Mignon, then
Bunny, and finally Chris. He hugged his father and shook hands with
Frank and Don. He was leaving with his mother and father since they
had yet to have their Thanksgiving dinner.

A glow of anticipation surrounded them all. Bunny couldn't stop
smiling. The Harrisons fussed over Vic. Everyone knew, unspoken though it was, that Charly would soon be popping the question.

The only one not caught up in the anticipation was Vic. Even
Chris anticipated it—although with dread. What if Vic changed
her mind?

That night after everyone was asleep, Vic and Chris lay wrapped
in one another's arms. A small pile of answered notes from Mignon rested on the nightstand.

"Vic, are you sure you can say no?"

"Hmm?" Vic nuzzled Chris's neck.

"It's going to be hard to refuse Charly's proposal when it
comes."

"No, it won't. It will be hard to hurt him, but I can't lie. I can't do
that."

"You sound so sure."

"Chris, don't worry. I can handle it. I'm not looking forward to it,
but I'm not going to chicken out. I love you."

Somewhat relieved, Chris kissed Vic's cheek. "You know, I never
thought about living my life with a woman. I kind of don't know what
to expect. I mean, I know people will be upset, but knowing it and feel
ing it are two different things." She paused. "I guess we'll find out who
our friends are."

"Being gay is a blessing. You weed out the trash early." Vic kissed
her again. "I'm going to sleep. I'll wake up at five-thirty and go back to
my room."

"I don't know how you can do that."

"Simple. The last thing you tell yourself before falling asleep is
when you're going to wake up and then you do."

And she did. Chris was sound asleep as Vic tiptoed out of the
room the next morning. She noticed another note had been slipped

under the door and was about to ignore it, when she saw in the dim
light that her own name was on the outside of it.

She picked it up, putting it in her robe pocket. When she reached her room she clicked on the night light.

The note read: I
know you're in there.

_A

strong hand clasped Mignon's shoulder as she opened the door
to the hallway at seven-thirty that morning. "Come on. We're taking a walk," Vic commanded.
"Where?" Mignon apprehensively tried to wriggle away from her
sister.

"Down to the mailbox and back or maybe we'll keep going to
Richmond."

"Bet it's cold outside."

"That's what coats are for." Vic propelled her to the foot of the
stairs, along the wide center hall, to the back room off the kitchen. She
flipped a coat at Mignon and then grabbed one for herself.

Once out the door, Piper tagging along through the light mist,
Mignon complained, "We can't be late for breakfast. Mom'll have a
fit.

"She'll get over it. All right, Mignon, what's the deal?"

"What deal?"

Vic handed her the note. "Start here."

Shells crunching underfoot, Mignon glanced at the note and then
shoved it in her plaid-lined barn jacket. "Nothing."

"You can do better than that."

"I don't care what you do."