At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories)(35)
Almost forty years had elapsed since high school but it all still seemed clear and vibrant to Ruth. She had never hated Mona for her gift of effortless beauty. It would have been like hating the sunrise. Mona was lush where Ruth was spare; the sun to Ruth's moon. How could she blame them for loving Mona when there had been a time when she would have sold her soul to be Mona for just one day.
She wanted to know how it felt to be the focus of attention everywhere you went.
She wanted to know how it felt to be the love of a man's life.
She forced her attention back to her driving. Over the years she'd learned how to compartmentalize her emotions, how to file away the dark and frightening memories in some dusty cabinet where they couldn't hurt her. The best way to navigate your way through life was to stick to the main roads. You could never lose your way on the main roads.
Simon loved her. She had no doubt in her mind about that. She was a good and loyal wife, a fine mother, a concerned citizen. She never embarrassed him. She ran his house efficiently. She kept his life running smoothly. She had been there at his side during the good times and the bad, and she knew he recognized that and appreciated it enough to accept her one fall from grace. That had been a time long ago when it had all been in doubt, when it seemed as if the life she cherished would be taken from her, but somehow they had weathered that storm.
They were partners, she and Simon, life partners and nothing would ever change that.
So why on earth did she feel so uneasy, as if a nor'easter were brewing in the center of her soul?
She'd lied to Simon about the Advil. She had enough Advil and Tylenol to ease every aching joint in Idle Point. She had come out in search of her son. Something didn't feel right to her and she couldn't put it to rest. All summer long the bits and pieces of the puzzle had worried but it wasn't until tonight that she forced herself to see. It seemed odd to her that he hadn't brought home any friends to use the pool or watch the big screen TV in the den. She knew how hard it must be for him, trapped all summer in a town he barely remembered. You would think she'd know more about what he'd been up to than the simple fact of his employment at the Gazette.
He's practically a grown man, Ruth. He's been living his own life at school for over ten years now. Isn't it a little late to start hovering over him like an aging mother hen?
She prayed he wasn't spending time with that Laquita, the eldest of the Adamses' eleven children. Laquita was a wild child who was frequently seen exiting the only motel in town at daybreak. One of the local beauty salon gossips had mentioned to Ruth that she'd seen Noah's car and Laquita's van out near the motel late one night but Ruth had laughed it off as a case of mistaken identity. It didn't take ESP to know the poor girl was heading for big trouble and Ruth was selfish enough to want her son to be far away when it happened.
She had been so caught up in caring for Simon and seeing to his myriad needs that it seemed she'd blinked and discovered her golden-haired little boy was almost a grown man. She knew so little about him. His life had been lived behind the walls of St. Luke's and she had no knowledge of the forces that had shaped him once he left home. How she regretted the loss of those years.
At the time, she had believed she had no choice. She had been so grateful that Simon stayed, so grateful for Noah, so grateful that from sorrow she had found joy that she had accepted the conditions of her happiness without question.
She stopped at the traffic sign at the corner of Main Street and Beach Road a few hundred yards from the lighthouse. The absurdity of her situation suddenly hit her square in the face. What on earth was she doing out there, driving around in search of her son and his mystery girlfriend. What difference did it make?
He was only seventeen years old. Little more than a child in the eyes of the world. Certainly too young to be making life decisions—or even thinking about them.
Wiley pressed a wet, cold nose against her shoulder and she started in surprise. "You're right," she said to the dog. "This is ridiculous." Next month Noah would be back at St. Luke's for his senior year, thanks to another generous donation to the school's dormitory fund. After that there would be college, then graduate school, and then he would take his father's place at the Gazette. The summer he was seventeen would be nothing more than memory.
She checked the road and was about to execute a U-turn when Wiley nudged her again then barked three times. Each bark was more insistent than the one before it. Ruth turned toward the lighthouse and saw a tiny sports car parked in the shadows near the fence. What was Noah doing out here by the lighthouse? She hushed Wiley and peered into the darkness as two figures stepped back into the shadows. She looked more closely and noticed the beat-up old Mustang tucked in between Noah's flashy car and the fence. She knew that car. She had seen it many times in the parking lot of the animal hospital.