At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories)(48)

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Laquita Adams grabbed Ben Taylor by the arm. "You need to sit down," she said quietly, leading him toward a chair near where the priest was standing with his open prayer book. "Put your head down and breathe deeply."

He was ashen. She reached for his hands. No surprise. They were cold and clammy. The man was seconds away from falling flat on his face.. The damn chair was near the head of the casket. Not a good idea. He was already in emotional overload.

"Cheyenne!" She called to her sister. "Grab that chair and bring it over here."

What was wrong with everyone? They were standing there like statues. Couldn't they see the man was in trouble or did a year of nursing training give you exceptional eyesight as well as the ability to give painless injections?

Cheyenne shoved the chair behind Ben's knees and he slumped down onto the seat.

"Head between your knees," Laquita ordered. "Big deep breaths. You'll be fine."

Cheyenne poked her in the side. "He slapped Gracie."

"I know," Laquita said as she kept a steadying hand on the back of Ben's neck. "He'll answer for that when he feels a little better." Are you worth saving, Ben Taylor? Am I making a big mistake here?

She had never seen anyone look more lost or alone than he did as he stood there next to his mother's casket and watched his daughter walk away. Nobody talked to him. They gathered in small groups, scattered around like mushrooms on the forest floor, and they did nothing. Say what you would about the man—and there was plenty that could be said—but that was his mother dead in that casket. A person might drink to block out the pain, but Laquita knew the pain always found a way. She couldn't have turned away from him if she tried.

"You don't have to do this," Ben said in a voice thick with booze and despair.

"Sure I do." She kept her hand firmly on his head. "I'm in nursing school. I need the practice."

Ben grunted something but she paid no attention. Activity swirled around her. Pained glances. Clucks of disapproval. Familiar whispers. The usual responses when they saw her with a man. She couldn't blame them. She had given them plenty to cluck and whisper about over the years. Not that she was apologizing for anything because she wasn't. She made her choices, continued to make them, and they were nobody's business but her own.

"Where's Gracie?" Ben asked. "I want to see Gracie."

"She's gone," Laquita said quietly. "Did you really think she'd stay around after you slapped her?"

His moan of anguish tore at her heart. "I have to find her... apologize—"

"That will have to wait. She's not here and you're in no shape to go traipsing off looking for her. Besides, I don't think she wants to see your face right about now."

He twisted away from her and squinted in her general direction. "Who the hell are you anyway?"

"Laquita Adams," she said calmly. "Oldest of Rachel and Darnell's twelve kids."

"You mean the hippie family by the river?"

She sighed. She would have to move to Timbuktu in order to escape it. "We like to think of ourselves as homesteaders."

"Homesteaders," he repeated. "And I'm a social drinker."

She couldn't help it. She laughed. Not loudly, not enough to draw any more attention to herself, but she laughed. Maybe her instincts weren't wrong after all. There just might be something there worth saving.





Chapter Nine





Three days after Gramma Del's funeral Gracie and Noah drove down to Portland to apply for their marriage license. They brought their birth certificates and drivers' licenses with them then waited patiently on line while other happy couples went through the process ahead of them. When it was their turn they filled out the forms, paid the fee, then waited for the clerk to hand over their future.

"There's a forty-eight hour waiting period." The clerk took a second look at their application then put it aside. "Best of luck, folks."

"You can still change your mind," Noah said as they stepped out into the sunshine. "That's only a license, not a marriage certificate."

"I'll never change my mind about you," Gracie said, then kissed him right there on the top step to prove it.

Three office workers on break burst into applause. Noah grabbed Gracie's hand and they dashed down the steps in search of a lobster shack where they could have a cheap lunch. They needed every cent they could find to fund their plane fare to Paris.