At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories)(89)

"My grandmother changed her mind and said families should spend Thanksgiving at home, not in restaurants," Sophie said out of nowhere. "She and Papa yelled at each other this morning." The little girl shuddered. "I don't like yelling."

"I'm sure they were just having a disagreement."

"No." Sophie sounded quite positive. "They were very loud. They sounded like my aunt Pamela before she said I had to go away."

Gracie took a deep breath, crossed her fingers, then jumped in. "My father used to yell all the time when I was a little girl. I used to hide in my closet with my fingers in my ears."

Sophie considered her for a moment. "I run away."

"I thought maybe you did."

"I wish grownups wouldn't yell."

"I know, Sophie, so do I. But sometimes that's the only way they can make themselves heard."

Sophie nodded. "Can I carry in the tea cups now?"

It took Gracie a second to shift gears. "Carefully," she said. "They're china tea cups and very delicate."

"I'll be careful," Sophie said.

"Promise?"

The child nodded. "I promise."





#





His mother found Noah in the side yard. He was gathering wood for the fire places in the main dining room.

"She's very good with Sophie."

He looked up from a pile of kindling he was separating. "Who is?"

"Gracie. I heard them talking in the dining room. They were very endearing together."

He wanted to brush off his mother's comments with a smartass remark but Sophie's welfare was too important for that. "What were they doing?"

"Setting the table. Gracie was trying to explain why adults raise their voices."

"Damn it," Noah said, tossing a piece of firewood across the yard. "Sophie heard us this morning."

"It would appear so."

"Did she sound very upset?"

His mother nodded. "She seems to believe loud arguments are the only way adults communicate."

"I know," he said. "Apparently she heard a lot of them the last few years." He didn't blame Catherine's relatives for not wanting to take on the responsibility of an active, angry little girl. Most of them were in their fifties and sixties, looking forward to retirement and a life of reduced stress and strain.

"I didn't realize Gracie would be here today."

He met her eyes. "Yeah," he said, "you did. That's why you cancelled our plans to eat out."

"The two of you need to talk."

"A little late for romantic advice."

"I'm trying to help."

"And I'm trying to salvage the Gazette and figure out how to be the best father I can be for Sophie. I don't have time for the rest of this."

She leaned more heavily on her cane. Noah noticed once again that Ruth's life required more effort from her these days than it ever had before. "I've been reading your column, Noah."

Funny how he hadn't really made the intellectual leap from the act of writing to the discomfort of being read. "Ann Levine is out on medical leave and I was pulled in to sub for her."

"If what I've read so far is any indication, you are immensely qualified."

He muttered his thanks. They were private dreams made public before he had realized what he was doing. "Just filling in until we can put together a deal to sell the Gazette." He launched into an explanation about ad space availability and rates but his mother raised her hand to stop him.

"It's more than that, Noah. You're writing from the heart."

"I'm writing for a paycheck," he said, trying to deflect her words.

"You're writing for Gracie Taylor."

"I'm writing for Sophie."

"In part, perhaps, but Gracie is at the heart of it all."

"It happened a long time ago," he said after an uncomfortable silence. "She ended it. I wouldn't have." He had asked a lot of her. He knew that now. Not even love gave a man the right to expect a woman to put aside her dreams and follow him to Paris.

"A moment ago you said you wanted to salvage the Gazette," Ruth persisted.

He said nothing.

"You could do it, if you set your mind to it, Noah. You're talented. You have great vision. You care about—"