All I Ever Wanted(31)

“There are no Republicans in Vermont,” Hester said. “They died out, like the Shakers. Is there any more wine?”

Mom and Dad just stared at each other. Hope, a tiny seedling, sprouted in my heart. Could it be? “He has always loved you, Mom,” I said gently.

Mom smiled. A real smile. “I’ll consider it,” she said.

“What?” Hester said. “What?”

“Holy shit,” Freddie added.

“If,” Mom said.

“If what?” Dad asked.

“If you introduce me to each of the women you slept with while I was gestating our son.”

The blood drained from my father’s face. I pictured the hopeful seedling being crushed by my mother’s sturdy shoe.

“Well, uh…women…there were only, ah…two, Eleanor,” Dad said.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Well, okay, three,” he amended. “And, uh, I’m sure I don’t know what happened to them. I barely remember them. I think they moved. Far away. To, uh, New Zealand, I believe, and uh…France.”

“Actually, I know where they are,” Mom said. “They all live within a hundred miles of here. I’ve kept tabs on them over the years.” She glanced at her children fondly. “I just love Google.”

Hester closed her eyes and shook her head.

“So, if you’re sincere, and it’s true that you’ve always loved me and want to rekindle anything, that’s what you have to do,” Mom said smugly.

Man. She really did enjoy burying people.

WHEN DAD HAD LIMPED away and Hester and the girls had gone home, and Freddie and Noah were hiding out in the workshop sanding a canoe, Mom and I stood side by side, doing the dishes.

“So that was interesting,” I said, rinsing a wineglass. I set it on the dishrack, where Mom picked it up and began polishing it with unsettling vigor.

“It certainly was,” she answered.

I studied her from the corner of my eye. Mom was attractive in her own way…big frame, strong features, kind eyes. She wasn’t ugly, but she wasn’t beautiful, either. She looked…competent. Dad, on the other hand, turned heads on women ages seventeen to ninety-four, and was fairly incompetent in many ways…while Mom could probably overpower the Nazis and then climb in and drive their tank to the Allies, Dad…Dad would just surrender amiably and hope for the best.

“So are you really considering getting back with Dad?” I asked, turning my attention back to the legion of dishes.

“Of course not,” she answered. “He cheated on me, Calliope.”

“Right. So…no chance of forgiveness, then?” I placed another glass on the rack.

“I forgave your father long ago, Callie,” she lied, not looking at me.

“Really, Mom? Because—”

“How’s your love life, dear? Did that slovenly man in the café work out?”

“He wasn’t that sloven—”

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” she said. “Why the sudden interest in dating? I thought you were going to ask Hester for help on the motherhood front.” She snapped the dish-cloth and got to work on a plate.

“No,” I said slowly. “I’d…I’ve always wanted to get married. Have kids the old-fashioned way. Live happily ever after.”

“That chair was your undoing,” Mom muttered.

“It’s not the chair’s fault, Mom.” I paused. “Just because things didn’t work out with you and Dad—”

“Sweetheart, I defy you to find me three couples who’ve been married for more than ten years and are living happily ever after. With each other, that is. Here.” She handed me back a glass. “You missed a spot.”

“Noah and Gran. Nana and Dimpy,” I said, naming my grandparents on both sides.

“How about a couple born after the FDR administration?” Mom prompted.

“Annie and Jack?”

“That’s one. And for number two?”

I winced. “And…let’s see now…okay, you win. But, Mom, I think Dad’s sincere. He’s never gotten over you. You know that. And here you’ve been, hating him with the heat of a thousand suns lo these many years. You know what they say. Hate and love are two sides of the same coin.”

She gave me a look unique to her…pity, patience and mild disgust all rolled into one. “You’re so naive, Callie,” she said.

“True,” I admitted. I paused, remembering my father’s face at my birthday party. “I just can’t help remembering you two when you were happy. When I think about getting married myself, finding someone who really loved me for me and all that crap, I always picture you and Dad, dancing in the living room when he came home from a trip.”

Much to my surprise, her eyes filled. “Well. He stomped all over those times, didn’t he?” she said thickly.

“Right, he did. But maybe you could really forgive him, Mom.”

She sighed. “When someone cheats on you, Callie, they take a piece of your heart. And I don’t know that you ever get it back.”

I thought of Mark, and all the years I’d spent hoping for him. Waiting for him. Imagining the two of us together on that mythical front porch somewhere. Pictured him now somewhere with Muriel.