A New Hope
Page 4
Natalie had many suggestions for alternate careers. Matt could get his PhD and teach full-time, even head a department. He could consult for companies. He could go to medical school; his degree was a premed qualifier. Or he could go to work for one of the big food companies, like Harry & David. He’d be president in no time!
As for Natalie, she was only working at the college to supplement her income, most of which she spent on clothes, while she built her modeling career. It was important for a model to look good and she did. Well, she definitely had the body for it—tall and lean and beautiful. She’d had a few modeling jobs, but that career choice wasn’t exactly taking off for her and she was already aging out of it. Matt tried to be supportive even though he thought her expectations were unreasonable if not delusional.
Thus, they argued quite a bit. Every day, in fact. A few times he’d stormed out and gone back to the farm for the night.
Though annoyed by the fighting, he tried not to take it too seriously. Sometimes he just laughed and kissed her ear. “I’ll try to get all the dirt out from under my nails before I come home, babe.” He encouraged her to do what she wanted and he would follow his dream and they could meet in the middle. He supported them and she spent her money on herself, which was perfectly fine with him. He just wished she could be more agreeable. He wasn’t sure what more he could do.
Everyone in his family had an opinion about his disintegrating marriage. There’s a period of adjustment, his mother had said. Women have to think they’re getting their way, at least most of the time, George had said. You’re both young and need to mature, Lori had said. You have to talk to the priest, Ginny had said. You worked out these details before the wedding, Paco had said. Tell her a deal’s a deal!
But it all unraveled. The fighting escalated; cruel and terrible things were said and done. There were tears and the sounds of hearts breaking. They didn’t make it a year. Both of them were in a great deal of pain with a complete inability to find any more compromises or solutions and, ultimately, an inability to forgive and repair the damage.
Matt spent many nights on the sofa while Natalie sobbed and raged. She wanted him to understand she felt trapped. She didn’t want to be stuck in a small apartment with a bunch of kids, held captive in a life that she didn’t sign on for, no nightlife, no romance, in-laws who treated her like an outsider—like a ridiculous child because she dressed nicely rather than in jeans and rubber boots. His work at Lacoumette Farms wasn’t a job, it was a life sentence! She never saw him, they argued but never talked like they used to and he never saw the need to court her anymore.
Then one fateful morning when Matt could go no further, he got up at his usual 4:00 a.m. and left her a note.
I’ll be at the farm if you have an emergency and need me. I’ll stay there until you move out. Please let me know when that will happen. Or, if you want the apartment, you can have it and I will live at the farm. It’s over.
Two
The flower shop was a safe haven for Ginger. She couldn’t possibly have handpicked a better place to rejoin the human race even though she found herself surrounded by pregnant women. She would have expected to be envious or frightened for them or thrown into worse depression over losing her own precious son. But strangely, it felt like exactly the right place for her, among this group of women. It allowed her to finally talk about her own pregnancy and childbirth, both of which were wonderful experiences. In fact, she had been so healthy and energetic, her son so perfect, he should be toddling around now, not gone.
Truthfully, she was a little envious. The caveat was she probably would never have the courage to try for another baby, even if she had the chance.
Talking with Peyton was particularly encouraging, however. Her medical training emphasized what Ginger had learned from the doctors and in her own reading—she had done nothing wrong. SIDS was extremely rare, one of those unpredictable flukes that was not likely to ever happen again in her family.
“As if I’d ever be brave enough to risk it by having another child,” Ginger said.
“I can’t imagine how fearful that concept must be,” Peyton said. “But the next time you’re blessed, your circumstances will be very different. You’ll have a lot more support. Not to mention close medical supervision. Just getting over this one is a big enough job for right now.”
And that’s what she was finally doing, one day at a time. And in the best possible place—in a quiet shop that did brisk business but was not crowded with people all day. She was becoming skilled at building and even creating the arrangements that Grace sold and those hours she spent by herself in the back room with the flowers were important to her healing. She was productive and she could think, but she didn’t think too much because Thunder Point was a town bristling with friendly people. Had she come here on her own, she might’ve remained a stranger for a long time, but she was living with Ray Anne. Everyone knew Ray Anne. And since Ray Anne had told her friends about Ginger’s circumstances, she had frequent company. People would drop by the shop to chat, stop her on the street or in the diner to visit a little; they’d include her in plans, or sometimes Ray Anne would invite a small group of women over to the house. Rather than feeling self-conscious and marked as the one whose husband left and baby died, she had an almost instant sense of belonging. There was abundant nurturing.
And she was needed. Boy, was she needed! Grace spent every morning in the shop, usually starting early. But in the afternoons she had other tasks. She was trying to get the house out on the beach ready for her mother. She’d bought the house from Cooper—it was one of three spec houses he’d built and it was perfect for her needs. Grace’s mother had ALS and was using a wheelchair most of the time now. Grace wanted her nearby—it was uncertain how much time the incurable condition would give her.
Grace made daily runs to the house to prod the workers and spent the rest of the time rounding up furnishings. Almost every day after school and on weekends, her fiancé, Troy, was pitching in at the house, trying to finish up. In what Ginger learned was typical of Thunder Point, Troy’s friends were always lending a hand. Together the newly engaged couple put up drywall, textured, sanded, installed molding and painted, trying to get the entire house done before Winnie arrived, or at least to leave just a few decorating details on the upper and lower floors. Troy and Grace planned to move into the lower level because between the two of them and their tiny apartments, there was no space for a baby. The lower floor with two bedrooms, a large bathroom and a game room was perfect for them.
As for Natalie, she was only working at the college to supplement her income, most of which she spent on clothes, while she built her modeling career. It was important for a model to look good and she did. Well, she definitely had the body for it—tall and lean and beautiful. She’d had a few modeling jobs, but that career choice wasn’t exactly taking off for her and she was already aging out of it. Matt tried to be supportive even though he thought her expectations were unreasonable if not delusional.
Thus, they argued quite a bit. Every day, in fact. A few times he’d stormed out and gone back to the farm for the night.
Though annoyed by the fighting, he tried not to take it too seriously. Sometimes he just laughed and kissed her ear. “I’ll try to get all the dirt out from under my nails before I come home, babe.” He encouraged her to do what she wanted and he would follow his dream and they could meet in the middle. He supported them and she spent her money on herself, which was perfectly fine with him. He just wished she could be more agreeable. He wasn’t sure what more he could do.
Everyone in his family had an opinion about his disintegrating marriage. There’s a period of adjustment, his mother had said. Women have to think they’re getting their way, at least most of the time, George had said. You’re both young and need to mature, Lori had said. You have to talk to the priest, Ginny had said. You worked out these details before the wedding, Paco had said. Tell her a deal’s a deal!
But it all unraveled. The fighting escalated; cruel and terrible things were said and done. There were tears and the sounds of hearts breaking. They didn’t make it a year. Both of them were in a great deal of pain with a complete inability to find any more compromises or solutions and, ultimately, an inability to forgive and repair the damage.
Matt spent many nights on the sofa while Natalie sobbed and raged. She wanted him to understand she felt trapped. She didn’t want to be stuck in a small apartment with a bunch of kids, held captive in a life that she didn’t sign on for, no nightlife, no romance, in-laws who treated her like an outsider—like a ridiculous child because she dressed nicely rather than in jeans and rubber boots. His work at Lacoumette Farms wasn’t a job, it was a life sentence! She never saw him, they argued but never talked like they used to and he never saw the need to court her anymore.
Then one fateful morning when Matt could go no further, he got up at his usual 4:00 a.m. and left her a note.
I’ll be at the farm if you have an emergency and need me. I’ll stay there until you move out. Please let me know when that will happen. Or, if you want the apartment, you can have it and I will live at the farm. It’s over.
Two
The flower shop was a safe haven for Ginger. She couldn’t possibly have handpicked a better place to rejoin the human race even though she found herself surrounded by pregnant women. She would have expected to be envious or frightened for them or thrown into worse depression over losing her own precious son. But strangely, it felt like exactly the right place for her, among this group of women. It allowed her to finally talk about her own pregnancy and childbirth, both of which were wonderful experiences. In fact, she had been so healthy and energetic, her son so perfect, he should be toddling around now, not gone.
Truthfully, she was a little envious. The caveat was she probably would never have the courage to try for another baby, even if she had the chance.
Talking with Peyton was particularly encouraging, however. Her medical training emphasized what Ginger had learned from the doctors and in her own reading—she had done nothing wrong. SIDS was extremely rare, one of those unpredictable flukes that was not likely to ever happen again in her family.
“As if I’d ever be brave enough to risk it by having another child,” Ginger said.
“I can’t imagine how fearful that concept must be,” Peyton said. “But the next time you’re blessed, your circumstances will be very different. You’ll have a lot more support. Not to mention close medical supervision. Just getting over this one is a big enough job for right now.”
And that’s what she was finally doing, one day at a time. And in the best possible place—in a quiet shop that did brisk business but was not crowded with people all day. She was becoming skilled at building and even creating the arrangements that Grace sold and those hours she spent by herself in the back room with the flowers were important to her healing. She was productive and she could think, but she didn’t think too much because Thunder Point was a town bristling with friendly people. Had she come here on her own, she might’ve remained a stranger for a long time, but she was living with Ray Anne. Everyone knew Ray Anne. And since Ray Anne had told her friends about Ginger’s circumstances, she had frequent company. People would drop by the shop to chat, stop her on the street or in the diner to visit a little; they’d include her in plans, or sometimes Ray Anne would invite a small group of women over to the house. Rather than feeling self-conscious and marked as the one whose husband left and baby died, she had an almost instant sense of belonging. There was abundant nurturing.
And she was needed. Boy, was she needed! Grace spent every morning in the shop, usually starting early. But in the afternoons she had other tasks. She was trying to get the house out on the beach ready for her mother. She’d bought the house from Cooper—it was one of three spec houses he’d built and it was perfect for her needs. Grace’s mother had ALS and was using a wheelchair most of the time now. Grace wanted her nearby—it was uncertain how much time the incurable condition would give her.
Grace made daily runs to the house to prod the workers and spent the rest of the time rounding up furnishings. Almost every day after school and on weekends, her fiancé, Troy, was pitching in at the house, trying to finish up. In what Ginger learned was typical of Thunder Point, Troy’s friends were always lending a hand. Together the newly engaged couple put up drywall, textured, sanded, installed molding and painted, trying to get the entire house done before Winnie arrived, or at least to leave just a few decorating details on the upper and lower floors. Troy and Grace planned to move into the lower level because between the two of them and their tiny apartments, there was no space for a baby. The lower floor with two bedrooms, a large bathroom and a game room was perfect for them.
