Marion Ekholm - Forget Me Not

“I would.” Dave stood straighter. “In fact, I’ve been giving it more thought. Craig said he’s keeping the building’s integrity intact. I particularly like that he’s not removing the gingerbread. Yes, I’m definitely considering it.” He turned to Trish. “Do you have any other buyers in mind?”

Before Trish could say no, Harrison took over the conversation. “We’re looking into all possible avenues. And we’ll certainly consider any offers.” He wrapped an arm around Trish’s shoulders and drew her close. “Right, honey?”

Dave beamed. “Good. I’ll talk to my uncle and see what he thinks.”

* * *

BY THE TIME Harrison was ready to leave in his gold Lexus, the nail drivers had started again on the roof. “How can you stand the noise?” Harrison held her hands and pressed his lips against them. “I’ll be back early Sunday in my jeans and some old sneakers so we can get going on the painting. I hope the heat will be back on so we can work in some form of comfort.”

“It will be. Craig will...”

“I don’t know about this Craig. Is he really competent?” Harrison glanced at the roof. “He seems awfully young.”

“He is, but I’d trust him with any project. He was trained by the best.”

Harrison’s expression hardened. “I’d prefer you didn’t stay here. It’s not safe. Especially with those locks.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I grew up here and know almost everyone in town. Besides, the police department and fire department are just down the block. This is a hundred times safer than either of our apartments back in the city.” She waited a moment before adding, “So, you’re really looking forward to transferring to California?”

Harrison placed his fingers against her mouth. “Let’s not talk about it before I go. I don’t want to jeopardize my chances.”

Harrison wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and nearly squeezing all the air out of her lungs. She pushed away to be able to breathe. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“Training sessions. They’ll take about ten days. Sorry I’ll miss Thanksgiving, but I’ll get a turkey sandwich and wish I was with you.” He kissed her, one of those passionate kisses that promised so much more. He started to laugh as he pulled away. “Hey, you could be doing training sessions now that you’re taking that new position. I told you the job had its perks.”

Trish watched Harrison leave, waving until he disappeared down the street. How nice of him to take time away from his busy schedule just to see her. She thought about the possibilities of her new job. An office of her own. A pay increase. Travel. For some reason she couldn’t muster any enthusiasm. Nor did she want to think of the ramifications of moving to California.

Now that she had returned to Riverbend, she realized this house, this neighborhood and the people she knew intimately were still important to her. Her heart felt ready to burst with affection.

She turned as Marty Cassidy drove his truck into her driveway. “Marty,” she called as she walked to the driver’s side. His door opened and he dropped to the ground, his flaming hair still as untamed as she remembered from high school. She transferred the passion she’d just felt for her hometown onto him with a warm hug and ran her hand through his unruly locks. “You look exactly the same.” She pulled away. “Except for a few extra pounds.”

“What can I say? My wife’s a great cook.”

Someone nudged Trish’s back, and she turned to see Craig reach past her. “Glad you could make it today.”

The two men shook hands. “Yeah, I know the pipes are about to explode.”

“So who did you marry, Marty? Anyone I know?”

“Mary Ellen Sinclair.” He grinned and Trish nodded, remembering Mary Ellen from their high school classes. “And we have three girls. Triplets.”

Trish grinned. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be blessed with three girls? “You planning on any more?”

“No, just the triplets for now. Mary Ellen said we wait till these three are out of diapers.” Marty turned to Craig. “So how many kids are you and Cyndi planning to have?”

Craig exhaled in a puff. “Zero.”

Trish waited for an explanation while Marty dived right in with a question. “What do you mean? No children or no Cyndi?” Marty began unloading the hose from the truck.

“You know, Marty, I always knew there was something about you I didn’t like. Maybe it’s the hair.” Craig made an abrupt turn. “While you pump the oil, I’ll go check on the furnace and make sure it’s ready to function.”

“Whew. What’s got his dander up?” They both watched Craig’s determined stride into the house.

“I haven’t a clue,” she said barely above a whisper.

“So, Trish, you planning on staying here, living in your grandmother’s old house?”

They continued to talk while Marty filled the oil tank. “You’ve got to come by and see Mary Ellen and the girls.”

“I’d love to.”

“And what’s up with Craig? Hostile. I only asked about Cyndi because everyone knows they’re dating.”

“I’ll ask him.”

When he was through, Trish went into the house to find Craig. She followed the banging noises coming from the basement. “This should work. It’s primed.” He stood, brushing off his hands. “Why don’t you stop by and see my mother? She was asking about you. The furnace will take an hour or two before it warms the whole house. I noticed before your hands were freezing.”

He reached over and grasped her hands again. His felt decidedly warm and comforting. “What did you mean before?” she asked.

“Before what?” They started up the stairs.

“About zero kids. Does Cyndi feel the same way?”

When they reached the hall, Craig stopped to feel the register. “This won’t warm up until the water flowing through it is heated.”

Trish pulled on his arm to get his attention. “Why wouldn’t you want kids? When you talked about your brother...”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Trish, my brother doesn’t have a father. Dad didn’t even reach fifty, and heart conditions run in my family. I’m not bringing children into this world if I might not see my own son through college or dance at my daughter’s wedding.”

“What about Cyndi? How does she feel about this?”

“The subject hasn’t come up.”

“Well, it should if you’re planning to get married.”

“Who said we’re getting married?”

“Didn’t you say...?”

“We’ve dated. Nothing more than that. And I can’t help it if some of our nosy classmates come up with their own interpretation.” He maneuvered past her. “I’d better get back on the roof and see how things are going up there.”

Trish watched him, feeling a terrible ache. What if her parents had decided not to have children? She had often felt unwanted, as though she interfered with their lifestyle. They rarely took vacations as a family. Her parents liked adult entertainment—a trip to Las Vegas, a cruise to the Caribbean. Most of the time she was dropped off with her grandmother whenever her parents went on a trip. The few times they did go as a family, it often included Craig’s parents.

Not that Trish had any regrets. She camped, hiked and played with Craig and his parents, so she knew firsthand what a family should be like.

She and Harrison planned to have many children, something they’d talked about at great length when he proposed. She’d raise them differently from how she’d grown up.

No sending her children off for someone else to care for. She’d play with her kids, get involved in their lives and help them with their homework, something her parents never did. Homework was done at Gram’s, usually with Craig’s help. Her father didn’t get involved in any physical recreation, but Craig’s dad often participated in softball or went for bike rides. All the things she couldn’t get her own parents to join in. Now they roamed the country “playing” in their RV.