Janice Carter - Past, Present And A Future

“What were you doing down there?”

“Teaching in a four-room country school.” She smiled, thinking how naive and inexperienced she’d been.

“Quite a challenge,” he said. “How long were you there?”

“Four years. Then I went back home to New Jersey for a bit and did some substitute teaching while I took postgrad courses to get my masters.”

“A masters in English lit, I bet.”

She nodded. “That’s when I started writing. I was inspired by what I was learning, I suppose.” Though she knew otherwise. More like inspired by demons that wouldn’t leave me alone.

One of the guests appeared on the landing, searching for the bathroom. Gil clasped Clare’s elbow and pulled her aside. “Can we politely make our excuses, do you think, and leave the party early? I’d like to talk to you some more about what you’ve been doing with your life.”

She hesitated only for a fraction of a second. There was the risk of delving into the past with Gil, she realized, but at the same time she was enjoying talking to him. “All right. Laura said they’d decided against speeches or anything formal. There’ll be a toast to Emma and as godparents, we’ll have to be present for that. And she’ll be upset if we don’t have any of the lunch.”

“True. How about if I meet you outside on the front porch after the toast and a bite to eat?”

“Okay. I’ll look for you there.”

He nodded, turned and headed back down the stairs. Clare stared at his retreating back. What had she just gotten herself into?

The bathroom door opened again and Clare, smiling at the woman exiting, took her turn. By the time she’d refreshed and was back downstairs, people were congregating in the dining room around the table, now laden with food.

Dave stood at the entrance to the dining room with Laura and Emma beside him. Gil was off to the side. When Dave spotted Clare, he addressed the guests. “Does everyone have a glass of something for a toast? Laura and I want to thank all of you for coming to share this very special day with us. It’s even more special with the presence of family and old friends.” He smiled directly at Clare and Gil. Then, raising his wineglass, he said, “Join us in wishing Emma a healthy, safe and long life.”

Everyone raised their glasses and said, “To Emma.”

Dave raised his glass a second time. “And to our dear friends—Clare Morgan and Gil Harper—Emma’s godparents. Thank you both and God bless.”

Clare felt her face heat up as all eyes turned her way. As soon as the toast was finished, she set her wineglass down and, paper plate in hand, picked a couple of morsels from the buffet table. Then she moved toward Laura, who was passing Emma to her mother.

“Do you mind if I leave early, Laura? I’ve a headache coming on and Gil suggested a walk to get some fresh air.”

“Are you upset because of what Anne-Marie said? ’Cause I’m sorry, Clare. You know how she is. She didn’t mean any harm.”

“No, no. I know Anne-Marie too well to take her the wrong way. But I have the signing tomorrow in Hartford and I’m still a bit tired from the one yesterday.” Her voice trailed off. Laura was too smart to be fooled by such lame excuses but she didn’t say anything. Clare popped an olive into her mouth.

“Can you come by for breakfast in the morning, before you leave?”

“Actually Lisa Stuart—remember her, senior English class?—called and invited me to speak to one of her classes in the morning.” Clare munched on a red pepper strip and scanned the room for Gil. Had he already left?

Laura’s face cleared. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Those kids would love to see and hear a real live author, especially one from here.”

Clare ignored a tug of guilt, knowing she’d made the decision to visit the class only at that moment. “I was honored to be asked,” she said. “How about if I call you tonight?” She set her paper plate down on the hall table and headed for the front door, Laura at her heels.

“Want to come for dinner tonight?” Laura asked. “We’re just ordering in and my parents will be here, but at least we could have a bit of a chat.”

Guilt won out. “Perhaps. I’ll call you later this afternoon.”

“Okay. And…have a nice walk with Gil,” Laura said.

Clare saw the curiosity in her friend’s face and would have explained the situation but a quick glance through the glass-paned door behind her registered Gil, waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. “Talk to you later,” she said and walked out onto the porch.

HE DIDN’T SAY a word until they reached the end of the sidewalk. “My car or yours?”

Clare hesitated. “Maybe we should just forget about this.”

Gil sent her a look—a challenge. “Is that really what you want?” He didn’t pause long enough for a reply. “How about meeting in the park across from town hall? We’d still be taking a walk, getting fresh air and no one has to feel bad about skipping out on the christening reception.”

“We were there for the important part,” she added.

“Definitely,” he said. “I’ll see you at John Calvin’s statue in about ten minutes?”

He walked to his car before she could change her mind again and call a halt to the plan. Clare muttered to herself during the short drive to the park, wondering why she’d agreed to his suggestion. There were plenty of parking spaces around Riverside Park although several families were taking advantage of the balmy day to visit the town’s scenic center. She quickly spotted Gil, lounging against the statue of the town’s founder.

“Looks like we weren’t the only ones thinking of the park today,” he commented as she approached.

Clare nodded. “The children’s play area over there must be a draw,” she said. “Too bad we didn’t have anything like that when we were kids.”

“We hung out at the school playground then. Remember?”

She did. They’d attended one of two elementary schools in town and the whole class had moved to Twin Falls High afterward. There’d been no escape from any of her classmates, Clare remembered. No place else to go, except out of town. Some students, mostly those in a higher economic bracket, had gone to various private schools in or near Hartford.

“Shall we take the river trail?” Gil asked.

“Sure,” she said, knowing how indifferent she sounded but not really caring.

He led the way to the strip of asphalt running along the top of the riverbank. “I think I liked this trail better when it was just gravel,” Gil commented. “It seemed more natural. This makes me feel like I’m in one of those theme parks.”

Clare smiled to herself. She bet Gil had never stepped foot in a theme park. “I think it would take more than an asphalt walkway to qualify.”

“I guess it’s my age showing—I hate seeing so many changes.”

“But a lot of the changes in town look to be good ones,” she said. “They show growth and economic stability.”

“True enough. I remember a time when I was a kid that my folks seemed real worried about making a go of it here. Especially after the lumber mill closed down.”

She’d forgotten about that. By then, her parents had divorced and her mother was working at the bank. “I don’t remember where your father ended up after the mill closed.”

“He took some computer courses at night school in Hartford and eventually managed to get a job in the administration department at town hall. He stayed there ’til retirement.”

“When was that?”

“Five years ago. He was seventy when he had his stroke.”

“I always liked your father.”

They walked in silence a few more yards until Gil said, a bit gruffly, “Yeah, and he always liked you, too.” He motioned to a bench ahead. “Want to sit for a minute?”