Nan Rossiter - The Gin and Chowder Club

He shook his head. “No, that one’s too gray.” Noelle turned the page, and Asa looked at the picture and back out the window. “That’s it!” he said. “Look at the wings.”

Noelle nodded in agreement. “Hmmm, northern mockingbird. I’ve always wondered what a mockingbird looked like.” She started to read out loud: “ ‘Sings its loud, clear, complicated songs almost year-round, even at night in spring and summer.’ ”

Asa took a sip of his coffee and seemed lost in thought. “That’s funny,” he began. “I just read a book called To Kill a Mockingbird . In the book, one of the characters says it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird, because all they do is sing.” Asa looked around for his shoulder bag. “I have it with me. Maybe you’d like to read it.” He found his bag, pulled out the book, ran his hand over the simple light brown cover, and handed it to Noelle. “It was very good.”

Noelle opened the book and skimmed the front leaf. She paused and looked up at him. “I will read it. Thanks.” Putting it down on the counter, she added, “But now, as much as I would love for you to stay, we really have to think about getting you back to school.” She hesitated. “I was going home today anyway, so I can give you a ride to the station. Do you know the bus schedule?”

Asa shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll just wait.”

“Don’t look so gloomy,” Noelle said, putting her arms around him. “It’s not the end of the world. Besides, I’m still waiting for you to go warm up the shower.” Asa closed his eyes and knew he would always want this moment back…

Late Thursday morning, Nate walked across Dewey Square on his way to meet a client for lunch. He glanced at his watch and realized he was early. He looked around and spotted a corner shop with an illuminated neon coffee cup in the window. He went inside. The shop, with its close proximity to the bus station, was filled with travelers, and the warm air inside had the heady aroma of sweet rolls and cinnamon. Nate took off his overcoat and stood in line. He looked out across the square to South Station and remembered yesterday’s baseball game. It had been a great afternoon, and he hoped the boys had gotten back to school without any trouble.

Finally, with a cup of hot coffee in hand, he stepped back out to the curb and stopped to take a sip. As he did, he noticed a turquoise and white Bel Air pull up in front of the bus station. He hesitated curiously and strained to see who was driving. After a few minutes, the passenger door opened and Nate decided he was mistaken. She certainly wouldn’t have a passenger. …

Strangely intrigued, though, he continued to watch. Someone was getting out, but just as they did, a bus pulled around the corner and stopped, blocking his view. Nate waited until the bus finally pulled away but, by then, the car was gone. He shook his head and glanced at his watch again. There must be countless turquoise Bel Airs in Boston.

Asa looked up at the departure board and realized he had a long wait ahead of him. He went back outside and looked around. With several hours to kill, he wandered over to a newsstand and glanced at the periodicals. A portrait of Massachusetts’s own Henry Cabot Lodge Jr. graced the current issue of Time magazine. Lodge, Asa knew, was Nixon’s running mate and the biggest surprise of the presidential race. Asa studied the painting and wondered how Massachusetts would decide between Lodge and their young Democratic senator, John F. Kennedy.

He turned to go back inside South Station but changed his mind. He and Noelle had stopped at a diner for breakfast before leaving the Cape, but he was hungry again and decided to look for a place to grab a snack. On the north side of Dewey Square, he noticed a tiny bookstore that was tucked in next to a coffee shop. He hesitated but finally headed in that direction. He went into the bookstore first and halfheartedly perused the new fiction section, looking for something to read on the bus. His eyes were immediately drawn to the now-familiar illustration of a simple tree on a light brown background. Beside it on the shelf was another book with a tree on its cover. On this cover, however, the gnarled and leafless tree was more detailed, and in the shadow of the tree stood a somber boy with his hands in his pockets. The cover had a completely different feeling. Asa picked up the book and scanned the summary. It was about two friends at a boarding school in New Hampshire. Intrigued, he paid for it and headed next door for a cup of coffee and a sweet roll. He had no idea if he would be back at school in time for dinner.

Nate returned home in the late afternoon. The comforting aroma of simmering vegetables and beef filled the kitchen. He lifted the cover off the pot on the stove, and a cloud of steam rolled over its brim. He peered inside at a hearty mixture of tomatoes, peas, carrots, potatoes, and tender chunks of meat; his mouth watered. He threw his jacket over the back of a kitchen chair and walked down the hall of the old Victorian house, sifting through the mail. At the bottom of the stairs, he listened. Noelle was in the shower. Nate returned to the kitchen, opened a bottle of wine, and poured two glasses. He went upstairs and knocked softly on the door. Noelle looked around the curtain as he came in, and he smiled and held a glass out to her.

“Thanks,” she said, forcing a smile. She let the curtain stay open at the top, stepped back under the warm water, took a sip, and silently pleaded with herself, Don’t think… don’t think…

“No, thank you, ” Nate teased, peering around the curtain. “Dinner smells good. Is it almost ready?”

“The carrots need a little longer.” He stepped back and Noelle took a long drink and squeezed her eyes shut. God, how can I do this to us?

Nate looked out the window at the setting sun. “Are you almost done?”

“Almost.” She finished her drink and turned off the water. When she opened the curtain, he took her glass and handed her a towel.

“How was the Cape?”

“Well, the weather could have been better. How was the game?” She and Asa had talked only briefly about the game.

“It was great. Sox won.” Nate watched her dry off and stepped toward her. He draped the towel around her back and gently pulled her toward him. She closed her eyes and silently pleaded, Not yet, please, not so soon …

The autumn sky was streaked with orange and pink clouds when the bus pulled into Hanover. Asa climbed down, glanced at his watch, and started to walk. It was chilly, and he knew he probably wouldn’t make it back to campus in time for dinner. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t very hungry. He kicked through the leaves and thought about Noelle. He wondered what she was doing, and his heart ached. Why does it have to be this way?

As Nate dozed contentedly, Noelle slipped from between the satin sheets and stole softly down the stairs to check on the stew. The sun had gone down, and the kitchen was dark. Through the window, one thin streak of the fiery orange light burned like an angry wound behind the silhouetted landscape. She refilled her glass and, with tears streaming down her cheeks, stared at the last remnant of this unimaginable day. “God help me,” she whispered. “Forgive me for everything I’ve done…”

Finally, she turned on the stove light, and the shred of bright sky outside was swallowed by blackness. She dried her tears, turned off the stew, and put rolls in the oven to warm. She took out the salad she had made earlier, set the table, and lit candles. Then she went to the bottom of the stairs, called up to Nate, and asked him to bring down the sweater that was in her bag.