Nan Rossiter - The Gin and Chowder Club

A few minutes later, Nate appeared holding her sweater in one hand and his empty glass in the other. He had changed into faded jeans and a soft flannel shirt. She noticed that his hair was getting longer, and it was becoming more salt than pepper.

“Thanks,” she said, putting it on. He studied her eyes and gave her a sad smile but didn’t reply. Instead, he turned to refill his glass and stared out the window into the darkness. Noelle put on the sweater and still felt chilled. She looked at his back, hoping for some sign of reassurance, but he offered none. “Are you hungry?” she asked, taking the top off the pot and picking up the ladle. He shrugged and took a sip. Her heart was pounding as she filled the two bowls. “What’s the matter?” she asked, setting them on the table.

“Nothing,” he replied.

Noelle sat across from him, her mind racing with the possibilities. She tried to remain calm, but her stomach was churning so much that she could barely eat. Silently, she tried to reassure herself that it was just her guilt-ridden conscience magnifying his subdued mood. She attempted to lift his spirits with small talk, and he finally became a little more animated. He told her the stew was delicious and even offered to do the dishes. Noelle was relieved; she began to believe that maybe it really was “nothing.”

After dinner, Nate was true to his word. He started to clear the table, and Noelle stood to help. She wrapped up the leftovers, put them away, and then went upstairs to finish unpacking.

She turned on the bedroom light and looked at the bedsheets strewn about. She had not knelt beside her bed since she was a little girl. But tonight, more than ever before, she was thankful. She quietly knelt down and bowed her head. Silently, she promised to never let it happen again. Silently, she implored God to always protect Nate from the truth.

After several minutes, she got up to unpack. Her bag was open, and she immediately saw the book Asa had given her resting on top of her belongings. She had forgotten all about it. Now her heart raced as she lifted it out. She opened it, and for the first time, noticed the inscription Samuel had written. She also found the photograph that had been tucked inside the cover. Through a blur of tears, she stared at the image. Her hands were shaking as she closed the book. The thankful relief she had felt just a moment ago was suddenly shattered by fear.

Every night before he went to bed, Asa crossed off the date on the calendar above his desk. Every day, as he walked to class, he listened to the autumn wind whisper of winter.

Noelle continued to write, but Asa sensed that something was different. Instead of giving him hope, her letters left him feeling uneasy. He began to notice that she rarely alluded to missing him in a sensual way. In the beginning, she had teased him with her words, and he had hung on to their meaning. Now the absence of these words made him anxious. Had her feelings changed? Had something happened? Did Nate know?

Asa punished himself with worry. He found it hard to focus on schoolwork and his appetite waned. He skipped meals and ran instead-running was the only way to escape his self-inflicted misery. As the weeks passed, he found himself tightening his belt an extra notch or two and by mid-November, when he stepped onto a scale in the boys’ shower room, he was surprised to discover that he had lost ten pounds.

By mid-November, Noelle had settled into her new job at Boston General. She liked it well enough, but by the end of the day, she was exhausted. Nate tried to convince her to work only part-time hours, but she told him that she liked to keep busy. As always, he helped around the house and even made dinner once or twice a week. If he had seen Asa’s book in her bag, he never mentioned it. Noelle had immediately tucked it away and read it only when she was home alone. She made every effort to please Nate, and the fleeting, dark mood that had caused her so much alarm was never repeated. She was determined to protect him and resolved to find time at Thanksgiving to gently end the intimacy in her relationship with Asa. She prayed that it would not destroy their friendship, and she prayed that he would be okay…

As Thanksgiving approached, Asa’s mood was buoyed by hope and anticipation. He had no idea if there would be an opportunity to be alone with Noelle, but at the very least, he would see her.

On the Wednesday before the holiday, Isaac and Asa arrived home within an hour of each other. Sarah was busy making pies when they came in. They each carried a duffel bag full of laundry, but she didn’t care-she was just happy to have her boys at home. Martha was happy too. When Asa pushed open the door, she struggled to pull herself off the slippery linoleum, and her tail wagged so hard that her whole hind end wiggled. Asa set down his things and hugged her first, even before hugging his flour-covered mother. The warm kitchen smelled of apples and cinnamon, cloves and pumpkin, and the windows were steamed over.

Asa washed up and sat down at the kitchen table. Martha rested her head in his lap and closed her eyes with a contented sigh. Sarah set a generous slice of warm apple pie and a large glass of milk in front of her younger son.

“I thought this was for tomorrow,” he said in surprise.

“I’m making another,” she replied, kissing the top of his head. “Besides”-she looked him over-“you look as if you can use it!”

While he ate, they chatted about school and the weather.

Finally, the conversation turned to Thanksgiving. Asa slipped Martha a piece of piecrust and ventured nonchalantly, “Is Uncle Nate coming?”

“I’m not sure,” Sarah answered as she deftly draped smooth piecrust dough over her rolling pin and eased it onto a waiting pie plate. “Noelle hasn’t been feeling well.” She paused as she pressed the crust into place and began to pinch the edge into a decorative pattern. “Nate’s going to call in the morning.”

Asa’s heart sank. What if she doesn’t come?

That evening, Asa had planned to relax at home, but Isaac had other ideas and convinced Asa to go to Haymarket with him and reminded him to bring his I.D. The two brothers stopped for drinks at an old favorite haunt before they ended up at a new pub that seemed to be more popular with the college crowd home for the holiday. It was a packed house, but they managed to get a table in the bar, and pretty soon, a pretty waitress came over to take their order. Isaac flirted with her before finally ordering his usual gin and tonic. Asa started to order another beer, but feeling a bit reckless after the first two, changed his mind and said he’d have the same. The waitress smiled at him warmly, and as she walked away, Isaac teased him, “Man, I think she likes you!”

Asa laughed. “Yeah, right.”

“Well,” Isaac began, “on that subject, have you found a woman up there in the woods yet?” He hesitated. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot-you’re still at an all-boys school. Didn’t you get enough of that at the Gunnery?”

Asa ignored the remark and absently wiped the outside of his glass. “Whatd’ya mean ‘yet’?” he finally answered with a smile.

Isaac raised his eyebrows questioningly. “What… are you holding out on me?”

“Nah, I’d never do that.”

“Well?”

“Well yourself,” Asa said, changing the subject. “What’s new in your overactive love life? Are you still with Kate? Or is it Jen?”

Isaac laughed knowingly. “ That was out of hand!” He paused and took a sip of his drink. “Actually… there’s someone new.”