only clear memories of him are the amusement rides. We went round and round on the Ferris wheel for hours.” Fondness nipped her tone.
“How old were you when he died?” He lifted the spoon to his lips.
“Seven.”
Aware that Laura was in her late twenties, losing a father that early in her life was like not having had a father at all.
“After he died, my mother did her best to talk about him.” She stirred the crackers in her bowl. “If we were baking cookies, she would say, ‘Daddy loved chocolate chip.’ I thought our conversations were so that I wouldn’t forget him. As I got older, I realized our talks were so that she wouldn’t.”
“I’m sure she didn’t. We don’t forget the people we love who have left us.”
As least, Chase didn’t. Not a day went by that he didn’t think of his mother, a woman Dick Donovan didn’t care to discuss unless the barb was meant to criticize. After Michelle Donovan had passed away, Chase felt the need to talk about her in the same way, and for the same reasons, Laura’s mother had chosen to reminisce about Laura’s father. He missed his mother, the ache like a head-banging hangover, only the dull pain was in his heart.
Chase’s father wanted no discussion of Michelle. The woman was dead and buried, Dick Donovan would say. She suffered. Her death was a blessing, his father would sigh.
Initially, Chase thought Dick’s reluctance to remember his wife stemmed from despair that he had lost her. He even considered that his father’s new lifestyle of whiskey, women, and casinos less than a month after Michelle’s funeral was Dick’s way of coping. Although Chase continued to mourn, he eventually figured out that Michelle being “dead and buried,” was, for Dick Donovan, a blessing.
He put down his spoon and looked deep into Laura’s green eyes. “I’m sorry you lost your mother,” he said. “I don’t think I ever offered my condolences.” He had been away from the office at the time, a trip to the Poconos with a waitress he’d met at a casino in Atlantic City. His relationship with the woman lasted as long as the trip. Rachel had been waiting for him to return to sign the donation check.
“I lost my own mother my senior year of college.” He paused. “A lot of years ago, but I still miss her.”
Before Laura could comment or Chase could go on, the waitress rolled the entrée cart to the table. Chase was grateful for the opportunity to shift the conversation, afraid any more discussions on mothers would get him uncomfortably sentimental.
For the entrée, he had chosen the salmon, and Laura ordered rainbow trout. The delicious food and seafood restaurants in Philadelphia dominated their dinner talk. Given the provisions he stocked on the boat, he had munched on one too many granola bars throughout the day. He never wanted to see another. Since Laura hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, Chase coaxed her into a second slice of cheesecake. She insisted they share it.
“Why did you show up last night?” She sliced a wedge of the desert. “You said you were in Atlantic City.”
He took a swig from his coffee mug. “Every couple of months, I meet two of my fraternity brothers. Tom lives in Atlantic City and works for the county. Ned’s an attorney.” He shrugged. “We have dinner. Talk sports. Debate politics.”
She smiled. “Guy’s night out.”
Chase nodded. “Sometimes Atlantic City gets too noisy.” He pushed the dish with the remaining cheesecake her way. “Once in a while, I need peace and quiet. The only place to find it is on my boat.”
“I’m relieved Atlantic City was too noisy last night,” she murmured, lowering her eyes.
“Me, too.” He picked up her fork and dug into the cake. Smiling, he held out the chunk to her. “Now finish this.”
It was nearly ten when they returned to Madre . He jumped inside the boat first, then held out his hand to her. She hesitated before smiling and slipping her hand in his. Chase
“How old were you when he died?” He lifted the spoon to his lips.
“Seven.”
Aware that Laura was in her late twenties, losing a father that early in her life was like not having had a father at all.
“After he died, my mother did her best to talk about him.” She stirred the crackers in her bowl. “If we were baking cookies, she would say, ‘Daddy loved chocolate chip.’ I thought our conversations were so that I wouldn’t forget him. As I got older, I realized our talks were so that she wouldn’t.”
“I’m sure she didn’t. We don’t forget the people we love who have left us.”
As least, Chase didn’t. Not a day went by that he didn’t think of his mother, a woman Dick Donovan didn’t care to discuss unless the barb was meant to criticize. After Michelle Donovan had passed away, Chase felt the need to talk about her in the same way, and for the same reasons, Laura’s mother had chosen to reminisce about Laura’s father. He missed his mother, the ache like a head-banging hangover, only the dull pain was in his heart.
Chase’s father wanted no discussion of Michelle. The woman was dead and buried, Dick Donovan would say. She suffered. Her death was a blessing, his father would sigh.
Initially, Chase thought Dick’s reluctance to remember his wife stemmed from despair that he had lost her. He even considered that his father’s new lifestyle of whiskey, women, and casinos less than a month after Michelle’s funeral was Dick’s way of coping. Although Chase continued to mourn, he eventually figured out that Michelle being “dead and buried,” was, for Dick Donovan, a blessing.
He put down his spoon and looked deep into Laura’s green eyes. “I’m sorry you lost your mother,” he said. “I don’t think I ever offered my condolences.” He had been away from the office at the time, a trip to the Poconos with a waitress he’d met at a casino in Atlantic City. His relationship with the woman lasted as long as the trip. Rachel had been waiting for him to return to sign the donation check.
“I lost my own mother my senior year of college.” He paused. “A lot of years ago, but I still miss her.”
Before Laura could comment or Chase could go on, the waitress rolled the entrée cart to the table. Chase was grateful for the opportunity to shift the conversation, afraid any more discussions on mothers would get him uncomfortably sentimental.
For the entrée, he had chosen the salmon, and Laura ordered rainbow trout. The delicious food and seafood restaurants in Philadelphia dominated their dinner talk. Given the provisions he stocked on the boat, he had munched on one too many granola bars throughout the day. He never wanted to see another. Since Laura hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, Chase coaxed her into a second slice of cheesecake. She insisted they share it.
“Why did you show up last night?” She sliced a wedge of the desert. “You said you were in Atlantic City.”
He took a swig from his coffee mug. “Every couple of months, I meet two of my fraternity brothers. Tom lives in Atlantic City and works for the county. Ned’s an attorney.” He shrugged. “We have dinner. Talk sports. Debate politics.”
She smiled. “Guy’s night out.”
Chase nodded. “Sometimes Atlantic City gets too noisy.” He pushed the dish with the remaining cheesecake her way. “Once in a while, I need peace and quiet. The only place to find it is on my boat.”
“I’m relieved Atlantic City was too noisy last night,” she murmured, lowering her eyes.
“Me, too.” He picked up her fork and dug into the cake. Smiling, he held out the chunk to her. “Now finish this.”
It was nearly ten when they returned to Madre . He jumped inside the boat first, then held out his hand to her. She hesitated before smiling and slipping her hand in his. Chase
Similar Books
