Chapter One
As class reunions went, Mary Margaret Reid supposed this one wasn’t too bad, though she’d never been to any in the forty years since high school graduation. The only reason she’d come this time was because her best friend, Eva, had talked her into it, saying that Mary Margaret needed to get out of the house and take some risks in life or she would shrivel up and die. And, truth be told, Mary Margaret wanted to see Bryan Mosley, her son’s father, thinking that since they were all getting older, this might be her last chance. She’d regret it if he showed up, and she wasn’t there.
Mary Margaret had volunteered to work the registration table, figuring she’d see most everyone that way. So there she was, stuck outside the Galvez Hotel Music Room, a ballroom with a history for everyone raised on Galveston Island, bored out of her mind. Everybody else was inside partying big time from the sounds of it. A few stragglers wandered in occasionally, but for the most part, the rush was over, and she had nothing to do.
The blare of the Beatles burst forth when someone opened the ballroom door. Mary Margaret looked up to see the reunion organizer, Sarah, a woman known to Mary Margaret since fifth grade, slip through the double doors and head her way. The smell of fried shrimp followed Sarah like a cloud. She pulled up a chair next to Mary Margaret at the registration table. In a confidential tone, she said, “He hasn’t come. I’ve been so nervous all night, but he never showed up.”
Sarah couldn’t be talking about Bryan and Mary Margaret’s situation. So who did she mean? Who had she dated in high school that she wanted to see so badly she’d talk to Mary Margaret about it? No one else was in the foyer so Mary Margaret turned her attention to Sarah. It was good to know she wasn’t the only one with an agenda other than just seeing old friends.
“I’ve come to every reunion hoping to see Royce, and he never shows up.” Sarah held her hands in her lap, kneading her fingers. “I just want to see if he still feels the same way about me as I do about him. I know he’s married, but I just need to know.”
Sarah could have been reading from Mary Margaret’s own internal script, except Mary Margaret hadn’t come to every reunion.
She listened as Sarah poured her heart out in a few sentences. “We loved each other so much, but his mother broke us up. She couldn’t allow her precious son to marry me.”
Mary Margaret looked at Sarah. “What did you do that was so bad?”
Sarah shrugged. “Humph.” She looked like a bird, in a way, with her little pointed chin and gaping mouth. “I thought you knew I was a Jew.”
“And I’m Catholic so . . . ”
“So the big cheese doctor’s wife didn’t want her son marrying a Jew.” She shrugged. “I guess he’s not coming again. It’s just as well. I’d probably pee in my pants.” Sarah aligned the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist with her gold watch and grimaced. “See you later.” She bounced out of the chair and headed back inside.
Saved just in time. Mary Margaret had almost spit out her own story and would have if Sarah hadn’t cut her off. Apparently Sarah thought Mary Margaret was commenting about her.
Mary Margaret pulled out her cell phone and called Eva. “Hey, honey child, it’s nine o’clock and Bryan’s a no show. Guess I’ll pack up and go home.”
Eva yawned in her ear. “I’m sorry. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But you had fun, right?”
“Sure. Sitting out here at the registration desk for hours, relying on old friends to bring me food and drink.”
“Still, it was good to see them, right?”
“Yeah, I guess. The food was good. The wine chilled. I got lots of smacks on the cheek from guys I never dated.”
“Better than a kick in the seat of the pants.”
“Much. So do I have your permission, darlink, to go home now?”
Eva laughed. “Yes, my dear. You can pack up and say goodbye forever to the reunion committee. If you want to come over here when you get home, you can help me finish a bottle of white.”
“I might just do that after I get out of these clothes. Adios.” Mary Margaret put her cell away and began packing the reunion materials into a cardboard box.
She’d known Bryan might not come. Rumor had it he lived in Tennessee now of all places. Like Sarah, she’d hoped he would. She just wanted to see if anything was there. But the clock had struck nine. If Bryan had been coming, he would have been there already. Even if he’d showed, she didn’t know what she would have done about it. Maybe wet her pants like Sarah had said.
“Mary Margaret--”
Mary Margaret was counting the number of no-shows when she thought she heard Bryan’s unmistakable deep voice call her name.
It had been forty years since she’d heard that voice. At fifty-eight she should have aged out of the adolescent thrill thing. But the butterflies circling the block in her stomach told her otherwise. She couldn’t breathe for a moment. Something stirred way down deep inside.
“Mary Margaret, is that you?” Chills tingled up from her toes. Afraid to look, she tried to focus on the list of names. Bryan’s voice sounded neither older nor huskier than the last time she’d heard it on high school graduation night. The resonance was strikingly similar to their son’s, though Robert’s voice usually came out in a monotone. Often a very loud monotone.
She looked. Bryan’s face, shopworn and thinner. Yellow hair gone white but as thick and curly as their son’s. Azure eyes the same as Robert’s, without glasses. Here in the flesh, as trite as that sounded, stood the man who had fathered the child she’d been forced to give up. The man who had married another woman.
Bryan wore a pressed sport shirt and Bermuda shorts on his lean, tall body. His open-toed Huiraches brought a smile to her face as she remembered the high school battles he’d waged to wear them to class. He looked as wide-eyed and surprised as she felt.
“Mary Margaret Vernon.” He said her name a third time, the words sounding like they floated on a rush of wind blowing in from the Gulf of Mexico.
“Reid,” Mary Margaret said. “My married name is Reid.” Her eyes tried to pull away from his face, but his held them captive. She wanted to escape, but if she’d tried to get up, her rubber legs would have given way, and she’d have fallen on her face. At the same time, she would have given all her earthly possessions to run into his arms. God, she felt like the heroine in a romance novel. And the million-dollar question was, had he brought Sheila?
“Mary Margaret, you look lovely, the same as the last time I saw you.”
Mary Margaret felt her face grow hot. She knew Bryan had always had a way with words. Heat extended to the tips of her ears. She’d like to blame it on a hot flash, but no question it was the situation, the flattery. She weighed a good fifteen pounds more than in high school. Gray intertwined with her black, thinner hair. Gravity had made her face fall. Crows feet accented her eyes. But Bryan couldn’t have given her a sweeter compliment. Lovely. “Thanks. You look good yourself.” Still no Sheila.
He grinned.
Mary Margaret remembered that grin. It was the same one he’d worn when they’d surfed together on the Galveston waves and worked backstage at the school play. But it was all so long ago—their sophomore and junior years. By the time they were seniors, her life had taken an abrupt turn, and Sheila had become the recipient of those smiling eyes, that toothy grin.
“One?”
“One what?” he asked.
“One late registration?” She returned his smile.
The ballroom door opened, and the refrain from “Hey Jude” drifted out. They’d danced to that song, long and slow, the dance and the song seeming to go on forever.
“Sorry, but you have to pay the full fee, no early discount. Seventy-five for one if you’re doing the whole weekend.” She waited for his answer, pleased to have a moment to gaze upon his face. Their son Robert was practically his spitting image, except for the hair and Robert’s pale skin. Not that she had known Bryan at forty, Robert’s age now, but only seventeen years separated father and son, not so much. “No photo name badge either. You had to early register so we could make one.” The back of her neck tingled; her feet throbbed with heat, her sandals tight as gloves. Her sundress felt as damp as it would have been had she stood outside on the seawall in the humid Galveston air. Aged out of all that nonsense? Not hardly.
“Will you take a check?” Bryan fished in his back pocket for a wallet.
“Sure.” Mary Margaret made out the receipt, tensing her arm to hide her trembling hand. The last day she’d seen him, he sauntered across the stage for his diploma. After the ceremony, he hugged another woman, Sheila, who later became his wife.
Mary Margaret fumbled with the receipt book now, trying to tear off his copy, eyes blurred in memory.
When she looked up, Bryan watched the Ladies Room door across the foyer. “I’m paying for two, I think.”
“Oh.”
A moment later, Sheila came out, and a chill ran through Mary Margaret. She busied herself with writing a second receipt and hoped neither of them would be able to read the disappointment in her eyes.
“Am I getting yours?” Bryan asked Sheila.
“I’ll pay you back later.” Sheila held out her hand. “Hey, Mary Margaret. You look great. How’re you doing?” A cloud of flowery scent swirled around her.
“Hi yourself.” As she shook Sheila’s tiny, damp hand, she wondered what kind of weird monetary arrangement they had. Problems in paradise? “I’m doing just great, thanks for asking.”
It took only a few moments for Mary Margaret to size up the woman Bryan had abandoned her for all those years ago. Sheila looked like she could don her old cheerleader’s outfit and blend right in with girls a third their age. Her jet-black hair, probably dyed, still fell in a shoulder length pageboy. Her face didn’t sag. Sheila didn’t wear glasses, bore no wrinkles on her upper lip, and showed little sign she approached the age of fifty, much less sixty. Sickening, just sickening. Of course, Sheila could have had some work done. Mary Margaret knew that was a mean thought but her dark side just couldn’t help it.
Bryan handed the check to Mary Margaret, his hand brushing hers. Had that been intentional? Their eyes met, but she couldn’t read anything in his. The check displayed only his name and an island address. When had he moved home?
“Y’all can go on in.” She handed him the two receipts. “Wine, beer, and soft drinks are free. So is the seafood buffet.” Mary Margaret feigned a smile. “Cash bar for mixed drinks. Have fun.”
As they walked away, Mary Margaret noticed Sheila looked as good from the back as she did from the front. Her backside was still small and perky when every other fifty-something woman’s rear end had fallen flat, running down her thighs to the backs of her knees.
The door closed behind them, cutting off another Beatles’ song in mid-melody. Mary Margaret heaved a huge sigh. So much for hoping Bryan had divorced and would be looking forward to seeing her.
She sipped a glass of warm Chardonnay. A sour taste coated her tongue. Now way after nine o’clock. She’d go home, skedaddle home, tail between her legs like a wild animal to the safety of its lair. It had been a mistake to let Eva talk her into volunteering. She’d seen what she came to see. Bryan. She’d wanted to know how she would feel if she ever saw him again. Well, now she knew.
Mary Margaret flexed her shoulders as she stood and crossed the hall to the Ladies Room, the bank envelope with cash and checks safely tucked into her purse. Sheila’s sweet flowery scent assaulted her as she pushed open the door. Harsh white light illuminated the wall of mirrors and Mary Margaret’s reflection.
Bryan and Sheila might still be together, but just the same, she was glad she’d gotten her nails and hair done. The fuchsia and green sundress flattered her, showed her décolletage. She looked good even though she would never be competition for Sheila who would always be smaller and daintier.
She’d get the heck out of there before she saw Bryan and Sheila--again--dancing, laughing, having a good time while she looked on from the sidelines as she had their whole senior year. She didn’t want to see them holding hands, draping their arms about one another, or even having that casual familiarness long married couples have with each other.
She flipped her cell open again and called Eva. “Hey girlfriend, I’m still here and guess what? Bryan showed up.”
“Great! How it go?”
“No, not great. Sheila was with him.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Where are you calling from?”
“The Ladies Room. I had to get away from there for a minute. I’m not quite through packing up.”
“Well, when you’re done, come on over. I’ll still be up nursing this bottle of wine, and you can tell me all about it.”
“Okay. If you don’t hear from me though, you know I threw myself off the seawall onto the rocks.”
Eva laughed. “Come on now. It’s not that bad. You still have me.”
“Thanks, friend. See you in a bit.” Mary Margaret hung up, took a deep breath, and flung open the door. When she emerged, Bryan stood at the registration table, a plastic glass of white wine in each hand. Mary Margaret could swear his face brightened like a lighthouse beacon when he spotted her. She smiled through clenched teeth and clutched her purse to her chest, as if she could slow her heart, and crossed the carpeted gulf separating them.
Bryan held a glass toward her. “Buy you a drink, Mrs. Reid?”
