“Such a waste,” she murmured. “Such a terrible, terrible, waste.”
Turning away from the poster, she moved into the clubroom and was quickly surrounded by friends and neighbors.
“You know we’re here for you,” Agnes Shapiro said. “Whatever you need…”
Wally Hawthorne echoed the thought, adding that he’d be coming over to mow the lawn, then asked if Tommy knew that his dad passed away.
“I doubt it,” Ida replied. “Bill hadn’t seen or heard from Tommy since Darla Jean’s christening. We never knew where he’d gone or how to get in touch with him.”
Wally wrinkled his brow. “Damn shame. Bill took good care of that boy after Maggie died. Tommy had no cause to turn his back on his daddy the way he did.”
He wasn’t saying anything Ida hadn’t thought a thousand times over, but today it was too painful to allow those memories to take hold of her. She thanked Wally for his thoughtfulness, then turned and started across the room.
Ida was the cause of Tommy leaving, but never, not once, had William blamed her. In fact, when she suggested they stop seeing one another, he’d refused to even consider the thought. Tommy is acting like a spoiled child, he’d said. He doesn’t understand how painful loneliness can be. Give him time, and he’ll see this is a good thing. As time had proven, it was a good thing, but Tommy never did come around. Not long after their wedding was announced, he left town with his wife and baby.
With Bill now gone, remembering how he clung to the thought that Darla Jean would one day find her way home was more painful than ever. Ida could feel her heart pushing up against her chest and the echo of Bill’s voice in her head. Her steps slowed, and she came to a stop. Regardless of what her daddy thinks, he’d said, there will come a day when she’ll want to know her family, and she’ll come back here looking for us.
Ida was lost in thought when Lynn Olsson took hold of her arm.
“There you are,” Lynn said and wrapped Ida in a warm hug. “Marsha Lambert is planning to start a Tuesday afternoon bridge game, and I suggested it might be just the thing to get you out of the house. I know how much you miss Bill, but you can’t just sit around and do…”
As Lynn rambled on they were joined by several others offering help or advice on how to manage, but standing there in the midst of all those well-meaning friends, Ida felt as alone as she could possibly be. She didn’t want to join a bridge club, attend a library luncheon, or be part of a crochet club. She wanted what she’d lost—a family.
——————
THE YOUNG WOMAN STOOD AT the door for a moment, looked around, then stepped inside the crowded clubroom. She was more visible than most because of what she was wearing: a flowered sundress. It was not only the dress. She also stood a head taller than the other women in the room and had a child with her, a girl dressed in shorts and a yellow tee shirt. Most of Bill’s friends were businessmen or senior citizens.
From the corner of her eye, Ida saw the woman sit the girl in a chair, bend down, and speak to her. The child nodded, and the woman turned and started across the room. She walked with a deliberate stride, not stopping to chat as she made her way through the gathering.
Ida continued to watch for a few moments, then caught the woman’s eye and smiled. There was a slight flicker of hesitation; then the woman ducked her head and smiled back.
She was a scant arm’s length away when Ida realized who she was. Her hand shot out and grabbed the stranger’s arm as she passed by.
“Darla Jean,” she said in a whispery thin voice. “Your granddaddy knew you’d come.”
Suzanna winced and stood there with her eyes wide and her cheeks growing crimson.
“I’m sorry, truly sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. We’ve been traveling and—”
“Intrude?” Ida smiled. “Darla Jean, you’re not an intrusion, you’re the answer to a prayer.” She pulled Suzanna into an embrace from which there was no escape.
Before there was time to explain the mistake, Ida waved to the group of friends standing nearby and called them to come and meet Darla Jean, Bill’s granddaughter. Moments later, they were surrounded by people chattering about how Suzanna was obviously gifted with her granddaddy’s fair skin and blue eyes.
“Height too,” one man said, and the woman beside him nodded.
As the crowd closed in on Suzanna, beads of perspiration rose on her forehead and the flush on her cheeks began to spread. She fanned her hand in front of her face.
“I’m feeling a bit warm,” she said. “Perhaps I should step outside for a breath of air.”
“You’re right,” Herb Meltzer replied. “It is warm in here; I’ll have them crank up the AC.”
Suzanna’s expression was that of a trapped rabbit, but with Ida having a firm grip on her arm she was unable to break free. She gave a stiff smile, nodded politely, then craned her neck to see if Annie was still sitting in the chair where she was told to wait. Seven-year-olds were notoriously unreliable, and anything could happen in a room full of strangers.
“After all these years…” Ida stood looking up at Suzanna’s face. “Here you are, all grown up, nearly as tall as your granddaddy, and pretty as a picture. Why, the last time we saw you, you were a red-faced swaddling baby.” Her eyes grew misty. “When Tommy left town, I thought for sure we’d never see you again.”
“I’m sorry, but I really don’t understand—”
“Well, of course you don’t, you were just a baby. There’s no way you could remember. It was a terrible time…” She went on to tell of how Bill’s son couldn’t find it in his heart to forgive his
