used to wearing shoes.”
Denise laughed in disbelief. This was a side of her mother she’d never even heard about. Judy continued.
“I used to live right down the road from here. Do you know the Boyle place? That white house with the green shutters-big red barn out back?”
Denise nodded. She passed by it on the way into town.
“Well, that was where I lived when I was little. Your mom and I were the only two girls who lived out this way, so we ended up doing practically everything together. We were the same age, too, so we studied the same things at school. This was in the forties, and back then everyone sat in the same classroom until the eighth grade, but they still tried to group us together with people the same age. Your mother and I sat next to each other in school the whole way through. She was probably the best friend I ever had.”
Staring toward the distant trees, Judy seemed lost in the throes of nostalgia.
“Why didn’t she keep in touch after she moved?” Denise began. “I mean . . .”
She paused, wondering how to ask what she really meant, and Judy cast her a sidelong glance.
“You mean why, if we were such good friends, didn’t she tell you about it?”
Denise nodded, and Judy collected her thoughts.
“I guess it mainly had to do with her moving away. It took me a long time to understand that distance can ruin even the best of intentions.”
“That’s sad. . . .”
“Not really. I suppose it depends on how you look at it. For me . . . well, it just adds a richness you wouldn’t otherwise get. People come, people go-they’ll drift in and out of your life, almost like characters in a favorite book. When you finally close the cover, the characters have told their story and you start up again with another book, complete with new characters and adventures. Then you find yourself focusing on the new ones, not the ones from the past.”
It took a moment for Denise to respond as she remembered the friends she’d left in Atlanta.
“That’s pretty philosophical,” she finally said.
“I’m old. What did you expect?”
Denise set her glass of tea on the table and absently wiped the moisture from the sweating glass on her shorts. “So you never talked to her again? After she left?”
“Oh no-we kept in touch for a few years, but back then your mother was in love, and when women fall in love, it’s all they can think about. That was why she left Edenton in the first place. A boy-Michael Cunningham. Did she ever tell you about him?”
Denise shook her head, fascinated.
“I’m not surprised. Michael was kind of a bad boy, not exactly the kind of guy you want to remember way longer than you have to. He didn’t have the greatest reputation, if you know what I mean, but a lot of girls found him attractive. I guess they thought him exciting and dangerous. Same old story, even today. Well, your mother followed him to Atlanta right after she graduated.”
“But she told me she moved to Atlanta to go to college.”
“Oh, that may have been somewhere in the back of her mind, but the real reason was Michael. He had some kind of hold on her, that’s for sure. He was also the reason she didn’t come back here to visit.”
“How so?”
“Well, her mom and dad-your grandparents-they just couldn’t forgive her for running off that way. They saw Michael for what he was and said that if she didn’t come home right away, she wasn’t welcome here anymore. They were from the old school, as stubborn as can be, and your mom was just the same. It was like a couple of bulls staring at each other, waiting for the other one to give in. But neither of them ever did, even after Michael went by the wayside for someone else.”
“My father?”
Judy shook her head. “No . . . someone else-your father came along after I lost contact with her.”
“So you didn’t know him at all?”
“No. But I do remember your grandparents heading off to the wedding and being a little hurt that your mother hadn’t sent me an invitation. Not that I could have gone, of course. I was married by then, and like a lot of young couples, my husband and I were struggling financially, and with the new baby-well, it just would have been impossible to make it.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
Judy set her glass of tea on the table. “Nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t you, and in some way, it wasn’t even your mom anymore-or at least the one I used to know. Your father came from a very respectable family in Atlanta, and by that point in her life, I think your mom was a little embarrassed about where she’d come from. Not that your father minded, obviously, since he married her. But I remember that your grandparents didn’t say much after they returned from the wedding. I think they were a little embarrassed, too, even though they shouldn’t have been. They were great people, but I think they knew they didn’t fit into their daughter’s world anymore, even after your father passed away.”
“That’s terrible.”
“It’s sad, but like I said, it went both ways. They were stubborn, your mom was stubborn. And little by little, they sort of drifted apart.”
“I knew Mom wasn’t close to her parents, but she never told me any of this.”
“No, I wouldn’t expect that she did. But please don’t think poorly of your mother. I certainly don’t. She was always so full of life, so passionate-she was exciting to be around. And she had the heart of an angel, she really did. She was as sweet a person as I ever knew.”
Judy turned to face her. “I see a lot of her in you.”
Denise tried to digest this new information about her mother as Judy took another sip of her tea. Then, as if knowing she’d said too much, Judy added, “But listen to me, droning on like some senile old woman. You must think I’m two steps from an old folks’ home. Let’s talk about you for a while.”
“Me? There’s not much to tell.”
“Then why not start with the obvious? Why did you move to Edenton?”
Denise watched Kyle playing with his trucks, wondering what he was thinking.
“There’s a couple of reasons.”
Judy leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “Man trouble? Some psycho stalker like you see on America’s Most Wanted?”
Denise giggled. “No, nothing that dramatic.” She stopped, her brow furrowing slightly.
“If it’s too personal, you don’t have to tell me. It’s none of my business anyway.”
Denise shook her head. “I don’t mind talking about it-it’s just tough to know where to start.” Judy stayed silent, and Denise sighed, collecting her thoughts. “I guess mainly it has to do with Kyle. I think I told you he has trouble speaking, right?”
Judy nodded.
“Did I tell you why?”
“No.”
Denise looked in Kyle’s direction. “Well, right now they say he has an auditory processing problem, specifically expressive and receptive language delay. Basically, it means that for some reason-no one knows why- understanding language and learning to speak is hard for him. I guess the best analogy is that it’s like dyslexia, only instead of processing visual signals, it has to do with processing sounds. For some reason, the sounds seem to get all mixed up-it’s like he’s hearing Chinese one second, German the next, nonsense chatter after that. Whether the problem’s in the connection between the ear and the brain or within the brain itself no one knows. But in the beginning, they weren’t sure how to diagnose him, and, well . . .”
Denise ran her hand through her hair and faced Judy again. “Are you sure you want to hear all of this? It’s kind of a long story.”
Judy reached over and patted Denise on the knee. “Only if you feel like telling me.”
Judy’s earnest expression suddenly reminded Denise of her mother. Strangely, it felt good to tell her about it, and she hesitated only briefly before going on.
“Well, at first the doctors thought he was deaf. I spent weeks taking Kyle to appointments with audiologists and ENTs-you know, ear, nose, and throat specialists-before they found out that he could hear. Then, they thought
