wear your grandmother’s hat with the floppy rim and big flower. Do you remember?”
Abby squeezed his arm and bent her head to his shoulder. “Maybe soon you’ll have a granddaughter to invite you to tea.”
“I hope there’s going to be a wedding first,” her daddy said drily.
Abby laughed. “Of course. It’ll be something small and elegant. In the afternoon, I think. You and Baylor can wear gray. It’s a much softer color than black.” Abby could see it in her mind. The images were as clear as photographs, so clear, it was as if they were already gathered into an album. One so real to her that even years later, when the pain of remembering was only a worn stain on the floor of her mind, a moment would come when she would catch herself wondering what she’d done with it.
* * *
Abby was waiting in the dormitory lounge on the day Baylor and the others were due home. She imagined he would be sunburned and hungry.
“Baylor is always hungry,” Abby had said this to her mother. She had said she wanted to copy the family recipes. She thought she would purchase those three-by-five cards, the ones with the cute kitcheny designs, and a recipe box to match. She would need a Joy of Cooking, too, like her mother’s. Abby looked up when the door to the dormitory opened, expecting to see a crowd, anxious to see Baylor, but it was only Kate who was there, and her face when she saw Abby seemed to freeze, except for her glance that darted everywhere as if Abby was the last person she wanted to look at.
Abby felt a whisper of dread, the narrowest ribbon of cold premonition, unfurl from her stomach. She stood up, bringing her hands together. Her mouth opened. The word, “What?” was poised, a question that blistered her tongue. She wouldn’t ever be certain if she spoke it out loud.
But Kate answered as if Abby had. “We didn’t mean for anything to happen,” she said, and it was a protest, a plea; it was all Abby needed to hear to know that the “anything” Kate was referring to meant that everything between Abby and Baylor was over.
Abby hugged herself hard and shrank from Kate’s touch.
“I’m so sorry,” Kate said, and Abby despised the tears in Kate’s voice.
“I knew we were attracted to each other,” she said, “but I was with Kevin and then I—I met Tim. I guess I never thought—”
“What?” Abby fired the word like a bullet. “That I’d fall for him? I was just supposed to keep him amused until you were between guys? Have you been keeping an eye on him? Watching for signs of boredom? Figuring the instant you were ready and I wasn’t paying attention, you could crook your finger and he’d drop me flat? How could you?” Abby slapped at her own angry tears.
“It just happened. I—I don’t know.”
“But you’ve had feelings for him all along, haven’t you? Which you never bothered to mention to me. Naturally. It’s just like you.”
“I never thought—”
“You never do.”
Abby stared at Kate a moment longer, and then, stumbling, she turned and ran.
* * *
They never shared their room again, nor did they speak. Abby caught sight of Kate with Baylor sometimes on campus, and the pain was so intense, she thought that, like her father’s heart, hers, too, was under attack. The wedding was in summer after graduation. Abby wasn’t invited, not that she’d have gone. She had moved home, lacking a better plan, and she was there to help her mother nurse her father when he was forced to undergo heart bypass surgery. It was Abby’s mother who told her Kate had moved with Baylor to Chicago.
Good riddance, Abby had thought. She couldn’t imagine that she and Kate would ever speak again. But then one day, a few years later, on the occasion of Abby’s engagement to Nick, Kate called to offer congratulations and her hope for Abby’s happiness. Abby was gracious; she could afford to be because she was happy, happier than she had ever been in her life. And it was in the wake of saying this to Kate that it dawned on her she had Kate to thank for it. As grievous a betrayal as it was, if Kate hadn’t taken Baylor away, Abby might never have met Nick. She might have missed finding the love of her life.
She and Kate both recognized the irony.
Chapter 15
Late in the afternoon, they started dinner.