Cadence of Cranberries - Valerie Comer Page 0,3

with increasing frequency over the past several months.

“You’re going to love her, Mom. She’s amazing.”

Winnie chuckled. “That’s great.” She remembered well how dazzled a young person in love could be. She’d met Al in college, and their courtship had been swift and sure. He’d been a terrific husband and father before his life was cut short by a drunk driver. She gently set the thought aside. The mourning would never disappear completely, but she couldn’t wallow in it. Not with five kids to finish raising. “Is it just her dad, or does Katri have siblings living here that need an invitation, too?” A sudden thought struck her. “Or how about her mother?”

“Her parents divorced ages ago, so it’s just her dad. I’ll get his contact info from Katri and forward it to you, okay? Unless you want Katri to invite him, and he can just show up with her.”

“I’m sure a firsthand invitation would feel more like he wasn’t intruding. I’m happy to give him a call.” Winnie could avoid phoning for a few days. Maybe Katri’s dad would have made other plans by then. She wished no ill on him, but Thanksgiving was a family time — more so this year than some, with one of Al’s nephews planning a big wedding for that weekend. Also because Dominic was coming home. It hadn’t always been possible during his years of schooling. Sure, her life was full with her others. Brittany had moved out over the summer, but Gabriella still lived at home while attending community college. Her teenage sons were in 12th and 8th grade, but she missed her firstborn. Not more than she missed his dad, but having Al back was impossible. She held out hope that Dominic would return to practice medicine in Spokane when he’d passed all his final exams in spring. He’d been talking about residencies back home.

“Gotta go, Mom. Katri gets off shift in twenty minutes, and mine starts in an hour. Talk to you soon.”

Winnie heard silence cut into the airwaves as Dominic closed the call. She set her phone down just as she heard the carport door open and shut.

“Mom?”

“In here, Michael.”

The thirteen-year-old appeared in the doorway. He’d shot up a few inches in the past year and was almost her height now. Michael offered her an awkward looking smile — everything about him was gawky these days. “Just wondered where you were.”

“I baked some cranberry muffins today. Want some?”

He hesitated a second. “Sure. Then I’m meeting the guys to play some three-on-three. Is that okay?”

“How much homework do you have?”

Michael grimaced. “Probably take me an hour? Can I do it after dinner?”

Winnie and Al had always insisted the kids do their homework first thing, so it was off their plates. But, was it really necessary? “If you’re sure there isn’t too much.”

“Just some algebra. I got my reading for English done in my spare period.” He crossed his chest with his finger. “Promise.”

“Okay. Be home by six.” It was too dark later for outside play anyway, although the basketball courts under the bridge by the community center were well lit.

“Thanks!” He dropped his backpack by the door and dashed back out.

“The muffin...” Never mind. Michael was long gone.

But still, he never failed to check in on her after school. Heaven help the few times she’d dared to be shopping or visiting a friend or even Michael’s nonna. Her youngest son freaked out if he couldn’t see her at this time of day.

Residual trauma from the day he’d walked out of Bridgeview Elementary seconds after his dad’s work truck had been T-boned by a drunk driver not a block away. Michael had seen far too much without the buffer of anyone to break the news to him gently. With no one to hug him or turn his impressionable eyes away.

Yeah, Principal Nordstrum had clued in quickly, but the images had already seared on Michael’s eleven-year-old brain. Then had followed the week while Al’s life hung in the balance in the Deaconess Hospital’s ICU before he slipped away.

Michael had never been the same.

Neither had Winnie, but she’d held it together for her kids. Especially for Michael. He’d been so fragile. Still was.

Winnie missed Al, absolutely. But he’d lived large and loved well. They’d always known something could happen, which hadn’t adequately prepared her for the sudden loss of her best friend, lover, and father of her children.

She’d had it good.

Now her life had one purpose, and that was raising Al’s children to the