At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories) - By Barbara Bretton Page 0,52

the senior prom." He paused for a moment as if he couldn't believe it either. "The couple most likely to say 'I do.'"

Gracie tried to imagine her beautiful young mother with dour old Simon Chase. The image made her shiver. "What happened?" she asked. "Why didn't they get married? Who broke it off?"

"I don't know," Noah said.

"Maybe my mother jilted your father. That could explain why he hates my family so much." Gracie's parents married three months before Noah's parents did.

"It wouldn't explain why your father hates my family."

"My father's a drunk. Don't expect anything he does to make sense." She leaned her head against Noah's shoulder and closed her eyes. Her mother and Simon Chase. She tried to wrap her brain around the concept but it was impossible. The world seemed dark and puzzling to her, with secrets hidden everywhere like landmines. They were talking about events from over forty years ago. Why should old grudges and jealousies determine what happened to her and Noah? It didn't make any sense.

"We should have kept driving," she whispered. "We should have run away when we had the chance."

"It's not too late, Gracie. All you have to do is say yes."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was the love of her life. He had been since they were five years old. He would still be the love of her life when she breathed her last. I wanted to tell you, Gramma Del. I know you would have understood once you met Noah again. School would always be there but a chance for this kind of happiness came only once, if you were lucky. He was, after all, her only true family.

#

Laquita Adams grabbed Ben Taylor by the arm. "You need to sit down," she said quietly, leading him toward a chair near where the priest was standing with his open prayer book. "Put your head down and breathe deeply."

He was ashen. She reached for his hands. No surprise. They were cold and clammy. The man was seconds away from falling flat on his face.. The damn chair was near the head of the casket. Not a good idea. He was already in emotional overload.

"Cheyenne!" She called to her sister. "Grab that chair and bring it over here."

What was wrong with everyone? They were standing there like statues. Couldn't they see the man was in trouble or did a year of nursing training give you exceptional eyesight as well as the ability to give painless injections?

Cheyenne shoved the chair behind Ben's knees and he slumped down onto the seat.

"Head between your knees," Laquita ordered. "Big deep breaths. You'll be fine."

Cheyenne poked her in the side. "He slapped Gracie."

"I know," Laquita said as she kept a steadying hand on the back of Ben's neck. "He'll answer for that when he feels a little better." Are you worth saving, Ben Taylor? Am I making a big mistake here?

She had never seen anyone look more lost or alone than he did as he stood there next to his mother's casket and watched his daughter walk away. Nobody talked to him. They gathered in small groups, scattered around like mushrooms on the forest floor, and they did nothing. Say what you would about the man—and there was plenty that could be said—but that was his mother dead in that casket. A person might drink to block out the pain, but Laquita knew the pain always found a way. She couldn't have turned away from him if she tried.

"You don't have to do this," Ben said in a voice thick with booze and despair.

"Sure I do." She kept her hand firmly on his head. "I'm in nursing school. I need the practice."

Ben grunted something but she paid no attention. Activity swirled around her. Pained glances. Clucks of disapproval. Familiar whispers. The usual responses when they saw her with a man. She couldn't blame them. She had given them plenty to cluck and whisper about over the years. Not that she was apologizing for anything because she wasn't. She made her choices, continued to make them, and they were nobody's business but her own.

"Where's Gracie?" Ben asked. "I want to see Gracie."

"She's gone," Laquita said quietly. "Did you really think she'd stay around after you slapped her?"

His moan of anguish tore at her heart. "I have to find her... apologize—"

"That will have to wait. She's not here and you're in no shape to go traipsing off looking for her. Besides, I don't think she wants to