Lorna cast a haunted look toward her son, who was working away at the far end of the room. “Actually, we were divorced before Richard died.” She took a breath. “It doesn’t help that I’m estranged from my former husband’s family as well. Johnny knows all of that. Actually, he seemed to accept the situation very well, perhaps because I told him about it when he was younger. Now… I know there are questions in his mind that he just hasn’t asked yet. Maybe he’s afraid to ask. And I…”
“Mrs. Whitaker…” The teacher gently touched her hand. “Johnny is fine. Many children these days don’t have large families. For that matter, there are increasing numbers of children in single-parent households. It doesn’t mean he won’t grow up to be a well-adjusted man-”
Yes, Lorna reassured herself as she walked back out to the car a few minutes later. She started the engine feeling more lighthearted than she had in months. Johnny had not been an easy child to raise. In her own elementary school days, she’d excelled in the first two of the three R’s but arithmetic had always been her Waterloo, and in high school she’d never had a prayer of passing chemistry, while algebra might as well have been Arabic. No, she wasn’t a dunce, but she certainly hadn’t had Johnny’s insatiable intellectual curiosity; at times just trying to keep one step ahead of him was exhausting. At least the teachers at this school seemed to understand her son…
Matthew, she thought as she drove home, I owe you. Believing Johnny had the right to that tuition money because of his Whitaker bloodline was one thing, but Matthew didn’t believe that, and yet he had given without question or catch…
Once at home, she opened the door, set down her purse and was just hanging up her coat when the phone rang.
“Come over for coffee,” Freda croaked into the receiver. “Although actually, I’m having tea.”
“You’re home from work with a cold?” Lorna guessed.
“I never get colds. I’m playing hookey for the day,” Freda croaked. “And bring aspirin.”
Armed with aspirin, cold pills, cough medicine and a thermos of chamomile tea, Lorna walked the twenty steps to her neighbor’s apartment and let herself in. “Freda!”
“In here.”
“I can only stay a minute-I’ve got a ton of work to do today.” Lorna shed her coat and tossed it on the only empty chair in the living room. Toys, clothes, magazines and needlework took up the rest of the space. Freda always made Lorna feel like a model housekeeper. A smile playing at the corners of her lips, she wended her way through the chaos to the kitchen.
Red-nosed and sniffling, Freda was bundled up in a bathrobe with her feet propped up on a kitchen chair.
“Tell Brian to come over tonight after school,” Lorna ordered promptly, moving swiftly to line up the medicines on the table.
“I’ll be completely recovered by this afternoon,” Freda rasped.
“You look like something the cat rejected.” Familiar with Freda’s kitchen, Lorna reached for a second cup in the cupboard, filled it with instant coffee and water, and set it in the microwave.
“I always look like hell when you walk in the room. God knows why I even associate with a single female who looks the way you do. Masochism. Why don’t you dye your hair gray and gain forty pounds?”
Grinning, Lorna retrieved her cup of coffee, set it on the counter and ran a sinkful of soapy water. “Every time you talk, you breathe. If you give me that cold, Freda, I’m going to boil you in oil, so just sit back and drink your tea.”
“I didn’t ask you over to wash my dishes!”
Lorna paid no attention, adding the dirty dishes to the hot, sudsy water. Freda would have done the same for her if she were ill. The friendship was two years old and thriving. Lorna watched both boys after school until Freda came home from work; in return Freda babysat whenever Lorna wanted to go out for the evening. It was so easy, living next to each other; the boys even liked each other. Freda was a bitter divorcee, abandoned by her ex for a younger woman. Lorna had heard the story a hundred times; by nature compassionate, she would gladly listen to it another hundred times, or however often it took for Freda to get the residue out of her system.
Finishing the dishes, she turned to wipe her hands on a towel and found Freda staring bleary-eyed at her, a peculiar expression on her face. “What’s wrong?” She frowned absently. “You want me to throw a wash in the machine?”
“I want you to sit down for a minute,” Freda commanded hoarsely.
“I will. For a minute. But I’ve got a rush job I really have to finish today…” Lorna darted back to the bedrooms and returned a moment later with an armful of clothes. “What is it about boys? An allergy to clothes hampers that comes with the Y chromosome? Whenever I want to do laundry, the first place I look is under Johnny’s bed-”
“Sit.”
“I will.” Once the wash was started, Lorna blew back a strand of hair from her cheek, took her coffee cup to the far side of Freda’s table and settled down with a sigh. “You want your tea heated up?”
Freda sneezed and grabbed for the box of tissues. “What I want is to know if you’re still planning to go out with that man tomorrow night.”
Lorna took a sip of coffee, averting her eyes. “Obviously not, if you’re still sick.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Lorna Whitaker! The boys could care less if I’ve got a cold when they’re sleeping. That’s not why I asked. Honey, I don’t think you’ve really thought this out.”
“I’ve done nothing but think it out,” Lorna responded, with conscious control.
“And how did you explain Matthew to Johnny? The same last name and all that?”
“I haven’t explained.”
Freda gave her a pointed look and continued the attack. Gently, for Freda. “Honey, I’m just afraid you’re going to get hurt. What’s to be gained by your seeing anyone in that family again? You actually think he’s looking to be a father to Johnny after what happened with his brother? That you can both just forget what happened?”
Lorna stirred her coffee, making obsessive circles over and over. “I don’t know,” she admitted finally. She looked at Freda with an open, honest countenance. “I don’t seem to know…anything. Matthew has called at least twice a week for the last few weeks-and I’ve found myself laughing. No man has made me laugh for ages… Matthew always used to be able to make me laugh. We just keep…talking. And I tell myself that if I continue to see him, in time he’ll believe me about Johnny. In time, he might even see for himself the Whitaker characteristics I see in Johnny-”
“Lorna.”
Freda could ferret out fibs like a fox. Lorna rolled her eyes and sighed, but she wasn’t smiling. “All right.” She shrugged. “The laughter does matter-desperately-to me. But it isn’t all that happens when he calls. When I hear his voice. It’s as if we’ve both found each other, found someone to talk to, someone who seems to understand all those things you don’t know how to say. Part of that closeness was there before, I can see that now. But Richard aside, a relationship between Matthew and me wouldn’t have worked then. Matthew was a man and he was just being kind to a frightened girl in those days. But now…”
“And it never occurred to you that he might be out to take you for a ride, Lorna?” Freda demanded. “You think he’s forgotten his brother? He still believes you cheated on Richard…”
Lorna’s smile died. She got up to take her empty cup to the counter. “I don’t know,” she said again. “Or maybe I do, a little. Matthew’s not motivated by revenge, if that’s what you’re trying to say, Freda. He’s too sensitive, too fair. He knew at the time that there were two sides to the story and that Richard wasn’t perfect. He was good to his brother, but they weren’t…close. He isn’t…pursuing me because of that. Sex might be another story.”