Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [14]
Lindsay shook her head. “I sent her some photographs of Noah, and his first semester report card from John Adams.” She hesitated. “I thought Noah might want to send her a card, after I gave him her mailing address. But I guess not.”
“It’s easier for him this way, I think,” Bridget said softly. “He’s had so much to adjust to the last couple of years. He’ll deal with it when he’s ready.”
The two women glanced at her briefly, but no one had to state the obvious. By the time Noah was ready, it could very likely be too late.
The cowbell clanged softly. Squirrels chittered. Rebel, a black and white shadow in the deepening twilight, slithered across the lawn toward his bed in the barn.
Lindsay said, “We can apply for another scholarship. He’ll probably get it.”
“Probably” agreed Cici. “But a traditional scholarship only pays for tuition. There are still books and lab fees and uniforms and, well, what am I telling you for? He was lucky to win the money this year that covers everything.”
“And there’s still college.”
“Right,” said Cici.
“So, I guess we have to give the smarmy Washington society types a chance.”
“Right.”
“They might not even want us to do their wedding,” Lindsay suggested.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Bridget, rocking contentedly. “Why wouldn’t they? This place is perfect. We’re perfect. And I’m going to blow them away with my food.”
Cici said, “Well, then, I guess we’ve got the job.”
Lindsay sighed. “Are we ever going to be able to retire?”
Cici rolled a glance her way. “Um, no.”
Bridget said, very quietly, “We should talk about Ida Mae.”
No one answered for a while. When Lindsay spoke, it was with her gaze fixed with solemn absorption on the deep purple pits of shadow that crept across the lawn. “She’s really old, Bridget.”
Cici said, “Maybe she’s just going through a downswing. You know, like people do. It could be nothing.”
“It could be something,” Bridget countered, reluctantly.
“Old people have it tough,” Lindsay said. “Their knees start to go, their hearing, they get arthritis and atherosclerosis, and with all that bothering them, it’s no wonder they get confused now and then. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
“Maybe,” Bridget agreed, after a time. She did not sound convinced. “But what if it does mean something? She doesn’t have any relatives. We’re the ones responsible for her, have you thought about that? I mean, in case, you know, decisions have to be made.”
“Why don’t we just wait awhile before we leap to conclusions,” Cici suggested.
Lindsay frowned into her wine. “We sure are responsible for a lot, aren’t we?”
“Comes with the girl suit,” Cici said. “Has there ever been a time in your life when you weren’t responsible for a lot?”
From somewhere deep within the house, the telephone rang. But none of the women moved to get up.
“Noah will take a message.”
“Or the answering machine will pick up.”
Upstairs, a window slid open. “It’s Lori,” Noah called down.
“Tell her I’ll call her back,” Cici returned, tilting her head so her voice would carry.
The window closed.
Bridget said, leaning back in her chair, “Being a celebrity is exhausting.”
Lindsay agreed, “Who knew?”
Cici considered that for a moment. “Good thing we’re up to the task.”
The three women allowed themselves a reflective moment, which slowly turned into a shared grin. They raised their glasses.
“Here’s to us.”
June 3, 2001
My darling—
There was a little blue bird in a bush outside my window today, and I thought of you. I had lunch in the park and watched some children trying to launch a toy boat in the pond, and I thought of you. I watched two young lovers holding hands on the street, and I thought about you.
I think about you all the time, and I love you. That’s all I wanted