Page 30 of The Magic of Ordinary Days

When I drove away, it was almost dusk. I looked back at the camp in my rearview mirror until the dust cloud behind the truck obscured my sight.

On the long drive back, once I thought I heard their laughter, in unison, coming from out of the seat cushion beside me.

And although the season was long over, once I thought I saw a butterfly floating along the road.

As I drew nearer, however, I could see it was only a bit of newspaper picked up by a breeze.

I stopped at the telephone booth in Wilson to call Abby.

I wanted to hear her voice, and the question of restricted travel over the holidays was needling me.

I wanted to visit my family for the holidays, but I was a patriot, after all.

Perhaps Abby could help. As the telephone began to ring, I silently prayed for her to answer.

Even before I had left Denver, she had been taking over Mother’s charitable projects and could easily have been away, working somewhere in the city.

When she picked up, I found myself almost speechless again, just as had happened before with Bea.

Abby, my closest sister in age, was also the one whose mood often matched mine.

“Livvy. It’s been so long. How are you?” she asked softly.

I put a hand on the spot where the baby had been kicking. I was five months along, over halfway there. “Huge.”

She paused. “You couldn’t be huge already. You must be exaggerating.”

“Somewhat, I suppose.”

I could hear Abby let out a low laugh. “I’m trying to picture you.”

“Don’t.”

She laughed again. Then after a moment, she said, “Bea told you about Kent. He leaves next week. He’ll be stationed at a military hospital somewhere in France.”

“Abby, I’m so sorry.”

“He’ll be fine.” I could feel her change faces right through the receiver. “I know he’ll come back to me. Listen,” she said. “This could work out well for us.”

I had to laugh. “How can anything work out well from this?”

“What’s happened? Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Has someone mistreated you?”

“No, Abby I’m just having a tough time of it these days.”

“Listen up, Livvy. When Kent leaves, I’ll be living in our house all alone. You could come for the holidays, then simply remain for the rest of your term. It makes perfect sense that you would want to deliver in the city, near your own family.”

We were so good at plausible explanations. “I don’t know.”

“Why?” she asked. “You can’t stay out there forever.”

I gazed out at the emptiness around me, and for a minute, I remembered the city.

Memories of so many things—eating movie house popcorn in paper bags alongside Dot at the theater, being served by white-clad waiters in steak house restaurants, riding the streetcars full of people rushing about on business.

I remembered running with my girlfriends, late for class, across parks of grass laid out like green wrapping paper rolled on the floor.

And spending hours in the library studying up on all the places full of history that someday I would see in person.

Then I looked down at my bulging abdomen.

For me, it could never come back to that.

“Have you made many friends?” Abby was asking.

“Not many,” I answered, thinking only of Rose and Lorelei. “But Ray and his family. They’re so kind to me, Abby. I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Do what?” Abby sounded pained. “You don’t mean you could stay out there, do you?

Look ...” She stopped. “You’re having a spell of trouble, bad luck, really bad luck, but you don’t have to ruin your entire life because of it.

I have another idea. After the baby comes, if you want to go back to school, I’ll baby-sit for you.

When I didn’t respond, she went on. “You were so close to finishing your education. You must complete that master’s degree.

Then after that, you can do anything you want.

” She paused. “Well, maybe not the travel, but certainly you could teach. Listen to me. No one deserves to stay married to someone they don’t love. Especially not you.”

I gazed at Ray’s truck sitting just a few feet beyond the telephone booth.

How confusing it had all turned out to be.

Now all our lives were linked and twisted together like that brush I had found caught in the bend of the creekbed.

In one telephone conversation, I could never explain it to anyone, not even to Abby.

That Ray was a simple and good man, that he had married out of loneliness, but now he loved.

That he had married, as most people did, for life.

“How is Father?”

“He’s fine. Pouring himself into church work so he doesn’t miss Mother so much.”

“And you?”

“I’m not so different from him, I suppose. I’ve been filling in for her. It makes me feel as if I’m doing something to carry on her legacy.”

I summoned up some courage. “Does Father ever ask about me?”

She hesitated before answering. “Yes. He asks about you often.”

But I could tell by something in her voice. She was lying.