A Woman's Place: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

"Claire, Claire, you're like my own mother Kate. She was resourceful. Determined." Her eyes took on a faraway cast, her mouth a fond quirk. "There was a story. I'd nearly forgotten. Sweet Kate and her pearls." I had never heard about any pearls. "Grandmother Kate was dirt poor." Page 15
    Barbara Delinsky - A Woman's Place
    "Poor in things, not thoughts. Her pearls were moments--one beautiful one and another and another, strung together on a fine, strong thread. Bits of sand, well, she just brushed them aside and forgot them. Some people, she said, couldn't see the pearls through the sand, or only had the strength of character to push away sand from a few pearls and ended up with chokers. Your grandmother Kate's strand was quite long. Yours will be, too. Rona, well, Rona won't apply herself long enough to one thing to create a pearl. Me," she sighed, "I'm still working at it. Seeing the children, seeing you--they're good times, Claire. Better than morphine, you know? You'll come see me again soon, won't you, baby?" The story of Grandmother Kate's pearls was one of the more philosophical ones my mother had shared. I thought about it through the flight home Thursday, thought of my own pearls--wonderful family moments, so many I couldn't count, moments of pleasure and pride at work--and suddenly the dislocation I had been feeling all week intensified. I couldn't get home fast enough.
    My plane landed on time. The driver was there to meet me on time. Incredibly, my impatience grew. I had been away too long and needed to be home, needed to touch the children, needed to talk with Dennis. I needed to do all those hated things like washing dishes, folding laundry, vacuuming carpets, making beds. Home was my anchor. I needed to be moored.
    When I arrived at the house, it was five-thirty, just when I had told the children to expect me. I was surprised that they weren't waiting outside--two beautiful little pearls of my own, Johnny hanging off the front porch rail, Kikit playing hopscotch along the gently curved walk. It was warm out and still light. Dennis should have had them picked up and home half an hour before. Sure enough, his car was parked by the garage at the side of the house. I went to the front door with my luggage, and had to use my key, another surprise. Whoever arrived home first usually unlocked both doors for the children, who were then in and out until dusk.
    "Hello?" I called.
    I waited for the answering shrieks that usually hailed my arrival from the kitchen straight ahead, or the upstairs, but got none, and the silence was the least of what unsettled me. Aside from my own bags at the very bottom, the stairs leading to the second floor were clean. There were none of the sneakers, backpacks, sweaters, and other miscellaneous items that usually gathered while I was gone.
    "Hey, you guys, I'm home."
    "I hear," Dennis said, materializing in the doorway of the study on my right. He was holding a bourbon on-the-rocks. It looked to be his first, his eyes were that clear and focused.
    Maternal instinct--personal instinct--no matter, I felt a fast unease.
    "What's wrong?" I asked into the silence, knowing that something was and fearing, fearing--Kikit sick, Johnny injured, Connie gone. "What's wrong?" I repeated, whispering this time.
    Dennis put his shoulder to the door frame and studied his drink. When he looked back at me, his expression was odd.
    "Is it my mother?"
    He shook his head.
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    Barbara Delinsky - A Woman's Place
    "Then the kids."
    "They're fine."
    "Where are they?"
    "At my parents' house."
    My in-laws lived just over the New Hampshire line, an easy thirty minutes away. I could understand their helping Dennis with the children while I was gone, though not at the very time I was coming home. Johnny and Kikit were as anxious to see me as I was to see them. "Should I go pick them up?"
    "No." His voice was as odd as his expression, colder than usual, firmer than usual. I had a sudden flash to another