Memory Tree Read Online Free PDF Page B

non-discussion was interrupted by the opening of the front door of the farmhouse, ten-year-old Janey Sullivan bounding toward them, her effusive smile leading the way. Cynthia was about to forewarn Janey that Jake was sleeping, when the little guy stirred as though he knew his favorite person in the world was closing in on him.
    â€œHi, Jake!” Janey said, opening the back door.
    â€œHello to you too, Janey,” Cynthia said.
    â€œOh, sorry, hi, it’s just . . .”
    â€œYes, I know. Have at him. I’ll take the dishes into the kitchen.”
    Bradley, unfolding his long legs from the driver’s side, said, “Where’s Brian?”
    â€œIn the backyard. It’s so warm out, he decided to use the grill for the turkey.”
    Bradley laughed, brushing his hair back from his forehead even though it wasn’t needed. “I’ve tasted his burgers, so I think I’ll go help.”
    Cynthia grabbed two of the three dishes she’d prepared—beets in one, sliced zucchini in the other—and was prepared to make a return trip for the green beans topped with fried onions when Travis Rainer stepped out onto the porch, offering his assistance. His mother, Nora, standing behind him, appeared to have made the decision for him, for the thirteen-year-old boy slumped his way over to the car like it was the last place in the world he wanted to be. Perhaps that was true of the entire day. Janey was closest to him in age, and they were friends but hardly had much in common. Cynthia took in his sullen teenage look and wondered if Jake would grow into such a mood too.
    â€œThanks, Travis. I appreciate it.”
    He took hold of the first two dishes from her, Nora coming up to take the third.
    Janey had Jake in her arms, cooing over him. His bright blue eyes were wide-awake.
    So that left Cynthia empty-handed and feeling a bit useless as she made her way toward the house, feeling as though once she stepped over its threshold there was no going back to the cocoon inside her own home. Because not only was today Thanksgiving; it represented the countdown to her new life—or perhaps to the end of the life she had known.
    She paused, causing Nora to take a look back. “Cynthia, you okay?”
    â€œOh, sure. Why?”
    â€œYou look like you’re a thousand miles away.”
    Cynthia couldn’t help it as a sharp laugh escaped her lips. “I’m right here,” she said.
    Nora’s expression no doubt mirrored her own. Not believing a word of it.
    Fortunately the arrival of another car interrupted their moment.
    â€œOh good,” Nora said, “now everyone’s here.”
    An SUV pulled up beside the other cars in the driveway, where Cynthia noticed Nicholas Casey, the handsome, bespectacled art curator whom Nora had been dating for the better part of the year, emerge, dash around to the passenger door to assist his elderly companions. From the front seat came Gerta Connors, Nora’s mother, and from the backseat, Thomas Van Diver, clad as always in his trademark bow tie; today’s was a burnt orange with pumpkins on it. Nicholas took hold of Gerta’s arm, leading her up the couple of steps of the porch and into the house.
    â€œOh, we mustn’t forget the pies,” she said.
    â€œI’ll come back for them,” Nicholas said.
    â€œOh, you, such nice manners,” Gerta said with obvious delight.
    It was little secret she approved of her daughter’s choice of boyfriend.
    Cynthia found herself accepting Thomas’ arm, helping the eighty-five-year-old man along the uneven path. It didn’t go unnoticed by her that in the span of twenty minutes she’d gone from holding her young son in her tight grasp to assisting the elderly Mr. Van Diver, reminding her again of the tenuous nature of time. One day you’re young; the next, big decisions aged you before the mirror.
    Once they settled inside the comfortable living room,