Must Love Flowers(79)
Maggie had made a big difference in her life, too. Joan’s affection ran deep for her boarder. The two were kindred spirits. Joan considered Maggie the daughter of her heart.
Roy Herbert had finished his treatment and, from what Maggie told her, was doing great. He remained persnickety and didn’t have a lot of good to say about the staff, the food, or his fellow addicts. None of it mattered, as long as he continued to follow his program and remained sober.
When the four left the house, piling into one car, Joan had stood on the porch, watching them go, her heart warmed by the sound of their laughter. She remained there long after they’d driven off, mulling over the changes since May. Jared would be pleased to know they had each, in their own way, come to terms with his passing.
Joan’s friends arrived for the barbecue early in the afternoon. Edison was there to greet them, barking his welcome and then wagging his tail until each new arrival gave him the attention he craved.
Everything was ready. The picnic table was covered with a red checkered tablecloth. Earlier Joan had arranged a large floral bouquet with the flowers from her own yard. The large vase graced the center of the table, abundant with white roses, chrysanthemums, and black-eyed Susans. The wicker lawn furniture that had been stored in the shed was dusted off and placed in the yard for the first time since COVID.
Mary Lou arrived with a huge bowl of her famous potato salad that Joan swore was enough to feed fifty. Phil had offered to man the barbecue. He contributed pork ribs to go along with the hamburgers Joan supplied. She had spent the morning baking a family favorite dessert, balsamic roasted fruit cobbler, making two pans to be sure there would be enough to feed the Bumbershoot kids once they returned.
Doug brought several varieties of drinks: sodas, beer, spritzers, and bottled water. Sally had a bean dip she swore everyone would love. Sherry brought her family-favorite baked beans, and Dr. O’Brien came loaded down with five different varieties of chips.
The newcomers to the group, Patty and Ely, who had both lost their partners, made a showing but didn’t stay long. They mingled for a time, ate, and left soon thereafter, clearly feeling awkward just yet. Joan had been there once herself. The two were new and in various stages of their grief and loss. They appreciated the invitation and welcomed the excuse to socialize. At the same time, they felt out of their element, attuned as they were to socializing with their partners, not as a single person. The strangeness of it all wasn’t an easy adjustment. Joan understood.
Doug sat next to Mary Lou on the lawn furniture, and Sally and Dr. O’Brien were deep in conversation, which left Joan with Phil. Covered by the shade of the neighbor’s madrona tree, they sat in padded wicker chairs, their feet crossed at the ankles on the ottomans. A cool drink in their hands.
“The ribs were a great addition,” she told him, grateful he had thought to add them to the menu. He’d marinated the ribs overnight and partially baked them earlier before adding the long, thin slab to the grill to add the char and smoky flavor.
“Amanda loved my ribs,” he said. “It was her favorite meal. It was what she asked me to make every year for her birthday dinner. My goodness, you should have seen her dig into those ribs. She’d have sauce smeared from one side of her face to the other with the biggest smile you can imagine. It’s one of my happiest memories with her.” He sighed with a smile. “I haven’t barbecued even once since she died.”
Surprise must have shown in Joan’s expression, because Phil added, “No particular reason, other than Dad prefers to do all the cooking.”
Joan appreciated that he would share the memory with her. “This is the first time I’ve had the barbecue out since Jared passed. It was too much work for me alone.”
It came to Joan that she had reached the point where she could talk about Jared and not immediately experience the sharp pain of his loss. This was growth, she decided.
“We’re each making strides forward, aren’t we?” she said, sharing the insight.
“We are,” he agreed. He set his drink down and nodded toward Doug and Mary Lou. “I think Doug is smitten.”
Joan smiled and silently agreed. Mary Lou had been flattered and a little embarrassed by Doug’s attention. On her own, Joan’s friend admitted she might be ready for a relationship.
Dr. O’Brien was the first one to leave. She had plans with family later in the afternoon.
Joan got up from the chair and walked the counselor to the door. “I’m grateful you could come,” she said.
“This was lovely,” Dr. O’Brien said, briefly hugging Joan. “I want you to know how proud I am of you, Joan. When we first met you were fragile and unsure of yourself. It’s been a blessing watching you find your inner strength. You’ve come a long way in a short amount of time.”
“The group helped immensely. Looking back, I can’t believe how stubborn I was, insisting those sessions weren’t for me.” It embarrassed her now, and she would always be grateful how the counselor had encouraged her to attend just one meeting before she made her final decision.
Dr. O’Brien squeezed Joan’s forearm. “But it didn’t take you long to recognize the benefit of these shared experiences.”
“Journaling helped, too, and of course the workbook.” Joan had faithfully read each week’s notes and took the words to heart. It would have been easy to read the book alone, as each chapter had resonated with her. What had been instrumental in her progress was following through with the assignments suggested at the end.