“Do you think?” Joan needed to mull this over. Phil hadn’t shown any outward signs of affection. Sure, he’d been the first one to volunteer, and had started with the lawn. When he’d returned later to pitch in as needed, she’d been pleasantly surprised. With so much work to be done, Maggie, and Joan, too, appreciated all the help they could get.
The parking at Shari’s was often limited, so Mary Lou and Joan drove together. They didn’t speak much. For her part, Joan was mulling over Mary Lou’s insight into Phil. She had to wonder if Phil was interested, and, more important, if she was ready.
In another few weeks, it would be five years since Jared’s passing. As Emmie was quick to remind her, Joan had a lot of life left in her. Of one thing she was certain: If she was ever thinking about a new relationship, she would like it to be with Phil.
From what he’d told her, Joan knew that Phil hadn’t been in any romantic relationship since he’d lost his daughter. The subject came up again a few weeks back when a newer group member had started dating a short while after his wife’s passing. Phil had advised against starting a relationship too soon and mentioned that he felt he had to be emotionally healthy before he would consider dating anyone.
“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” Mary Lou commented as they arrived at their destination.
“We both are.”
“True,” Mary Lou agreed. “I’ve mostly adjusted to widowhood. It’s been over three years now, but even after all that time, it still feels like yesterday. The group has made a world of difference. And palling around with you and the others, too.”
Joan felt the same. Her life was far better than it had been at any time since Jared’s passing.
And to think it’d all started with a nasty letter from her HOA.
Chapter 31
The weather over Labor Day Weekend couldn’t have been more perfect. The sun was out, and a warm breeze tempered the eighty-degree high predicted for Saturday afternoon.
Joan had everything set up for the barbecue with her friends. Within a few months, that’s what each one had become—a treasured friend. They were the ones who’d showed her the path to new possibilities and the promise of the future.
Her sons, along with Maggie and Zoe, had left earlier in the afternoon and were headed to the Seattle Center for Bumbershoot, where an entire venue of events was lined up. Joan couldn’t remember seeing Steve and Nick this happy. Her sons were both doing well in their selected careers, but, more important, in their personal lives, and that was all she’d ever wanted for them. In the years since losing their father, their bond had grown deeper, in part because of their concern for her. Joan enjoyed the banter between them, the inside jokes, the teasing, and the laughter. They were best friends along with being brothers.
Meeting Zoe highlighted the holiday weekend. Joan had instantly fallen in love with her son’s fiancée. It didn’t take her long to recognize that the young woman was a good match for her goal-driven son. Zoe brought balance into the relationship. She was bright and warm: exactly the kind of woman Steve needed to show him the fun side of life. The three of them had forged a deeper, more loving relationship in the last four months since she’d started on the road to acceptance and healing.
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.