Lost and Found in Lavender Bay (The Lavender Bay Chronicles #2)

50. Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Seven

C ousin Esther had gathered everyone she could for a night of bowling. The league didn’t start until the end of October but as she explained, she wanted to see “where everyone was at.” With a laugh and a raised eyebrow, Allan had begged off, despite the coaxing and cajoling from his wife.

“What about you, Everett?”

Everett was settling in. He was working thirty hours a week at Java Joe’s, and it was decided that for the time being, he would not return to college out of state. It was too much of a temptation. His sobriety had been too hard-fought. Currently, he was looking at courses at the local college. His appetite had returned, and Maureen delighted in cooking again. On the weekends when she was home, she baked pies and cupcakes.

But Maureen and Allan kept an eagle eye on him. They did not view this newfound equilibrium through rose-colored glasses. Although his recovery had been encouraging, they were not euphoric. They knew the statistics for relapse were high; the actual percentage had been both eye opening and sobering, not to mention worrying.

One day at a time.

They’d encouraged Everett to find new hobbies, especially things that relaxed him. Under their advice, he’d started to see a therapist weekly to find better ways to deal with stress and to find better coping mechanisms.

In answer to Maureen’s question about joining her for bowling, he held up a book. “Nah, I want to finish this.” He flipped through the pages and announced, “It’s not that long, and I may be able to finish it tonight.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later.” She picked up her phone from the end of the counter, tossed it into her purse, and dug around for her car keys. Once she had the keys in hand, she waved goodbye and was out the door, heading to her car. The night was frosty for early October, and there was the rustle of falling leaves along the driveway and sidewalk. Maureen inhaled deeply because there was a strong smell of woodsmoke in the air.

The Lakeside Bowling Lanes was on Thistle, directly across from Dog Days Bar. It was a well-known fact that many a bowler over the last sixty years had stumbled out of the bowling alley after a disappointing game and staggered right across the street and into the bar. And there’d been the odd character who stumbled out of the bar after a night of drinking and got it into his head that he might like to go bowling, and from there, went home half in the bag wearing bowling shoes, leaving his good shoes behind in a little wooden cubby.

Maureen was one of the last ones to arrive. She wore jeans and a long-sleeved lilac-colored T-shirt and carried a hoodie with her in case the lanes were cool. She had no idea what to expect.

The place smelled of old pizza, stale popcorn, and sweaty hot dogs. Esther was already there, along with her sister, Suzanne. Maureen’s sister Nadine stood at the counter, renting bowling shoes.

Esther had secured two lanes right next to each other. On one of the benches, Louise and her sister Gail sat, huddled and giggling. Maureen shook her head at the sight of them. That’s how it was with those two: secrets and giggles.

Maureen caught up with Nadine as she turned away from the counter, a pair of red, white, and cream bowling shoes in hand. They looked well used. Nadine wore jeans and a blue cardigan over a white turtleneck.

“How do I allow myself to get roped into these things?” Nadine asked good-naturedly.

“Same way I do. Because Esther doesn’t take no for an answer.”

“Not much has changed since we were kids then.”

“Nope.”

Nadine waited while Maureen traded in her sneakers for a pair of bowling shoes, tucking the rental ticket into her back pocket. They sat at the nearest table, slipping on their bowling shoes and lacing them up.

Maureen looked around at the threadbare carpet, dark wood paneling, and the discolored drop ceiling. “Not much has changed since 1960.”

Nadine followed her gaze. “I guess not. Look at all the black-and-white photos on the wall.”

Esther caught their attention and waved them over.

“We better look sharp,” Nadine said with a laugh .

They walked over, and the two of them hugged Esther and Suzanne and greeted their mother and aunt with a kiss.

Maureen said to Gail, “I thought you didn’t like bowling.”

Gail gave a dismissive wave. “I don’t. I’m only here to provide the running commentary.” Next to her, Louise laughed, which caused Gail to start laughing too.

“I hope we don’t have to separate the two of you,” Nadine warned, lifting an eyebrow.

Maureen and her sister went in search of a bowling ball to use.

“You didn’t save your bowling ball from when you were a kid?” Nadine asked her.

“It’s home in the attic. But I’d never get my fingers in those holes anymore. I was fourteen the last time I used it, and I’m too lazy to take it somewhere to get it drilled.”

Nadine corrected her. “Not too lazy, too much on your plate.”

Maureen agreed. “That too. Oh, I think I found one.” She held up a ten-pound navy-blue ball whose shine appeared to have dulled over the years. But for tonight it would do. She supposed if she was going to be bowling regularly, she’d have to drag her old ball down from the attic and get it properly fitted to her fingers.

Within minutes, Nadine had also found a ball that would work, and the two of them made their way back to their assigned lanes.

“Can I keep score?” Aunt Gail asked.

Esther frowned. “No, Mother, you can’t. We had a little problem the last time.”

Louise elbowed her sister gently and chortled.

Gail protested, “It wasn’t that bad. ”

“Mom, you didn’t record the strikes and spares properly.”

Louise put her hands on her hips and said in mock outrage, “Yeah, Gail.”

“I hate it when people don’t take bowling seriously,” Esther muttered. Maureen grinned. She knew her cousin was only joking. Or she hoped so.

And then Esther announced, “I’ll keep score.” She slid into the seat where the paper scorecards and pencils were kept.

“Gee, you’d think in this day and age, there’d be electronic scorecards,” Nadine mused.

“There are, but I prefer this way,” Esther explained.

Maureen was first. She got up, picked up her ball from the rack, stepped forward with her arm swinging back, then launched the ball down the lane, where it rolled directly for the gutter.

“Oh boy,” Esther said behind her.

On her second attempt, Maureen knocked down three pins on the end.

Relieved, she sat down next to her mother. Nadine was up next and fared much better.

After the first game, Maureen offered to get snacks, and Suzanne accompanied her to the snack bar to help. Once everything was organized and paid for, they carried the trays back to the lane. At the end of her next turn, where her score was dismal, she made a quick run to the restroom. On the way out, she was approached by a woman she knew.

Sylvia Pankowski’s kids were of a similar age to Maureen’s but her youngest had only started high school, and she was heavily involved with the parents’ association at the high school. Maureen had gone to every parents’ association meeting she could, but always remained in the back. Although she supported the organization and usually volunteered for fundraising drives, especially the bake sales, she never wanted the responsibility of being the one in charge.

“Hi, Sylvia.” Maureen said.

“Maureen, it’s funny I should run into you, because you’ve been on my mind.” Sylvia was a few years older than Maureen. She was the same height but wore her hair short and in a contrast of colors: black with pale blond highlights. She wore gray eyeshadow and big gold hoop earrings.

Maureen frowned slightly. “Really?”

“Yes. You know how we sometimes have workshops planned throughout the year?”

Maureen nodded but was too embarrassed to say that she’d usually skipped them, except for the ones about keeping your children safe on social media.

“Once a year, we have a workshop on addictions, whether it be drugs or alcohol or whatever,” Sylvia said.

Maureen had never bothered with that yearly workshop. In hindsight, she should have made that one her priority. She felt her cheeks go hot. It seemed as if everyone in Lavender Bay knew about Everett. She shifted from one foot to the other, slightly uncomfortable about the mention of her son’s problems.

Sylvia was quick to reassure her, even going so far as to reach out and pat her arm. “Hey, no shame. I went through the same thing as you with my second child. Not drugs but alcohol.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that. ”

Sylvia sighed. “It was a number of years ago, but it took us a long time to get him sober.” She brushed the top of her index finger beneath her nose. “Anyway, I was wondering if you’d like to give a talk to the parents about what it’s like to be the mother of an addict. I did it a few years ago, but they’re sick of hearing from me.” She laughed.

Maureen took a step back, alarmed. “I couldn’t. I hate public speaking.”

Sylvia didn’t protest. “Most people do. It was only an idea I had.”

Maureen apologized and said goodbye to Sylvia and wished her luck. As she turned to go, she felt guilty. Did she have something to say? Would other parents want to hear her story? She drew in a deep breath. Quickly, she turned around and said, “Sylvia, wait.”

The other woman stopped and turned.

Maureen closed the gap between them. “I’m sorry, I changed my mind. I will do that talk.”

“That’s great. I know it’s difficult when it’s about your own family, but it might help someone else.”

Maureen never wanted another parent to go through the hell she and Allan had been through. She’d have to get over her fear of public speaking, but she would do what she had to. If it saved one kid or spared one parent what she’d experienced, she could get over herself and get up in front of a group of people and tell her story.