Second Chances in Lavender Bay (The Lavender Bay Chronicles #3)

46. Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Four

1994

D iana reached over and patted Mark on his knee to wake him. He sat up with a fright. “Huh? What? What?”

She laughed. “Mark, DeeDee is ready to start.”

“Oh, oh, oh,” he said, repositioning himself in his recliner. “I’m ready.”

Angie ran into the room and came to Diana’s side. Diana put an arm around the girl’s waist and leaned into her. “Do you want to sit with Grammie and watch DeeDee’s show?”

Ten-year-old Angie nodded and hopped up on her grandmother’s recliner, nestling in on one side of her.

“Something smells good!” Mark declared.

Angie laughed. “I made brownies, Pop-Pop.”

“I love brownies.”

She wagged a finger at him. “You’ll have to eat your dinner first.”

“Will do.” He pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his cardigan and wiped his nose. The pipe was gone. A bout of oral cancer ten years previously had forced him to quit for good. Diana had also quit smoking, in solidarity. She missed the smell of his tobacco, but not to the point where she’d insist he strike up a match. He’d survived, although the chemo and radiation had nearly killed him. At the time, Mark wasn’t able to be alone, so it was decided that while he was going through treatment, they would live with Louise, Martin, and the girls on Heather Lane. And once he regained his strength, they stayed, and had lived there ever since. Everyone seemed happy with the arrangement, though sometimes Diana wondered if Martin would like to have his home back. He never complained, but then he was easygoing, and it truly didn’t seem to bother him. Every evening when Martin arrived home from work, Mark would announce, “Thank God you’re here, Martin, I’m vastly outnumbered by females.” She and Mark had matching recliners in the living room but with Louise’s help, she’d created a small parlor upstairs for the two of them so Louise, Martin, and the girls could have the living room for themselves in the evenings.

As Louise and Martin both worked full time, Diana and Mark watched the girls. She would also tackle the laundry and have the dinner ready by the time they came home. She did that four nights a week. Friday night was pizza night, and Louise liked to cook on Saturdays and Sundays.

Other than trying not to get too involved in the girls’ squabbles, everything seemed to work out.

“Ta-da!” Seven-year-old DeeDee burst into the room, sliding across the worn carpet and landing in front of them. She wore a costume Diana had made out of a pair of old curtains, using some discarded sheer scarves for the sleeves. Several rows of bright pink sequins adorned the cuffs, the hem, and the collar. DeeDee had been delighted when she’d seen it. For added effect, the little girl had put on her tap shoes, even though she’d been told several times by her mother that the tap shoes were for tap class and not for the inside of the house.

“What do we have here?” Mark said.

Diana had done her blond hair for her: masses of loose ringlets pulled back from her face with a headband, like one of the Irish dancers she had seen on television. DeeDee, always one for the theatrics, drama, and the extreme, had loved it.

It was only the four of them at home at present. Sixteen-year-old Maureen and fourteen-year-old Nadine were hanging out with their cousins, Esther and Suzanne. Already, they were pulling away. Diana could feel it, just like when Gail and Louise had pulled away from them at that age. She and Mark were getting farther and farther away from the newer generations. They were the generation that separated the rest of the family from mortality. She glanced over at Mark. At eighty-four, he was slowly beginning to fail. There was some difficulty with his memory and a new shuffling gait that had started in the last few months. She knew they couldn’t live forever. As it was, they’d been married more than forty years. She’d love to make it to their fiftieth wedding anniversary, but there were no guarantees.

DeeDee launching into a song and dance distracted her from her thoughts. For a little girl, she had a booming voice and a large personality. If this one wasn’t destined for Broadway, no one was. She did a little part of her tap routine, but it was difficult on the carpet. Diana thought they should get her a small square of plywood so she could dance in the living room. She usually practiced on the kitchen floor or outside on the driveway. Mark called her Happy Feet.

She twirled around and came to an abrupt stop, extending her arms and wearing a big smile. Diana clapped and gave a gentle nudge to Angie, who clapped along.

“Bravo! Bravo!” Mark said beside her, his voice feeble.

DeeDee bowed and said, “Now for my encore.”

Angie groaned audibly, and DeeDee shot her the stink eye.

“Go on, honey,” Diana encouraged.

DeeDee broke into song, something from some pop idol she and Angie listened to upstairs in their room on their CD player. Angie sang along.

DeeDee stopped in the middle of her song, gave a pointed look to her sister, and said firmly, “I don’t need backup!”

“Fine!” Angie jumped off her grandmother’s lap and ran upstairs.

DeeDee looked after her.

“Come on, Pop-Pop and I are waiting,” Diana told her.

She finished her routine and soon took off.

It was late afternoon, the lull time before Diana had to get up and get the dinner ready. Mark had dozed off in the chair, and she turned on the television, lowering the volume. It was time for Oprah.

She glanced at her dozing husband. She still loved him; she couldn’t help herself. They were as opposite as day was from night, but despite this, they’d managed to build a lifetime of love. She leaned back, listening to the opening credits and music of the Oprah show. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift back over all their memories.