Leaving Normal (2 page)

"You were on the rebound without a clear perspective."

"I hate all this divorced-people language—rebound, transitional and newbie. It's all so horribly depressing. Sarah, I'm done with dating. I just don't want to go there anymore. I need to focus on the shop."

Hat and Garden had come to fruition at a time when she was looking for an outlet to channel her creativity and to make positive changes in her life. She'd always been a gardener, loved sunshine and flowers, making things grow, so this new shop offered a perfect blend of all her interests.

When her daughter, Cassandra, had entered high school, Natalie finally took a part-time job. As a floral assistant she learned a great deal, and found a deep sense of satisfaction in the work. She knew then what she wanted to do with herself.

Greg, her husband at the time, never thought she was up to the task of opening her own shop. Which is one of the reasons he was now her ex-husband.

There had been a time in her marriage when she'd been blissful and alive: her courtship, her wedding day, those years before she got pregnant. Even after Cassandra had been born, Natalie knew a limitless peace and satisfaction. But then things had changed when Natalie went back to work.

It wasn't so much being out of the house as it was discovering who she was without Greg. She'd married in her early twenties and had never completed college. She had been content to stay at home with her baby, loved every minute of it and didn't want to change a thing. She would forever be grateful to Greg's income for allowing her the opportunity of being a stay-at-home mom.

But when she was arranging flowers, blending colors and creating bouquets, she found a piece of herself she hadn't known had existed. She felt a self-worth that had purpose beyond that of being a wife and mother.

Natalie began to realize that she needed more from her marriage than what she was getting from Greg. Her husband had been content to maintain the status quo; doing no more and no less each day. Get up, go to work, come home, watch the evening news, eat dinner and go to bed. He liked the routine, the safety of it all. Natalie had become, in her older years, more of a risk taker. Life was short—she wanted to embrace it.

And yet, she hadn't had the courage to do so at the time because she worried about the effects of divorce on Cassie. She stayed with Greg who, in all fairness, hadn't changed from the man she'd married.

But she wanted more for herself: emotional balance and the desire to be loved and nurtured. They'd gone to marriage counseling, but the sessions only frustrated her and added conflict to the relationship. She hated the tension, the feeling of things unraveling with no way to knit them back together.

When Cassie entered her junior year at college, Natalie could no longer live in the strained marriage, so she finally filed for divorce.

There was no one to blame. Not herself. Not Greg.

It was just one of those things. You either grew together in a marriage or you grew apart.

They'd grown apart.

The twenty-one year union that had been dying a slow death for years had been dissolved. At forty-three, for the first time in her life, Natalie had confronted facing things on her own, making her own decisions—both good and bad. And, in the past two years, she'd lived with the consequences.

It had taken a year to regroup financially, going from part-time work to full-time to support herself. Then she'd temporarily been distracted by her brief romance with Michael. A mistake she was not going to repeat.

In a moment of retrospect, Natalie conceded, "Sarah, I don't want to be alone all my life, but I'm not going to worry about it. I'm going to enjoy what I have around me." Sitting on the cash-register counter was a box of miniature Saint Therese statues. They could be arranged in houseplants or in window gardens.

"She's pretty," Sarah said. "Who is she?"

"Therese of Lisieux. The saint of flowers." Natalie sighed, a feeling of contentment settling through her. "To me, she also represents patience and simplicity. I love appreciating the curling detail of rose petals as they form a flower, the textures and smells around me. I have to live for the moment, Sarah, and not focus on the big picture or I'll go crazy. In my marriage, I focused on my husband and what was going wrong and how I could fix it. Even when I was with Michael, I repeated history. I can't fix the whole world, but I can fix what's going on in front of me. From now on, I'm going to enjoy taking pleasure in the small things."

Sarah's expression grew introspective, still not sur-rendering to the battle. "But you have so much going for you. With the perfect man—"

"You've already taken the perfect man. Steve is the best." Natalie laughed, trying to make light of everything. Then in all seriousness, she added, "I'm happy, Sarah. Truly. I've worked hard to get where I am. This is the best time of my life and I don't want to miss any of it because I'm blinded by love—or blind by what I
think
is love."

"I understand that, Natalie, and I agree. Hat and Garden is going to be fabulous. I'm proud of you." Gazing at the snowman in her arms, she added with a sparkle . in her eyes, "He's cute, but he'd be even cuter with a Mrs. Snowman."

Natalie shook her head. "She's too busy making snowballs to throw at a certain sister. Besides, she got tired of him leaving the toilet seat up."

"I did not. I made sure I put the dang thing down," their dad grumbled, coming toward them carrying a string of holly berries.

Smiling, Natalie assured, "Not you, Dad."

"Oh." His expression relaxed. "Where did you say you wanted these hung?"

"Over the front door. Weave them through the pine boughs."

"They'd look better on the counter."

"I have more for that."

"Where'd you get these? I hope like hell not at that big 'W' store. Target has the best selection and quality. I could run up and buy some extras."

"I don't need any more."

Fred Miller grew silent, a sullen look spreading across his face. He was a handsome man for his age with silver-gray hair, and a full head of it. He kept it cut in a half pompadour, half crew, combed back from his high forehead. Thin age lines bracketed the corners of his eyes, his nose straight and slightly wide, his mouth generous. The upper lip was thinner than the lower, his teeth a nice neat row, thanks to dentures—something he was not happy about—but they had never looked artificial to Natalie. Of course, she was biased, but she thought her dad quite distinguished.

"Well," he said at length, "if you do, they've got plenty."

Sarah went back to work and her dad headed for the front door. As Natalie walked through the shop, she knew in the back of her mind that she had to do something, but with so much going on, she couldn't think what it was.

Hands on hips, she stopped to ponder, then walked into the living room.

BreeAnn and Sydney, Sarah's daughters, who were ages eleven and thirteen, assembled the train set that ran on a track between the two fir trees displayed in the front window.

"How's it coming?" she asked.

Sydney looked up. "Good, Aunt Natalie."

Since she was unable to remember what she'd intended to do next from her list of a hundred different things, Natalie gravitated toward her office.

In what used to be a parlor in the old house, Natalie entered the room and slipped behind her desk. Stacks of papers, invoices and envelopes spread out before her. Paperwork wasn't her strong suit, but she did have a method to keeping track of everything.

She sat down, gazed at her surroundings and allowed herself to reminisce—a moment when she dared to dredge up memories—if only to analyze the whys and the hows. To tell herself that she really meant what she had said to Sarah about being single.

In thinking back on her marriage to Greg and to her brief encounter with Michael, Natalie told herself that she would much rather be alone than with either man.

In the beginning, Michael had been wonderful. They were so alike. Both had had marriages that had failed for similar reasons, and both had daughters the same ages. It was the girls' junior years in high school and Michael had suggested they take them to Hawaii for spring break. Natalie thought the trip would be great, ran the idea past Cassie who had no objections. In fact, she was looking forward to surfing and shopping on Waikiki with Brook, Michael's daughter.

But on the vacation, something went wrong. Natalie felt it in Hawaii, and sensed it when they returned home. In the following weeks, Michael distanced himself emotionally. In hindsight, she realized he'd never really made himself available. She was too open, too trusting, and she'd allowed herself to be vulnerable.

She wore her heart on her shirtsleeve and it had cost her.

Michael would have continued the relationship if she hadn't started a discussion about it one evening, at his place, just before he was about to go out of town on business. She asked him point-blank if he wanted to be in the relationship or not. He got this stupid smirk on his face that spoke volumes: "Ah, you caught me." Then he said he never had any time to himself. She thought this strange since he was always inviting her to be with him—a family reunion, outdoor activities, dinners in his home and weekends spent together. He said he felt pressured to be "a couple." Then he'd rambled on about the women in his life—the way they'd mistreated him. She had listened, then quietly commented that he was penalizing her because she was a woman—and once a woman had done him wrong, none were to be trusted.

He reassured her that that wasn't the case and said he'd call her when he came back to town, and they'd talk about things further. He told her not to worry.

Numb, she went home that night, lay in bed reliving all the things she had done or said, wondering what had happened and how they could work to resolve the issues between them.

But she never heard from him again.

It was a rude awakening into the dating world, one that rocked her off her axis and left her in a funk for months afterward. She knew now that it was the lack of closure, the feelings of frustration…of not being able to put him in his place…of being able to tell him that he had led her on.

His disappearance had not only affected her, but Cassie and Brook had been comfortable thinking of the adults as a couple, and now they were dazed and confused.

As painful as it was, Natalie had taken both girls out to dinner to tell them the breakup was no one's fault. All Natalie had gathered from Brook was that her father had explained to her that Natalie was a "nice lady," but there was no chemistry between them anymore. Within a week he had a new girlfriend and Brook was trying to deal with that.

Even now, months later, Natalie hated to think about Michael's easy-come/easy-go behavior. The reality was that she'd been tossed aside and so easily and quickly replaced—it still hurt her sometimes if she allowed it to.

Her first summer as a divorced woman had been a disaster.

It had taken autumn and into the winter months for her to recharge her emotional battery. She'd had some dates since, but nothing to write home about. She was at a place in her life where she really had come full circle.

She actually enjoyed spending time alone, being her own best friend. Family surrounded her, Sunday dinners were evenings to look forward to. At Sarah's, her dad's and they all took turns hosting the weekly meal. It was always fun to see the family gathered together. Natalie was doing okay.

In fact, she was better than okay.

Turning her attention to the computer, Natalie logged on to the Internet and downloaded her mail, hoping to find a note from Cassie. Her daughter was in Chicago, attending her first year of college.

An e-mail from Cassie registered in the in-box.

Natalie opened it.

Mom…I'm low on cell-phone minutes. Call me on the dorm phone when you get a chance. Hugs and kisses, Cassie

Natalie was already dialing the phone, any number of Cassie's crises flashing through her mind.

Cassie was paged, then came on the phone. "Hello?"

"Cassie, it's Mom. Is everything all right?"

"Hey, Mom. Yeah. I'm fine."

"I got your e-mail and I was worried."

"I'm sorry. I just used a lot of cell minutes and I didn't want to go over. I need to buy a calling card for the dorm phone."

"I can send you one."

"Okay. How's the shop coming along?"

"Wonderful. Aunt Sarah and the girls are helping today. So's your grandpa."

"I wish I was there."

"I wish you were, too, but you'll be here in a few weeks."

"That's what I'm calling about."

Natalie, who'd been absently shuffling paperwork on her desk, froze. "You're still coming, aren't you?"

"Yes. Of course. I have my ticket. Dad sent the money like he said he would."

"Good. Then what's the matter?" Natalie knew when something was on her daughter's mind.

"I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask me what?"

"Austin can't go home for Christmas. His mom is taking a cruise and I hate the idea of him staying in Chicago all alone over the holidays."

Natalie's muscles tensed. Over the course of the semester, she'd heard all about Austin Mably, Cassie's new boyfriend. Natalie had never seen him, but, from Cassie's description, he sounded like a metal rocker or something along those lines.

"Well, Cassie," Natalie said, putting a lightness into her tone, "I'm sure there are plenty of things for him to do. Colleges know that not all students can make it home for the holidays, so I'm sure he'll be fine."

"But I want him to be with me."

"Cassie…"

"I told him he could come home with me."

Disappointment registered heavily in Natalie's mind and she was at a loss for words. It took her a few seconds to find her voice. "I really don't think it's a good idea, Cassie. We're already missing you for Thanksgiving, and it'll be your first Christmas at home since being at college. I've been so looking forward to seeing
you
."

"But you'll be busy with Hat and Garden's grand opening."

"Never too busy for you."