The Homecoming Hero Returns. Joan Elliott Pickart
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those guys make and I’m worried about paying for the twins’ braces,” he said, laughing.
“I still think you’re going to have a rush of memories when you set foot on that campus.”
David frowned. “Am I missing a message here? Are you trying to make a point that is going right over the top of my head?”
“Well, I…” Sandra sighed. “Never mind. I’ll be quiet so you can concentrate on driving. The traffic is already bumper to bumper and we don’t want any of those bumpers hitting this car.”
“Right.”
David glanced quickly at Sandra again, then redirected his attention to the sea of vehicles surrounding him.
What was going on in Sandra’s pretty head? he thought. Why was she clutching her hands so tightly in her lap as though she was on the way to the dentist for a root canal? What was the big deal about old memories when returning to where a guy went to school? Everyone would have memories under the circumstances. It wasn’t something to get uptight about.
Well, yeah, sure, once in a while when he was losing sleep, like now—because he was facing the decision about whether or not to go into deep debt to enlarge the emporium—he thought about the big bucks he could have made as a pro player.
But if things had gone that way, they might not have had twin babies and he couldn’t imagine life without Molly and Michael. And there would be no Westport’s Emporium, and he sincerely liked owning the store and the great people who came to shop there.
Life as he knew it now would not exist. He’d be away from home a great deal of the time, traveling with whatever team he played for. He’d be missing so much of the kids’ lives and he’d hate that. He’d be sleeping in hotel rooms half of the year and not next to Sandra in their bed and he’d really, really hate that.
They’d live in an enormous house with air-conditioning, he mentally rambled on, with a deck constructed by strangers. There’d be no spending hot summer nights on the fire escape.
Yes, he’d like to be able to provide more for his family, even get Molly her pink braces, and a pro baseball contract would have made that possible. Sandra could have nicer clothes and a car like this one, with air-conditioning that worked every time she turned it on. Yep, an air-conditioned house and cool air in the car.
But his connection with his family for the majority of every given year would be by phone and you couldn’t get a hug over the phone. You couldn’t make love to your wife over the phone, then lie there and watch her sleep, marveling at how beautiful she still was. And there probably wouldn’t be time to make blueberry pancakes in the shape of animals.
No, when he added it all up, he was content with his life as it was…except for being broke most of the time. Sandra was working herself into a dither over how he might feel when the memories slam-dunked him when he walked across the campus of Saunders University. The might-have-beens. But she didn’t have to worry about that. He was a very happy man.
David began to sing along with the country and western song playing on the radio, not realizing as he belted out the words that Sandra wasn’t singing with him as she usually did.
The drive from the North End to the far west side of Boston took more than an hour due to the heavy traffic and several detours caused by road repairs. The Westports were more than ready to hand over the keys to the Lexus to the parking valet at the Paul Revere Hotel where David had made reservations. The five-story structure was one of Boston’s finest hotels and was located about two miles from the Saunders University Campus.
Sandra was definitely smiling when David unlocked the door to the fifth floor room and stepped back for her to enter.
“Oh, David,” she said, spinning around in the middle of the large room, “look at this. Antiques. I think the furniture in here is real antiques. It’s like really being back in the days of Paul Revere.”
“Nope,” David said, peering into the bathroom. “I don’t think ol’ Paul had a hot tub.”
“You’re kidding,” Sandra said, rushing across the room to look over David’s shoulder. “You’re not kidding. A hot tub. I’ve never been in one. Let’s try it out right now.”
“Patience, my sweet,” David said, chuckling. He turned and pulled Sandra into his embrace. “Tonight we’ll check out the hot tub when we don’t have to get dressed again and go out.”
“We wouldn’t have to go out now if we don’t want to,” she said, circling his neck with her arms. “It’s not like you have a set appointment with Professor Harrison. No one even knows we’re here, David. We could lounge in the hot tub, make love, order dinner in from room service, make love and…”
David laughed. “You’re acting like we’re on our honeymoon.”
“Well, what’s wrong with that? We didn’t get a honeymoon, remember? It’s ten years late, but here we are.”
David dropped a quick kiss on her lips.
“Hey, humor me, okay?” he said. “This reunion thing of Professor Harrison’s is consuming my brain, probably because everyone we’ve told about it has made such a big deal out of it being strange, and weird and whatever. I don’t think I’ll be able to really relax until I know what the scoop is. I’d like to head over to the campus and see Professor Harrison now, put to rest all this silly speculation about what’s going on. Okay?”
“Sure,” Sandra said, producing a small smile as she stepped back out of David’s arms. “No problem. The hot tub can wait. I would like to unpack, though, so our clothes aren’t any more wrinkled than they probably already are.”
“Your wish is my command,” David said, heading toward the suitcases.
“Yeah, right,” Sandra said, under her breath. “I definitely see an unromantic Christmas Crock-Pot in my future.”
“What?” David said, looking back at her.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
Before Sandra felt emotionally prepared for it to happen, she and David were walking across the Saunders campus toward the building where Professor Harrison had had his office a decade before. A knot tightened in her stomach with each memory-filled step she took.
“Look at this place,” David said, sweeping one arm through the air. “I told you it would look exactly the same. Well, the trees are taller. Man, those are big son-of-a-guns, aren’t they? Hey, remember the time we were stretched out on this grass, supposedly studying, but actually concentrating on ice-cream cones we got from that vendor and the sprinklers came on to water?”
Sandra laughed. “Oh, I’d forgotten all about that. It was so funny. There must have been close to fifty of us who got soaked.”
“It didn’t do much for our ice-cream cones, either. Turned out the timer on the sprinklers was broken and the watering was usually done at night, but that afternoon we were taking a bath.”
“What was it the campus newspaper said when they wrote about it?” Sandra said, narrowing her eyes. “Something about a surprise wet T-shirt contest held for all to enjoy free of charge, or some such thing.”
“Yep,” David said, wiggling his eyebrows. “And I do recall that you were one of those wearing a T-shirt that day. Oh, yeah, lookin’ good.”
“Hush,” she said, punching him playfully on the arm.
“Perky,” David whispered.
“Perky went south after I nursed twins, Mr. Westport. Perky was replaced with saggy.”
“Small price to pay,” David said, suddenly serious, “for how beautiful you were when you nursed our babies, Sandra. You always had such a serene, womanly smile on your face and I often wished I knew how to draw or paint or something so I could capture those moments forever.”
“What