Hand in Hand

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—Originally publshed in The Roanoke Review, Fall 1996

Continued from page (7)

    “Sounds like the period of adjustment might be a little rough,” Sam said.
    “Wish you were going to be here.” Clarissa said.
    “Good God!” Grace said. “What is this? You’re getting married tomorrow. The groom is a bright and successful young Army doctor with a promising career. He loves you. And you at least care for him.” She looked from Clarissa to Sam and back again. "Shall we call off the wedding? I can telephone Father O’Mara at Saint Andrew’s right now. I’ll call the florist first thing in the morning. And the caterer. And the guests. And the photographer. And the Tickle Pink—”
    “Stop it!” Clarissa shouted.
    Grace jumped.
    “I didn’t say anything about calling it off,” Clarissa said. “I just know it’s not going to be all sparkle and excitement.”
    Grace stared at Clarissa, then rose and walked to the bar, refilled her wine glass, and stood with her back to them. “All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. I’ve given you everything. I know what privation is. I wanted you to have a good education. I wanted you to be successful. Now I want you to have a good marriage to a decent man who’ll provide for you. Sometimes I think I haven’t taken good care of you.” She touched her wine with her lips. "When you talk like that, I get . . . frantic.”
    “Ma.” Clarissa went to the bar. “I know you want the best for me. Sometimes I say too much for my own good.”
    “Jamey loves you, Sissy,” Grace said. “He really does. You don’t see—”
    “I know.”
    “And you love him?”
    “Yes.”
    “And everything’s going to be fine.”
    “Yes.”
    Grace searched Clarissa’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
    “Come sit down.” Clarissa smiled. “It’s the last time you and I and Sam will be together.”
    Grace walked back to her chair. All three sipped quietly.
    “Sam, where will you be assigned in Vietnam?” Grace asked.

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