Abide With Me by Delia Parr Page B

these ridiculous crutches to have one of their tortilla samplers. All I need is a nap first,” she replied.
    “We’ll pick you up,” Madge offered.
    “And we’ll take you home whenever you’ve decided you’ve had enough,” Russell added, just as Jenny and Michael arrived with plates of cookies and glasses of punch. After a hug from Jenny and a handshake from Michael, Russell took Madge’s hand. “If you folks don’t mind, we’re going to start making our way out of here. Michael, we’ll see you and Jenny at the restaurant. Andrea, we’ll pick you up at quarter to four.” Without waiting for any of them to respond, Russell guided Madge back through a maze of well-wishers.
    Michael excused himself to check on the girls, but Jenny sat down next to Andrea and sighed. “I’d love a nap. How about you?”
    “Already have one planned.”
    Jenny smiled. “I’m sure Russell and Madge will ‘take a nap,’ too. Sometimes I wish…I wish you had someone, too, like me and Madge.”
    Andrea moistened her lips. “It’s okay. I don’t mind so much anymore. Once in a while, though, I wonder what it would be like if Peter had lived.” She shook away the sadness that nearly enveloped her. “But it’s okay. I have you and Madge. I have my business and my clients. And the kids. I call them a lot.”
    “I know, but it’s not the same as having a husband.”
    Andrea lowered her eyes. Jenny was right. It was not the same. Even with all the blessings she had received, it just was not the same.
    It was different, this being alone. She was not lonely. She was just…alone. Always alone. She nearly fell into the trap of self-pity before she brightened. “I have the ‘girls’ now.”
    Jenny nibbled on a coconut bar. “They’re cats. They don’t count.”
    “They snuggle. They purr. And they never complain,” Andrea argued. She took a brownie and broke it in half.
    “Like Ed Miller did?”
    Andrea chuckled. She had dated Ed Miller for all of two weeks before realizing he was more interested in having a maid or housekeeper than a wife. “I haven’t thought of him in years.”
    “Little wonder. What about Duane Allen?”
    “Derek,” Andrea corrected, popping the half brownie into her mouth and savoring the taste of chocolate.
    Jenny shrugged. “Duane, Derek, whatever. He didn’t last very long, either.”
    Andrea swallowed her brownie and took a sip of punch. “I didn’t find it endearing to have my date suggest, on the third date, mind you, that I could remodel my home to accommodate his collection of Sinatra memorabilia and I could fit a new three-car garage on my property to house the antique cars he was going to restore with part of my salary. After we were married, of course.”
    Jenny gasped. “He didn’t!”
    “Did you ever ride by Linda Sullivan’s house? I mean, before she married Derek and became Linda Allen? She didn’t have a three-car garage when she started to date him.”
    Jenny held up her hand. “Okay. You’re right. Point taken. There are a lot of frogs out there.” She paused to cover a yawn with the back of her hand. “Tell me about Robert St. Helen. You dated him for what? Two years? Madge was absolutely convinced you were going to marry him.”
    Andrea stiffened. She had never told anyone why she had suddenly stopped dating Robert, even after he moved away from Welleswood. “Two years, three months and sixteen days. Then he hit me for the first and last time.”
    Jenny grabbed Andrea’s arm. “He hit you? He hit you? Robert?”
    “Charming men aren’t always quite as charming as they appear. They’re not all like Michael or Russell,” Andrea whispered. At the time, the pain of disappointment had been far deeper than the pain of the bruise he had inflicted, but even now, the memory of the dreams he had destroyed in a single burst of anger was very real. “Being alone isn’tbeing lonely. It’s just being alone. Considering some of the possible alternatives, I think I’m