V
THANKSGIVING
I WAS STANDING ON the platform with my second husband, John. A
whistle sounded in the distance, red lights flashed, and a bell clanged as
the gates were lowered across the roadway. The whistle sounded again,
and then the train appeared around the bend through the trees and
rumbled toward the station, its massive twin headlights pale in the bright
November afternoon.
The train eased to a stop. The electric engines hummed and vibrated, and
after a long pause, the doors opened. Passengers spilled out, carrying
their folded newspapers and canvas weekend bags and brightly colored
coats. Through the crowd, I saw Mom and Lori getting out at the back of
the train, and I waved.
It had been five years since Dad died. I had seen Mom only sporadically
since then, and she'd never met John nor been to the old country
farmhouse we'd bought the year before. It had been John's idea to invite
her and Lori and Brian out to the house for Thanksgiving, the first Walls
family get-together since Dad's funeral.
Mom broke into a huge smile and started hurrying toward us. Instead of
an overcoat, she was wearing what looked to be about four sweaters and
a shawl, a pair of corduroy trousers, and some old sneakers. She carried