Free Loco Motive by Mary Daheim

Club and drove to the ocean to get married?”
    Joe nodded. “Like that.”
    Judith glanced at the MG’s dashboard. “You kept your money in that ashtray. You told me we could afford to drive all the way to California and spend our honeymoon in Carmel. But when we stopped in that little town on our own part of the coast, we couldn’t find a justice of the peace at three in the morning.”
    Joe chuckled. “We walked on the beach at low tide to sober up. You tripped over some driftwood and turned your ankle.”
    Judith laughed softly. “We slept on the sand until the tide started coming in and woke us up before we drowned. The worst partwas ruining my I. Magnifique evening gown with the deep V-neck down to my waist and the slit in back almost up to my rear.”
    Joe put his hand on Judith’s knee. “Great dress. Easy access.” The magic gold flecks had returned to his eyes. “When I finally brought you home the next day, your mother believed your tall tale of how we’d been mugged at the salmon derby. She did wonder, though, why we’d gone fishing in evening clothes.”
    â€œIt was the early sixties,” Judith said. “Everybody dressed better then. That was my Jacqueline Kennedy/Audrey Hepburn phase.” She frowned. “I’d better finish packing. It’s after one.”
    Joe slid his hand off of Judith’s knee and got out of the car. Judith remained in the passenger seat, mulling her options. “Wait for me,” she called, finally deciding that Joe was right. Discretion was the better part of cowardice. “I want to ask Renie what she’s told Aunt Deb.”
    The house was quiet when Judith entered through the back door. Mike had pinned a note to the bulletin board by the half doors. Went to noon Mass at the cathedral. Stopping for lunch at McDonald’s, back around two.
    Judith had hoped Kristin would make Gertrude’s lunch. That hope was in vain. She hurriedly put together a ham-and-cheese sandwich, sliced pears, chips, and the last two snickerdoodles. When she reached the toolshed, her mother was doing a jumble puzzle in the Sunday newspaper.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Gertrude asked, scowling at the tray.
    â€œIt’s lunch.” Judith moved closer to the card table in front of her mother. Several dirty dishes were stacked haphazardly on one of the elegant frosted glass trays Judith used for guests. “You already ate?”
    â€œâ€™Course,” the old lady said. “Kris brought my lunch before they went to church. One of those omelets with all kinds of good stuff in it. She gave me dill pickles, some of her tasty jam, and a real nice quilt. It’s on my bed. Take a look—or do you have time before you leave town?”
    Aghast, Judith set the tray on the card table. “Where did you hear that?”
    â€œYour aunt Deb. As usual, she talked my ear off, but she told me about your trip.” Gertrude glowered at Judith. “What’s this boondoggle for?”
    Judith sighed as she sat on the small sofa. “It’s Renie’s idea. You know how she hates to fly.”
    â€œI don’t blame her,” Gertrude said, peeking inside the ham-and-cheese sandwich.
    â€œThat’s one thing about her that makes sense. I’d never get in one of those things, not after what happened to me with Ozzie Popp. Some pilot! He turned that plane upside down and said he wouldn’t land until I kissed him. He should’ve known better than to get fresh with me. That was the end of that.”
    â€œAnd that was the end of Ozzie,” Judith murmured, having heard the story a hundred times.
    â€œIt sure was,” Gertrude declared, her hearing obviously more acute than she let on. “A week later he crashed that cardboard contraption into a barn that had a chewing tobacco ad painted on it.” The old lady snorted. “Ozzie bragged that he could land that airplane