Elizabeth looked up. “Really? What was he doing?”
“Sitting in that white wicker rocking chair on the porch—the one he always bitched about bein’ too small for a real man’s ass. But he wasn’t complainin’. He was smokin’ one of his cigars and staring out at his fields. I sat down at his feet and he squeezed my neck just like he’d done a million times. ‘Mother,’ he said, ‘it’s time.’ ”
Elizabeth could picture it—picture him—perfectly. “He was probably mad because the corn didn’t get planted this year.”
Anita set down her fork. “I don’t think that’s it, actually. I think he was talkin’ about me.”
Elizabeth took a bite of her French toast. “This is sinful it’s so good. So, what did he mean?”
“It’s time for me to go home,” Anita answered gently, “time for me to get on with my new life. I’ve been hiding here long enough. I had a long talk with Mina that night at the meeting. She convinced me that I need to start living again. We talked about going on a cruise together.”
Elizabeth set down her fork. She was surprised at how much she wanted Anita to stay. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
“I left Sweetwater because I couldn’t stand to be so alone. But now I have you.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth answered slowly, “you do.”
“Will you be okay alone?”
“Yes. I guess that’s something we both learned. It’s okay to be alone. But I’ll miss you.”
“Do you love Jack?” Anita asked suddenly.
Elizabeth was surprised by the question, but the answer came easily. “Yes.”
Anita smiled broadly. “Well, honey, I’m not one o’ those women who hand out advice as if it were hard candy, but let me say this: True love is a rare thing. We lean on it for years without botherin’ to look at what’s holdin’ us up. It lasts forever, as the poets say, but life doesn’t. One minute you’re in bed with your husband, and the next second you’re alone. You’d best think about that.”
Elizabeth knew her stepmother was right. In her months away from Jack, she’d been waiting for her new life to unfold in a line that was straight and true. No hairpin turns, no sudden drop-offs. She’d wanted certainty.
But life wasn’t like that.
I love you.
Those were the words that mattered. She’d been six years old when she’d learned that you could wake up one sunny Sunday morning and think that everything was right in your world, and then find out that someone you loved was gone.
She loved Jack. Needed him, though not in the desperate, frightened way of before. She could live without him. She knew that now. Maybe when all was said and done, that was the truth she’d gone in search of.
She could make her way alone in the world, but when she stared out over the rest of her life, she wanted him beside her, holding her hand and whispering to her that she was still beautiful. She wanted to watch his hair turn white and his eyes grow dim and know that none of it mattered, that their love lived in a deeper place. Whatever else she would search for in life, he would always be at the center of it. The place she came home to.
Anita was watching her closely.
“I’ll miss you,” Elizabeth said again, feeling her throat tighten.
“The planes fly east, too, you know.” Anita stabbed a piece of French toast and popped it into her mouth. “Now, what about your painting?”
“What do you mean?”
“You won’t give up, will you?”
Elizabeth smiled. “Because of one little old failure? No. I won’t give up. That’s a promise.”
Years ago, when Jack’s life had been falling apart the first time, he’d been called on the carpet by his network boss. He’d begged for a second chance, but it hadn’t worked.
He’d been young then, still swollen by his own importance. Begging had felt unnatural and vaguely unnecessary; it wasn’t surprising that he’d done it poorly.
Now, all these years—and losses—later, he knew better. Some things, once lost, were worth dropping to your knees for. Even if your knees were made of glass and might shatter on impact.
He sat in his rental car, thinking about all the mistakes he’d made in his life. Of this extensive list of wrongs, nothing had been as bad as taking his family for granted.
He got out of the car.
The Washington, D.C., weather was bitingly cold. The promise of spring felt distant today, even though the winter air was thick with tiny pink cherry blossoms.
As he walked up the concrete steps toward the building, he realized that it was the first time he’d been here.
Shameful, Jack.
He pushed through the double glass door and stepped into the chlorine-scented humidity. The familiar scent and heat immediately reminded him of long ago. So many family hours had been spent sitting on wooden bleachers, cheering Jamie on.
At the front desk, a green-haired kid sat in front of a computer screen.
“Are the ECAC Championships here today?” Jack asked.