“You make it sound like we’re at the base of Mount Rainier, Dad.”
It was Jamie, of course. He was barely listening. His heart was a jackhammer trying to crack through his rib cage.
He should have called. Warned her.
The girls could have been a surprise, but he should have told her he was coming.
The girls ran on ahead. Jack followed, but couldn’t work up much speed.
When they reached the yard, the first thing he noticed was the women. They were standing around a table. He barely had time to register that Anita and Meghann were here before Elizabeth turned around.
The girls ran toward her, screaming.
Jack couldn’t move. He knew suddenly how it felt to return from war and see the face of the woman you loved for the first time. It hurt like hell to look at her, to be here, on the outside, looking at a life that had once been his. The thought of what he’d done last night with Sally made him physically ill.
Elizabeth was blonder, he saw, and thinner. She had a streak of yellow paint across her cheek and that tiny detail tossed him back to their first meeting.
“Dad, get over here!” Stephanie yelled, waving her hand.
Elizabeth looked up, saw him for the first time. He walked toward her, then clumsily took her in his arms. “Happy birthday, Birdie.”
“Hey, Jack,” she said. “It’s good to see you.”
There was something about the way she said his name, a softness that wounded him. When she drew back, he had trouble letting her go.
The party went on long into the night. At dusk, Marge pulled out a brown paper bag full of fireworks, and they all went down to the beach to light them.
Elizabeth stood apart from the crowd, watching her daughters and friends in the flickering red-and-gold glow of the falling sparks.
Jack was off by himself; he’d stayed that way all day. Oh, he’d mingled, been friendly, but he’d kept his distance. She had just started to go to him, when Stephanie came up beside her. “You haven’t lit a single firework. And it’s your day.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Honestly, honey, I’ve never lit a firecracker.” Her father had set the hook on that fear early. Girls don’t play with fireworks, he’d said every Fourth of July; you’ll blow your little fingers off. You let the boys handle this.
Stephanie pulled her forward, then bent down, rummaged through the sack. She withdrew a small, striped thing that was shaped like a rocket. “Just stick it in the sand and light it; then step back.”
Elizabeth lit the fuse, then stumbled back so fast she tripped over a piece of driftwood and fell down. The canister rocketed into the dark sky and exploded. White sparkles rained down.
It was beautiful, as perhaps all dangerous things were.
“That’s the end of the show, kids,” Marge said when the sparks finally faded away.
Within a few minutes, they’d cleaned up the beach and gone up the stairs. One by one, the women got into their cars and drove away, including Anita and Meghann who’d decided to spend the night at the Inn Between in Echo Beach.
Elizabeth hugged everyone good-bye and watched them leave. Finally, she was in her darkened yard with only her family around her.
“I’m exhausted,” Stephanie said. “We’re on East Coast time, don’t forget.” She looped an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder. Together, the four of them went into the house.
She led the girls to the guest bedroom. It smelled like Anita, of talcum powder and lavender sachets.
Jamie plopped down on the bed. Stephanie lay down beside her.
“The party meant the world to me,” Elizabeth said. “Thanks.”
“We missed you,” Jamie said simply, kicking off her shoes. She pulled off her jeans and crawled into bed.
Stephanie went down the hall. When she came back, she was wearing a baggy flannel nightgown and her face was pink and shiny. She kissed Elizabeth on her way past, then crawled into bed beside her sister.
Elizabeth wasn’t ready to leave yet, to face Jack. “I want to hear about your new boyfriend, Jamie.”
“That’s it,” Stephanie said, giggling. “If she’s going to start blabbing about jazz-man with the oh-so-cool eyes, I’m going to sleep. G’night, Mom.” She rolled onto her side.
Elizabeth sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. “Tell me,” she said.
Jamie pushed the covers aside and slid down to the floor beside her. “How did you know Dad was the one?”
Elizabeth tilted her head back. She stared up at the white, peaked ceiling where a lonely, rarely used fan collected dust. “The first kiss pretty much cinched the deal.” She remembered how it had felt to be swept away, out of control. She would have given up everything to be with him.
In so many ways, she had.
“When your dad kissed me the first time, I cried.”
“Why?”
“I guess that’s what you do when you’re falling and there’s no way to land safely. Love’s dangerous territory.”
Jamie rested her head on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “I think I’m in love with Michael. It scares me.”