“Mommy sick,” Taylor repeated.
“Taylor was sick one time,” Adam announced, and Taylor turned his head to look at his big brother with curiosity. “He threw up all over the car.”
Biscuit wiggled and squirmed, gathering all of her strength in her hind legs until she popped up onto the couch, covering Adam’s face with doggy kisses.
Adam burst into giggles, and Taylor followed suit.
You couldn’t help but join them, no matter how hard your heart felt. It was too much joy not to take part in. The moments that sneak up on you, the little surprises that keep you guessing, make life so worth exploring, even when the unthinkable happens.
I barely realized that hot, angry tears were flowing again.
Adam patted my arm. “It’s OK, Gwansley. I love you.”
Nothing is better than having one of the smallest loves of your life say that.
But the hardest thing about being a mother is the uncertainty. Not knowing. Not being able to fix it. As the breeze blew warm and I caught a whiff of salt, I realized that there were a whole lot of things that I didn’t know. But there were two that I did. One, I would love those girls with every cell in my body until my heart stopped beating. Two, as sure as one season is here, the next is right on its tail, about to arrive with a vengeance any day.
As I sat on the front porch, Adam under one arm, Taylor on my lap, I could feel it coming. With Sloane a heap of devastation in the upstairs bedroom and Adam God only knew where, our house felt as icy cold as the depths of winter. But, if you closed your eyes and listened, you could almost hear it. No matter how bad things seemed right now, it wouldn’t be long until a gentle breeze carried in the sweet serenade of summer.
THIRTY-SIX
from here to eternity
caroline
The day Adam went missing was the night James made an offer on the house on the corner. I saw something in my sister’s face that morning when she got the news. It wasn’t only a look of distress, one of sadness and anger and horror over losing her husband. It was also one of simply wanting her life back. She wanted to get out of bed the next morning and have life go back to normal, have Adam come home. Maybe she’d make some waffles, maybe little Adam would whack Taylor with a toy, and he’d have to go to timeout. But that was OK. Because that was normal life, and it was wonderful.
When I saw that look on her face, it was one I knew, because I wanted the same thing. I wanted, more than anything, for my life to go back to normal. The only difference was that mine could. My life could go back to normal. It would take time and work and an unimaginable amount of pain, but I could rip up the papers, forgive my husband, who I truly believed was sorry, quit worrying about what people I didn’t even care about were going to say, and try to go back to normal. Just normal. Not perfect, not wonderful, not June Cleaver. Just normal.
I had been planning to tell James it was over that day. I was firm. I had decided. In Peachtree Bluff, everything seemed a little suspended in time, reality was lost. But I knew that I couldn’t bear to be the laughingstock of New York. I was going to ask Mom about the money again. If I had something to fall back on, I knew I wouldn’t have been quite as worried. It was part of the reason I drank so much the night before, part of the reason I worked out so hard the next morning anyway. I was moving on. And it was scary as hell. But as we all know, life changes in an instant. Mine is no exception.
When I called James to tell him what had happened, he rushed over, of course. I told him that I was going to sleep with Sloane that night and asked if he could stay with the kids. He nodded. He understood. And when I handed him the papers back, he understood that, too.
“Vivi, Preston and I are going to stay here a little longer,” I said. “I need more time. I’m not positive we can fix it. I’m not sure about anything.” I bit my lip. “But I’m willing to stay in the ring and fight.”
He smiled and hugged me. “I can’t go back to New York without the three of you, Caroline. I can’t bear it. Would it be OK if I got a place here?”
I nodded and smiled. “Sure.” I thought about telling James about the house next door, but I saved that for Jack. I wanted it, sure. But I wanted my mom to have it more. I believed that she was in love with Jack. She deserved the chance to realize it herself. So, instead, I said, “There’s a beautiful house for sale down the street. And I know a great decorator.”
We both laughed. It felt good.
“I just want to be us again,” I said, my voice breaking so quickly after the laughter that it shocked me. But this is the nature of healing, I believe. It is the part that I hate the very most, but you have to feel it all before you can move on.
He nodded, tears filling his eyes. “Me, too. I’m so sorry I hurt us.”
I couldn’t promise that I wouldn’t bring it up from time to time, that I wouldn’t occasionally punish him in my own way, that I wouldn’t be bitchy or tired or short-tempered. But I knew that one day, my daughter would look back and understand that I had fought for our family. That we all had, really. And my son . . . Well, frankly, I hoped my son would never know.
As the years went on, as life eventually returned to some semblance of normalcy, I would even come to grasp, in part, why James had done what he had done. I would begin to view it as something that couples go through sometimes. It was just that mine was going to be available on Netflix from here to eternity.
My friends, who had sworn to kill James, make his life a living hell, get him kicked out of society as he knew it, last name be damned, wouldn’t understand why I made the decision I made. They wouldn’t get why I would be so weak.
But lying in bed beside Sloane that night, Emerson on her other arm, the three of us softly breathing but none of us asleep, I knew that didn’t matter. I took Sloane’s hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back. And I knew that there were some things in life, quite a few of them, in fact, that only a sister could understand.
acknowledgments
* * *
Being an author is one of those dreams that you can’t make come true by yourself. So many people played an integral part in bringing this book to life, and I am grateful to each of you, named here and unnamed, every day.
Lauren McKenna and Elana Cohen, I knew from the first minute we talked that we spoke the same language. I have loved every minute of working with you two. Thank you both for your insight and your vision not only for Slightly South of Simple, but for my career. Thank you for your advice and your peerless editing. I am already a better writer because of you, and I can’t wait to do this all over again.