“Oh! I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I’m awake,” Kelly said, sitting up and pulling her hair away from her face.
“I thought I’d get some fresh air. Want to come out back for a little bit?”
Kelly shook her head. “You go. I’m going to work for a few hours.”
Amelia nodded reluctantly, kissed her on the cheek. She had never felt so alone. Kelly, relatively communicative during the initial cancer diagnosis last year, was now shutting her out completely. She didn’t understand why.
Frantic, Amelia had confided in Bart. He had listened empathetically, but in the end told her, “Terminal illness is very personal. We want to be with them every step of the way, partners as we are in everything else. But ultimately, it’s impossible. The journey is theirs alone.”
Amelia’s stomach rumbled. When was the last time she’d eaten? She’d cooked dinner for Kelly but had barely eaten a bite. Amelia knew she had to take care of herself. It wouldn’t do Kelly any good if she got run-down and sick.
She headed down to the kitchen. The fridge was full. That dear Rachel had clearly gone above and beyond in the cooking department. She pulled out a dish covered in aluminum foil. Was that cheese? She cut off a piece and couldn’t help but smile at the fruits of her labor. All those years lamenting the lost opportunity to pass her recipes on to Nadine. If only she had known what life had in store for her!
A breeze blew off the bay through the open window. Amelia breathed deeply. She had to keep it together. She wouldn’t give up hope, despite Kelly doing her damnedest to convince her to.
Amelia stepped out into the backyard. In the distance, the foghorn sounded. Above, the clear night sky framed the glittering stars. Loneliness washed over her, but she refused to give in to it. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that Kelly was upstairs. She was there. And all around Amelia, even in that solitary moment, was so much that she held dear: the water, the salt air, the house where she had labored and loved for so many decades. And later that night, the rest of the family would make their way back into the house, filling the rooms.
She looked up and saw the light go on in Kelly’s studio.
Amelia sat at the picnic table, her back against it, staring at the stunningly visible stars. Next month would be September already. Where had the summer gone? She closed her eyes, thinking of that first September with Kelly. Oh, to be able to reset the clock, to live the past thirty years all over again. Of course, that was impossible. That was greedy, that was asking too much.
Okay, then, she bargained with the stars. How about just one more summer?
It was no use. Blythe had no business dating. With everything that was going on, she was barely able to keep her own head straight, let alone offer anything to a dear, sweet man like Warren Ames.
Oh, she tried. Their dinner conversation stayed light, both of them consciously avoiding talking about their marriages. It was as if, in the days since their last dinner, they had both consulted a midlife-dating handbook. Unfortunately, her present was so complicated, it made her past look like a cakewalk.
How could she enjoy dinner with Warren when she knew Kip was still in town?
Probably at dinner with Marin that very moment.
Still, she and Warren had managed to laugh a few times. But she was certain he knew, when he walked her back to the house, that the laughter had been between friends, not potential lovers.
The house was dark and quiet. Before she met Warren at the restaurant, she’d tried to find Marin, but she wasn’t at the house. Now Marin’s door was closed, without a crack of light underneath it.
Blythe, feeling ghostlike wandering the halls, headed down to the kitchen. She filled the teapot with water and set it on the stove. Only when rifling through Amelia’s tin filled with herbal teas did she finally remember: Marin’s sonogram appointment. She’d missed it!
She was just failing all around.
And then she noticed the light on out back. Through the kitchen window she could see someone sitting at the farthest end of the table, facing the water. Amelia.
It was not too late to redeem herself, to save the day from being a total loss. She turned off the stove and hurried up to her room, where she pulled the shoe box out from under her bed.
Amelia was startled by the back door creaking open. She turned around, hoping Kelly had changed her mind, abandoned her art in favor of a talk. When she realized it was only Blythe, the disappointment was so swift and heavy, it almost made her gasp.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” Blythe said.
She was, of course. But Amelia pushed away the ungenerous thought.
“Not at all,” she said. “I was just getting some fresh air. Did you have a nice night?”
Blythe sat across from her, nodding. “I did. Well, I tried to. I had dinner with Warren Ames.”
Amelia smiled with genuine joy. “Oh, Blythe. That’s wonderful. He’s such a nice man. A terrible shame about Catherine. We all liked her very much.”
“Well, I’m afraid I disappointed him. I’m not ready to date. I feel ridiculous even saying the word.”
“I think it’s our need to label everything. Puts too much pressure on ourselves. It’s the summer. You’re entitled to some fun.”
Blythe looked very serious, and Amelia sensed that whatever was weighing on her had little to do with Warren Ames. Well, if she wanted to talk, Amelia would listen. She glanced back at the house. She had the impulse to go inside, but then she would only be tempted to disturb Kelly. The truth was, Blythe’s intrusion was just what she needed.
“Shall I get a bottle of wine?” Amelia offered.
“Oh, no, thanks. At least, not for me. I’m going to bed. I really just came out here because there’s something I want to show you.” It was only then that Amelia noticed the envelope in her hand. Blythe, fumbling for a minute, pulled out a folded piece of paper. “This is a letter Nick sent to me from Italy.”
Amelia shook her head. “What?”
“This is the last I heard from Nick. I saved it all these years. I think I was hesitant to throw it away because of the drawing. I could never throw away his art. And now I’m so thankful I didn’t, because this letter tells a different story than the one you’re hearing from Nadine.”
She held out the paper and Amelia took it gingerly, as if it would dissolve at her touch. Blythe reached out and squeezed Amelia’s hand. “But you read it for yourself.”