“You didn’t overreact,” she said, her arms pumping now. She picked up her pace, and I did a little skip jog to keep up with her. “I’m the one who isn’t reacting enough. Ryland’s going to get an earful tonight about what’s going to happen next. Not only is he going to rehab, but I’m looking for a new place to live. For me and the boys. I didn’t even tell you that Alex was talking about delaying admission to school again. I don’t know if it’s that he misses Amy or if he’s just miserable here, but everyone better start getting on the Peggy train, if you know what I mean.”
She was a tiny woman, small and lean all over with ankles and wrists that looked almost porcelain doll–like in their daintiness, but now, with her legs reaching out in long strides, and the muscles in her upper arms flexing with each pump, she looked powerful, unstoppable.
“I don’t envy them,” I said, huffing along next to her.
“Neither do I,” she said, her eyes blazing and focused on a point in the distance, as though seeing the path ahead clearly now.
We said good-bye in the parking lot, and I watched Peggy drive away.
I sat in the car, the engine running, and thought about what she said, the look on her face when she insisted everyone better start getting on the Peggy train.
A feeling of shame washed over me, thinking about the problems Peggy was dealing with compared to my own.
She had an alcoholic out-of-work husband and a house that was falling down around her. An interior decorating business that was struggling even though she put in sixty-hour workweeks.
And me?
What were my problems?
An emotional hiatus, Peggy had called it. She made it sound normal, expected even. And maybe it was.
But my head felt heavy, and I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel, my shoulders bending under the weight of something I hadn’t told Peggy.
Something I hadn’t told anyone. Not my mother or the girls.
Certainly not Jack.
The day she died, we’d spent the morning at the Salt House. Just Maddie and me.
It had been a beautiful June day: sunny but cool enough for a sweatshirt—a perfect day to weed the sunflower garden at the Salt House. We’d gone over for a few hours before we went to the grocery store.
I hadn’t meant to keep it a secret from anyone at first. It just never came up. And before I knew it, months had passed, and there was no reason to bring it up.
And now, I knew I would never tell anyone. It seemed cruel to me. It was Jack’s family home—a house the girls adored.
But I also knew it was one of the reasons I hadn’t been back to the house.
I thought of what Peggy had said about her husband’s death. How visiting the places they’d been together had forced her to deal with her feelings.
I closed my eyes. Making myself go back to that day. I wasn’t ready to physically go to the Salt House. But I hadn’t even let myself think about that morning.
The sunflower garden had been wild, stalks reaching past the gutter line, the yellow-topped heads bobbing in the breeze.
Weeds covered the ground below them. I pulled open the small white gate and stepped in. A path bordered the flowers, the dirt cool on the soles of my feet.
I lowered to my knees, bent over, and breathed in the earthy smell, small specks of pollen swirling in front of my face. I pulled out a weed, then three more, making a small pile in front of me.
Then she was there, crawling next to me, dirt covering her hands and knees, picking up one of the weeds and bringing it to her mouth, throwing it to the ground, a scowl on her face at the taste of it.
I stood, and she stopped at a sunflower, grabbed the thick stalk and pulled herself up, her legs splayed wide for support. I heard my voice. What a big girl. Her giggle. I felt the sun on my back and pressed my face into the brown of the sunflower.
In the car now, I forced myself to relive it. I stopped us from getting in the car. I didn’t let my mind wander ahead to our trip to the grocery store. I didn’t jump ahead to putting her down for a nap.
I stayed with her. I felt her small hands grasping my legs for support and listened to the sound of her chatter, the smell of salt and flowers and earth swirling in my head.
When I opened my eyes, I was still in the car. But in my mind, I was in the garden, surrounded by the sunflowers. I looked up at their round faces and saw them looking back at me. A crowd of yellow petals rippling in the breeze.
Waving to me. As if to say, There you are.
?12
Jack
I was on the boat, hauling my second string, a trap balanced on the rail, pressing the brass gauge against the carapace of a lobster, when my cell rang. I’d been out on the water all morning with almost nothing to show for it.
Seemed like the only things I was pulling this morning were bugs too small to keep. I threw the lobster back in the water, let the empty trap rest on the deck, and fished the phone out of my pocket.
I needed the break anyway, with the way my lungs were on fire.
I’d thought I’d slept off the cold I was battling by crawling into bed before dinner last night. But I wasn’t on the water one hour this morning before the ache came back, like someone had taken a sledgehammer to my back. And not just once. Again and again.
Jess sounded almost as bad when I answered the phone, her normally lively voice sullen. “I’m sick,” she said. “A cold or something. I want to go home, but I can’t find Boon.”
“Do you have a fever?” I asked, worried. Jess was never sick. She was the type of kid who kept track of her attendance at school, who insisted that her runny nose wasn’t a cold, just allergies, so she wouldn’t fall behind and miss any classes. There wasn’t typically time in Jess’s schedule to be sick.
“I don’t think so,” she said in a tone that wasn’t convincing. “I would’ve called Mom, but she’s in Boston all day. I know you don’t like to be bothered when you’re working.” She said this like she called often and I ignored her. I couldn’t remember the last time Jess had called me on the boat.
“You’re not bothering me, Jess,” I said gently. “I’ll come in and take you home.”
“No,” she said loudly. “I mean, I’m fine to get home. I have my bike. I’m just going to bed anyway, so it makes no sense for you to be there.” There was an urgency in her voice. “Okay, Dad? Don’t come in.”
“Are you sure? Because, I can be there in ten—”
“Dad. Seriously. I’m not five. I can get home on my own. Don’t be like you always are.”
She was quiet then. I wasn’t very good at picking up on the subtle stuff. I knew this from living with a house full of girls. I’d been told this repeatedly by my house full of girls. But Jess’s voice wasn’t subtle. The tone of it was sharp, the words thrown at me.
Don’t be like I always am? I held the phone away from my ear and looked at it. When I put it back, she was talking.
“Can you just call Boon? That’s all I called for. I’ll lock up the shop, and he can open it up when he gets back here. I think he just went to the warehouse where cell service stinks, so I can’t reach him. Okay?” She sounded exasperated.
“Okay. Are you sure you’re all right—”
“Wait.” She cut me off. “Boon’s here. He just walked in. I’m leaving. Can you talk to him?”
She didn’t wait for me to answer before there was a rustling on the other end, and then Boon’s voice, muffled and confused.
“Hey. What is this, a hot potato?”
“Boon?”
“Yeah. What’s going on? She left.”
“She’s sick. Going home to bed.”