A Summer Love Affair, page 34
Jess sighed, and a sheepish smile came to her face. “I suppose. But if Chris runs off with your passport and money, Mom, leaving you stranded in some boggy Irish landscape, he’s going to hear from me.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Fair enough! Look, I’m very glad you all support my decision to travel with Chris. Not that your disapproval would have stopped me,” Elizabeth admitted. “At one time it might have, but not now.”
“Good.” Petra nodded. “Life is short. And precious. When happiness beckons—”
“Without the complication of a prior personal commitment,” Jess added slyly.
Petra nodded. “Without the complication of a prior personal commitment, follow it.”
“I’d like to meet with Chris soon, Mom,” Cam said now, “if you think he’s ready. Maybe Petra could be with me.”
“And not me?” Elizabeth asked. “Why? So that you two can tell Chris that I’m addicted to Apple Jacks or that I’ve been wearing the same slippers for the past ten years?”
“I am so not mentioning the slippers!” Cam said with a laugh.
“It’s not like I don’t wash them once a month,” Elizabeth protested.
“And I like Apple Jacks,” Petra added. “What’s wrong with Apple Jacks?”
“Jess?” Elizabeth asked.
Jess shook her head. “Sorry, Mom, but I’m not ready to meet Chris just yet. If Cam says he’s okay, that’s enough for me for the moment. Not that I don’t trust your opinion, or Petra’s but . . . Cam is more of a disinterested party. In a way.”
“I’ll miss you, Mom,” Petra said suddenly, and her eyes were wet with tears. “And I’ll miss Chris, when you go away.”
“And I’ll miss you all, truly. Thank you for being honest,” Elizabeth said feelingly. “Thank you for everything.”
* * *
Elizabeth replaced the receiver of the landline in its cradle.
The call had taken her completely by surprise. Rather, it was the caller’s news that had surprised her. Marie Keogh, principal of MidCoast Primary, had explained that the woman who had been promoted to the position of full-time instructor in English grammar and literature at the school, the woman who, justly or unjustly, had been chosen over Elizabeth to fill the position, had just announced that she had taken another teaching position out of state. The woman was sorry for the last-minute announcement. She hoped she hadn’t caused too much trouble, but the offer was just too good to refuse.
“We thought of you immediately,” Ms. Keogh had told Elizabeth. “I know this must come as a bit of a shock but, well, we would be thrilled if you were to accept the position at MidCoast. Classes start in just a few days so I know you might be inconvenienced; maybe you have travel plans. But please, I hope that you consider our offer.”
Elizabeth put the receiver back to her ear. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Could you repeat what you just said? There was some trouble on the line.”
The woman complied with Elizabeth’s request, and after what seemed an interminable amount of time, during which Elizabeth heard only vaguely something about salary, benefits, and other, unofficial perks of the job, like a brand-new teachers’ lounge and bathroom, Ms. Keogh said: “So, can we have your answer by the weekend?”
“All right,” Elizabeth said. Her reply was automatic, more of a way to end the call than an agreement. “Thank you. Good-bye.”
Now, here she was, faced with a dilemma she had never anticipated. And there were only three days in which to decide. Accept the teaching position, return to a career she loved—and see Chris only on weekends and holidays through the coming academic year. Or, turn down the offer and go away with Chris as planned.
Chris would understand if she chose to work for another year, or maybe even two years. He knew she had loved her career as much as he loved his. But . . .
To return to teaching, a life she had truly enjoyed. Or, to seize life with the man she had loved in silence for so many years. The man who was the father of her youngest child.
Elizabeth realized that she felt angry. She hadn’t asked for this offer of a teaching position. Finally, finally, the way was clear for her to be with Chris, for him to be with her, and the path forward was being muddied by opportunity. Strange. Be careful what you wish for.
One thing was certain. She would not tell her daughters about the job offer. This was a decision she had to make on her own, not a problem for her children to solve or to worry about. Especially not after having learned just that morning that their mother was planning on going abroad with her lover.
And whatever Elizabeth decided—to go away with Chris now or to ask him to postpone their life together yet again—and whatever that decision led to, at least Petra had come to know her father this summer. That was, Elizabeth truly believed, the most wonderfully important thing in the end.
Chapter 75
Cam was driving, and Petra was glad. Her sister was an excellent driver and that was something about which Cam could be proud, but like most people who excel at a particular activity, she tended to be critical of others less skilled. Normally, Petra was relaxed and confident behind the wheel of a car (unless there was a lot of traffic), but when Cam was sitting beside her, commenting on her driving performance, Petra found herself making mistakes and poor decisions.
“So,” Petra said when they were close to the lobster pound where they were to meet Chris Ryan for lunch, “what have you and Ralph decided to do about Lily? Are you just going to pretend that nothing odd happened this summer? I can’t see how that would be possible. Lily is smart. She had to have seen Ralph falling into crush mode, even, if for some weird reason, she chose to pretend everything was normal.”
“I’m not sure what to do,” Cam admitted, eyes fixed to the road. “Part of me wants to ask Lily out to lunch and have a heart-to-heart. Tell her I was aware of Ralph’s behavior, let her know we’re working on making the marriage whole again, and maybe, if I have the nerve, ask her what role she really played in it all. I mean, I found out that she was the one who orchestrated that day at the children’s museum in Boston with Ralph and the kids. Why? She’d never done anything like that before. What was she thinking, co-opting my family like that?”
Petra thought for a moment before saying: “I think it’s Ralph’s responsibility to sit Lily down and confess his temporary insanity. I think he’s the one who should make it clear to her that you’re the one he loves and apologize for anything else he might have suggested. I mean, you’re the victim here. Why should you have to clean up the mess Ralph made?”
Cam pulled into the parking lot of the lobster pound and turned off the engine of the car before replying. “We both made a mess of things,” she said quietly. “But Ralph and I will figure it out together. Don’t worry about it.”
Petra was happy enough to back away from a problem that wasn’t hers to solve. The sisters got out of the car and made their way toward the deck on the far side of the restaurant where they had agreed to meet Chris.
“That’s him,” Petra said when they had reached the hostess station. “In the far right-hand corner. The man reading.”
“My gosh, you look so much like him,” Cam whispered as they were led Chris’s table.
Petra’s heart began to race, and she realized that she felt proud to be introducing her half-sister to her biological father. If anyone had told her back at the start of her summer in Eliot’s Corner that such an event would be taking place in the very near future, she would have dismissed the idea as preposterous, worthy of a novel or a movie, not likely to happen in real life. And yet, here they were.
“Chris?” she said.
He looked up from his book and smiled. “Petra. And Cam.”
The women took seats, one on either side of Chris, and before they had said another word, a waitress appeared with menus and asked for their drink order.
“What are you reading?” Cam asked when the waitress had gone. Petra thought she sounded nervous, which was not like Cam. But this was a strange and unprecedented situation.
Chris slid the book over to Cam. “It’s a new novel, out a few months I think. It’s the writer’s first published work of fiction.”
“I’ve never even heard of it, let alone read it,” Cam admitted.
“Me, neither,” Petra said, peering at the cover of the trade paperback. “The title is okay. The Darkest Forest.”
“I wouldn’t bother getting yourselves a copy,” Chris said. “The title is the only decent bit of it. The book itself is pretty bad. Awful, really. The only reason I gave it a go was because a colleague recommended it, and usually, he has good taste in literature. But this . . . I’m not sure what I’m going to say when he asks my opinion.”
Cam laughed; Chris’s honesty seemed to have relaxed her. “People take their taste in reading material very seriously. Your friend will probably feel personally insulted if you tell him you found the book bad.”
“True. I’ll probably just say that it wasn’t to my taste and leave it at that.”
Petra nodded. “Good idea. I lost a friend because we disagreed about an author she loved and I didn’t. It was back in college. I couldn’t make her realize that just because I didn’t really like Shelley’s poems didn’t mean that I didn’t like her.”
“Her loss,” Chris said with a fond smile.
“The funny thing is,” Petra added, “I came to love Shelley’s work after college. I wonder if my old friend would find me redeemed.”
The waitress reappeared with their drinks, took their food order, and hurried off again. When she had gone, silence descended on the three. Petra felt it was her responsibility to keep a conversation going, but just as she opened her mouth to ask Chris if his latest work venture had been successful, Cam looked to him.
“I still have one of the gifts you brought me when I was very young,” she said. “It’s a little wooden wishing well. Do you remember it?”
Chris smiled. “I do. I remember the fun I had choosing presents to bring back for you and Jess.”
“Well, now it lives in my daughter’s bedroom. She’s in love with it. She’s convinced a fairy lives at the bottom of the well and that one day the fairy will come popping up for a visit. She’s only six, after all.”
“I hope she still believes in fairies when she’s sixty!” Petra said.
“Do you have photos of your family?” Chris asked.
Cam reached for her phone and, after a moment of scrolling, handed the phone to Chris.
“That was taken just last week at a birthday party,” she told him. “Here’s my daughter, Beth. She’s named after Mom, obviously. And here are the twins, Jake and Joe. The big guy is my husband, of course. Ralph.”
“You have a lovely family,” Chris said sincerely, handing the phone back to Cam. “You look very happy together.”
Cam nodded. “We are. We really are. I try not to take that for granted, though sometimes I fail.”
Their waitress appeared carrying an enormous tray on her shoulder. Petra had never worked as a server in the food industry. She just knew she would be fired before the end of her first shift. The number of glasses and dishes she broke in her own home was astounding.
“I’m sorry that Jess isn’t here today,” Cam said, as they began their meal. “She’s still, well . . .”
“It’s fine,” Chris said. “I’m fine. No one owes me any explanations.”
“She’ll come around,” Petra promised. “She’s just sort of prickly. And she’s going through a lot of challenges right now. I told you, she broke up with the guy she was living with, and then there’s the stuff about her career.”
“She doesn’t need an excuse for not meeting me,” Chris said. “Of course, for your mother’s sake, I hope she comes to accept me as a part of—well, I was going to say ‘the family,’ but that might be hoping for too much. If Jess and I could be on pleasant terms, I’d be satisfied.”
Cam laughed. “I’m not sure anyone is ever really on ‘pleasant terms’ with Jess! She tends to do extremes, which means that if she likes you, she’s your friend forever. And if she doesn’t like you . . .”
“Like her father,” Chris said quietly. “Hugh was one of the most loyal—and most black-and-white—people I’ve ever known.”
“But there should be a limit to loyalty,” Petra said. “I mean, there can be a time when it’s silly to stay loyal to someone or even to a thing. Remember how Dad refused to throw out that old flannel jacket he’d had since college? It was literally falling apart. Every time it came out of the wash it was more and more in shreds. It drove Mom crazy that he wouldn’t get rid of it, but he was determined to hang on to it until the bitter end.”
Cam rolled her eyes. “How could I forget the Battle of the Flannel Jacket? It only ended when a sleeve finally fell off!”
For a while the three concentrated on eating their lobster rolls, French fries, and coleslaw, and conversation was light and general. When they had finished lunch, Cam turned again to Chris.
“So, tell us about your plans for your trip to Ireland. Mom’s beyond excited.”
“I’ve rented a cottage in Galway on the West Coast of Ireland for two weeks,” Chris explained. “It’s one of my favorite spots, and I think Elizabeth will love it, too. Hopefully, from there we’ll travel on to London and Edinburgh, maybe get to Wales. The itinerary will be loose and depend on what takes Elizabeth’s fancy.” Chris smiled. “And on my old bones.”
“You’re not old,” Petra said firmly.
“Well, I’m not young!”
“With three small children,” Cam said, “sometimes I can’t remember ever being young. My life just feels like one long moment of exhaustion. But you, Petra, at thirty, you’ve truly got your life ahead of you.”
Only weeks ago, Petra would have found that statement—that opinion?—worrisome or challenging. But now, she realized that she felt stronger than she had upon first returning to Eliot’s Corner, more rooted, and that was largely thanks to her mother’s bringing her together with her biological father. Petra just might be ready after all to accept the challenge of living her life to the fullest and for a purpose.
“You look like the cat that swallowed the cream,” Chris noted.
“You do. What are you smiling about?” Cam asked, with a smile of her own.
“Everything,” Petra told her father and her sister. “I’m smiling about everything.”
Chapter 76
Ordinarily, Elizabeth was not one to just drop by a person’s house unannounced—unlike her middle child. To be honest, she wasn’t entirely sure what had prompted her to do just that today. A compulsion, a need to seize the moment, to not waste another minute. Whatever had caused her unannounced appearance, Elizabeth hoped that her friend would forgive her rudeness.
Elizabeth pressed the doorbell and, while she waited for Mrs. Shandy to come to the door (her car was in the driveway; she was home), Elizabeth glanced at the houses on either side of her friend’s home. They were similar but not identical, built at some point in the 1950s, compact and generally unremarkable, but well-kept, as were all of the houses in this part of Eliot’s Corner.
Before Elizabeth could remark anything more, the door opened.
“Fancy you just turning up,” Mrs. Shandy said. “Come in, come in.”
Elizabeth followed her friend into the house. It was as neat as the proverbial pin, with a place for everything and everything in its place. Elizabeth had been to the house many times before but never failed to be struck by its almost extreme tidiness. And yet, the house felt like a home, lived in and loved, and this in spite of the absence of photographs of friends or family. Now, knowing about Mrs. Shandy’s husband, a young man who tragically died on his honeymoon, Elizabeth wondered if her friend kept a photo of Ross in her bedroom, a place that was off-limits to visitors. It seemed likely, but it wasn’t a question she would ever ask.
“I’m sorry I just showed up like I did,” Elizabeth said as they walked through to the kitchen at the back of the house.
“No worries. I wasn’t doing much of anything other than trying to decide what book to start reading next. Simon Schama’s
Landscape and Memory or Zadie Smith’s most recent novel. Your presence is a relief, to be honest. Such choices!”
The women settled at the kitchen table with glasses of very cold, very tart lemonade and a plate of thin, sugary lemon cookies.
“But I am curious as to what brought you here today,” Mrs. Shandy said then. “We’ve known each other a long time and you’ve never come by without a call first.”
“I’m sorry, really,” Elizabeth began. “It’s just that I want to tell you something. I feel I owe you the truth after you were generous enough to share your story with me, I mean, to tell me about your parents and your husband.”
Mrs. Shandy shook her head. “There’s no tit for tat in friendships, Elizabeth. You don’t owe me anything in return for my sharing a tragedy from my past. But if you truly want to tell me something, then I’m quite prepared to listen.”
So, Elizabeth told her friend about the history of her relationship with Christopher Ryan, her husband’s dearest friend. As she spoke, she felt another layer of strain peel away. The expression on her friend’s face remained steady, an expression of calm interest and focus. Not until Elizabeth had finished her story did Mrs. Shandy nod, smile, and speak.
“That is quite a tale indeed, Elizabeth. Thank you for telling me. I imagine this is to be kept between the two of us, and, of course, your daughters.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, “please. For a long time, I was afraid of the truth getting around town, and I’m certainly not going to advertise my less than honest past, but now I’m not so afraid of being exposed. I’d prefer that nobody but you know about my long-ago relationship with Chris Ryan, but if word did somehow get around, I won’t allow myself to be destroyed by the opinions of my neighbors.”
“Good for you. I must say, your romantic tragedy might just trump mine! Well. I understand why it’s not something you want made general knowledge. Too many people enjoy other people’s heartache.” Mrs. Shandy smiled. “But now, it seems that something has supplanted your heartache.”
