by Olivia Miles
“Well, she’s committed to Bran,” Heather pointed out in her defense, but still, a small part of her could only think: For now. Not because she didn’t believe that Kim loved Bran, or that he loved her, but because she knew the reality of marriage, that unknown struggles could destroy even the happiest of relationships.
Andrea looked nonplussed but said nothing as she finished washing the dishes. Kim blinked rapidly as she finished drying the plates and then set her towel down on the counter.
“I’m going for a bike ride,” Kim said, stepping back. Her ponytail swung at her shoulders as she pushed out the back door to the shed where they were kept. “Alone!”
Heather’s shoulders sagged. It was only late morning, but the day already felt soured. She needed to escape this kitchen, too, in case Andrea decided to probe into her personal life next. She should probably start working on that article anyway, even if she still didn’t have an idea for it.
“Do you think I was too hard on her?” Andrea asked. “But if I don’t tell her, who will? You know Dad always indulged her because he had me and you as his success stories.”
Heather almost choked on the last dregs of her now cold coffee. She was hardly the picture of success. Quite the opposite. But she stayed quiet. Opening up would only bring the hurt to the surface, and it was so much easier to tuck it away and try to forget about it, for a little while at least.
“She was so close to Mom,” Heather commented. “I think she’s trying to connect with her by becoming a teacher, so maybe she has found her calling now.”
Andrea nodded. “She needed Mom in a way you and I didn’t. We were always more sure of ourselves. More independent. We figured things out on our own.”
That statement couldn’t have been further from the truth. The last two years of Heather’s marriage had been the most painful, confusing time of her life. She’d wanted to tell her mother, countless times, but her mother had her own problems; it was Heather’s turn to be the supportive one, not the other way around. Her mother knew about all the false hopes and the endless disappointments, but she never knew how having a baby had become a fixation, or that it had defined her marriage, and, eventually, ruined it.
“I don’t think she meant any harm,” Heather said, trying to smooth things over, and partly because if she was going to be sleeping under the same roof as her sisters on a remote island without much room for an easy escape, she selfishly wanted everyone to get along.
“Maybe not.” Andrea sighed. “But my job is high pressure, especially…” She hesitated, “Especially with the partnership at stake.”
“Oh, but you’ve had that in the bag for years!” Heather couldn’t help but feel the sting at how easily her sister climbed the corporate ranks when she couldn’t even get an interview. Of course, she hadn’t checked her email since she’d left Chicago, but she suspected that she didn’t need to hurry if recent history proved anything.
Andrea’s mouth thinned. “Nothing is set in stone yet.”
Heather began opening cupboards, returning the plates to their proper places. This was what she was good at doing. Keeping house. Keeping her family together was a different story.
“So you never date then?” She’d never heard her sister complain of being lonely, and Heather realized with a strange sense of shame that she was lonely. Not lonely enough to try to go back to the pain of her relationship with Daniel, but lonely enough to wonder if she really could make it on her own. Even if that was probably what she should do.
“I wouldn’t say never, but…it’s hard to find the time. You know the kind of hours I work.”
Yes, Heather did. Andrea made that very clear to everyone, should she ever be asked to meet for coffee or dinner. But then, eventually Heather had stopped asking, not just because it was a moot point but because she had lost interest in those sorts of activities that had once brought her joy. It was Kim who still tried, and Kim who still took it personally when Andrea turned down her offers.
“Kim just wants to connect with you. You were so close growing up.”
“But then we grew up, and I have a lot of people counting on me,” Andrea said. “She knows I still love her.”
Heather raised an eyebrow. “You’re only in your early thirties. It wouldn’t kill you to carve out a little time for fun, especially while you’re here.”
“Now you sound like this guy…” Andrea shook her head.
Her sister had her full attention. “What guy?”
Andrea swiped a hand through the air. “Never mind. Maybe you’re right. I’ll make a better effort with Kim before it’s too late.”
“Too late?” Heather frowned.
Andrea leaned against the counter and lowered her voice, even though they had both witnessed Kim’s dramatic departure. “You know how engrossed Kim is with the Crofts. Once she’s married, we’ll never see her.”
Heather knew deep down this was true, and a part of her was relieved that Andrea shared her concern. But did Andrea share her regret? Heather kicked herself for not reaching out to Kim more this past year. For letting her issues override the bond they’d once shared. Maybe, if she’d called Kim more, gotten together more, met up for dinner more, then…
No. It was wrong to even think that maybe then Kim wouldn’t being marrying Branson Croft. Her sister was in love. And Heather wanted her to be happy.
She was just being cynical.
“All the more reason to make the most of this trip then,” Heather said firmly. She felt better. Crisis solved. Or at least averted for now. “I think I’ll go for a bike ride, too.” The fresh air would do her good. Catching Andrea’s raised eyebrow, she managed a small laugh. “I’ll be sure to take the opposite route.”
One that might just pass by Billy’s house.
Heather couldn’t remember the last time she’d ridden a bike—scratch that. She could.
It had been her last trip to the island, two years back. Andrea hadn’t joined them, of course, and only Ellie Morgan was next door, Billy wasn’t there, and she and Daniel were already deep into their problems by then. She’d come up with Kim and her mother—a short trip but a much-needed break from her strained marriage. The three women had taken a lap around the island each morning, then stopped in town for sandwiches at the Island Bakery that they took to the North Shore Beach to eat. Their evenings were spent on the porch, enjoying the sunset and reliving old times, sipping iced tea and playing endless rounds of cards while the carriages and bicycles passed by on their way to the turn into the woods near the Andersons’. It had been a quiet trip, but a good one. Heather had left feeling refreshed and positive and even happy.
It was the last happy memory she could remember having.
Now she took the hill down toward town, turning right just before the street became filled with shops and tourists, and the roads were crowded with horse-drawn carriages. The Davidson cottage was on the western edge of the island, like their own house. As a teenager, Heather could remember sitting on the porch after a long day and admiring the sunset, feeling connected to Billy after he’d gone home, knowing that they were still sharing the same view. It was silly, puppy love, but somehow, much of it hadn’t left her completely.
This time Billy was already on the porch when she slowed her bike to a stop outside his house, reading the paper and sipping a glass of juice.
“This is a nice surprise!”
She’d already formulated an excuse, but from the gleam in his eye as she approached the table where he sat, she no longer felt she needed one.
“I’ve come to reciprocate your hospitality from the other night and see if you’re free for dinner tomorrow night.”
“You cooking?”
She shook her head. “No, but Gemma Morgan invited us over.”
He leaned back in his chair and set down the paper. “The old gang back together. Count me in.”
Well, that was easy, and she wasn’t sure why she had been expecting the opposite. Maybe because it had been a long time s
ince anything had gone her way, and even then, no amount of effort or trying or tears had helped her out much.
“Great. Stop by at six then. And bring your appetite. I’m making your favorite.”
His eyes lit up. “Summer pie?”
Heather laughed. She hadn’t thought of that term for it in years, even though she’d rolled out plenty of dough since then. But summer pie was different, special. It was made from the local berries, enjoyed outside, on the porch, not warm, but cool. And it was best shared with her favorite people, here in her favorite place.
Back in Chicago, it was just berry pie. Or fruit pie. But here, it would always be summer pie.
“That reminds me that I should stop by the market for supplies,” she said.
“If I was willing to go off-island today, I’d say we could pick some berries from Conway Orchard in Blue Harbor.”
“I’m not ready to leave this island just yet,” Heather said, her heart sinking at the mere thought of it.
“You could always shop tomorrow, though?” Billy was quick to ask. “I was thinking of taking a walk. Care to join me?”
And how could she say no to that smile or the pleading look in those eyes?
They crossed the road to the waterfront, navigating the large rocks and overgrown shrubs with bright pink flowers. Heather toed off her sandals and hooked them over her finger; Billy did the same. The lake stretched far in every direction, calm and quiet. She almost didn’t dare dip a toe in it.
“I remember thinking the water looked clear enough to drink,” Heather said, laughing.
“As a doctor, I can advise you that it is not.” Billy grinned.
“Look at you.” Heather elbowed him playfully as they headed along the coastline, away from town. “A doctor. Your parents are so proud, I know.” His mother couldn’t hide it last August at the funeral.
“Oh, they’ll be prouder when I settle down and give them some grandkids.” He gave her a wry look.
Heather felt her smile slip and had to look away.
“Is that what you want?” she finally asked.
“I’d like to get married someday. Have a couple of kids. Throw the ball around. Teach them how to fish. Bring them here.”
He shrugged it away as if it were nothing but a given, that in due time all that would happen for him, and it probably would. That marriage and children went hand in hand, even if sometimes, they didn’t.
“That’s what I love about coming back here,” he said. “You must feel it too. These homes aren’t really ours, they’re just borrowed from our ancestors, and eventually, we’ll pass them down to our kids, and them to theirs. They’ll be the ones coming up here each summer, looking forward to sunsets on the porch and morning bike rides, and a place to get away from all that technology and noise.”
He shook his head and waggled his eyebrows at her in a playful way, but it didn’t feel playful, and this conversation had stopped being fun. “It’s crazy to think about, isn’t it? That these houses will outlive us?”
It was crazy. Crazy to think that she ever stood a chance with Billy. Crazy to think that she might even try.
She could never be the woman in that picture he’d painted so clearly and surely. She was silly to even dare to think she ever could.
Old hurts pushed to the surface, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep them from showing. She was relieved when they turned around and Billy’s house came into view again.
“Well, I should probably get going. My sisters will be wondering where I am if I’m gone too long. I just wanted to ask you about tomorrow night…” She couldn’t look him in the eye when she said it, and even though she was sure Gemma might have invited him if she hadn’t, she still wished she hadn’t come. Hadn’t tried. Because sometimes trying and failing were worse than not trying at all.
That’s what Daniel had said, at least. It was their last big fight, the moment when she knew that her marriage was over, long over, and that she had been holding on to the scraps of it, unable to accept what was so clear. She couldn’t have a child. Not with Daniel. Not with anyone.
“See you tomorrow,” Billy said, as she hurried away.
She managed a weak smile and hurried to her bike, pedaling fast and hard like the young girl he’d just described, back when this was her happy place, her summer place, the place where everything was right and nothing was wrong. But she wasn’t that young girl anymore. And try as she might, she couldn’t go back and do it all over again, or do it better.
The tears flowed fast and hard as she peddled against the lake breeze, but she didn’t stop until she’d rounded the bend, out of sight. Tourists passed by on rented bikes, laughing and smiling, but she parked hers off the path, walked onto the shore, and dropped onto a large rock, keeping her back to the island and her eyes to the water. She’d go to the store later. Tomorrow, so the berries were fresh. And tomorrow night she’d smile and socialize and pretend that everything was fine. That her heart didn’t break every time she thought of her future. That she wasn’t just lonely, but she was alone, and she might always be alone, and that she didn’t know how to accept that.
But for now, she would sit here, and she’d cry good and hard until she couldn’t cry anymore, and only then would she know there was nothing left for tonight. That she could get through it. That for tonight at least, she’d be okay.
15
Andrea
Dinner at Sunset Cottage, as the Morgans had named their lake house, was exactly what the Taylor sisters needed, or at least what Andrea needed. A night of shared memories, easy conversation, and best of all, some much-needed distraction from the nagging thought that somehow Andrea had survived an entire week away from the office, even if she wasn’t sure her career plan had.
Andrea walked into the kitchen to see Heather pulling a lattice-crust pie from the oven. The entire room smelled sweet and fruity, and Andrea almost didn’t mind the additional heat it created in the house. Heather’s pie was always an exception to the rule their mother had put in place all those years ago when the lack of air-conditioning left the house warm on the days that the lake breeze didn’t flow easily through the open windows. Now, Andrea wondered fondly if that had been an easy excuse to get out of cooking.
“You look cheerful,” Heather commented.
Andrea noted the surprise in her voice. “I was just remembering how Mom never let us use the oven on the hotter days because it would heat the house.”
Heather smiled. “I loved her cold pasta salads. They were never the same because she would toss whatever was on hand into the bowl. Do you remember that?”
Andrea did, but only because Heather had stirred the memory. “I miss her,” she said softly, hating the emotion that had crept into her voice.
Heather set the pie down on the counter and nodded slowly. “Me too. I feel bad that I didn’t go see Dad with Kim. He must be so lonely.”
Andrea wondered if Heather was speaking from experience, tapping into her own situation, but didn’t press. It was clear that Heather didn’t like talking about Daniel, and she was much better off discussing Billy instead.
“Well, you certainly have a lot of Mom in you,” Andrea said. Everyone knew that she was the most like their father—driven, busy, satisfied with a hard day’s work. It hadn’t ever bothered her until now when she was left wondering just what part of her mother she did inherit, other than the hair color she and her sisters all shared. “Both you and Kim.”
“Oh, Kim for sure, but I don’t know about me…”
“Are you kidding? Mom was…well, she was a master of running a house, you know? All those homemade Halloween costumes, all the special birthday parties, and no one did a holiday like Mom. You’re the same way. I can already picture you knitting baby blankets someday.”
Heather’s cheeks flushed as her smile faded. “You’re forgetting that I’m no longer married.”
Andrea looked at her quizzically. “I know, but I also know that you’re still really young.
Once you get over this—”
“Who said I’m not over it?” Heather snapped back. She walked to the cabinet and pulled out some tea towels, the kind their mother used to buy in the shops in town. She spread one out and transferred the pie onto it.
She looked pretty tonight, Andrea noticed, in a light blue cotton sundress and her chestnut hair flowing freely at her shoulders. She looked like she had lost a bit of weight, now that Andrea looked at her properly, but then, they hadn’t spent much time together since Christmas, and the past year had been hard on all of them. Heather had always been the most sensitive of the group. Maybe she was depressed.
Or maybe, she was considering dipping her toe into the dating scene again despite all her protests to the contrary.
“Is Kim ready?” Andrea asked, pulling a bottle of wine from the fridge. Clearly, they could use a buffer right about now.
“Right here!” Kim looked flushed as she entered the kitchen. It was a warm night and Heather had pushed up the temperature more than a few degrees. Andrea could only hope for a strong lake breeze and a cool drink.
Kim was wearing white shorts and a simple pink tee shirt. Both of her sisters managed to make Andrea conscious of her attire of white capris and a linen blouse and heels, even if they were of the strappy variety. She looked like she was ready for dinner at her father’s club, or perhaps a summer office party, rather than a casual dinner with old friends.
Maybe they were right. Maybe she did need to learn to loosen up a little. Truth was, she wasn’t even sure she knew how. She’d lost the ability to slow down, lost the rhythm of this island somewhere along the way too.
“Am I underdressed?” Kim asked when they reached the door, but then her expression turned to one of knowing as they stepped out onto the porch and saw Billy Davidson coming up the road. “Well, Billy! I heard you were back on the island!” She flung a devilish glance in Heather’s direction and ran down the creaking stairs to greet him with a hug.
