by Sarah Morgan
She stared at him.
It hadn’t occurred to her that he might be thinking that way.
“You told me you were tired of baby sex.”
“Because every time we have sex and we don’t make a baby, I feel like a failure. It’s hard to keep trying at something if you’re always failing.”
Jenna felt hot tears sting her eyes. “It isn’t your fault. It isn’t failure.”
“It feels that way to me. And I haven’t been handling it well.” He gave a faint smile. “I’m used to being top of the class, remember? I have to win at everything. Even in my job, I have to be the best.” There was a self-derision there that she hadn’t heard before. Greg was a winner. The golden boy.
“You’re good at what you do, Greg. You’ve made a huge difference to many people’s lives.”
“I’m fine at handling other people’s life problems, but not so good at my own it seems. With my wife, who is the most important person in my life, I’ve been inept. The truth is—” he paused “—I’ve discovered that I can be detached with everyone except myself. Every time you have a negative test I drive by the gym and take it out on the punching bag.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. It’s my kind of therapy. The gym has had to replace it twice in the last year.”
She’d had no idea. “Why didn’t you say something before now?”
“Because I was trying to be your rock. Steady. I thought if you knew how bad I felt, that would make you feel worse.”
“Oh, Greg—” She’d taken his answers at face value when she should have delved deeper. But because this was Greg, and he was so good at articulating feelings, it hadn’t occurred to her that there were things going on that he wasn’t saying. “Whenever I asked how you felt about it, you said you were okay.”
“I lied. It doesn’t matter now. That’s the past and we should be focusing on the future. On what comes next.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Next time you do a test, I want to know. We’ll do it together.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever do another test again. The g-force of being on a high and then plunging to the pits of despair might kill me.”
“I love you.” He let go of her hand and wrapped her in his arms, holding her tightly. “You’re my love and my life. I love you so much and I wish I could fix this.”
It was such an unspeakable relief to be held. Such a relief to feel close to him again. It felt right and natural.
“You’re my life, too. We’re lucky to have each other.” She tugged at the buttons on his shirt. “I missed you when I was in hospital. Come to bed.”
He groaned as she kissed her way from his jaw to his mouth. “Jenna, we can’t. You’re tired and in pain.”
“So you’ll have to be extra gentle.”
“No way.” He caught her hands in his. “It’s too soon. When that doctor asks me why your stitches have opened up, I’m not taking the blame.”
She grinned. “You’re no fun, Greg Sullivan.”
“Take a couple more days to recover and then I’ll show you just how much fun I can be.”
Happiness: feeling, showing or expressing joy.
Jenna and Greg.
They were going to be all right. Somehow, in some way, they’d find a way to be all right.
He eased her away from him. “We’ll see a doctor. Talk to someone. I’m sorry I didn’t agree to it before.”
The doorbell rang and Greg raised an eyebrow. “Now are you pleased we’re not both naked?”
“In fact, no. But since we’re both decent, you might as well answer it.”
He stood up reluctantly. “If it’s another delivery of cards and chocolates we’re going to have to move house.”
But it wasn’t chocolate.
She heard voices and laughter and moments later Nancy, Lauren and Mack crowded into her bedroom.
Lauren was wearing her hair loose. She looked younger and more relaxed. She was holding a massive bouquet and Nancy had an envelope in her hand.
“Gorgeous flowers,” Jenna said, “but you shouldn’t be wasting our limited funds on flowers. I still have the last bunch you brought me.”
“These are from Mrs. Hill’s garden.”
Jenna raised her eyebrows. “You didn’t—”
“Not this time,” Lauren laughed. “Ben works for her, and he picked them with her permission because we know how much you love flowers. Everyone I pass asks after you. Every trip to the store takes five times as long.” She glanced at the cards open on the table and then back at her sister. “How are you? You have a little more color.”
“I’m better, thanks.” Much better since her conversation with Greg.
She still had no idea what she was going to do about getting pregnant, but at least they were talking again.
Greg cleared a pile of books off a chair. “Sit down wherever you can find a space. I’ll make some drinks.”
Nancy handed Jenna the envelope. “This is to give you something to look forward to when you’re better.”
Jenna opened it while marveling at the novelty of having her entire family crowded into her bedroom. “Seasalt Spa?” She studied the embossed card with its lavish silvery print. “Is that the new place near Chilmark?”
“Yes, and we’re going together, the four of us. We deserve it after all the work we’ve put in over the past few months. Manicure, pedicure—it’s a makeover.” Nancy made it sound as if it was something she did every day of the week, but Jenna couldn’t remember a time when her mother had done anything like this for herself.
“You can’t afford this!”
“I sold a painting,” Nancy said. “Which surprised me, to be honest.”
“It didn’t surprise me.” Lauren leaned in and adjusted Jenna’s pillows. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m good, thanks. Stop fussing.” But it felt good to be surrounded by people who cared. “Which painting did you sell?”
“The stormy, moody seascape that used to hang in the master bedroom.”
“I know the one you mean.” Jenna put the vouchers on her lap. “That painting always terrified me. It’s so—pessimistic.”
“Yes, but fortunately for us, pessimism is selling right now and if people want dismal on their wall, who are we to argue with them?”
Jenna fingered the glossy voucher on her lap. “If you made money, then you should keep it. You’ll need the savings to get you through the winter in The Captain’s House.”
“Some things are more important than savings. We’ve all had a grim year so far. It’s time we had some fun as a family. We deserve some joy.”
When had they last had fun together?
Jenna couldn’t remember.
“So now you know there’s a market for your work, will you start painting again?”
“I’m enjoying creating art in different ways, particularly the gardens. Ben and I have some exciting ideas for transforming the garden of the Sail Loft. But the priority is to focus on our new design business, Coastal Chic. Lauren has an appointment at the bank to talk about a loan, and then we’re on our way. I’ll be helping her! It’s exciting to have a new outlet for creativity. Mack can help out when she’s not at school. Has Jenna seen the business card? Lauren, do you have one?”
Jenna shifted position in the bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mother this fired up about anything. She wondered if she was the only one who had noticed that Ben’s name came up frequently in conversation. “You have a business card?”
Lauren dug her hand into her purse and produced one. “Mack made them. Designed the logo and everything.”
Jenna took the card from her. “‘Coastal Chic,’” she read. “I love it. And the silver shell logo is perfect. Classy. I’d employ you in a heartbeat.”
Mack flushe
d with pleasure. “I love coding, but I also love the design side of things.”
“Which is why the website for The Captain’s House looks so good,” Nancy said. “Have you seen the design for the pages you wrote, Jenna? Mack has managed to put a whaling ship in the background behind the text. It looks fabulous. Maybe we could set up a property rental business, too.”
Lauren looked alarmed. “One thing at a time, Mom.”
But Jenna was relieved to see the excitement on her mother’s face. “I’ll take a look at the website later.”
“What are these?” Nancy picked up the sketches by Jenna’s bed.
“Those?” Jenna wished she’d hidden them. “Those are my feeble attempts at drawing. I have no talent.”
Nancy sat down on the edge of the bed and studied it. “Is it a pig?”
“It’s a goat. See what I mean? I should give up.” She made a grab for the pages but Nancy held them out of reach as she flicked through the text.
“Adventures with My Sister. You wrote down one of your stories?”
Jenna felt her cheeks burn. “I’ve been writing down a few of them. Some of the parents in my class wanted them to read to the children so I thought I might as well. I haven’t decided what to do with it yet.”
Mack peered over her shoulder. “My favorite was the one when the two sisters disrupted the ballet class.” She took the papers from her grandmother, kicked off her shoes and sprawled on the bed next to Jenna. “Your stories are great. Remember Fred and Alfred? Fred and Alfred were hilarious. And the dinosaur who was a fussy eater. Are you going to write them all down?”
“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.”
“You should.” Lauren sat on the bed, too, and Jenna shifted gingerly to make room.
It seemed her entire family was now on the bed with her, crowded either side of her like bookends.
Greg walked back into the room and she met his gaze.
The worried frown on his face made her heart warm. “Mom is seeing if she can rescue my terrible drawing. Or maybe it would be easier if I changed the goat in the story to a pig.”
“You have talent. I’ve always said so.” He put a mug of tea on the nightstand next to her.
“She has.” Nancy was reading over Mack’s shoulder. “Why haven’t any of us encouraged you to write them down before? These are engaging, funny, emotional. You make the reader care about these girls.”
Jenna felt herself flush. “Thanks, Mom. Shame I can’t illustrate to save my life.”
“You don’t need to be able to do both.” Nancy took the pages back from Mack. “They can partner you with an illustrator.”
“They?”
“A publisher.”
“You think someone might want to publish my stories?”
“I do. I know there are plenty of children out there who would enjoy them.” Nancy turned the pages over and picked up the pencil. “I’ve never drawn a goat either.” She sketched rapidly, eyes narrowed, her hand free and relaxed. Then she laughed. “Yours might look like a pig but mine looks like a unicorn.”
Mack leaned over her shoulder and studied it from every angle. “It’s not completely awful, Grams.”
“Thank you, honey. You’re so kind.”
Mack grinned. “We’re all about honesty now, remember?”
“I do. And I approve. Also, I agree. I don’t think I’m going to be illustrating your aunt’s books, but let me think about it. It’s a different art form. It isn’t as simple as drawing an excellent goat, it’s about conveying the movement, the naughtiness, the sense of adventure. The two girls getting themselves into trouble and then getting themselves out. Always together. That closeness has to be on the page.” She eyed Jenna and then Lauren. “Was this Mrs. Fallowfield’s goat?”
Jenna shrank against the pillows and Lauren blinked innocently.
“We have no idea what you mean, Mom.”
Nancy shook her head. “I’m not even going to ask how many of these stories are true. Instead let’s return to plans for our spa day—it’s safer. Let us know when you’re feeling stronger, and I’ll book a date.”
Greg eased himself away from the wall where he’d been leaning. “Jenna needs to keep things quiet for a while.”
“Greg the dragon.” Lauren smiled her approval. “Protector of my sister.”
“Don’t ask me to draw a dragon,” Jenna said.
Pain nagged at her side and she shifted slightly to make herself more comfortable.
Greg frowned. “Do you want meds?”
“No, but thank you.” She loved the fact he was so protective. For a short time they’d lost that closeness and now it was back. Love could be intense and passionate, but it could also be warming and comforting, like curling up in front of a log fire with a mug of hot chocolate.
She glanced at her sister. “So when do you move in to the Sail Loft?”
“Next week. We need time for the smell of paint to fade.”
“I can’t believe it’s the middle of May already.” It felt strange to think of them living there. “Will you be okay, Mom?”
“Yes. I have my final book group at The Captain’s House the night before we move out. After that, someone else will have to host it if the group is to continue.” Nancy stood up and walked to the window. “I’ve been in charge of canapés and conversation for far too long.” She gazed down into Jenna’s garden.
“You’re going to miss having Alice for a neighbor. She’s been such a great friend to you. Still, it’s not as if you’re leaving the island,” Jenna said. “It’s going to be a big change for you, Mom.”
Was this change going to be too much? Impossibly hard?
Nancy turned. “Sometimes change can be good. Out with the old and in with the new—that’s what I say.”
Jenna gaped at her. “You don’t say that at all! You always say, ‘Let’s store it for now. You never know when you might need it.’”
“I never liked throwing anything away, but it turns out I have a skill for it. I can be ruthless when I need to be.”
Jenna exchanged looks with Lauren. “I think I might have banged my head harder than I first thought. I could have sworn I heard Mom say she likes throwing things away.”
Lauren stretched her legs out and lay back next to Jenna. “I suspect she might have banged her head and none of us noticed. I don’t want to panic you, but she also took the entire contents of Dad’s hobby room to the Goodwill store.”
Jenna wanted to cheer.
Instead she glanced at Greg. “Honey, could you please explain to us less qualified mortals what is happening to my mother?”
“No idea. I’ve given up presenting myself an expert on emotions. And if you’re going to be planning spa days, I’m going to need more coffee.” He kissed Jenna and walked to the kitchen.
Jenna watched him go. Then she caught her mother’s eye. She thought about that conversation in the hospital, and how her mother had listened. “Before you say anything, I know I’m lucky to have him.”
“I was going to say that he’s lucky to have you,” Nancy said. “Now, about this spa day. What exactly do they do during a facial? It isn’t Botox, is it? I don’t think I’d like Botox. I want my face to move.”
31
Nancy
Confide: to disclose secret or personal matters
in confidence
The night before she moved out of The Captain’s House, Nancy held her last meeting of the book group.
Whether or not it continued would be up to other people, she thought, as she set up in the garden room. She always loved the garden in May, and this room offered the best view.
From next week the house would be the summer retreat for the Brown family who lived in Manhattan on the Upper East Side. They’d taken it for the whole summer, from Memorial Day to Labor Day, at a cost
that had made Nancy gasp aloud. She never would have believed it had the money not already been in her account.
Lauren had handled the negotiation. If it had been up to Nancy she would have asked a lower price, but Lauren had studied the market carefully.
“It doesn’t surprise me,” Jenna had said when Nancy had mentioned Lauren’s sales skills. “You should have seen how persuasive she was whenever she wanted me to do something we weren’t supposed to do.”
So the deal was done, and this would be her last night in the house until the winter.
Nancy poked at her emotions carefully, searching for tender places. Sadness? No. She felt nothing. No regret. No guilt for letting her ancestors down.
Instead she felt pride at what they’d achieved, and not only because they’d done it on a shoestring budget. What really made her proud was the teamwork. They’d combined their skills. Who would have thought that at her age she’d be going into business with her daughter? That was something she hadn’t anticipated.
Lauren Stewart. Nancy Stewart.
Coastal Chic.
The garden room was a perfect example of the design style they hoped would become their trademark and now it was all ready for her group. Three bottles of white wine were chilling in the fridge and Jenna was in the kitchen making canapés while Mack worked on her laptop at the kitchen table.
Nancy plumped a couple of cushions and decided not to admit that she’d abandoned tonight’s book halfway through. It hadn’t been her selection, and she’d known immediately that she was going to hate it. The book had hit all the bestseller lists, but she’d chosen to avoid it because of the subject matter. As she was going to be forced to endure a discussion about it, she decided she should at least read a few chapters, and reading it had made her feel every bit as uncomfortable and unhappy as she’d anticipated. It was about the decline of a marriage, and she’d empathized closely with the heroine. The book had felt too much like real life for the reading experience to be described as enjoyable, not that she was about to admit that to anyone in her group because none of these women knew anything about the reality of her life with Tom.
