The Summer House

by Hannah McKinnon

  “What?”

  “Rain,” Evan mouthed, silently.

  “No!” Clem said it, then slapped her hand over her mouth as Flossy spun around.

  “I’m right here,” she told them both, irritably.

  By the time everyone had rinsed the beach off of themselves in the outdoor shower and come in to change, the family had congregated downstairs. The kids were attempting a game of badminton in the backyard, under the tent to Flossy’s chagrin. Richard was outside coaching from his Adirondack chair on the deck. The kitchen filled with the steam of simmering white wine and creamy broth. Huge hunks of crusty French bread were torn into pieces and set in baskets for dipping. A pot full of linguine simmered on the stove. Two more bottles of wine had been opened, and Clem noticed that just about everyone had a glass nearby or in hand. A good sign, she thought. People were finally letting themselves relax.

  She could hear Sam out on the front porch. She refilled her wine glass and went to find him, pausing at the door.

  “I’m sorry to leave another message,” he was saying, “but there’s something I think we should discuss.” He left his number. “It’s important,” he added. “Please call.”

  He almost ran into her as she stepped outside. “Sorry.”

  “Here,” she said, passing him her wine. “You look like you need this?”

  Sam looked away, then took the glass from her. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

  She watched him sip curiously. “What’s going on? I thought the Shanghai thing was done.”

  “It is. It’s something else.”

  Clem waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. “Want to sit?”

  Sam pointed toward the rear of the house. “Sure. But the view is back there.”

  “Yeah, but I can’t bear to watch the kids take down Flossy’s tent with a badminton racquet.” She plopped on to the porch swing and patted the seat beside her.

  Sam handed her back her glass and sat down.

  “So, Paige and I were talking in town earlier. She and David seem . . .”

  “Clemmy, I’ve fucked up big.” Sam put his face in his hands. He looked about ready to cry, and it took her by surprise. No matter what was happening, Sam might become sarcastic or snippy. But he always remained cool.

  “What happened?”

  “You know how we have this second chance to adopt. The girl named Mara?”

  Clem nodded, her stomach flip-flopping. Had Mara changed her mind, too?

  “I may have said something. No, I did say something. I offered to help get her into nursing school. And to pay for it.”

  “Why would you do that?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Clem knew why. Sam was a dealer. He always had been.

  “And Evan found out. I told him the other day.”

  Clem let a long breath out. “So that’s why you guys are so quiet?”

  “He told me to fix it. I’m trying, Clem, but I can’t reach her. And even if I do, I don’t know what to say. Do I start with, ‘I think there may have been a misunderstanding’? Or do I run with, ‘Remember that bribe I offered? Well, I’m afraid it’s off the table’?”

  Clem sat back in the swing and tried to wrap her mind around it. “So you made the offer, but she didn’t take you up on it yet?”

  “Something like that. I don’t really know how she took it, to be honest. Which is why I don’t know what angle to take.”

  Clem closed her eyes. This was so Sam. Going for what he wanted, no matter the consequences. Paige was intense, but Sam could be rabid. “I don’t think you should look at it as an angle,” she said finally.

  He ran his hands through his hair and looked at her. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s not business, Sam. It’s a baby. I think you need to start with the truth.”

  “What? Tell her I want this baby so badly that I crossed a line?”

  Clem leaned forward. “Yeah. That’s exactly where I’d start. I’m a mom, and while that kind of thing is ugly, and probably also illegal . . .”

  “Jesus, Clem. Thanks.”

  “Let me finish. It’s an indication of how serious you are. I think this time you need to be real.”

  “Isn’t it also an indication of my morals?”

  “Maybe. But Mara herself is in a bit of a moral predicament. She’s what—nineteen? With a baby on the way, and a whole life ahead of her. And the hardest decision she may ever have to make.” She looked at him. “That’s about as real as it gets.”

  The door opened and Evan filled it.

  Sam stiffened. “Hey, honey, dinner ready?”

  Evan glanced between the two of them, his mouth set. Clem wondered how much he’d heard.

  She jumped to her feet. “Let me help. I’ll come in and set the table.”

  “It’s already done,” Evan said coolly. He stepped back inside, letting the screen slap shut before either of them could get to it.

  Clem look back at Sam’s miserable face. “You guys will figure this out.”

  From inside, Flossy’s voice rang out. “Everyone to the table. Family dinner!”

  Sam stood, his voice dry with sarcasm. “Oh good! Because that solves everything.”

  For once, everyone arrived en masse at the table. The din of eating ensued. Chairs scraped the floor, spoons rattled against chowder bowls, glasses clinked.

  “Who wants iced tea?”

  “Salad dressing, Richard?”

  “Oops. Maddy needs another spoon.”

  “Where is that salad dressing?”

  “More bread, Evan?”

  “Richard, will you please pass that salad dressing?”

  What followed, for perhaps the first time in the summer house kitchen, was near silence. Between tentative bites, Sam stole glances across the table at Evan. Maddy stared doubtfully into the shelled depths of her bowl and promptly pushed it away. Clem handed her a piece of bread. Paige dove into her meal, expertly ripping each pink mussel from its case with the tines of her fork, pitching the discarded shells into the nearest bucket with a methodical plink. From the head of the table came the soft slurp of Richard tipping the juice of a half-shell contentedly into his mouth, while Flossy, seated at his elbow, directed her focus around the table, measuring each family member like some kind of barometer. No one spoke.

  George, sensing the disquiet, elbowed Ned gently. “Can you get me some more?”

  Ned had already emptied his bowl and was busy dragging a hunk of crusty bread through the broth. “Sure, buddy.” He looked to Clem for direction. “That okay?”

  “Thanks, Neddy. Maddy, what are we going to do with you?”

  Maddy slumped beside her. “Nuggets.”

  Clem sighed and set her fork down. Her own meal was just barely touched.

  “I’ll get them. Let me preheat the oven first.”

  Sam grimaced. “Seriously? It’s ninety-five degrees in here and we’re preheating an oven for nuggets?” He looked to Maddy. “Come on, kiddo. When your mommy was your age, you know what Grandma used to say to us?”

  George piped up. “You get what you get and you don’t get upset.”

  Clem, however, was. “Sam, please.” She got up and stalked into the kitchen, followed by her mother.

  Paige shook her head. “Give everyone a break. Clem knows what she’s doing.”

  “No one said she didn’t, Paige. I’m just saying that Mom worked hard on this dinner and maybe it wouldn’t kill them if the kids expanded their palates.”

  “It’s not your jurisdiction.” Paige’s tone was sharp with frustration.

  Sam held up both hands. “Oh, sorry Sergeant Major. That would be your detail. Right, David?”

  David, who’d been looking uncomfortably between the two, shook his head. “Hey, now.”

  Paige’s cheeks flushed. “What the hell does that mean? Don’t ask David to weigh in on this.” She turned to her husband and whispered, “Ignore him.”

  Sam returned his attention to picking through his bowl. “So, you spea
k for him, too, huh?”

  Paige slammed the flat of her hand on the table. “Shut the hell up, Sam!”

  “Enough!” Richard said.

  But they were too deep into it.

  Flossy came roaring back from the kitchen. “Let’s everyone stop and enjoy our dinner.”

  “Why don’t you focus on yourself some more, Sam? The week’s mostly over and you’ve barely put your phone down from work.” She turned to Evan. “Right, Evan?”

  Sam scoffed.

  “What?” Paige’s eyes blazed. “Your spouse is off limits, but you can go after mine?”

  “Maybe if you went after your own spouse, he wouldn’t be off limits to you.”

  “Sam, that’s low,” Evan said.

  Flossy interjected. “Does anyone know how hard I worked on this meal? Now, please! Stop arguing.”

  “Your mother worked hard on this meal!” Richard repeated.

  Sam pointed to Clem, watching from the safe distance of the kitchen. “Then why are we cooking another?”

  “Because I like nuggets!” Maddy said, giggling.

  Sam turned to her, his face softening. “I know, kiddo.”

  “Then let it go!” Paige said. “Every time you come here it’s all about you, all about your job, your downtown loft, your cushy trips that are SO hard. Meanwhile the rest of us are limping through each day with our own damn jobs, and kids, and husbands to take care of!”

  Clem appeared at the head of the table, just as it went silent. Her hands were on her hips, but tears streamed from her eyes. “Not all of us, Paige. Not all of us get to do that anymore.”

  Evan leaped to his feet. “She’s right! What’s the matter with all of you. You have kids. We have spouses.” His face was contorted with emotion. “And yet all you do is dig up old wounds and look for slights. You’re like goddamned archeologists!” He looked at Clem. “I’m sorry, honey. We all wish we had what you and Ben had.”

  “But . . .” Paige began.

  Evan stopped her. “And you! What Sam and I would give for a Ned or an Emma. You’ve got both.” His hands dropped to his sides, limp.

  Emma was listening, her arms crossed in validation. She glared at her parents.

  “Evan’s right,” Richard said, looking around the table at all of them. He reached for Clem and pulled her closer, against his chair. Flossy sniffed, her hand to her eyes.

  There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone stared at his or her laps.

  “What I meant to say . . .” Sam began.

  “Just stop it,” Paige snapped. “You don’t need to be right all the time.”

  “And you don’t need to always get in the last word!”

  Richard banged the table with his fist. “That will do!”

  Evan let out a sharp breath. “I’ve had enough.” He stalked away from the table and out the back door. But no one was watching.

  “See what you did?” Sam shouted at his sister, rising from his chair.

  Paige stood up, too. “Why don’t you go after him? Because you’re too busy trying to win an argument!”

  “Mommy, I’m hungry!” Maddy wailed.

  The scent of smoke began to rise in the air, and Flossy scurried back to the kitchen. “Oh no! I left bread in the oven. It’s burning!”

  She opened the door and a black cloud billowed out, filling the kitchen.

  Maddy shrieked and Emma scooped her up onto her lap. “My nuggets!”

  George covered his ears.

  Richard hurried into the kitchen after Flossy, and gallantly pulled her aside. He reached barehanded into the oven and grabbed the bread pan. There followed a gasp and a spew of curses, and the pan clattered to the floor.

  “Your hands!” Flossy cried.

  Paige and Sam were still shouting as Flossy grabbed both of Richard’s wrists and tugged him over to the sink. She flipped on the faucet and thrust them beneath the cold rush of water.

  But Richard pulled them back out and swung around, holding both red-tipped hands out as if to the gods. “That will goddamned do!” his voice boomed.

  There was a collective intake of breath as all eyes swiveled to Richard, his fingers dripping water. The only sound was the strangled sob that escaped from Maddy’s chest. “Grampa’s mad.”

  And then the sound of slashing metal came from outside.

  “What on earth?” Flossy hurried to screen door.

  The others followed to see what was the noise.

  Outside in the darkening yard, against the last shards of yellow sunset, Evan stood over the unwieldy hedges, clippers in hand. His forearms popped through his rolled-up shirt sleeves with every slash and clip, the hedges falling left and right as he tore through them.

  Clem pressed her hand to her mouth, but no sound came. She looked for Maddy and George, and herded them both away from the window.

  “My hedges!” Flossy cried.

  The branches gave way like dandelions to a twister, leaves and dead branches flying out and around Evan’s arms as he worked.

  David let out a low whistle. “Jesus.”

  In seconds the long-debated bushes was slashed down to dirt. A spray of twiggy detritus was flung across the grass. Evan looked up at the window, his brow soaked in sweat, his chest specked in dirt. Everyone stepped back. He flung the clippers to the ground and climbed the deck steps. They crowded like sheep as he barreled back into the house.

  Evan stopped, chest heaving, in the middle of the kitchen. He stared at the aghast faces of his family, and cleared his throat. “Now, let’s eat.”

  Paige

  Her father’s birthday party was tomorrow. Paige lay on her side, the gauzy light of early morning hours slipping through the bedroom curtains. Behind her, David snored lightly.

  She tried to go back to sleep, but her mind drifted. Paige wondered what it was like to be seventy-five. Flossy and Richard had been married for forty-eight years. She wondered what that was like, too. A thought that made her turn over and study her husband across the pillow.

  David in slumber always looked like the young man she’d met when she was still in veterinary school. He was handsome in an unassuming way, his features symmetrical and pleasing, free of distinct qualities that might thrill one but turn off another like a Roman nose or dimpled chin. His brown hair and blue eyes were agreeable and straightforward. Just like he had been and what had attracted her to him in the earlier years. These days, there was a heaviness to his eyes. His smile never quite reached them.

  Dinner had taken everything out of her. They’d finished the meal in silence, and after the dishes were done and pots washed, she’d retired upstairs with a glass of water and two Advil.

  Why did she let Sam get to her? They weren’t teenagers anymore, and she had no issue with him, beyond his scrutiny and criticism. If he would just stay out of everyone’s personal matters, they’d be fine. If she could just ignore him, they might also be fine. But no matter what the subject, his ire was always on the tip of his tongue when it came to her, and she could not seem to help herself from responding with fire. She wondered how Evan ever managed to put up with him. But, she realized, he did not treat Evan this way, or any other person as far as she knew. No, Sam had always saved his venom for her.

  The thing was, the two were more alike than anyone else in the family. They were driven by some unseen urge to succeed. They were physically inclined; he’d been a basketball player and track star, and she a soccer and field hockey player. They were intensely private, and just as committed to whatever was important to them. And, too, she realized, turning over on her back: they had spouses who were suffering alongside them, and marriages that were strained. For two people who shared so much in common, she wondered at the hard fact that they could not, indeed, share any of it. She tried to imagine herself confiding in Sam, having a cup of tea and sitting down in a café to really talk. But maybe that was the problem: when they looked at one another it was like looking in the mirror. If you didn’t like what you saw, you turned away.r />
  She reached hesitantly under the covers and slid her hand over David’s chest, pausing to press it gently over his heart. His eyes flickered.

  “What? Was I snoring?”

  Paige shook her head.

  He turned to glance at the clock and turned back to her, squinting in the breaking darkness. “It’s only five-thirty.”

  Paige moved her hand up his chest and along the side of his neck. She grasped his chin gently, and turned it toward her.

  He blinked in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  David sighed deeply. “Paige, it’s too early for this.”

  “No. If anything it’s too late.”

  He rolled over onto his side and her hand slipped away.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, again. “Things have been so . . . I don’t know, hard. I don’t recognize us anymore. Whatever I’ve done, was because I only meant to keep everyone together.”

  “We’re going to do this now?” David stared up at the ceiling. She waited. “I know you meant well,” he said finally. “And I wish I had been more help to you. That’s the thing, I guess. I feel so helpless.”

  “But you aren’t.”

  “Paige. Let me finish.” He turned to face her. “You are a strong woman. Hell, you’re probably the strongest person I know. And I’ve always admired that about you.”

  “But?”

  “But nothing. It’s just that this year, I haven’t been as strong. I wasn’t happy at work, and then I got let go. And now, I’d give my left arm to have my old job back.”

  “You would?”

  “Yes. Do you know I called the school and offered to be an AP last month?”

  Paige propped herself up on her elbow. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because it was demeaning enough to have to call that witch back and beg. Can you imagine how much worse I felt when Marcy told me they’d hired a grad student?” David’s face crumpled, and her heart went out to him.

  “Honey, I wish I’d known.”

  “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

  “But I would’ve tried!”

  He shook his head. “That’s just it, Paige. Sometimes I need you to stop trying and just listen. To let me say that all of this really sucks, without putting one of your happy spins on it. And maybe now and then agree with me about how much it sucks.”