The Family Beach House

by Holly Chamberlin

  It was a little after noon. Tilda, Hannah and Susan, Ruth, and Jennifer were in the kitchen, having arrived a little earlier from York Hospital. Bill was being kept for further observation but his doctor, a man who had treated Charlotte, too, had promised that he would be home either that evening or the following morning. Craig had stayed on, washing up in the men’s room and grabbing a sandwich from the cafeteria. He swore he would return to Larchmere some time that afternoon, at least to change clothes. Jon and Jane, with their mother’s blessing, had gone to meet some old friends. Sarah had taken her children to Jackie’s, Too for lunch. Nobody wanted to scare them unnecessarily so their routine was proceeding as normally as possible.

  Tilda and Hannah could not stop apologizing to Jennifer and asking for her forgiveness.

  “I’m sorry for not being more accepting,” Tilda said.

  “Me, too.” That was Hannah. “And for not standing up to you that night when Adam was such a jerk about your business.”

  “And I should never have snapped at you when you asked me about the spa in town. I felt so awful about that.” That was Tilda, again.

  Jennifer laughed and held up her hands. “Enough! All is forgiven. Let’s start over.”

  “Fine by me,” Hannah said.

  Tilda nodded. “Thank you.”

  Susan asked for a closer look at Jennifer’s engagement ring. Jennifer put out her hand. “It’s an Edwardian style but the ring itself is new. Bill said he helped design it!”

  “Dad?” Hannah said. “A jewelry designer? Wow. He really has got a new lease on life!”

  Ruth, who had been opening a chilled bottle of Prosecco, sensing a celebration in the air, said, “I say we have a nice lunch, just us gals.”

  “I’m starved!” Susan put her hand to her stomach. “I forgot to eat breakfast in all the excitement.”

  “Me, too,” Tilda said. “I know there’s dried pasta in the pantry. And we’ve got excellent tomatoes and a bag of frozen peas. And there are fresh herbs in the garden. And there’s a ball of fresh mozzarella, if Craig didn’t eat it. You know how much he loves it. How about I make a big cold pasta salad for lunch?”

  “I’ll get the Miracle Whip,” Susan said, heading for the fridge. “If no one objects. I’m addicted to the stuff.”

  “And let’s have some of this Prosecco.” Ruth held up the bottle. “I think we could all use a glass.”

  Jennifer laughed. “Or two!”

  Adam came into the kitchen as Ruth was pouring out glasses of the sparkling wine. No one had seen him since he had stormed out of the hospital that morning. He looked angry and cold and strange.

  “What’s wrong?” Tilda asked. “You look upset.”

  His voice was expressionless. “Kat’s gone,” he said. “She broke the engagement.”

  Tilda and Hannah shared a look of guilt. Susan, in an attempt to hide her smile, turned toward the sink.

  “Oh,” Tilda said. “I’m sorry.” Silently, she regretted that now she would never find out just who Kat had met the night she and her siblings had gone to dinner at The Front Porch. Had a mystery lover had anything to do with Kat’s defection?

  Hannah nervously cleared her throat. “Yeah. Me, too.”

  “It’s for the best,” Ruth said, turning to put the bottle in a bucket of ice. “I’m sure.”

  “Teddy Vickes and his wife took her to the bus station in Portsmouth. You know the mouth on Tessa Vickes. The whole freakin’ town must know by now.”

  Jennifer continued to say nothing. Her placid expression hid the fact that inside she was laughing at his obvious embarrassment.

  Adam looked pointedly at Jennifer now. “I won’t be around for dinner tonight,” he said.

  “Okay,” Ruth said. No one asked him where he was going or when he would be back. Tilda supposed he needed some solitude. That, or he just couldn’t stand the sight of his family any longer.

  Craig sat on the cushioned guest chair by his father’s hospital bed. He was tired but didn’t want to sleep. He sipped his third cup of coffee since noon and considered buying a chocolate bar from the vending machine in the cafeteria. He wanted to comb his father’s hair—it was uncharacteristically messy and it made him look old—but he felt too shy to attempt it.

  Bill stirred and opened his eyes.

  “Hey, Dad.” Craig put the cup of coffee on the bedside table and went over to his father. “How are you feeling?”

  Bill shifted to a sitting position and Craig helped him adjust the pillows behind his back.

  “A little embarrassed, to tell you the truth.”

  Craig smiled a little. “Since when are you such a macho guy? Everyone is vulnerable at some time.”

  “Be that as it may,” Bill said, “I’m sorry I caused everyone such worry.”

  “You were just paying me back for all the worry I’ve caused you over the years.”

  There was a moment of fairly awkward silence. Bill toyed with the edge of the sheet. “Thank you, Craig,” he said suddenly.

  “For what?”

  “For taking charge when I passed out. Ruth told me all about it. And for staying with me all last night. You didn’t have to do that.”

  Craig felt an acute mix of embarrassment and pleasure. He thought that he might cry. “I wanted to stay. Really, it was no big deal, Dad.”

  “It was a big deal to me. Thank you.”

  Craig cleared his throat, patted his father’s arm, and sat back down in the cushioned guest chair. “You’d do the same for me.”

  Bill looked fondly at his son. “Yes,” he said. “I would.”

  40

  Sunday, July 29

  During the course of the morning Larchmere emptied of many of its inhabitants. Sarah and the children headed back to Massachusetts. (Obviously, Adam had given up more of his visitation rights. He also wasn’t there to see them off.) Tilda had told Sarah the night before, at dinner, about Kat having broken the engagement. In fact, aside from updates on Bill’s condition (which was fine, though his doctor had suggested he stay the night in the hospital), the conversation over dinner had been mostly about Adam’s new status as single. Sarah had not been surprised at the turn of events but she had not stooped to gloat. Mostly, she was concerned as to how Kat’s sudden departure might affect her children. They had not been in love with Kat but they had, to some extent, gotten used to her.

  Craig, whom Bill had sent back home to get a good night’s sleep, had been very quiet at dinner. Tilda and Hannah each thought he looked more reflective and pensive than usual. He had gone to bed immediately after the meal and had left for the hospital first thing that morning to fetch his father.

  Not long after Sarah left for home, and Tilda had returned from her walk on the beach, Jon and Jane took off for Portland and their summer jobs.

  “You’ll call us if something happens to Grandpa, right?” Jane asked her mother from the passenger seat of Jon’s car.

  “Of course,” she promised. “But I think he’ll be fine now.”

  “And you’ll continue to be nice to Jen, right?”

  “Of course!” Tilda felt a twinge of embarrassment. “I learned my lesson, don’t worry.”

  “Oh, and one more thing, Mom.” That was Jon, leaning over his sister.

  “What?”

  Jane smiled. “We know about you and your Florida mystery man. I just hope you’re being careful—if you know what I mean.”

  Tilda blushed furiously as her children laughed and pulled away. She recovered enough of her composure to wave them off, watching until the car was out of sight along Shore Road. She felt the anxiety she always felt watching them go away. She also felt very proud of her children. And so much for secrecy in a small town!

  Adam had not shown himself at breakfast time. Tilda thought she heard someone—presumably Adam—come in well after midnight. She hoped her brother would be all right. She did not hate him and she was not enjoying his discomfort as Hannah and Susan and maybe even Ruth and Jennifer seemed to be.<
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  Tilda turned back to the house. Suddenly, she felt incredibly tired and fought the urge to go up to her room and lie down. But she had made plans to see Dennis around eleven so instead she made another cup of coffee, showered, and got dressed.

  Tilda and Dennis had driven down to York Beach. He had expressed a desire to try an interesting flavor of ice cream at Goldenrod Kisses, maybe the caramel with sea salt. And he wanted to buy a few souvenirs for his grandchildren. Together, they strolled the main street, crowded with tourists. Dennis bought a plushy lobster for two-year-old Leah and a stretchy bracelet made of aqua-colored shells for four-year-old Laura. They were waiting until after lunch to have ice cream.

  “Your father is a lucky man,” Dennis said, when they were settled at a table at Inn on the Blues. “I mean, to have a family that loves him like you do.”

  Tilda thought about that for a moment. “Well, I don’t know about lucky. He earned our love and respect. He was, he is, a good father.”

  “That may well be, but not everyone who earns love and respect gets it. There are such things as ungrateful children. And ungrateful spouses, and ungrateful friends.”

  Yes, Tilda thought. Like Adam is an ungrateful son. Will Jon turn out to be an ungrateful child? Will Jane? She believed in her children but only time would tell.

  They ordered fish and chips and chatted about the McQueen and the Haass families. Dennis revealed that when his wife had left him for the other man, his son refused to talk to her for months. “I found myself advocating for my cheating wife,” he said with a wry smile. “I didn’t want my son’s relationship with his mother to be permanently compromised.”

  “The things we do to keep the peace. That was good of you.”

  Dennis shrugged. “Parents put their children before themselves. At least, they should.”

  “Forever, do you think?” Tilda asked. “I mean, shouldn’t there be a time when it’s legitimate for a parent to think of him or her self first?”

  They discussed this thorny issue for a while, without coming to any hard and fast agreement on the limits of parental responsibility, then left the restaurant and went around the corner to Goldenrod Kisses. They took their ice cream down to the beach and settled side by side on two large rocks. The tide was low and the sand stretched ahead of them for what seemed like miles.

  Dennis ran a finger along Tilda’s cheek. “I’ve been thinking about that kiss,” he said, “in the parking lot.”

  Tilda blushed. “Me, too,” she admitted. And she had been, when not worrying about her father.

  “Would you like to try it again?”

  Tilda nodded. She took off her sunglasses, turned, and moved closer to Dennis. His lips met hers. His kiss was expert. She tasted sea salt and sweetness. It was not unpleasant. But it was not like it had been in the parking lot.

  “That was fantastic,” he said, when they had each, gently, pulled away. His voice was husky.

  “Mmm,” she replied. It had been nice for her, not fantastic. But she could hardly tell the truth. She put her sunglasses back on, hoping to hide a telltale sign of her real feelings.

  They left the beach soon after. Dennis dropped her off at Larchmere. Tilda managed to make the parting kiss a quick peck. She gave him a big smile and if he was disappointed, he didn’t let on. She watched as he drove off in his rental car.

  Tilda went up to her room. She flopped onto the bed and wondered to what extent the circumstances of their first kiss had colored and heightened the experience. When she had run away from the party she had been feeling hurt and somehow adrift and in need of contact and reassurance. Dennis had been there for her. It was night. No one knew where she was. She had drunk some wine. The right elements for romance had been in place. Did that make the experience of that kiss any less valid? No. Tilda knew she would remember it for a long time.

  She got off the bed and went to the bathroom to wash off the sand and sunscreen. Dennis’s vacation in Ogunquit was coming to a close. She knew that for her it would be a natural end to their brief but happy romance. She hoped that for him, it would be the same.

  Susan found Hannah in the library. She was sitting in the middle of the big, brown leather couch. “What are you doing?” Susan asked. She sat down next to Hannah, facing her.

  Hannah smiled. “I’m doing absolutely nothing. Do you ever find that all you want to do is nothing? Not read or listen to music or go for a walk or even meditate or think about things. You just want to do nothing.”

  Susan raised an eyebrow. “Uh, not really. I don’t like doing nothing. I like to keep busy and productive.”

  “Oh, busy and productive is good, too. But sometimes I like to just sit and vegetate.”

  “Speaking of vegetating…Hannah, I want to talk a bit about the family issue.” Susan’s tone was gentle but firm.

  Hannah’s smile faded. “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh. I’m trying to be patient and understanding, Hannah. I really am. But it’s been two years now. I’m beginning to feel…concerned.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I believe you are. But the apologies aren’t getting us anywhere.”

  “I know.”

  “I was thinking that maybe we should see a marriage counselor. We don’t seem to be making any progress, just the two of us. What do you think?”

  Hannah felt raw panic. Marriage counseling meant failure. That was what her mother had said, time and again. It led to separation and that led to divorce. People only went to marriage counseling as a last resort. Were she and Susan really in such a desperate place? And she wondered: Why had her mother talked so negatively about marriage counseling? Had Bill asked her to go and had she refused? Her father had told Hannah that she was nothing like her mother. She needed to believe him. “Okay,” she said, aware that she sounded less than enthusiastic.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she lied. “I’m sure.”

  “Okay. I can find someone through my work connections. Or if you’d rather research someone, that’s fine, too.”

  “No, no. You can choose a therapist for us. I trust you.”

  “All right. I think we’re doing the right thing, Hannah.”

  “Yes.”

  Susan wanted to say more but decided not to. She squeezed Hannah’s hand, got up, and left the room. Hannah sat in the middle of the big, brown leather couch for a long time. She had never felt so afraid.

  Tilda found her younger brother repairing the old wooden gate to the herb garden. It was a hot afternoon and his T-shirt was soaked with sweat. She offered to bring him some water but he told her that he was almost done with the job.

  “Dad seems good,” she said. “He’s resting but only because Jennifer ordered him to. He said something about calling Teddy for a game of golf tomorrow morning.”

  Craig stood up and stretched. “I’m glad Dad’s doing well. And I’m glad he didn’t need CPR the other night. I’m certified but I’ve never had to perform it on anyone other than the dummy in class.”

  Tilda was surprised. “I didn’t know you knew CPR.”

  “There are a lot of things people don’t know about me.”

  “Because you never tell them about yourself. You don’t let them see the whole you. I’m sorry,” she said. “Maybe that was unfair.”

  Craig looked at his sister. “No. It’s partly true. Maybe mostly true. I’ve spent a lot of time hiding. When I wasn’t running, that is.”

  Craig made an adjustment to the gate and tried the new latch he had installed. “Done,” he said. “Not that a gate keeps out the deer, but at least it looks nice.”

  “I’m sorry I underestimate you, Craig.”

  Craig looked around at his sister again. “Do you? I kind of thought you were the one person who didn’t underestimate me.”

  Tilda smiled. “Let’s just say there’s room for improvement in my attitude.”

  “There’s room for improvement in everyone’s attitude. We’re all just human.”

  �
��Too true.” Tilda kissed her brother on the cheek and turned to go.

  “Where are you off to now?” Craig asked.

  “I’ve got something I need to tend to. Some old business I let slide. I’ll see you later.”

  Tilda went around the house and into the woods where the ruins of the old fairy house were barely visible. She knelt on the ground and began to clear away debris. She had decided that she would reconstruct the old fairy house, and that she would maintain it. Maybe she would even build a second house, and a third. She could create an entire village for the fairies.

  Because who could truly say that fairies didn’t exist? Maybe they could be imagined into existence. People imagined all sorts of things into existence and then sometimes even came to believe that those things had created their creators! Angels and gods, spirits and goblins. And who could say that miracles didn’t happen, or that people didn’t make miracles happen when the universe seemed not to be listening to their pleas?

  Tilda picked up a small, smooth rock. It was gray with a scattering of tiny white lines. She had a vague memory of having found it on the beach, many years ago. She would use it again in this new fairy house. And she would find new materials, too. New materials for a new construction.

  Something was beginning to change. Dennis’s friendship and that first, important kiss; her father’s unexpected romance, and then his illness and recovery; the destruction of Adam’s engagement; Craig’s periods of obvious sadness or depression, which seemed to portend a crisis; Hannah’s struggle with the decision to start a family. Things were in motion. Things had been wrenched up from their places on the ground and tossed into the air and Tilda had no idea where they would all decide to land. She was afraid. She was, she realized, also excited. She went back to work.

  41

  Monday, July 30

  Bill McQueen and Jennifer Fournier had decided to marry without further delay. Well, they would have to wait until Wednesday—there were some preparations that took a bit of time. And, more importantly for the McQueen family, Bill had decided to reveal the contents of his will. The severity of the anxiety attack had frightened him. Life could be snatched away at any moment. Bill wanted his family to be prepared, and he wanted to be happy for his remaining days on earth. Teddy was summoned and was at Larchmere by late morning.