Jake held a hand out to Ben. “Thanks for having me. I really appreciate it.” But Ben didn’t take it.
He glanced at Olivia over the roof of the car. “It’s what Olivia wanted. We’ll make do.”
The screen door squeaked on the front porch, and Marge sailed down the steps with Buster. But her greeting was also somewhat chilly. “You’re here,” she said. “Well, let’s get you settled.” Olivia glanced uneasily at Jake. This was not what she’d expected. When she’d asked them about Jake coming to stay, they’d seemed fine with it. Gracious, even. But this was not at all like them.
Ben grabbed Jake’s duffel bag from the backseat of the car. “Oh, please let me get that,” Olivia said, hurrying after him. But he was already tottering down the stone pathway to her cottage. Marge motioned for them to follow. Unsure what else to do, Olivia took Luci’s hand and gestured for Jake to go ahead on his crutches.
As soon as they all arrived at the front stoop, Marge and Ben halted, blocking the door. “Say, we were wondering, could we borrow Luci for dinner?” Ben asked.
Luci, who seemed unsurprised by this, let go of Olivia’s hand and ducked beside Marge.
Olivia eyed the three of them, suspiciously. “Now?”
Ben nodded. “We got some fresh watermelon from the farmer’s market today.”
Olivia didn’t know what to make of the invitation. Marge and Ben were acting strangely, and this transition with Jake was already filled with uncertainty enough. But Luci seemed eager to go with them. “We’ll bring her back after dessert,” Marge added.
Before Olivia could object, Ben set the duffel bag down and the three of them turned back down the path toward the big house.
“What was that all about?” Jake whispered.
When she opened the door, Olivia understood. From inside the cottage came the glow of candlelight. She held the screen door ajar for Jake, and a waft of summer hydrangea met them on the threshold. The table by the big window was set with a vintage blue-and-white tablecloth Olivia recognized from one of Marge’s dinner parties, and bright red cloth napkins. Candles flickered on the hearth of the fireplace, and on the small kitchen island. “Those liars.”
She followed Jake inside and spun around, taking it all in.
The candlesticks. The bowl of salad, the fresh corn. The still-steaming platter of barbecued chicken in the center of the table.
“Baby, this is something else.” Jake made his way over to her on his crutches and stopped, his nose just shy of hers. As she met his eyes, Perry’s words came back to her: “He will disappoint you.”
Olivia pushed the memory away, and pressed her forehead to Jake’s. “Welcome home,” she said.
Emma
The morning of Amanda Hastings’s party, Emma’s mother thought it would be a good idea if they went to visit Luci and Olivia. Normally Emma would’ve agreed. Olivia was cool. Cool in a way that none of the adults she knew could ever be, even Uncle Jake. Olivia had lived in the city. She was an artist. But more than that, she understood teenagers. Even though they hadn’t spent a ton of time together, Emma could tell. Like when Olivia asked about her friends, and Emma confided in her about Alicia being clingy but how she felt bound to her from their long childhood friendship. Olivia didn’t judge or tell her to be patient with Alicia, like her mother did. Or remind her that Alicia was an honors student and a good influence, like her father did. Olivia nodded quietly and said, “Yeah, I had a few friends like that. What you need is to surround yourself with people who give back the energy you give to them. You know, the good stuff.” Like Sully McMahon. When she was near Sully, Emma felt alive. When he tipped his head back and laughed at something stupid she said, it did something to her. It’s like for the first time since high school started, she wasn’t invisible anymore. Sully saw her.
* * *
When they turned into Olivia’s driveway, Emma realized she’d been bracing herself. The whole ride there she’d felt carsick. But as soon as they pulled up to the big white farmhouse and the red barn, her spirits lifted a little. The barn door slid open and there stood Olivia, in a clay-stained apron with her hair pulled back in a red bandana.
Olivia’s hands were wet and sticky, but she held her arms out wide. “You’re here! Come in!” Then, “Yikes, don’t let me get you all messy.” But Emma was suddenly so happy, she stepped into her arms anyway.
Emma’s heart sank a bit when Olivia told them Jake wasn’t there. “He’s at rehab, and Jane won’t be driving him home for another hour or so. He’ll be sorry you missed him!” Emma hadn’t thought about that detail. Poor Uncle Jake; he couldn’t even drive himself around.
“That’s all right,” Amelia said. “We really came to see you and Luci.”
Emma sensed that her mother was somehow relieved. Did she blame Jake for the accident, like her father did?
Emma hadn’t heard a thing from her uncle since the text in the hospital, and she was aching to see him. Not just to see how he was, but to let him know it was all right. That she was all right, and he needn’t worry.
“Let me give you a tour,” Olivia offered.
A clay-splattered art studio was hardly her mother’s thing, but Emma was pleased to see her mother was wowed, too. “Olivia, this is incredible.”
The inside of the old horse barn had been redone as a studio. The ceilings were high and vaulted. “That’s the old hayloft,” Olivia said. “That’s where the office is now.” She made quotation marks around “office” with her stained fingers. “And this little area, over here, is sort of mine. Jake and Ben set it up for me.”
They followed her to the nearest corner, directly below the loft. Crowded workbenches ran along the adjoining walls, but there on the table, under an overhead lamp, was a slick earthen sculpture. “It’s a little something I’ve been working on,” Olivia explained shyly. “Though I haven’t been able to get in here much lately.”
Amelia gasped. “And here we are interrupting!”
“Oh no,” Olivia said. “I’m glad for the distraction. I was getting frustrated and about to quit for lunch anyway.” She went over to a trough sink and flipped the tap with her elbow. Emma watched as she scrubbed her hands. There was something so satisfying about the space: the light, the clay material, the sound of the rushing water. Olivia looked like her happiest self in the midst of it.
“May we ask what Mr. Rothschild is working on?”
Emma followed her mother’s gaze to the largest worktable in the center of the barn. Beneath a white canvas tarp was some kind of statue, which made Emma think of a magician. There was a metal chair in front of it, and Emma pictured Mr. Rothschild seated before the statue, contemplating his next move. All around the tarped sculpture were smaller tables and benches, littered with tools. A plastic bucket of murky water. And dozens of torn white cloths, stained and crumpled on each surface. It looked like a creative mess.
“I’m afraid I can’t show anyone yet,” Olivia said, apologetically. “It’s part of his upcoming exhibit. But I can assure you, it’s brilliant.”
Emma’s mother looked disappointed, but Emma was glad she didn’t press. She could do that sometimes.
“We brought something for Luci,” Amelia said, swiftly switching the subject. Emma held up a floral gift bag, and Olivia clapped her hands together.
“How sweet! Please, follow me to the cottage. Hopefully she’s reading.”
But Luci must have sensed their arrival, because as soon as they left the barn, she was already trotting down the walkway toward them, Buster on her heels. He woofed loudly. “You missed your chance, buddy,” Olivia told him. “So much for guard dog.”
Emma bent to ruffle Buster’s ears, and he licked her face. She waited for Luci to approach her. “Hi, Luci,” she said, softly. Emma feared that seeing her would bring back bad memories for Luci.
To her relief, Luci smiled. Emma held out the gift bag. “I brought you a treat. I wanted to see how you were feeling.”
Luci motioned them toward the f
ront door and skipped ahead. “She’s still not talking,” Olivia confided, as soon as she was out of earshot.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Amelia offered. “Maybe given more time.”
Emma didn’t say anything, because her stomach flip-flopped. She didn’t like to see Olivia looking so pained. But worse, she didn’t like to hear that about Luci. Emma understood what had happened that day on the boat. Even though it was still raw, she was old enough and experienced enough on the water to know the danger was over. But even still, the memory woke her up at night, finding her in her sleep and causing her to sit bolt upright, soaked in sweat. She couldn’t imagine what it was doing to a five-year-old.
Luckily, Luci seemed pleased to see them. She showed Emma her room, and Olivia made them all tea. When Amelia glanced at her watch and announced it was time to go, Emma was almost sorry the visit had ended so fast. She followed Olivia outside while her mother ducked into the powder room.
As they waited on the porch, Olivia reached for Emma’s hand. “Jake feels awful about the accident. You know that, don’t you?”
Emma blinked. Here was Olivia, whose own daughter had a broken arm and had now stopped talking altogether, and yet she was trying to make Emma feel better. As if, by extension, Olivia were somehow responsible, too. A terrible thought occurred to Emma at that moment: What if Olivia left Jake? She was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Emma had never seen her uncle so settled, so normal. So happy.
“It wasn’t his fault,” Emma said, quickly.
Her mother, however, had caught up to them. “It’s why we call them accidents.”
“But the boat,” Olivia began. “And the neighbor’s dock.” She put a hand to her forehead.
Amelia spoke firmly. “Things that can be replaced. At least our girls are going to be okay.” Her mother gave Olivia a hug, and Emma swore she could feel something pass between them. As if both were relieved of some invisible burden.
They were walking down the path when there was the crunch of gravel in the driveway. Jane’s Volvo station wagon pulled up to the barn. “Oh good! He’s back,” Olivia exclaimed.
It was what Emma had been waiting for, and yet a wash of nervous energy ran through her.
Olivia grabbed her hand. “Come on! He’ll be thrilled to see you.”
Emma wasn’t so sure, but she allowed Olivia’s excitement to propel them both down the walkway. Jane was holding the passenger door open and Jake had just balanced himself on his crutches when he lifted his gaze and saw them. His eyes went straight to Emma’s.
“Look who’s here!” Olivia blurted out. Jane grinned. Emma hesitated; couldn’t any of them see how hard this was? She cleared her throat.
“Hi, Uncle Jake.”
He didn’t answer at first, but stood there taking her in. Emma tried to read his expression.
“Come here,” he said, finally.
Slowly, Emma walked around the car. It wasn’t until she was right in front of him that she understood. Jake let one of his crutches fall to the ground with a clatter, and while balancing on the other he held his free arm out. Emma didn’t hesitate. She pressed herself against him, wrapping both arms around his neck.
“God, I wanted to see you,” he whispered in her hair. “Finally.”
Emma couldn’t speak. The lump in her throat was too big.
“What perfect timing!” Jane said. But Emma wasn’t so sure. She turned her gaze toward her mother, fresh worry blooming in her chest.
“Jake,” Amelia said. Emma turned, noting the cool tone in her mother’s voice. But there was genuine warmth in her expression, much to her relief. “You look good.”
Jake laughed. “What’s left of me.”
As they made small talk in the driveway, Emma couldn’t keep her eyes off of her uncle. He looked like he’d lost weight. Gone was the flush of color in his cheeks, the deep rumble in his laugh. She hated the change.
“Baby, you must be tired,” Olivia said, suddenly. She and Jane both extended their arms at the same time, then caught themselves.
“All this mothering,” Jake joked. “I’m fine, but I am sore. I should probably head inside.”
“Yes, we should go,” Amelia agreed.
Hugs were exchanged and everyone agreed it was time to get going, though Emma could tell it was awkward.
Jake caught her eye as the women said their goodbyes. “Hey,” he said, as she went to hug him one last time. “About the accident…”
Emma stepped back, about to interrupt, but the look in his eyes stopped her.
“Look around,” he told her, in a firm whisper. Emma glanced over her shoulder at her family, then back to Jake.
“This,” he said, nodding his chin at the group of women behind them. “This is what it’s all about now.”
“But Uncle Jake,” she began.
“No, Em. Everyone is okay. That’s all that matters.” He leaned in close, his eyes watery with emotion. “Do you understand?”
Emma bit her lip. “I think so.”
On the way home, Emma said, “I want Dad to talk to Uncle Jake.” She was tired of it. Every time she brought up his name, her parents got this worried look. Or made excuses to avoid him. First, they wanted her to recover. Then, they claimed he needed time to heal. But now he was in a rehabilitation facility, and Emma knew for a fact that other family members had visited him, if not her own parents. He was her uncle and they’d been through something awful together.
Her mother flicked her hair behind her ear and focused on the road. “I know you do,” she said. “But your father is upset with Uncle Jake right now. And he’s been worried that seeing your uncle might upset you.”
“Well, now I have!” Emma barked.
Her mother shot her a look of surprise. “I didn’t realize you felt so strongly. Let me talk to your father.”
Emma slumped down in the seat. Jake was many things, but most of all he was loyal. Her family had to realize it wasn’t his fault. After all, Olivia had trusted both of them to take Luci out in the boat. Emma was the one who’d helped her put on the tiny little life jacket. It was Emma’s lap she’d been sitting on as they headed out into the center of the lake. And after seeing Luci today, she knew that every time Uncle Jake looked at Luci’s broken arm, he, too, probably felt the same wave of remorse. Remorse in the form of a pink cast.
By the time the party rolled around, Emma had almost decided against going. Her dad had come home from work all hopeful looking, and asked her, once again, to play Ping-Pong. It had been years since they’d last played, and yet there he was asking, just like he had the other night when Alicia came over. The same night he’d acted all weird and nostalgic, as if she and Alicia would want to stay up watching Disney movies in their matching pink sleeping bags, like they used to. She felt bad for him; almost bad enough to stay home. But then she thought of Sully.
So she’d made up a story for her parents about meeting camp counselors at the Club—which wasn’t exactly a lie. After all, she was hanging out with people from camp. What worried her far more than her parents finding out was what Amanda would say. She’d invited them. The problem was that Alicia’s brother, Chet, wasn’t with them.
Emma had begged Alicia, who in turn had begged Chet. According to Alicia, he wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea, but hanging around with high school kids wasn’t at the top of his list, and besides, he had plans to meet up with some friends at an outdoor concert. “He said he’ll stop by after the show,” Alicia reported back to Emma.
“After the show? When, like two o’clock in the morning?”
Alicia shrugged. “What do you want me to do? He said he’ll try.”
Emma was tempted to stay home. She wasn’t stupid—the only reason they got the invite to begin with was because Amanda had hoped they’d bring Chet. But this was important. If Emma could produce Chet, Amanda would see her in a different light. Then, she might actually give Emma a chance to get to know her. The next time she had a party, Emma might be invi
ted because she was Emma. Not because she was Emma whose friend was the sister of Chet. “Just text him and remind him,” Emma told Alicia. “Every hour if you have to.”
When they got to the party, to her relief Amanda wasn’t even around. They walked around the back of the house, where music was blaring from the deck. Even in the growing darkness, Emma could see it was teeming with kids.
Almost immediately Emma spied Kyle and Sully, but when she waved, neither seemed to notice.
“What do we do?” Alicia asked. “Should we go find Amanda?”
“No!” Emma pulled her over to a corner of the deck. “Let’s just chill here a minute.”
Most of the kids held plastic cups and were standing around, talking in small groups. Across the deck Emma spied a keg set up by Mr. Hastings’s outdoor bar. A senior, Mike Atwood, was standing behind it like he owned it.
“Want a beer?” Emma asked.
Alicia shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe later.” She glanced around the deck uncomfortably. “It’s so loud.”
Emma deflated. She’d been counting on Alicia to hang out and have some fun, but now she was beginning to wonder if bringing her along was a bad idea.
“You’re here.”
When Emma spun around, she found herself face-to-face with Sully. “I am. I mean, we are.” Emma nodded toward Alicia. She prayed Alicia wouldn’t say anything embarrassing.
“Want a beer?” Before either girl could answer, Sully headed for the bar.
Mike Atwood would never know who Emma or Alicia were, but he tipped his chin amiably at Sully. “What’s up, man?”
“Hey. Got any beers back there?”
Sully passed two cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon back to Emma and Alicia. Emma cracked hers open and took a deep sip. Alicia did the same and made a face.
“What?” Emma asked irritably. She really did not want Alicia to ruin this for them.
Alicia frowned. “It tastes like crap.”
Sully smirked. “Yeah. Drink more and it won’t.”
The View from Here Page 25
