Versions of Her

by Andrea Lochen

Her mom had always nurtured Melanie’s love of science and eschewed toys and activities that she deemed too girly. So instead of a baby doll and a pretend kitchen, Melanie had had a stuffed dolphin and a real microscope. Instead of taking gymnastics like all of the other girls in their neighborhood, she had spent three weeks of every summer backpacking, canoeing, and classifying rocks, plants, and bugs at nature camp. She had always viewed that encouragement as a selfless act of love, but now she couldn’t help wondering if her mom hadn’t also been living vicariously through her, bestowing on Melanie the kind of support she had never received from her own parents in her interests in marine archeology and limnology.

  Am I living the life Mom would have preferred for herself? Researching and teaching in academia, unencumbered by children? She pictured her mom leaning up against the boathouse, smoking and wallowing, while a party unfolded in the lake house and her daughters slept upstairs. Melanie knew she shouldn’t read too much into it—it was, after all, only one moment in her mom’s fifty-five years of life—but it was hard not to let that particular moment fill in so many other blanks, from her mom’s refusal to join them for dessert on the dock to the way she immersed herself in books about lighthouses and the Great Lakes. Clearly she had wanted so much more, and she had denied herself. For better or for worse, she had chosen them instead.

  Melanie stood up and dusted the grains of sand off her legs. She walked into the lake and dove in when the water came up to her ribcage. She swam a ways, dove under again, and opened her eyes to see only a hazy blue with tall seaweed rippling beneath her. Maybe this is the life I’m supposed to have. Maybe I’d be a terrible mom: overprotective, uptight, too nagging. Or maybe, like Mom, I’d simply find myself bored and unfulfilled. Maybe I’m better off devoting myself to my career. She came up for a breath and turned in a slow circle as she treaded water. Once she and Kelsey had said their final goodbyes to their mom and sealed off the time portal for good, once the keys and the mortgage title of the lake house were transferred and she and Ben were back home in Ohio, then she would finally close the chapter on her dreams of motherhood and move on with her life.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The showing came and went. Charlene reported from Mr. and Mrs. Moneybags’ agent that though the couple had loved the property, they hadn’t been too thrilled by the lack of updates in the kitchen and the size of the master bedroom, so she didn’t know if they were serious buyers anymore. Though Melanie knew it was childish, she couldn’t help feeling indignant that they would find any faults with her beloved family home. But she tried not to let it bother her too much, because it was finally the day of the open house.

  Half an hour before the start time, Charlene showed up with two signs to stake into the ground—one on the main road and one at the end of the driveway—two bouquets of delphiniums and zinnias with mason-jar vases, and a tray of pastel-colored French macarons, which she positioned on the kitchen table next to the huge fruit basket Melanie’s dad, true to his word, had sent. She smiled reassuringly at Melanie and Ben then shooed them out of the house. “Feel free to come back at three thirty,” she said. “We should be all wrapped up by then.”

  It was a funny feeling, getting into the truck that Ben had borrowed and simply driving away. It was like planning to host a bridal shower or holiday get-together then not even being invited to stay. Melanie wouldn’t get to see the fruits of her labor. She wouldn’t get to see prospective buyers’ faces light up as they admired the immaculately clean claw-foot tub or hear their oohs and ahs as they stepped onto the wraparound porch and laid eyes on the lake. That being said, she also wouldn’t have to put up with any snarky remarks made about the house, either, so that was a plus.

  Days ago, she and Ben had made a plan to grab a quick bite to eat at a chili place in Arbor Creek then catch a matinee, and even though things still hadn’t fully thawed between them, they stuck to their plan as if in tacit agreement to pretend everything was just fine. Melanie let Ben pick the movie as part of her penance—and because she didn’t particularly care to see any of them—and he chose a comedy about inept CIA agents that she found hard to follow. She didn’t know if it was because the plot was poorly conceived or if it was because she kept zoning out to study Ben’s profile and try to guess what he was thinking. She also couldn’t help wondering how the open house was going, if it was well attended, and if anyone had peeked behind the tapestry, which she had decided to leave in place at the last minute. It had seemed like the less risky of the two options.

  After the movie, which Ben didn’t seem to have enjoyed all that much, either, they stopped at the grocery store to buy some New York strip steaks and a few bottles of wine. Kelsey had related her “dog poop” story over the phone the previous night, and Melanie was pleased to hear that her sister and Josh were dating. Thank God the “someone” Kelsey wanted to invite over for dinner wasn’t Everett. Though Melanie was genuinely happy for her sister’s news, she was also seriously kicking herself for suggesting the post-open-house dinner in the first place.

  How did it ever seem like a good idea to invite the very person who is most dead set against selling the house to celebrate the impending sale? The conversation would be tense, if not downright hostile, and she couldn’t even count on Ben to help defuse the situation. Besides, Melanie knew the dinner was mostly an excuse to Kelsey, anyway, to get back into the portal and leave their mom one final letter—one final letter that could cause major ripples through time, if Kelsey had her way.

  Charlene met them at the door, bursting with enthusiasm. She showed them the sign-in sheet with over twenty names listed and described one family in particular who seemed to be head over heels for the house. The elementary-school-aged son and daughter had adored the turret room and porch swing, and the husband and wife were already talking about what kind of boat to buy. “I wouldn’t be surprised at all to hear good news from their agent tomorrow or even tonight.” She held up her houndstooth-pattern-encased cell phone and gave it a shake. “Keep your phones close.”

  Ben helped Charlene carry a few boxes out to her car, while Melanie considered whether to eat the last pear in the fruit basket or nibble on a leftover pink macaron. She went with the macaron.

  She felt that strange sensation of being unexpectedly let down when something she’d been anticipating for quite a while had finally gone off without a hitch. She peered out the back window and couldn’t help visualizing an unfamiliar boy and girl rocking on the porch swing, the same porch swing that her family had been sitting on for the last one hundred years—all those sunrises, sunsets, and late-night talks, all those glasses of lemonade and cups of coffee and tea, all those books read, and all those Montclare and Kingstad butts. She reached for a lime-green macaron as well.

  THIS is the way I want to remember my family’s lake house—gathered around the candlelit porch table with Ben, Kelsey, and Josh, drinking a glass of cabernet as a lone owl hoots and the clouds and lake turn jewel-bright shades of yellow, pink, and purple. It was just too bad that the picturesque tableau didn’t match the reality. Ben had gone for yet another long run after the open house, barely returning in time to shower and get the charcoal briquettes heating, and certainly not enough time to talk to Melanie about what had happened between them on Harris Beach. He was barely speaking to her unless he had a practical question for her—“Do you want me to grill the potatoes, or should we bake them instead?” And ever since Kelsey had arrived, she had a wild, nervous energy about her, like the crackling atmosphere before a thunderstorm.

  A few minutes before dinner, Melanie had found Kelsey interrogating Ben about blood thinners as he flipped steaks.

  “Do you think if my mom had gotten on Warfarin before she had her PE, she would have survived?” Melanie had heard her ask as she came up to them, carrying glasses of wine. She’d nearly spilled the cabernet all over herself and the porch. Ben and Kelsey had both looked up at her, as if bothered by her sudden intrusion.

  “It’s entirely possible,
” he had said and accepted his wine without comment. “But a doctor would’ve needed to have prescribed it, and from what it sounds like, she wasn’t having any symptoms, right? No shortness of breath, chest pain, cough, leg pain, or swelling? She wouldn’t have known to go to a doctor, unfortunately.”

  “At least no symptoms that she told us about,” Kelsey had replied somberly, avoiding meeting Melanie’s eyes.

  Only Josh was acting like a normal, sociable, non-secretive human being. Melanie liked the crisp button-down shirt he was wearing, the bottle of wine he’d brought—probably much more expensive than the stuff they’d picked up that afternoon—and the way he listened to Kelsey as if she were the smartest, most fascinating person he’d ever come across. Melanie could tell Ben approved, too, as they’d quickly found out they were both die-hard Packers fans and from families of all boys, although Josh was the youngest of four, and Ben was the oldest of three.

  Josh was in the middle of a story about how his brothers had superglued all the flaps on his boxer shorts shut when Melanie’s cell phone vibrated—Charlene. She met Ben’s questioning eyes across the table—he had heard the telltale buzz—and nodded at him in confirmation. Kelsey was the only one still picking at her steak—she had barely eaten three bites of food the whole night—and she didn’t even look up as Melanie pushed her chair back.

  “I’ll be right back,” Melanie said, stepping into the kitchen.

  “Sorry to call so late,” Charlene said, “but as I’m sure you probably already know, I’m calling with good news!” The family of four’s agent had just faxed in an offer, only ten thousand dollars less than asking price. They wanted to close quickly, by the end of July, so they could still enjoy the remaining days of summer. “Oh, and they’re asking if they can purchase some of the furnishings. Let’s see here.” Melanie heard a furious flipping of pages. “The four-poster bed in the master and the tree wall hanging in the second bedroom.”

  “No.” Melanie dug her fingernails into the loose cork on the counter. “Absolutely not.”

  “Okay.” Charlene sounded caught off guard by Melanie’s brusqueness. “No problem. I don’t think it’s a deal breaker. They were just quite taken with both pieces. But I’m sure they’ll understand once I explain how long they’ve been in your family. So how do you feel about the offer? Do you want to talk with your father and sister about it? We have until this time tomorrow night to accept, counter, or decline.”

  When Melanie returned to the porch, they all stopped talking and watched her. Ben looked grave, Kelsey pale and panicky, and Josh totally clueless. It was like they were waiting to hear the results of some major medical test, not good news about a nearly million-dollar sale.

  Melanie’s blood whooshed in her ears. “That was our realtor.” She took a shaky breath and held up her wine glass. “We have our first offer, and it’s a pretty damn good one.”

  She didn’t exactly expect cheers or applause, but she also didn’t expect a thick, volatile silence. Kelsey was the first to break it. “Yay,” she said sarcastically, holding up her nearly empty wine glass. “Let’s hear it for Melanie. For selling our family, our mom especially, down the river. Good for you.”

  Josh’s eyes widened, and he swiveled his head back and forth to take in both sisters. Ben drained his glass in one quick slug.

  “Kelsey.” Melanie wanted to sit back down and hear the rest of Josh’s silly story as the lake swallowed the sun. She wanted to serve the berry parfait and bask briefly in her achievement—even if no one else apparently viewed it that way—that she had fulfilled her goal and could strive to find a new normal. She wanted to touch Ben’s knee under the table and have him squeeze her hand and for everything to be magically all right between them again.

  But a jagged crack that had existed between her and her sister for a long time was bursting open and widening, threatening to obliterate what was left of the thin pretense that they were still having a nice dinner party. She tried desperately to plaster over it, to salvage the night, at least for Josh’s sake. “Don’t be so melodramatic,” she said, trying to keep her tone light and teasing. “You know I’m trying to do what Mom would have wanted but also what’s most sensible for you and me. But I haven’t agreed to anything yet. We have twenty-four hours to decide what we want to do. So let’s just talk about this together later, okay?”

  The whites of Kelsey’s eyes flashed as if she were a horse about to bolt. “You keep saying that, but whenever we talk about it, you’re the only one who seems to do the talking.”

  Melanie silently appealed to Ben to intervene, to crack a joke to lighten the mood or say anything, really, but he was cutting a fatty strip of steak into teeny-tiny pieces, refusing to look up at her. He probably thought she was getting what she deserved. He had warned her after all.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said, slipping into her conciliatory-professor mode. She’d learned a thing or two over the years, dealing with confrontational undergrads trying to dispute their grades. “Should we go inside and talk about it? Or rather, you can talk, and I’ll just listen?”

  “We can go inside,” Josh offered, the legs of his chair scraping the floor.

  “No, you guys stay out here and enjoy the night,” Kelsey said. “We’ll go inside.” She sounded vaguely threatening. Sprocket seemed torn between the men at the table with the food and his two favorite women. Kelsey whistled for him, and his choice was made. He dashed inside, clearly feeling more like his old self, the shaved front paw where the IV had been the only indication he’d been sick at all.

  “We won’t be gone long,” Melanie called over her shoulder, hoping it was the truth. “Feel free to dig into the berry parfait.” She was surprised to see that Kelsey was striding right through the kitchen and heading for the stairs. Melanie hurried to follow her. She and Ben had since taken over her parents’ bedroom with its larger bed, and since Kelsey had planned to sleep overnight, Melanie had made up her own old bed with fresh sheets. She wondered if Kelsey would still stay after all of this was said and done.

  But Kelsey didn’t head for either of the bedrooms. She stomped to the turret room and thrust her arm out in the direction of the window seat like a pissed-off tour guide. “This is where I had my first kiss.”

  “Really?” That was news to Melanie. “With whom?”

  Kelsey let a small smirk crack her otherwise stony face. “Stephen. We were eight, and he told me he wanted to marry me. I said sure, as long as he let me have his Creepy Crawlers.”

  “I always thought he had a thing for you,” Melanie mused.

  The smirk faded, and Kelsey turned on her heel and marched to the shared bathroom. “This is where I lost my first tooth. Do you remember? I was brushing my teeth, and it popped right out and got rinsed down the drain. I sobbed that the tooth fairy wasn’t going to bring me anything until Dad practically took the sink apart to look for it. No luck, of course. Poor Dad. Then Mom had the brilliant idea of writing a letter explaining what had happened and putting that under my pillow instead. And it worked. The tooth fairy brought me a crisp five-dollar bill.”

  “I get what you’re doing, Kels,” Melanie said. “And believe it or not, I have a lot of good memories of this place too. Do you remember the night Mom brought out her old record player and albums and the three of us sang along to ‘I Got You Babe’? But just because we sell the house doesn’t mean we lose the memories.”

  “I know that. But it’s not just our memories, Melanie, and it’s like the house remembers them all. Otherwise, how can you explain the time portal?” She held up her palm quickly as if she didn’t really want Melanie to answer. “This house is our legacy. It’s the one thing we have left of our family.”

  Melanie realized she had her arms folded tightly across her chest, so she tried to relax her posture. “That’s not true. We have a lot more keepsakes than most people do—quilts and furniture and photo albums. Grandma Dot’s wedding china.” If anything, they had too many keepsakes. When their g
randma had passed away two years ago, she had bequeathed four large boxes of mementos to Melanie and Kelsey, but Melanie was the one holding on to them because she and Ben had more storage space in their house.

  “I don’t care about the quilts and teacups.” Kelsey stormed into Melanie’s old bedroom and smoothed her hand over the pinwheel quilt as if to prove her point. She frowned. “Okay, so maybe I do. They’re beautiful. But they don’t compare to this.” She motioned to the hidden door. “Mom is in there. Do you really want to leave her?”

  Melanie almost couldn’t speak. She remembered the way she and her sister had lain on the couch together, side by side, head to feet, under the same blanket, the day after their mom’s death. Kelsey had kept repeating, “I shouldn’t have left her. Why did I leave her?” and Melanie had tried to persuade her that it was such a freak occurrence, there was no way Kelsey could have known what was going to happen, and nothing would have been different even if she hadn’t left for her hair appointment, even though Melanie wasn’t sure she believed that. Of course it wasn’t Kelsey’s fault, by any means, but if someone had been there sooner, heard her fall, called 911 immediately...

  “That’s not really Mom in there,” Melanie said. “You understand that, right? It’s just a shadow of her, like the negatives of a movie reel. She’s not alive, Kels. It’s just the memories she left behind.”

  “Of course I know she’s not really alive. But she’s not just a shadow either. How can you even say that after interacting with her? She’s still capable of thinking and feeling, reading and writing, and most importantly, changing.” Kelsey furiously pushed a loose curl out of her eyes. “You’re just trying to distance yourself and put an end to all of this because you don’t like what you’ve seen in there. You’d rather hold on to your version of Mom because it’s easier and safer. I think that’s what’s making you so relentless about selling the house. I know you came here specifically to put it on the market, and I went along with you blindly, like I do with everything, but when we found the time portal, I thought things would change. They did for me, anyway. But you only seemed to become even more obsessed with selling it.”