All Our Summers

by Holly Chamberlin

  At least Judith seemed to have had a good time. But Carol wasn’t Judith’s sister. And it didn’t matter to Judith what happened to Ferndean House, not like it mattered to Bonnie.

  Bonnie turned on her left side and put her hand on the empty pillow. “Good night, Ken,” she whispered. “I miss you so very much.”

  Chapter 46

  For days after the dinner party she had hosted, Carol had not heard from anyone but Judith. None of the others had written a thank-you note or sent a thank-you e-mail. That wasn’t forgetfulness. That was rudeness.

  So, when Judith called one morning and suggested that the three cousins meet for coffee that afternoon, Carol’s first impulse was to say an emphatic no. But she considered the idea for a moment in relation to her goals—the sole ownership of Ferndean and the reestablishment of a decent relationship with her family—and agreed.

  “Good,” Judith had said. “And we will not talk about Ferndean. We will simply be three women of a certain age sharing a cup of coffee and chitchat. And hopefully, the air will be somewhat cleared.”

  “Why are you still doing this?” Carol asked. “Acting as peacemaker. You saw what a disaster my party turned out to be.”

  “Family harmony,” Judith said after a moment. “Contention makes me ill.”

  So, there they were. Bonnie, Carol, and Judith, sitting around a table in a corner of a coffee shop Judith had chosen. Bonnie was visibly tense. Carol didn’t feel very relaxed, either. Judith seemed her even self.

  “You’ve been spotted,” Judith stage-whispered when they had been seated only a moment or two with their cups of steaming coffee.

  Carol had to control a cry of surprise. The woman who was approaching their table had to be in her late eighties, but she was as keen-eyed and as straight-backed as she had been when she taught math to the Ascher sisters when they were children.

  “Mrs. O’Keefe!” Bonnie cried. “It’s so good to see you. Won’t you have a seat?”

  Mrs. O’Keefe shook her head. “Just on my way out,” she said in the same clipped way Carol remembered so well. “Just saw the young Ascher girls and didn’t want to miss the opportunity to say hello. Haven’t seen you two together in forty some odd years. Hello, Judith. Well, time passes, doesn’t it? Good day.”

  She was gone before Carol finally found her voice. “Time doesn’t seem to pass for her!” she said. “She’s hardly aged. Is there a fountain of youth on her property?”

  “Good, clean living,” Bonnie said with a firm nod.

  “Never a fan,” Judith murmured.

  “The young Ascher girls. How is it I now feel much older than I did this morning?”

  “Well, I certainly don’t.”

  Bonnie’s tone struck Carol as smug. “Good for you,” she said with a false smile. “Tell me, though, when was the first time you realized that the world saw you as old?”

  “What are you talking about?” Bonnie demanded. “The world, whoever that is, doesn’t see me as old.”

  “Maybe you just haven’t noticed,” Carol suggested. “Or maybe you chose to interpret the nice young man’s letting you go ahead of him on line at the post office as a gentlemanly gesture rather than as an act of pity performed for an old lady who reminds him of his grandmother.”

  Judith laughed.

  “I’m younger than the both of you,” Bonnie pointed out.

  Carol nodded. “True. But when was the last time a man flirted with you?”

  Bonnie opened her mouth and then closed it. “Well, there was always Ken,” she said.

  “He wasn’t glued to your side twenty-four/seven, was he?” Judith said. “And since when has a wedding ring ever prevented a man from chatting up a woman he finds attractive?”

  “It’s been a while,” Bonnie admitted. “But I didn’t care then and I certainly don’t care now.”

  Carol thought the lady protested too much, but she let it go.

  “Did you face discrimination in your career as you aged?” Judith asked Carol.

  Carol thought for a moment before replying to her cousin’s question. “I did lose a few clients over time, but I can’t say it was due to my age as much as it was due to people wanting a fresh perspective. I’ve done quite a range of interiors, but I’m not the only one out there. There’s always a new crop of talent coming along, a new social set darling to watch out for. But my business didn’t suffer. There are always people—maybe not as many as there used to be—who remain loyal to their tastes and the people who help them achieve the right results.”

  “What about you, Judith?” Bonnie asked.

  Judith shook her head. “When I announced my intention of retiring, Dr. Rowan was stunned. He begged me to stay on as office manager for another year or two, but I was done. I enjoyed my time at the practice, but I’d had enough. Now, every time I run into Dr. Rowan he tells me that as good as my replacement is, he wished he could have found another ‘mature’ person to take over the job. Worth ethic seems to be lacking in people under thirty-five, if he’s to be believed.”

  “So, what do you do with yourself since you retired?” Carol asked.

  “A million things. I don’t know how I ever had time to hold down a job! Now I can read as much as I like and take a nap in the middle of the afternoon and spend hours tinkering in my garden. I can stay out late on a weeknight and not have to worry about being bright-eyed and bushy-tailed the next morning.”

  “Where do you go on these late nights?” Carol asked.

  “Depends on the day of the week,” Judith replied. “Mondays it’s poker with the girls. We take turns hosting. Every Wednesday I meet up with an old friend for drinks at our favorite pub, and to win at Quiz Night. Which we mostly do. There are movies and lectures at the library and the college, and concerts at the churches. I keep busy.”

  “So, are you interested in meeting someone special?” Carol asked. It had been a while since Judith had ended a ten-year relationship with her partner, someone who had been found guilty of unspecified bad behavior. Carol assumed it had been cheating, but for all she really knew it could have been passing bad checks.

  Judith laughed. “I’d say we’re all interested in meeting someone special. Who would want to meet someone ordinary? But I know what you mean and sure, why not? But I’m not going out of my way looking for her!”

  “What about your social life?” Carol asked her sister. “Apart from your family.”

  Bonnie folded her hands in her lap. “Ken and I spent so much of our time together,” she said after a moment. “We were each other’s best friend. We didn’t ever have many other friends, and the ones we did have either moved away or died or there was some silly falling out. It’s difficult getting used to Ken’s not being here. It’s . . .” Bonnie shook her head and took a crumpled white tissue from the pocket of her sweater.

  Judith reached over and patted Bonnie’s arm. “There, there,” she said. “Let it out.”

  Carol lowered her eyes. The sight of her sister crying made her feel uncomfortable. Helpless. She should never have asked about Bonnie’s social life. Contrary to what some people thought of her, she was not heartless, if at times she was unwittingly callous.

  “And you?” Judith asked Carol when Bonnie had recovered her composure. “What’s your love life been like for these past few decades? I’m assuming there were a few gentlemen callers, even if you did choose the father of your child from a catalog.”

  Carol was not offended. Judith was refreshingly blunt. “Men come and go,” she said lightly. “Rather, they came and went.”

  “But was there anyone who made a difference?” Judith pursued.

  “Yes,” Bonnie added. “Did anyone ever love you?”

  Carol hid her annoyance at this unpleasant phrasing. She laughed lightly. “I’m afraid I’m taking the secrets of my romantic life to the grave.”

  “Wise,” Judith said, “I wish I had been so smart. There are still a couple of wild stories running about regarding the exploits of my youn
ger years.”

  Bonnie’s eyes widened. “There are? I never heard them.”

  “People probably wouldn’t have told you,” Carol said.

  “Why not?” Bonnie demanded.

  “Carol is implying that you’re easily shocked,” Judith explained. “You’ve only had one man in your life. Your sexual experience is limited compared to those of us who have had several partners. Ow!” Judith’s eyes were wide as she put her hand to her shoulder. “Sorry. An old injury acting up. That’s what I get for being a rough-and-tumble kid.”

  “I remember the time you landed flat on your back after jumping out of a tree,” Carol said.

  Judith cringed. “I was seriously lucky that time. I could have been paralyzed.”

  “You know what?” Carol said. “I just remembered something that happened to Bonnie and me when we were about eight and eleven. We were out on our bikes. Mom had told us not to go beyond the end of the road. She didn’t want us coming into contact with the traffic out on the main road.”

  “I remember this,” Bonnie said briskly.

  “Maybe I spaced,” Carol went on, “but the next thing you know we were well beyond the end of our road when suddenly I heard Bonnie cry out and I turned just in time to see her flying over the handlebars!”

  “It all happened so fast,” Bonnie said to Judith.

  “This being way before anyone wore a helmet or carried a cell phone, I was in a total panic,” Carol went on. “I dropped my bike and ran back to Bonnie. There was a cut on her forehead and it was bleeding, which made me feel sick, but I took off my windbreaker and tied it around her head and pretty much dragged her back to the house.”

  “I think I must have blacked out,” Bonnie said. “The next thing I remember was Mom driving me to the hospital.”

  “I went with them,” Carol said. “The cut wasn’t bad after all, it didn’t even require stitches, but I remember crying for what seemed like hours. I couldn’t seem to stop.”

  “But you didn’t get punished for putting my life at risk,” Bonnie stated.

  “Mom and Dad gave me a stern talking-to,” Carol corrected. “And believe me, my conscience punished me enough.”

  “I think you’re misremembering,” Bonnie said irritably. “Mom and Dad never scolded you for anything. They let you get away with whatever it was you wanted to do.”

  “That’s simply not true,” Carol argued.

  Judith cleared her throat. “I feel the need to interject at this juncture. I remember the entire episode. My mother and I were at Ferndean when Carol came staggering in, bearing the bloody body. Sorry. Couldn’t resist a little melodrama.”

  “You were there?” Bonnie asked with a frown.

  Carol shook her head. “I don’t remember you and Aunt Mary being there at all.”

  “I was. I’m not surprised neither of you remember. You were both pretty shaken up. Anyway, I distinctly remember Aunt Shirley saying, “I told Bonnie not to go beyond the end of the road!” She scolded Carol, too, for not doing her duty as big sister, but the fact is that both of you were at fault, if it can be said that a kid is at fault in such a situation.”

  “It could have been so much worse,” Carol said musingly.

  Bonnie frowned. “I had to wear a cast on my arm!”

  “It was a sling to support a sprained wrist,” Judith corrected.

  “If what Judith said is true,” Bonnie said after a moment, a look of contrition on her face that surprised Carol, “neither of us was to blame in the end. We were kids. We were caught up in having a good time. And accidents happen.”

  “Yes,” Carol said. “They do. But you know what? I was the older sibling. I should have been looking out for you. So, if I didn’t apologize back then, I’m doing it now.”

  “Thank you,” Bonnie said. “I mean . . . Thanks.”

  “Another coffee?” Judith suggested.

  But Bonnie had an unspecified errand to run and Carol, while rather glad that Judith had arranged the morning’s get-together, was eager to leave on a peaceable note.

  Imagine running into Mrs. O’Keefe, Carol thought as she turned her car toward Ferndean. She had pretty much forgotten about her former math teacher, as she had pretty much forgotten so much of her childhood in Yorktide. Being here now was like trying to walk through a dense forest without stepping on roots and fallen branches. Memories were everywhere, underfoot, overhead, around every corner.

  At the moment, Carol was not sure just how she felt about this. Pleased. Horrified.

  Maybe something in between.

  Chapter 47

  Judith had never been to Nicola’s apartment before and though Nicola wanted to make a good impression on her relative, there was little she could do about the sparse furnishings and the rattling of the ill-fitting windows every time someone in the building shut a door.

  There was a knock on her own door and Nicola opened it to find Judith, her hand over her heart, and breathing heavily. “Next time,” she panted, “you might want to arrange a hydraulic lift to get me up here.”

  “Sorry,” Nicola said. “I should have suggested we meet somewhere else.”

  Judith stepped inside and waved her hand dismissively. “I’m exaggerating. Anyway, I could use the exercise.” She looked around the space, from the tiny kitchen to the Batik cloth hung over the doorway to the miniscule bedroom, from the plastic milk crates containing books and magazines, to the worn couch whose upholstery pattern dated it to the 1970s. “I’d say nice place you’ve got here, but . . .”

  Nicola shrugged. “It’s cheap.”

  Judith lifted the corner of the piece of brightly patterned fabric that Nicola had nailed over the kitchen window as a curtain. “You clearly didn’t inherit your mother’s decorating skills,” she said.

  “I know. At least the place is clean.”

  “Clean goes a long way,” Judith admitted.

  “Would you like tea?” Nicola asked.

  “Sure,” Judith said. “As long as it’s not Earl Grey. Makes me nauseous.”

  “It’s not a name brand,” Nicola explained. “But it’s basic black tea and pretty strong.”

  Judith nodded in approval.

  Nicola went about her task. The mismatched mugs were from a local thrift shop; she had bought a box of sugar cookies at Reny’s for sixty-five cents. The milk would have to be poured from its plastic container as Nicola had no pitcher. The sugar was in a tea cup with no handle. No one could say that Nicola Ascher was a spendthrift.

  When they were seated at the rickety folding table that served as Nicola’s dining table and desk, and Judith had piled four sugar cookies next to her mug, Nicola wasted no time in posing the question that had been uppermost in her mind for the past twenty-four hours.

  “What was Aunt Bonnie’s wedding like?” she asked. “You see, I know that my mother dated Ken before he started to see Bonnie.”

  “That’s never been a secret,” Judith replied. “And what do you mean, what was the wedding like? One wedding is pretty much like another when you come down to it. A bunch of people dressed in their finest, toasting to a happy couple—or a couple pretending to be happy—eating mediocre food and drinking lousy champagne.”

  “But my mother was there,” Nicola went on, ignoring Judith’s jaded comments. “Did she cause trouble?”

  Judith laughed. “Of course not. The thing you shouldn’t forget, Nicola, is that your mother had never been in love with Ken. She dated him briefly. They broke up. End of story. Your mother was a model guest at Bonnie’s wedding, not the maid of honor, though it’s not entirely unheard of in a small town for a boy to date two sisters in turn or a girl to date two brothers. In any generation, the pool of eligible dating partners is pretty small.”

  “I guess,” Nicola said.

  “The truth is that once Carol had gone to New York and your aunt got together with your uncle, no one really cared that Carol and Ken had been an item for a time. The only one who continued to care about that relationship
was Bonnie.”

  Nicola frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Ever since Carol left Yorktide,” Judith went on, “Bonnie has been comparing herself to her sister, coming up short in one department or declaring a moral victory in another. She can’t seem to live and let live. And if recent behavior is anything to go on, time doesn’t seem to have lessened her desire for comparison and criticism.”

  “But I thought Ken broke up with my mother,” Nicola said musingly. “Wouldn’t that have made a difference to Bonnie? Made her feel, I don’t know, secure?”

  Judith shrugged. “It probably should have. Anyway, I was never sure who ended that relationship but as it wasn’t meant to be, what does it matter?”

  “Do you think Uncle Ken ever slept with my mother?” Nicola asked suddenly. “You know, had sex with her.”

  Judith raised an eyebrow. “I do know what ‘sleeping with’ means. And how should I know if they had sex? Probably. It’s what wild and crazy teens do and remember, it was the nineteen seventies, smack in the middle of the counterculture revolution. Even here in Maine people had heard of so-called free love and boys with long hair and girls who’d burned their bras.”

  Nicola took a sip of the strong tea. She would have to process what Judith had told her about her aunt Bonnie’s constantly comparing herself to Carol. Was that really true, or was it only Judith’s take on her cousin’s state of mind these past forty years? Suddenly, Nicola experienced a twitchy sense of guilt. She wondered how much of her own harsh attitude toward her mother had been influenced by her aunt’s unhappiness. She wondered if Bonnie was aware that her own prejudices toward Carol Ascher might have affected Nicola’s attitude toward the woman who had given birth to her.

  “Mmmm,” Judith said, calling Nicola back to the moment. “Gotta love me a sugar cookie.”

  Nicola smiled. “How was it for you, dating in Yorktide?” she asked. “I mean, in the sixties and seventies being gay wasn’t really considered okay, was it?”

  “No,” Judith agreed. “But I was lucky. Any girl I was seen hanging out with was euphemistically called my special friend. I never actually came out because I didn’t have to. As people left me to myself, I simply didn’t care to make a fuss. That sort of attitude didn’t make me particularly popular with the politicized gay community—back then or today—but I’ve always believed to each her own.”