All Our Summers

by Holly Chamberlin

  Chapter 119

  “My father and I talked again on FaceTime. We get along so well. I guess on some level we’ve always known each other. Does that make sense?”

  Nicola was sitting at one end of the uncomfortable couch in Ferndean’s living room. Her mother was sitting at the other end. Every other moment, one or the other of them would grimace and shift.

  “Yes,” her mother said in answer to Nicola’s question. “I believe it does.”

  “You don’t happen to have a picture of the two of you together, do you?” Nicola asked. “No, that would be unlikely.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Carol said, “I do.” She got up and went to the small table just inside the front door on which sat her bag and keys. She returned with a photo that she handed to Nicola as she sat down next to her.

  “Sorry it’s a bit wrinkled. I remember that dress,” she went on, nervously, Nicola thought. “It was a classic wrap dress from one of Diane von Furstenburg’s early collections.”

  Nicola gazed silently at the photo for some time. Finally, she looked up at her mother. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “This is the first time I’m seeing my parents together,” she said. “You look—happy.”

  “It was a good party.”

  “I don’t mean that you look like you’re having fun. I mean . . .”

  “I know what you mean.” Carol smiled and wiped at her eyes with her fingertips. “I’ve always claimed not to be a sentimental person. And yet, I’ve kept this photo in my wallet for over a quarter of a century. What does that say about me?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being sentimental.”

  “Your father was very handsome.”

  “He still is,” Nicola said. “He’s dignified.”

  “Yes, he’s a gentleman of the sort you don’t find very often these days.” Carol sighed. “I’ve been very lucky having Alex in my life. I don’t deserve him. I never have.”

  “Don’t say that, Mom. He really loves you. I totally believe him when he says he did what he did willingly, for your sake. Look, could I have a copy of this?”

  “Of course. I probably have more photos at home. I mean, in New York. You could look through them at any time.”

  Nicola smiled to herself. It was another reason to pay a visit to her old home. “When you told me about my father, why didn’t you also tell me about his Ukrainian background?”

  “I suppose I thought it would be a treat if he heard about your interest in that part of the world from you. Maybe that was silly.”

  Nicola smiled. “It was sweet. Mom, I have a request. I’m asking you not to tell my father about your addiction. I think it would only hurt him to know. He’ll wish he could have helped you. I want his last months to be as happy as they can be.”

  Carol nodded. “Agreed. I don’t want to add to his burdens in any way. I’ve done enough damage to the people I love.”

  “Mom, stop saying things like that. What’s done is done and no decision you made was made with evil intentions. I believe that. And remember I told you that something was holding me back from making a commitment to the Peace Corps? Now I know what it was. My parents need me. I’m going to Buenos Aires to visit my father. And, Mom, we’d like you to come, too.”

  Nicola had not expected her words to produce the reaction they did. Her mother put her hands over her eyes. Without hesitation, Nicola put her arm around her mother’s shoulders.

  “I’ve never seen you cry,” she said softly.

  “It’s the couch,” her mother mumbled. Suddenly, she dropped her hands and gently shrugged out of Nicola’s embrace. “Children shouldn’t have to see their parents in a moment of crisis,” she said with a sniff and a dab at her eyes with a tissue she took from her pants pocket.

  “That’s silly. Besides, I’m an adult.” Nicola smiled kindly. “It’s about time I understood that my parents are people with full emotional lives of their own. Sorry it took me so long to get that.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if anyone ever fully gets that, or wants to. Well, what do I know? Honestly, it wasn’t long after being on my own in New York that I stopped missing my mother and father. Maybe there’s a flaw in my emotional makeup.”

  “I don’t think so,” Nicola said. “Everyone is unique. There’s no detailed blueprint for a human life.”

  “Since when did you get so wise?” her mother asked with a smile.

  “Since you came back to Yorktide. Now, Mom!” Nicola cried in alarm. “Don’t start crying again!”

  Chapter 120

  “That was a great point you made, Julie.” Thom Hunt smiled. “We should always be rethinking our approach to inclusivity in our classrooms. Tolerance is all well and good, but full acceptance is better.”

  Julie thanked her colleague. Sara Webb’s third summer workshop had been a success for Julie. She knew that she looked better than she had in months. It was because she felt better, more capable of focus, less prone to waves of despair and the bombardment of self-abusive thoughts.

  And her friendship with Aggie had been restored, and that was a very good thing. In the past week, they had gone for a hike, seen a popular movie, and Julie had visited the farm to play with Colleen and her younger brother, Jason.

  Miranda, this time clad in a pair of neon green capri pants, had not apologized for her careless behavior earlier in the summer; Julie suspected that Miranda wasn’t the sort to apologize.

  It didn’t matter.

  Sara now approached Julie and for a few minutes they spoke about Julie’s essay. Sara had only a few suggestions for improvement and clarity—all excellent—and Julie promised she would work on the revisions that evening, when she got home after having dinner with a few of her colleagues.

  She was rejoining the world.

  Slowly.

  But surely.

  “Julie, you ready?” Tessa called.

  “Yes,” Julie responded. “I am.”

  Chapter 121

  “You really have a green thumb,” Carol noted admiringly.

  “It comes naturally,” Bonnie admitted, taking a seat next to her sister at the table that had been situated to provide an unobstructed view of the Elgort garden. “Ken had one, too.”

  “I have a few plants in my apartment. All plastic.” Carol shrugged. “I tried to keep live plants, but they never stayed live for long.”

  Bonnie laughed. Since Carol’s revelation about Nicola’s father, the sisters had moved into their own little bubble apart from the other members of the family, apart from the other residents of Yorktide, apart from the world. Bonnie was experiencing the excitement of getting to know someone new, along with the thrill of reconnecting with someone she had once known so well. It was a unique moment in Bonnie’s life, the joining of these two journeys.

  “Remember when you ran for Miss Yorktide of 1973?” she asked.

  Carol laughed. “How could I forget? What possessed me? You know how I feel about sashes.”

  “Dad encouraged you. He was sure you’d be a shoo-in. The contestants not only had to be beautiful but also have a spotless reputation.”

  “I remember I had to write an essay about why I thought I should be chosen Miss Yorktide. What a strange thing to ask, when you think about it. I suppose Miss Yorktide didn’t need to be humble.”

  Bonnie hesitated. Did she really want to admit to this bit of bad behavior? And then she plunged ahead. “The thing is,” she said, “I didn’t want you to win the contest, so I sent an anonymous letter to the judges saying that you had cheated on a test back in high school. But I guess they figured out the letter was a hoax. There wasn’t even an investigation and you won the title.”

  Carol’s expression was difficult for Bonnie to read. She didn’t look angry. Maybe surprised. “It’s strange,” Carol said after a moment, “I knew that someone had sent a letter to the judges slandering me—nothing is ever a secret in Yorktide—but I never suspected that you were the one who wrote it. I assumed it was one of the other contestants
who hadn’t made it to the finals.”

  “It was me. I can’t believe I’m actually telling you this after all these years. I guess I still feel guilty for acting so childishly.”

  “We’ve come a long way this summer, admitting our weaknesses.” Carol shook her head. “What made you try to sabotage my chances of winning?”

  “You embarrassed me in front of Ken,” Bonnie said. In for a penny, in for a pound.

  “Why would you be embarrassed?” Carol’s eyes widened. “Oh, you had a crush on him when I was dating him!”

  “Yes, I did. And this one afternoon when he was at the house you teased me about what I was wearing.”

  “I’m sorry,” Carol said feelingly. “If I’d known you had a crush on Ken, I wouldn’t have teased you, really. I don’t know why I did it in the first place. Maybe I was just being a stupid teenager.”

  Bonnie believed her sister. And she wondered if she should also admit to the acts of sabotage she had committed in the weeks leading up to Carol’s departure from Yorktide for New York. But no. She had been honest enough for one day.

  The sisters were silent for a long moment. The sun was pleasantly warm. The garden truly was looking its seasonal best. Just how bad would it be, Bonnie thought again, if Carol lived on her own at Ferndean? Bonnie would still have her beloved cottage, as well as the freedom to visit Ferndean—and her sister—as she pleased.

  It really wouldn’t be that bad at all.

  Chapter 122

  Carol turned to her sister. “I’m sorry I lied to you earlier this summer,” she said. “About Ken and me. It was despicable and I should have apologized earlier.”

  “Better late than never,” Bonnie said matter-of-factly.

  “Is it?” Carol very much hoped that was true. “Anyway,” she went on, “I don’t know how much Ken told you of what happened between us at the end, so I’m sorry if I’m repeating what you already know. The truth is that I asked Ken to leave Yorktide with me because in spite of my bravado, I was afraid of undertaking such a big adventure on my own. I thought having a strong man by my side would make the transition easier. Honestly, I never stopped to imagine what Ken would do with himself in New York while I was pursuing a bright and shiny career. My motives for asking him to come along were entirely selfish.”

  Bonnie looked genuinely surprised, though not angry. “He never told me you had asked him to leave Yorktide with you!”

  “Really?” Carol smiled wryly. “Well, not only did he refuse, he also broke up with me there and then.”

  “But you went to New York, anyway, in spite of being afraid.”

  “Terrified is more like it. And I can’t tell you how many times during those first two years I wanted to come home. But I didn’t allow myself to lose courage. I’m sure there were people here in Yorktide just waiting for that too-big-for-her-britches Carol Ascher to fall flat on her face. It’s human nature to want people who stick their heads above the crowd to be shot down.”

  “I don’t think you should have been afraid to come home,” Bonnie said. “This is a good community. You wouldn’t have been judged.”

  Carol shrugged. Her sister would always be far more trusting a person than she was. “Well,” she said, “that’s all in the past. And I should get going.” She wanted to do more work on interpreting Marcus Ascher’s elaborate plans. But first she would need a nap. She felt unaccountably tired, as if something giant was sitting on her and preparing to settle for a good, long stay.

  “Thanks for coming by,” Bonnie said, rising to accompany her sister out to her car.

  “It was my pleasure,” Carol told her truthfully.

  By the time Carol reached Ferndean, she could barely keep her eyes open. No sooner had her head touched the pillow than she was soundly asleep.

  Chapter 123

  Nicola pulled her car along the curb outside the Millers’ house. She was hoping Julie was free for a walk along one of the local nature trails. She knew she should have called first, but for some reason she hadn’t. Maybe she was becoming more like her mother!

  She rang the bell, but no one answered. She turned the doorknob and the door opened. “Hello?” she called, stepping inside. There was no reply. Nicola made a quick search of the first floor; no Julie. Sophie didn’t seem to be home, either. Scott was in the garage; Nicola could hear him using an electric tool of some sort.

  Nicola headed back to the front door. Bad luck. But maybe it was better Julie wasn’t around. Carol and Bonnie wanted Alex’s presence to be kept from Julie for a while longer, until she had gotten a handle on her own emotional crisis. Nicola wasn’t entirely sure she could keep from blurting out the astounding news.

  As she passed through the living room, something caught Nicola’s eyes. That was Sophie’s phone on the mantel. The hot-pink case was unmistakable. She must have left it behind. That was odd. Sophie was addicted to her phone. To forget it she must have been in a state of excitement or tension or . . .

  Nicola picked up the phone and began to scroll through the recent text messages.

  What she found made her stomach drop. There was an exchange between Sophie and some guy named Tim. She was meeting him by the abandoned barn on Ferny Lane at three o’clock; he would drive them to a party in New Hampshire; there would be booze and pot. There was no attempt at hiding any of this, no code words, no sly references.

  My parents won’t even notice I’m gone, Sophie’s last text said.

  Nicola’s hand tightened on the phone. An image of that nasty-looking guy she had seen the day she had picked Sophie up at the camp came to her mind. Tim?

  This was bad.

  Nicola raced out of the house, across the yard, and into the garage. She shouted and waved at Scott; after a moment, he became aware of her through the shrill noise of the drill he was using. He turned off the machine, took the plugs from his ears, and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I think Sophie’s in trouble,” Nicola panted. “I didn’t mean to snoop, but... Look at this. She must have left it behind accidentally.” Or, Nicola wondered suddenly, had Sophie unconsciously wanted rescuing?

  Nicola handed him Sophie’s cell phone. She watched as Scott read the text exchange. The color drained from his face. When he looked up at Nicola, his eyes were dark with emotion.

  “My car’s out front,” he said. He stuffed his daughter’s phone in his pocket and tore out of the garage.

  “I’m coming with you,” Nicola said, running after Scott.

  He didn’t protest; Nicola wasn’t sure he was fully aware that she was sliding into the seat next to him.

  “What time is it?” he asked when they had gone a few miles in the direction of the meeting place Sophie had mentioned.

  Nicola swallowed hard. “Ten minutes after three.”

  Scott stepped on the gas and Nicola gripped the seat beneath her. What was the chance they could stop a disaster from happening? What if Sophie had indeed used a code of sorts in her text, or what if she had mistyped, and she was meeting Tim at two o’clock, not at three . . .

  And then, miraculously, just up ahead . . . “That’s them!” she cried.

  “How can you be sure?” Scott demanded.

  “Sophie told me once about the red sports car one of the older counselors drove. That has to be it.”

  Scott increased speed again until the car was within spitting distance of Tim’s.

  “He’s pulling over!” Nicola cried.

  The red car had barely come to a full stop when the front passenger side door opened and Sophie came tumbling out. Her face was distorted with panic; tears were flooding her eyes.

  “He’s not driving away,” Nicola said, stunned.

  “That would be an admission of guilt,” Scott said, unbuckling his seat belt. “He’s going to deny everything.”

  Scott leapt from the car just in time to catch his daughter, who threw herself into his arms.

  “Daddy!” Sophie s
obbed. “I was so scared. I tried to open the door, but he’d locked it and I thought . . .”

  “It’s okay, Sophie,” Scott murmured. His grip on his daughter was tender but fierce. “You’re safe now. Nicola,” he commanded, “take care of her.”

  Scott released his daughter and Nicola embraced her as Scott strode toward Tim’s showy vehicle. Sophie buried her head in Nicola’s shoulder; Nicola kept her eyes riveted on the men. So far, Scott was in control of his temper. He was the larger of the two, taller and heftier. But Tim had that look of a sneak about him; he would fight dirty and feel no guilt about it.

  Nicola could hear every word the men said.

  “You do know it’s illegal to take a minor across state lines.” Scott’s hands clenched into fists at his side.

  Tim’s hands were shoved in the front pockets of his slouchy jeans. He wore a baseball cap backward; there was a thick gold chain around his neck. “She said she wanted to come with me,” he said with a shrug. “Nobody forced her.”

  “She’s fifteen. A child. You’re an adult. That makes you guilty.”

  Tim grinned. “Of what, dude? We’re still in Maine.”

  Nicola shuddered. Of course, his intention had been to rape Sophie once at the so-called party in New Hampshire. Of course, it had.

  “Only because I stopped you,” Scott said coldly. “I’ll be notifying your employer. And I’ll be going to the police.”

  Tim laughed. “Go ahead. I’m not scared of you.”

  “You should be. Get out of here before I do something I’ll regret.”

  Tim slouched his way back into his car, started the engine, and tore back onto the road, sending loose gravel flying.

  “Oh, Daddy, I’m so sorry!” Sophie cried, breaking away from Nicola and running to her father.

  Nicola watched the father and daughter embrace. A parent’s love for his child knew no bounds and stopped short at no sacrifice. Suddenly, Nicola saw her mother’s sending her away to her family in Maine as a supreme gesture of love. It must have been so difficult for Carol Ascher to admit to herself that she might not be able to properly care for her child. And it must have been wrenchingly hard to actually let her child go.