Return to Me

by Katie Winters

  Chapter Sixteen

  Carmella picked Janine up at the house the following afternoon at three-thirty. When Janine slipped into her car, she entered a Carmella-world of Alanis Morisette CDs and a very powerful perfume and a pile of clothing in the backseat, which Carmella explained was there “just in case” something came up.

  “I was always sort of a live wire,” she said as she eased out of the driveway and backed out onto the main road. “Dad wasn’t sure what to do with me as a teenager.”

  Janine laughed good-naturedly. “And your mother? What about her?”

  Carmella shifted strangely. “Elsa and Nancy really haven’t told you much of anything, have they?”

  Janine’s heart fluttered with fear. “I guess not.”

  “Suffice it to say, Mom died when I was pretty young. And it wasn’t the first loss in our little nuclear family,” Carmella said as she flipped her dark hair behind her shoulder. “Loss has been a part of this family’s policy since the very beginning. I guess it’s part of the reason Elsa and I can barely look at each other any longer.”

  Janine wasn’t sure what to say. She felt she’d “stepped in it.” She folded and unfolded her hands on her lap and blinked out the window. In the distance, she spotted someone riding on horseback and she wondered if it was her mother.

  “So, have you told Nancy about our little dinner party tonight?” Carmella asked.

  “I mentioned that I wanted to cook since Elsa will be away tonight. She said it was no trouble. That we could just order food in or something,” Janine said. “But I insisted.”

  “I see.” Carmella adjusted her hands across the steering wheel. She’d painted her nails a dark burgundy and they glowed with afternoon light.

  “I’m a bit nervous, to be honest,” Janine continued. “Nancy has seemed really down since the festival in Oak Bluffs. I haven’t seen much of her.”

  “Strange,” Carmella said.

  “I’m worried that my coming here has put her in an even worse position. I mean, maybe she thought we would see each other and have this big loving reunion. But we’re both fresh off of heartaches. It’s like because we’re both damaged that were not strong enough to fix all the stuff that happened before I married Jack.”

  Carmella heaved a sigh. “Well, I still think we should try to convince her to reopen. Maybe it could be the first step toward something good, a healing opportunity for so many, including yourselves. I don’t know.”

  “I don’t know, either.”

  Janine and Carmella walked somberly through the aisles of the local Edgartown grocery store. Several people greeted Carmella brightly, and she hardly offered them a smile in return. This was such a contrast to Elsa, who normally stayed at the grocery store for a full hour due to the number of people they ran into. In the past weeks, this had annoyed Janine, who’d always had to stand nearby, shifting her weight, prepared to wave a hand in hello when she was introduced as Nancy’s “real” daughter. “How fun for you! A new sister!” one woman had said to Elsa, as though they were ten years old and not forty.

  But now, it struck Janine as strange, the difference between Elsa and Carmella. It also struck her how terribly sad it was.

  Back at the house, Janine watched as Carmella marched through the kitchen with authority. After all, she had been raised there and knew where everything was stored. Probably, she had a million memories between those walls — certainly some dark ones, too.

  They prepared salmon, potatoes, and homemade rolls, along with a lemon cake for dessert. As they cooked, Janine poured them both glasses of merlot, and they clinked and said, “Good luck to us.”

  Around seven-thirty, Janine poured her mother a glass of wine. Still, there was no sound of her from the upstairs hallway. Janine and Carmella’s eyes turned upward in expectation.

  “Maybe she’s taking a nap?” Janine offered.

  “She was never one for naps back in the old days,” Carmella said. “She was always go-go-go. I never understood where she got all her energy.”

  Janine shivered, remembering that back in her time with Nancy, the woman had needed copious naps. She’d sometimes slept all through the day and night.

  “Maybe I’ll just go check on her,” Janine said. “Just in case.”

  Janine made her way up the stairs and found herself in front of a closed door. She was reminded again of having to wake her mother years before when she’d needed someone to take her to school. She had been only seven and still a bit frightened to walk the streets alone. It had taken her maybe ten minutes to wake her mother, who’d reeked of alcohol at the time.

  The Nancy Grimson Remington, who appeared on the other side of the door now, though, smelled of vanilla. She blinked tired eyes out from the darkness and yawned as she asked, “Is it already time for dinner?”

  “It is,” Janine said. She tried to keep her voice bright.

  Nancy placed a hand over her eye as she exhaled. “I just don’t know if I can make it, Janine. I’m terribly exhausted all the time.”

  Depression. Here it was again, knocking angrily at Nancy Grimson’s door.

  “There’s no rush,” Janine tried. “You can wear your pajamas if you want to. But it would be good to eat something. Don’t you think?”

  Nancy held Janine’s gaze for a long while. It was obvious she wanted to get out of dinner.

  “Just a few minutes. Just a few bites,” Janine tried.

  Nancy slipped her fingers through her hair. She seemed to weigh up possible options, different ways she could get out of it. After another, long pause, she said, “Oh, of course. I’ll have some dinner. Sure.” She sounded resigned.

  There was such distance between them, mother and daughter. Janine felt Nancy’s tentative footsteps behind her as they returned to the kitchen, then to the porch that overlooked the water. Carmella placed the last of the three plates on the table and then turned to smile at her step-mother.

  Nancy stopped short in the doorway. “Carmella. What are you doing here?” Her eyes turned back toward Janine with confusion.

  “We just want to talk to you about something.” Carmella furrowed her brow.

  Nancy looked on the verge of tumbling to her knees. She took a few steps forward, then collapsed at the table and blinked down at the pink fish, which was glossy with lemon juice. Janine and Carmella joined her at the table. Janine sipped her wine nervously, wondering if her mother would lift her head. Out there in the light, Nancy looked even more depressed than she had in the shadowy bedroom.

  “Nancy, I don’t know if Elsa has told you, but I started back up with my acupuncture appointments at the Lodge,” Carmella began tentatively.

  “She didn’t, no,” Nancy returned. She then swallowed and shifted her eyes toward Carmella. “And to be honest, that surprises me. I told you. I needed a break from the lodge. Elsa does, too.”

  “I know that, Nancy,” Carmella stammered. “But I need to keep my appointments going. And it’s helped me to focus on something other than myself. To focus on the patients.”

  Nancy’s cheek twitched. “I wish you would have told me this before you started.”

  “Elsa made it clear it wasn’t wanted,” Carmella said. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  Nancy turned her eyes back toward Janine. Shadows lurked beneath her eyes. “And what does this have to do with you, Janine?”

  Janine’s heart hammered. “I don’t know if you know this, but I worked in Naturopathic Medicine for the previous decade or so. I’m a licensed Naturopathic doctor, but I ended my practice about two years ago. I’ve really missed it ever since.”

  Nancy held Janine’s eyes as shock made her lips part.

  “What are the chances, Nancy? You and your daughter were drawn to the same practice, the same exact calling. To heal people,” Carmella said.

  Janine felt anxious, now, her heart hammering in her chest. Her palms felt clammy. “I told Carmella that I would be interested in helping you reopen if you wanted that. I would love to r
einstate my practice.”

  “And she would be perfect for the lodge, Nancy,” Carmella continued. “Since we lost Carlos, and of course, Dad, we have big shoes to fill, but Janine can fill those shoes.”

  “We thought we could even do a soft opening around July 4,” Janine continued. “We could have a party. Host some of the islanders who love the lodge the most. It’s already clear that Martha’s Vineyard misses the Katama Lodge. I met a few of Carmella’s acupuncture clients, and they told me some absolutely amazing stories.”

  Nancy’s eyes filled with tears as silence shrouded them. After a long pause, she murmured, “I’m sure it’s difficult for you, Janine. You can’t understand what we lost, with Neal gone.”

  “Of course,” Janine tried hurriedly. “And I don’t even want to pretend that I can understand. It’s just—”

  “But if we were to reopen, I would need Elsa. Elsa was Neal’s right-hand woman,” Nancy continued. “And Carmella, you know better than anyone that Elsa needs this time off. She can hardly stand upright some days. She’s lost so much.”

  Carmella’s eyes flashed with a sense of knowing. “She won’t talk to me.”

  Nancy dropped her chin. “I don’t know what to say. This is your family, Carmella. This was your father’s lodge before I ever entered the picture.”

  “But we need you. We need you to help us reopen it.” Carmella’s voice was low but urgent. “You’ve been a part of our family for over a decade, now, Nancy. You—”

  “It’s not as though you cared for me much, regardless, Carmella.” Nancy’s voice was somber.

  Carmella leaned back in her chair, almost in resignation. She looked physically injured; her face was scrunched. “We worked well together. You can’t deny that.”

  “But maybe that chapter is closed, now.” Nancy turned her eyes back toward the pink fish. “It’s really up to Elsa. I won’t move forward without her.”

  Carmella scoffed. “Here we go again. You and Elsa— the A-team. Always working against me.”

  Nancy bristled. “We never worked against you, Carmella. You always searched for ways to think we were hurting you, against you, but it was never true.”

  Carmella seethed. After a dramatic pause, she shot up from her chair, sipped the last of her wine, and turned her eyes toward Janine. “I should have known this wouldn’t work.” She then stormed off the porch, letting the screen door slam after her.

  Janine’s shoulders slumped forward. She felt at a loss. Why had she thought they could convince her mother of anything, especially as she and Nancy had hardly begun to heal their own relationship? There was so much darkness within this family. So many unhealed wounds. They required years and years of therapy, maybe — that, or just the rest of their lives apart.

  Nancy muttered as she stood from her untouched fish. “I’m sorry, Janine. I just don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  Janine stewed around in these final words as she stared out across the ocean waves. Three untouched plates of fish remained, even as she poured herself a second, then a third glass of wine. She marveled at the tiny thread of hope she had felt. She reasoned that soon, she would have to pack up and return to the city, to deal with the gravity of her own despair, to build her life anew. Maybe there was nothing here on the Vineyard for her, after all.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The following morning, around seven-thirty, Janine called her daughter, Maggie. They hadn’t spoken in several days and Maggie’s voice was bright and eager when she answered, as though she’d been worried. Janine hated this, the idea that her daughters needed to worry about her. She wanted to be the kind of woman who could stand on her own two feet.

  “How did it go with pitching the reopening to Grandma?” Maggie asked after a few pleasantries.

  “Not so well, Mags. She doesn’t want to do it without Elsa, and Elsa and Carmella hardly even speak.”

  “That’s really sad. I Googled the place last night. Gwyneth Paltrow stayed there once and put it on her list of top-ten most-relaxing retreats on the east coast.”

  “Gwyneth, huh? Well, she would know what she’s talking about.”

  “It just stinks. It seems like a perfect way for everyone to come back together,” Maggie said.

  “I know. But maybe it’s not meant to be,” Janine returned. “Besides. I have you girls back in the city. Maybe I can start my practice up again. Get a tiny apartment in Brooklyn, maybe even around the corner from where I used to live.”

  “Prices in Brooklyn aren’t what they used to be,” Maggie offered with a dry laugh.

  “Sure. But they aren’t comparable to high-rise apartments in the Upper West Side, either,” Janine pointed out.

  “Fair.” Maggie paused for a moment. There was the sound of something being poured, maybe coffee. “Dad said he sent along the divorce papers already.”

  “I know. I have them here,” Janine said, remembering how she’d shoved them in the very bottom of a desk drawer there at her mother’s place. “Have you seen a lot of him?”

  “No,” Maggie insisted. “Hardly at all. And never with her.”

  Her. Maxine. A woman Maggie surely loved, almost as much as she loved her own mother. How difficult it all was.

  “I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive him,” Maggie said softly. “You said it yourself. Sometimes, there are things you just can’t get over. No matter how much time has passed.”

  JANINE DONNED JOGGING shorts and a tank top and slid her feet in some tennis shoes. She made up her mind to peruse apartment options, potentially call Jack for some kind of loan and set up a meeting with a lawyer who could help her figure out her options. After all, she had signed that prenup, but she’d also been his wife, the mother of his children, for twenty-four years. She was certain she’d be entitled to something.

  She was glad she’d begun to think clearly, even if she still felt like a fish out of water.

  When she reached the front porch, she found her mother seated there with a cup of coffee and a slab of toast, on which she’d smeared butter and a thin layer of strawberry jam. Nancy’s hands were folded across the table dutifully, and her eyes seemed far away, as though she’d stepped from this dimension into the next.

  “Mom?” Janine said the word evenly, then realized, with a strange jolt, that she hadn’t called Nancy that in years. It sounded so strange coming from her lips.

  Nancy turned her head slowly and blinked at her daughter, seemingly confused. “Hello, Janine. Are you off for a run?”

  “I’d planned on it.”

  “You’re looking quite trim. Strong.” Nancy glanced at her uneaten toast and added, “I haven’t had much energy lately. I should push myself like you are. You’ve lost just as much as I have.”

  Janine wasn’t sure what to say. She found herself slipping into a chair beside Nancy and following her gaze. Sometimes, she thought, all you had to do to be there for someone was to sit with them. Sometimes, words just couldn’t do what you needed them to.

  “I’ve thought about it long and hard, and I think I want to sell the Katama Lodge,” Nancy said finally. “I’ll split the funds with my husband’s girls. And then, maybe, I’ll leave the island behind. I see Neal in everything. I feel him everywhere. And I just worry if I don’t get away and try something new, I’ll never be able to move forward.”

  Janine was suddenly reminded of the previous version of Nancy: the one who hadn’t been able to hold down a job for longer than two months; the one who’d forced them to move from apartment to apartment as a way to hide from landlords she owed money to. This woman before her, this was the one who wanted to run. This wasn’t Neal’s Nancy. This was Janine’s Nancy.

  “Nancy, these people on this island, they love you,” Janine whispered. “I see it everywhere—the woman at the bakery and the people at the festival. Heck, your step-daughter, Elsa, thinks you’re the sun and the moon and the stars put together.”

  Nancy stole a side glance at her daughter and then shrugged
. Little hollows formed in her cheeks as she said, “I just don’t know if I have the strength to give them all that they need from me. I don’t know if I can be that version of Nancy anymore. Do you understand?”

  Something in Janine’s heart cracked. She reached across the table and gripped her mother’s hand. They’d hardly touched since she had arrived on the island — only a few hugs here and there and almost no kind words. Surprise filled Nancy’s face.

  “Mom, I know it’s been an awful year for you,” Janine breathed. “But look at the life you built yourself. The woman I knew, all those years ago in New York City, is much different than the one I see before me.”

  Nancy dropped her eyes again as her cheeks flushed pink. Her shoulders fell forward as she whispered, “I am so ashamed. I never should have asked you to come here. I don’t have anything to offer you. I can’t help. Not at all.” She then stood up from her chair and turned toward the door, leaving Janine out on the porch alone.

  Janine wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Something about her mother, so broken at the table, told her to remain on the island to help her. Something told her that the Katama Lodge dream wasn’t over, not yet.

  They needed one another much more than either of them knew.

  Janine walked over to the Katama Lodge and Wellness Spa after that. She found herself back in the foyer, watching as Carmella weaved in and out of the main room. Each time, she lifted a finger and said, “I should be able to find some time to talk in twenty minutes.” But twenty minutes, then another twenty came and went, and Janine was becoming impatient.

  Janine walked through the hallway, back toward where her mother and Neal’s office had been. She wasn’t sure what led her there. Maybe she just wanted to see more proof of her mother’s “professional” life, as it still seemed so foreign.

  Inside the office, there was a large photograph of Neal and Nancy on the wall. In it, Nancy wore a cream-colored dress, maybe even her wedding dress, while Neal wore a suit. They stood on a sailboat smiling, the very one Nancy had taken Janine out on. Nancy looked sinfully beautiful, as though all those years of drinking and sorrows had been washed away due to all the love she’d experienced there on the island.