Page 48 of Summer Rose

“We have the other one,” Ben explained easily. “It dried out from our last incident. Doug will sleep there, and I’ll take the couch.”

“You’re sure?” Rebecca didn’t want to push it. Ben seemed anxious from all the attention, as though he wanted to apologize for the destruction of the house. But it wasn’t his fault. None of it was. Like all of them, Ben and Doug were victims of their circumstances. All Rebecca and Victor could do was help as much as they could.

In the SUV, Rebecca and Victor were quiet as they drove back to the old Victorian home. Victor stewed in thoughts Rebecca could only guess at as she panicked about Doug and Ben and the Sutton Book Club and all the money in the world that was never available for those who needed it.

Rebecca parked in the driveway and sat in silence for a moment. She wanted her father to say something assuring, but she wasn’t sure what. He hadn’t been that kind of father since before Joel’s diagnosis. Then again, he’d managed to reassure plenty of people as their family psychologist. Why couldn’t he extend that knowledge to his own family?

Instead, he said, “I won’t be staying at the house tonight.”

Rebecca cocked her head, surprised. “Why not?”

“It’s too much for your mother,” he said. “I’ve asked my brother if I can stay at his place. As you know, we aren’t exactly one another’s favorite people, either, but he says he has a room for me.”

Rebecca nodded. Although she’d strangely gotten used to him over the previous few days, Victor’s sudden presence was probably too much for Esme. It certainly enraged Valerie.

“Do you need a ride?” Rebecca asked.

“I can walk,” Victor said. He then stepped out onto the driveway, clipped the door closed behind him, waved, and headed toward the street. The rain continued to spit, unwilling to stop. It seemed impossible that summer was around the corner.

Rebecca headed inside and collapsed on the living room couch. She was listless. There was no movement or sound in the rest of the house, and when she checked upstairs, she found Esme asleep in bed alone. Where were Valerie and Bethany? She heard Bethany's voice murmuring when she hovered outside Bethany’s room. She was on the phone, perhaps with the hospital or her husband.

Suddenly worried about her own nuclear family, Rebecca huddled in her bedroom and texted all her children. It was one in the afternoon, which didn’t necessarily mean they would immediately text back. They were at work or at basketball camp or chatting with their friends at lunch.

Her simple text to all of them was the same. The sentiment was that she loved them. She missed them. And she wanted an update about what they’d been up to. Perhaps this wasn’t fair since they didn’t know she was back in Nantucket. None of them knew anything about Esme or Victor or Valerie or Bethany. Above all, none of them knew about Joel—the event that had splintered her heart until Freddy had found a way to put it back together again. “You’ve been through so much,” Fred had told her after they’d dated a few months. “And I can tell you don’t want to let me in. But listen, Rebecca. I’m here. I’m waiting for you. And I want to love you so badly, it hurts.”

Rebecca spent most of the day alone in her room. Occasionally, she heard one of her sisters or her mother walk down the hallway to the bathroom or go up and down the stairs, perhaps for snacks or drinks. The rain still hadn’t let up, and Rebecca’s heart was shadowed and grim. Once or twice, she allowed herself to look at photographs of her and Fred from last autumn when they’d taken a weekend trip to New York City to visit Lily.

Not for the first time, Rebecca considered her age. At forty-five, she wasn’t old, but then again, she wasn’t young. She felt caught in the middle of a story that had no ending. Had she been a widow in her seventies or eighties, she would have perhaps understood what to do better. Then again, her mother was sixty-nine and seemed no clearer on how to move forward than Rebecca did.

Around five, Rebecca walked downstairs and entered the dark kitchen. She sensed her sisters and mother in the house, portioned alone in their rooms. The morning had enveloped them in promise. How could she bring them back together again?

Rebecca set to work doing the only thing she really understood. She cooked onions, garlic, and peppers, rubbed spices into chicken, dropped oil into skillets, and hunted through the cabinets and refrigerator for ingredients. As she worked, she sang to herself, and the anxiety from the lonely day fell from her shoulders.

Suddenly, Rebecca heard a creak on the staircase. She froze, listening as someone came slowly from the second floor. She tried to pretend she hadn’t heard anything and continued to stir and toss and salt. Moments later, Bethany peered through the doorway and smiled softly.

“Look at you,” she said.

“I couldn’t sit still anymore.” Rebecca shrugged.

“What is it?”

“Butter chicken.”

Bethany puffed out her cheeks. “You spoil us, Rebecca.”

Rebecca listened as Bethany poured herself a glass of wine and walked to the window to peer out across the angry and darkening beach.

“What happened after I left?” Rebecca asked quietly.

“It was okay for a while. But soon, we got very quiet. I was thinking so much about Joel. About the beautiful memories I have before Dad left. And I started to cry. Valerie got upset and stormed into her bedroom, the way she did when she was younger. And Mom…” Bethany trailed off. “Well, Mom is devastated. She just lost her husband, and her moods are all over the place. After a little while, she fell asleep, so I left her alone. I’ve been on the phone with the hospital, checking on patients and med students who need me. My children both called. My husband…” Bethany paused for a moment, considering what to say. “Well, I wouldn’t say my husband and I are on the best terms right now.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected this from Bethany, the “perfect Sutton daughter.” But now, she remembered how little she knew about anyone in her family.

“Goodness, Bethany. I’m so sorry.” She turned around and took in this view of her sister as she gazed out the window and drank wine.

“Maybe that’s why I was so eager to get away,” Bethany tried. “Our lives are so connected to my husband’s family that it was easy to use that as leverage. It was finally time for me to reconnect with my family. And it was finally time for us to stop fighting every night of the week.”

“Bethany…” Rebecca felt heartbroken.

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