Page 40 of Summer Rose

Valerie made a small noise. “What?”

Confusion made the air taut.

“I found some mail back at the house,” Rebecca continued. “The timing couldn’t be worse.”

“She owes money?” Valerie demanded.

“Much more than I have,” Rebecca said with a shrug.

“There’s no way we can explain everything,” Bethany said. “Not here. Not with Mom so sick.”

Valerie nodded and stood. Rebecca watched as she walked around the table and stood over their mother. With a tender hand, she brushed their mother’s hair back. As far as Rebecca knew, Valerie never had any children—but her motherly instincts were clear.

“Mom?” Valerie’s voice was very sweet.

Esme stirred on the couch and rubbed her eyes. Valerie called her name a few more times until Esme’s eyes slowly opened. She searched the room to discover all three of her daughters, and her face twitched with confusion.

“Valerie, I have a terrible headache,” she said meekly.

“Let’s go home,” Valerie said. She dropped onto the couch, laced her arm over Esme’s shoulders, and helped her to her feet.

With a sudden burst of energy, Rebecca and Bethany rose from their chairs. Rebecca held the other side of Esme as Bethany bustled behind them, grabbing jackets and purses. They wordlessly decided to come back to the Sutton Book Club tomorrow to tend to the dishes. Tonight was the night for family drama.

With Esme safe in the car she and Valerie had come in, Rebecca and Bethany drove back to the old Victorian in the SUV. Mostly, they were quiet. A few times, when the emotions were too powerful, they spoke. Rebecca said, “I can’t believe this is happening,” and Bethany said, “Mom doesn’t look very good.” Rebecca added, “I hope Dad doesn’t disappear on us now.” But Bethany didn’t respond to that.

In the driveway, Rebecca turned off the engine and watched as Valerie helped their mother through the front door. From a distance, Esme looked like a feeble old woman.

“Let’s go help her,” Rebecca whispered.

Rebecca and Bethany hurried from the SUV, through the front door, and up the staircase. Already, Esme and Valerie crept toward the bedroom Esme had once shared with Victor so many years ago. It was the largest of the upstairs bedrooms, with an immaculate view of the Nantucket Sound and the wide stretch of beach that so often glowed with impossible beauty. Just now, it was dark, and nothing but a void of black could be seen out the window.

Rebecca and Bethany stopped in the doorway of the bedroom. Esme sat on the edge of the bed as Valerie hurried around her, grabbing a nightgown from the closet, some night cream, and a thick pair of socks. It occurred to Rebecca that her mother became cold at night due to her age. Valerie had clearly learned this during their time in San Francisco.

“Do you want to brush your teeth before you go to sleep, Mom?” Valerie asked sweetly.

Rebecca’s throat was tight. All she wanted in the world was to throw herself into that room and help her sister tend to her mother. All she wanted was to show how much she cared.

But there wasn’t much to do. Valerie had Esme tucked beneath the cloud-like comforter in just a few minutes. Valerie stepped lightly toward Bethany and Rebecca and pressed her finger to her lips.

“She’s already asleep,” she whispered.

Once in the hallway, Valerie closed the door quietly. The three Sutton sisters stood in the shadows of the house they’d grown up in and regarded one another.

“Is Dad in the guest room?” Rebecca asked.

Valerie shrugged. She eyed the closed doors of the hallway, behind which were each of their former bedrooms. “It’s eerie being up here,” she muttered. “I visited Mom a few times over the years, but I never found a reason to come upstairs.”

Valerie stepped toward the door that had once been hers, turned the knob, and opened the door. With her face in the doorway, Rebecca could just make out bits and pieces from Valerie’s youth. Slowly, Valerie stepped back and turned to show the ghastly glow of her face.

“It’s almost the same,” she said. “Yours, too?”

Rebecca and Bethany nodded. They’d gone through this all before.

Valerie grimaced and shut the door to her bedroom. And then, with her face resolute, she turned on her heel and marched toward the one door Rebecca hadn’t dared to open. Only Victor had tried it on their first day, and Rebecca had slammed it shut.

Valerie heaved a sigh in front of that door. Rebecca wanted to cry out, to tell her not to open it. But, beyond anything, she knew it had to be Valerie who opened it. She had the right.

The door creaked open, and Valerie stepped through as though it was just another day. Rebecca watched from several feet back. Valerie’s feet were soft on the old carpeting as her fingers traced the old blue comforter on the bed. The desk under the window contained awards from childhood—tiny statues and plaques that ensured children understood that hard work was meaningful. Numerous paintings and drawings hung on the walls as proof of tremendous creativity.

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