Page 43 of Summer Rose

Rebecca was five when her parents had baby Joel. She’d taken on whatever responsibilities she could, which had intensified as she turned six, seven, and eight. Sometimes, she felt her love for Valerie and Joel was different than her love for Bethany since she remembered when they were so helpless. She remembered how much they’d needed her.

“There they are. My favorite kids in the world.” Victor stepped out of the house to join them on the porch, wearing a strained smile.

Esme remained in the kitchen, cleaning a skillet with a sponge. She seemed to scrub it forever, long after any bit of grease had dripped off. Rebecca watched her through the window, mesmerized. For the first time, she realized her mother didn’t have control over everything. The world did not go out of its way for your happiness. It was the first time she was really afraid.

Chapter Eighteen

Present Day

Careful not to touch anything in Joel’s bedroom, they sat at the edge of the bed and took in the sight of his shirts in the closet, his baseball shoes next to the dresser, and the art their mother had hung on the walls. In some ways, Joel could have walked through the door at any moment, leaped on the bed, and demanded that one of his older sisters play with him.

“It’s been so long since he passed,” Rebecca breathed.

Bethany held both of her elbows nervously. Valerie looked listless. It was as though the energy in the room ate them alive. Rebecca stood and walked toward the hallway. She wanted to drag her sisters out of there and tell them they couldn’t fall so deeply into the past. As though they sensed it too, they soon followed after her. Valerie shut the door slowly and spread her palm over it as though she could feel the room’s heartbeat. Then she repeated what Rebecca had thought on the very first day. “It’s a museum.”

Downstairs, Bethany grabbed a bottle of wine from the cabinet and poured each of the sisters a glass. They sat at the breakfast table and drank silently. Another storm brewed outside, and the windows rattled in their panes.

“One of the first things Dad did when we got here was open that door,” Rebecca whispered. “I couldn’t believe it. I slammed it in his face immediately.”

“I would have done the same thing,” Bethany agreed.

Valerie chewed the inside of her cheek. She looked contemplative. “How old were Mom and Dad when Joel died?”

It had never occurred to Rebecca to consider this. “Joel died when he was ten,” she began. “I was fifteen.”

“I was thirteen,” Bethany said.

“And I was eleven,” Valerie added. These ages were crystal in their minds, as they were the ages when everything in their lives had completely fallen apart.

“Dad’s seventy,” Rebecca calculated, “which means he was forty when Joel died.”

“And Mom was thirty-nine,” Valerie whispered.

“They were younger than we are today.” Bethany pointed out what was on everyone’s mind. “My gosh. To me, they were these impossibly strong and powerful people. It made no sense when they started to fall apart.”

“Yet…” Rebecca trailed off for a moment. She was filled with compassion. Finally, she locked eyes with Valerie and said, “My husband died in January. It was a terrible car accident, and it completely blindsided the kids and me.”

Valerie’s jaw dropped. “Oh, Rebecca. I’m so sorry.” The silence stretched between them. “You should have called me.”

Rebecca couldn’t begin to tell Valerie just how unlikely that would have been. “His death was so debilitating. I struggled to keep going. Even now, almost six months after the accident, I find myself reeling. But more than that, it was remarkable how much I thought about Joel. Joel’s death was my very first understanding of it. He had been this bright, confident, and alive little boy. And then suddenly, he was exhausted and so skinny and so, so sick.”

Valerie’s cheeks drained of color. “I don’t like remembering him that way.”

“Me neither,” Rebecca sputtered. “But Fred’s death made me understand just how little we dealt with Joel’s death.”

“And Dad was a child psychologist!” Valerie cried angrily. “He should have been able to help us.”

But Rebecca was no longer so sure about that. She palmed the back of her neck and considered how irresponsible she’d been in the weeks and months after Fred’s death. “I think for Dad, the world ended with Joel’s death. He could no longer make sense of anything, least of all his career.”

“He certainly went off and made something of himself,” Valerie scoffed. “With Bree.”

“There’s no forgiving what Dad did,” Bethany tried. “But now that I’m married, I understand that every marriage operates with its own set of rules. Mom and Dad loved each other. They did.”

Rebecca nodded, remembering.

“But after being thrown into hell, they just couldn’t find a way to come back together again,” Bethany continued.

Valerie looked defeated. “I know. I haven’t been married. So you’re saying I couldn’t understand?”

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