Page 35 of Trick of Light

“I forgot that Mom could be so silly,” Bethany said quietly, sweeping suds over a big plate.

“She’s been like that the past few weeks,” Rebecca affirmed. “Ever since Dad came back into her life.”

“Do you think Larry made her laugh that much?” Bethany asked, thinking of her mother’s second husband.

“I hope so. Thinking about Esme Sutton without laughter is like thinking about the world without sunshine,” Rebecca said.

“She didn’t laugh when we were teenagers. Not often,” Bethany remembered.

Rebecca eyed the floor. “There’s so much about that time that I don’t remember very well.”

Bethany still remembered the last day of Rebecca’s teenage life in Nantucket. She’d had a big science test the next day, something she thought would make or break her career in the medical field, and she’d hardly popped her head out of her bedroom to say goodbye. She’d regretted that down to her bones later when she realized Rebecca was no longer a part of her life. She hadn’t imagined she ever would be again.

“Can I ask you something?”

Bethany sniffed. “Sure.”

“What did it actually feel like to see Rod again?” Rebecca asked, stacking the plates beside the sink.

“For a brief second there, it was like I dropped through time,” Bethany said tentatively. “Like I was seventeen years old. Like he was still the only man I’d ever loved. And then, when I saw his grandson on the sofa, time crunched in on itself. Everything came rushing back. And I remembered our final conversations and the horrible things we said to one another. They echoed between us.”

Rebecca shook her head. “I can’t even imagine.”

“I wonder how often he’s thought about it,” Bethany continued.

“Probably every single day of his life.”

Bethany tried to laugh. “No. There’s no way. Not when there are bills to pay and dinners to cook. Not when his daughter was sick, or he had to repaint the front door or…” She sighed. “What I mean is, life gets in the way of nostalgia.”

“But you’re inherent to his story,” Rebecca reminded her. “You’re the very reason he has that daughter.”

Bethany’s blood pressure spiked. She turned on her heel, ready to correct Rebecca sharply. But Rebecca already had her hands in the air. “It’s not your fault. I misspoke,” she corrected. “It was all just a messy time.”

Bethany swallowed as her anger dissipated. “And it’s because I left. I know.”

Rebecca squeezed her shoulder. “No. He just loved you so much. He didn’t know what to do about it. And like so many men we know, he made a mistake that altered the course of your lives forever.”

“It was fate,” Bethany insisted. “That’s what I told myself during undergrad medical school and residency. That’s what I told myself on my wedding day to Nick. Fate brought me away from Rod, and it took me to Savannah. Fate brought me into the Waterstone family.”

“I thought you were a scientist,” Rebecca said with a smile. “Fate isn’t real. We make it ourselves. And the fact that you and Rod have found your way back to one another—despite the tragedy at its core—doesn’t surprise me. Like Mom said, you always had a special connection. A beautiful bond. You always needed to check back in with each other. I’m just surprised it’s taken so long.”

Bethany’s head thrummed. As the air intensified around her, she stuck out her tongue. “You sound so much like a big sister right now. Like you know best.”

Rebecca laughed and flicked suds across Bethany’s arms. “Maybe I do know best. I know I’m not a brainiac like you, but I do have two years of life experience over you. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Chapter Sixteen

1997

The first month of Bethany’s summer internship at NYU Hospital was genuine hell. Manhattan was under a horrible hot spell, and Bethany was perpetually sweltering, sweat pouring from her neck and arms as she hurried from her dorm, down twelve floors of stairs, all the way to the hospital for a ten- to twelve-hour workday. She was only seventeen, which meant that amount of work per day was probably illegal or very near it. However, there was a general sentiment at the hospital that if you couldn’t hack the internship, you wouldn’t be able to hack medical school. Bethany took that to heart.

The other high schoolers in Bethany’s program hadn’t come to Manhattan to make friends. They kept to themselves, worked diligently, and hardly spoke to one another during shared dinners or lunches. The only time Bethany heard anyone exchange information was in the form of bragging. Everyone seemed to have better grades than everyone else. Everyone was going to rise to the top of the field.

Midway through June, someone in the program learned that Bethany’s father was Victor Sutton. Finally, they were intrigued with her, but only up to the point that she confessed she didn’t speak to her father.

“Why would you cut contact with him?” one of the girls asked. “He probably has so many connections. He could help you.”

How could Bethany explain? Asking for help from her father was akin to betraying her family and herself. She dropped her chin and focused on her wilted salad, one of many that summer.

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