Page 49 of April Flowers

He remembered the accident as clear as day. He’d been there—a block away, parked in his car, ready to wave at Margot and Frank as they passed. It had been a coincidence that he’d seen them out and about like this, but not a strange one. In Nantucket, you always ran into folks you knew. Right before thetruck had rammed into them, he’d been thinking,There’s my beautiful girlfriend and future wife. It’s so nice to live in a small town like this. I don’t know why anyone lives anywhere else.

Margot was crying again. Noah couldn’t imagine that she’d told that story very often. Obviously, though, the story lived in her mind all the time, maybe on a constant loop.

From the counter, Noah muttered, “It wasn’t your fault.”

But Noah knew what he said didn’t matter. From the night Frank died and onward, Lillian Earnheart had maintained a constant refrain, “It’s your fault, Margot. You’re the reason my love is dead. You’re the reason my life has no purpose. We didn’t even want another child. God, please, take this creature away and bring me back my husband!”

What Noah had heard Lillian say to Margot back then had chilled him to the bone. Once, he’d told Lillian, “You can’t talk to her like that!”

But Lillian had sobbed and gone upstairs. There had been no reasoning with her.

Margot had been inconsolable. She’d taken on her mother’s belief systems. She’d assured herself—and Noah—that if she hadn’t wanted to buy so much stuff and hadn’t been so greedy, her father would have seen the truck and managed to move out of the way.

“He died because of me,” Margot had said over and over, sobbing, her body shaking violently.

She’d had to leave the island. Noah had said he wanted to come, too. But she’d insisted he couldn’t.

She’d insisted she couldn’t see another person from Nantucket for as long as she lived.

“I can’t take it,” she’d said. “It’s all too painful. I need to start over.”

But was it ever possible to start over? He wasn’t sure.

Avery bowed her head. “I’m so sorry, Margot.”

Margot was quiet. Outside, snow billowed past the window, and Noah felt they would be buried inside for the rest of winter.

“It sounds like your dad was really distracted,” Avery offered. “Who was he talking to in the parking lot?”

Margot reached for another tissue. It was clear she didn’t want to engage with that question.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “What matters is, I’m the only Earnheart willing and able to take care of Lillian Earnheart. And in every last recess of her Alzheimer’s-riddled mind, she’s sure that I’m responsible for her husband’s death.”

Avery shook her head and pressed her hands against her forehead. It was too much for a teenager to take on.

A full minute passed. Noah racked his brain for answers.

When Avery finished her tea and what looked to be way more than half of the cheese on the snack plate, she stood, cleaned her mug, and said, “I’m going to my room for a little while.”

She seemed to understand that Noah and Margot needed to talk.

“You let me know if you need anything?” she asked Margot as though she were the adult and Margot the child.

“Of course. You’ve already been so kind,” Margot said.

“You deserve every kindness,” Avery said before disappearing down the hall and into the guest bedroom.

Margot kept her head down. The light was off in the kitchen, and with the sun dunking into the ocean, they were cast in indigo and shadows. Noah hunted through the cabinets until he found a bottle of wine. When Margot spotted it, she said, “Oh, gosh. Yes.” She sounded relieved.

Noah poured two glasses and suggested they sit on the sofa. Something was too abrasive about the kitchen chairs and table. Margot followed him into the living room and put her glass of wine on the coffee table. Together, they sat, watching the snow whirr past the window.

Noah wanted to ask Margot why she’d never gone to a therapist. He wanted to ask her why she’d never fallen in love with anyone. He wanted to ask her if she’d made herself feel guilty for her father’s death every single day of her life since the accident. But he guessed he already knew the answers.

Finally, Margot whispered, “She’s a sweet girl.”

Noah nodded. “I keep having to remind myself that she’s in the middle of the worst time of her life.”

Then again, so was Noah.

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