Page 24 of Summer Longing
Amelia smiled at her. “Ruth, I know you’re stuck in the middle of this situation with the baby and I just wanted to say thank you. It’s a complicated issue, and every bit of support helps.”
“Well, I’m not exactly in the middle of it,” Ruth said. In fact, she considered herself officiallyoutof it.
“Rachel is watching her at the moment. But it’s nice to know we have another set of hands if we need it.” Amelia winked at her.
What? Ruth had no interest in becoming a regular in the baby-watching rotation. One day was fine; it was a small contribution. She would admit that it had even been a little rewarding. But this was not going to be a summer of caretaking. Ruth was not a good caretaker. She didn’t even own a houseplant.
“Actually,” Ruth said, to change the subject and to make it clear she had her own life, “my daughter might be visiting soon.” It felt like a lie, but incredibly, it wasn’t. She had invited Olivia, so there was always the chance—the very remote, very unlikely chance—that she would say yes.
“Oh, that’s good news. I remember you mentioning her that first morning at the inn but you said she wasn’t coming to visit. How wonderful she changed her mind.”
“Well, I don’t know if it’s changed yet. But I’m doing my best.” And then, before she could think twice about it, Ruth blurted out, “But I lied to her.”
“Oh?”
“It wasn’t a lie, exactly. It was more of a…half-truth. But I wanted to get her to come out here.” This was what happened when you quit therapy cold turkey after twenty years. You started unloading on strangers.
Late last year, upon discovering that her nail polish had been discontinued, Ruth had called her psychiatrist for an emergency session. “I need to make a change,” she’d said. “But I don’t know where to go.”
“Where were you most happy in life?” Dr. Bellow asked.
Ruth ran through a mental catalog: Growing up in suburban Philadelphia. College in Illinois. Her married years in New Jersey. Her business travel to Europe and California.
“Provincetown,” she said.
It had been the summer before she started Northwestern. Her father’s architecture firm had spent the previous six months working on a big project in Truro, Massachusetts, and he’d rented a cottage in Provincetown and brought Ruth and her mother out for the summer.
Funny that the happiest she’d been in her entire life was before her life really began.
With this revelation, Ruth realized that she had to have a Provincetown home of her own. Facing the milestone of retirement, she now had to figure out the rest of her life. And she realized that she wanted to spend it in P’town. The rest was just logistics.
So, yes—she was getting her affairs in order.
“You don’t have to explain to me,” Amelia said. “I was estranged from my daughter for twenty years. If there was something I could have said to get her to come home—half lie, whole lie, the whole world of lies—I would have said it.”
Ruth looked at her. “Did she ever come back?”
Amelia nodded. “She did. Three years ago.”
“Is she here now?”
“Not at the moment. She lives in Italy.”
“Is this Rachel’s mother?”
“No, Rachel is my son’s daughter. But my son never knew her. We lost him a long time ago.”
“Oh! I’m sorry.”
Amelia stopped walking. “Don’t feel bad, Ruth. Our relationship with our children is the most precious thing we have. Do whatever it takes to set that right. Oh, look! That’s a beauty.” She picked up a cloudy blue stone. “Sea glass,” she said.
She handed it to Ruth, who marveled over its deep color and smooth surface.
“It takes decades of tumbling around in the sea for glass to reach this texture and frosted appearance. Some sea glass is a hundred years old.”
“I guess some things do get better with age,” Ruth said.
“Oh, my dear—don’t we all? I’m going to show this to the others.” She touched Ruth’s shoulder. “Think about what I said.”
