Page 10 of Lost Memories (Secrets of Mackinac Island 1)

Elise remembered one night when the babies had been just over a year old. Sean had been away—one of his very first business trips—and Elise and Allison struggled to get the babies down for the night.

Elise had held Penny against her chest, as her eyes had drained themselves of tears. Her mother had held Brad. After a moment, they had both turned their faces toward one another and burst into a mixture of tears and laughter.

“Let’s go to the pier,” her mother had suggested. “It’s late enough that nobody will mind, and maybe the car ride will calm them down.”

Elise had had no other answer. She’d been in her very early twenties, strung-out, and exhausted. She had hardly been able to see straight as she’d loaded the babies up in the car and latched herself into the driver’s seat. Allison had fallen into the passenger side. For the first time, glancing in the mirror, Elise had recognized how close she now looked to Allison, especially in the fatigue of her face.

On the drive to Malibu Pier, her mother had played Joni Mitchell songs and cooed until the babies had fallen to sleep. Once there, they had lifted the baby bassinets gently toward the water. Allison had dragged a blanket and a bottle of wine from her bag and splayed it out between them.

As Allison poured the wine, Elise dropped her eyelids over her eyes and heaved a sigh.

“It’s not like I regret having them,” she breathed.

“No. You would never regret that.” Her mother returned.

“It’s just the most tiring thing I’ve ever done,” Elise had said.

“I know. Twins! Mostly by yourself...”

“I’m not by myself,” Elise insisted. Her eyes popped open and she blinked at her mother. “You’re here, for one and I’m married to Sean.”

“I know, honey,” her mother had returned.

Her voice had been edged with sadness. Obviously, she had thought that Elise had seen the error of her ways when it came to Sean.

“I love him, you know,” Elise had said. “I’m not like you, I guess. I need him around.”

“Are you insinuating that I didn’t want your father around when you were a baby?” Allison had asked.

Elise had felt the words like a knife through her stomach. “I don’t know. We’ve only talked about him a handful of times.”

Allison had shrugged and sipped her wine. The moonlight reflected itself in the top of the liquid. “When you screamed bloody murder at this age, I wanted someone around. For sure, I did. My parents were dead; your father was miles away. I felt like I didn’t have a single person who understood me in the world, except for my best friend.”

“Aunt Mickey?” Elise had called her mother’s best friend, her aunt, for as long as she could remember.

“Yes. And if she hadn’t been around, there’s no telling what might have happened to me,” Allison had affirmed.

“And you never wanted to call Dad and ask him why he didn’t want to be around?” Elise had asked, her voice scratchy.

Allison hadn’t answered for a long time. She had shifted on the blanket beside Elise, staring up at the moon.

“I loved him, Elise. I did. But it pales in comparison to the love I have for you. You were my greatest achievement. And now that you have children of your own, maybe you can understand that a little bit more.” Allison had shrugged, then added, “As much as you love Sean—that idiot accountant—I know you’d lay down your life for your babies.”

“Of course. In a heartbeat,” Elise had replied.

“Then, you get it. You could go on without him if you had to.”

“I could,” Elise had affirmed, sounding helpless. “I really could.”

**

MANY YEARS LATER, AFTERSean had sat Elise down and informed her that he had been having an affair with a woman named Regina and now planned to leave her—which, he said, was especially fair since their children were already out of the house and “they hadn’t been in love for a long time,” Elise’s mother had said nothing to the tune of, “I told you so.” In fact, she had instead insisted on Elise and Allison going on a trip to Mexico together—sitting with margaritas and tortilla chips and guacamole, each in their bathing suits, watching the waves roll in.

“You never needed him. You said it over and over again,” her mother had told Elise. “Think of his departure as you being allowed to reclaim your life. Your screenplay, your career, your life—even that house you bought with your first paycheck from that first screenplay you sold in your twenties—it’s all just yours, now. You don’t have to share it with Sean.”

At this, Elise had glanced toward her mother with her margarita glass in hand. She had wanted to describe just how grateful she truly was. She had wanted to tell her that she finally got it—got why her mother had never wanted to drag her father into their existence.

“You’re my best friend in the world, Mom,” she’d told her, as the sun had plunged beneath the Mexico horizon and cast them in gorgeous orange light. “I never needed anyone but you.”

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