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“No!” Bethany cried.
“That’s not it at all,” Rebecca fumbled. “I think what Bethany is trying to say is…” She trailed off, searching for the right words. “I’m forty-five right now, but I still feel young and naive almost every single day. Nobody gave me a how-to manual for losing the love of my life. Nobody gave me a how-to manual about losing my baby brother. And nobody gave me a how-to manual about cleaning up any of the mess we’ve created over the years. Maybe it’s a surprise to you that I even want to clean this up. Trust me. It’s a surprise to me, too.”
Valerie’s eyes were difficult to read. Being forty-one and having made so many public mistakes, couldn’t she understand that being an adult was no easy feat?
Finally, after a long, pregnant pause, Valerie spoke. “Remember how after Joel died, we never spoke of him?”
Rebecca and Bethany nodded, their gaze on the table with shame.
“The way I remember it, this big house was so drafty and empty after Joel’s death,” Valerie continued. “You both were always off with friends. Apparently, Dad was off with Bree. And Mom? I don’t even know where Mom was. Probably, she was at that stupid Sutton Book Club.”
Rebecca bristled. Valerie was hard-edged and still filled with pain.
“Nobody is saying any of that is okay,” Rebecca said.
Valerie sniffed. Her eyes were lost. “I can’t promise you I’ll stay much longer. I just want to make sure Mom is set up. I want to get her into therapy, but I don’t want to deal with Dad. We were all a mess after Joel died. All of us! But we were his mess, and he left us here. I don’t know how either of you can ever forgive him for that.”
The storm raged all night and into the morning. As Rebecca dressed in leggings and a big Bar Harbor sweatshirt, gray light shimmered across the bedsheets, and rain flattened against the windowpane.
It was only six, but Rebecca couldn’t sleep another wink. Valerie’s words had kept her awake all night, and guilt made her stomach ache. At eleven, Valerie hadn’t been old enough to take care of herself. Her best friend, Joel, had left the world. Valerie and Bethany had taken refuge in friends, in the community, but Valerie had just gotten harder and built up walls. Was this why she’d never allowed herself to fall in love and get married? Was this why she’d never had children?
Rebecca didn’t think all women without children were somehow “wrong” or “bad.” She had plenty of female friends who’d chosen the no-kids route. None of them had felt abandoned as a child, though. None of them had the stormy eyes of Valerie Sutton.
Rebecca entered the softness of the hallway. A few doors down, Esme’s door was cracked, and a female voice murmured. Rebecca went toward it like a moth to the flame. When she knocked on the door, it opened a bit more to reveal Valerie sitting cross-legged in bed next to Esme, who smiled sweetly at her youngest daughter. The sight was enough to break Rebecca’s heart.
“Hi, you two,” Rebecca said.
Valerie looked tired, as though she’d struggled with sleep just as much as Rebecca. Thunder roared above the house, and Esme’s smile widened.
“When you kids were frightened of the storm, you used to pile into bed with your father and me. All four of you!” Esme shook her head and gazed at the ceiling, lost in the memory. “Of course, it broke my heart when Rebecca and Bethany decided they were too old to seek refuge here.”
“Apparently, I’m still not too old,” Valerie tried.
Esme beckoned for Rebecca, who walked slowly toward the bed and eventually shimmied under the covers next to Valerie. Her heartbeat felt very slow. Lightning flashed outside the window, and Esme said she was sorry for all the tourists who’d come to the island that June. “We’ve gotten so much rain.”
Rebecca was grateful to see her mother so soft and docile after her stress the previous night. She chatted gently about her flower and vegetable gardens, and about how sorry she was that Larry couldn’t see how big the tomatoes had already grown.
“Larry always ate his tomatoes raw with salt and pepper,” Esme continued. Her eyes were thoughtful. “Your father never would have had that. He preferred all of his vegetables cooked.”
For the first time, Rebecca realized that Larry’s death had probably had the same effect on Esme as Fred’s had on her. It had dragged the horrors of Joel’s death to the surface. It had compounded their grieving.
Another lightning and an immediate clap of thunder filled the sky. Footfalls came down the hallway, followed by Bethany’s sweet face in the doorway. Her eyes widened at the sight of her two sisters and mother in bed together.
“Bethy! Oh, Bethy. Come here.” Esme lifted her ballerina’s hand from beneath the comforter and waved her in.
Bethany hesitated. She probably sensed how emotional this was for all of them. Could she trust it? But as another gust of wind rushed against the house, she tiptoed across the room and whipped under the covers. She cuddled next to Rebecca, her cold feet momentarily chilling Rebecca’s toes.
“My three daughters. Lucky me,” Esme breathed.
For a moment, everyone was quiet, listening to the storm. On the first floor, Victor was alone in his bedroom, probably watching the waves twist and shake across the beach. What he’d done all those years ago kept him apart. He knew it, and the Sutton women knew it.
But what did it mean that he’d come all the way back?
“Rebecca?” Esme’s voice was very sweet.
“What is it, Mom?” It took Rebecca everything not to burst into tears.
“Thank you for having the Veterans’ Dinner last night,” Esme continued. “I was angry. So angry that you took the reins on the Sutton Book Club, but when I woke up this morning, I had so many emails from the veterans complimenting you and the Book Club and the dinner. I’m not sure we can ever go back to the old ways. I’m not a professional chef, as you know. Maybe they’ll kick me to the curb.” She laughed kindly.
