First, she’d gone back to her parents’ house to update Rob and say good night to the boys. Then she’d gone to Perry and Amelia’s to collect some things for Emma. She’d just been heading to the hospital when her mother called.
“Where are you?” Jane asked.
Phoebe had initially prickled. She was going as fast as she could. But then she understood why Jane was calling. “Olivia has her hands full here. I know it’s a bit of a drive, but might you head over to her place and pick up a few things? I think she could use our help.”
Twenty minutes later, Phoebe found herself sailing over the wooded hills of Washington’s Route 109 before being deposited into the cozy hamlet of the town center. She slowed as she drove through, soaking in its Norman Rockwell vibe: white clapboard churches, historic farmhouses, rustic red barns. When she pulled into the long gravel driveway of the address Jane had given her, Phoebe was met immediately by a kind-faced older woman in front of the main house. Marge was tall and elegant, her silver hair pulled back in a chignon. But she was dressed unassumingly in a peasant blouse and faded blue jeans. “You must be the sister,” she said, leaning into Phoebe’s window. “You and Jake have the same mischievous twinkle in your eyes.”
Phoebe was pleasantly taken aback. When she’d first heard that Olivia shared the property with an older couple and worked as an apprentice in the barn, she’d immediately felt sorry for Olivia. Not only was the money likely minimal for a single parent, but Phoebe had wondered at the close quarters and how dreadful it must be to live with the person for whom you worked. Like some kind of indentured servant!
But as she looked around, Phoebe was positively envious. Between the large barn and the farmhouse was a sprawling stretch of cultivated yard dotted with flower beds in full bloom. A fieldstone patio hugged one side of the house, and to the other side lay a wooded grove of pine trees. The place was right out of a storybook.
Behind the barn, Phoebe could make out a small cottage, matching the farmhouse in its white clapboard siding and cedar shake roof. A winding stone path led the way to its front door. Phoebe figured if she sat here long enough, Red Riding Hood would poke her head out.
As Marge handed her a carefully packed bag of Olivia’s things and asked worriedly about everyone back at the hospital, Phoebe realized her misjudgment. On the way over, she’d imagined the awkward formality of her mission. Having to knock on the door and explain who she was. Having to ask permission to be let into Olivia’s cottage, where she imagined herself rummaging through the rooms as Marge looked on proprietorially. How wrong she’d been.
These people were Olivia’s Connecticut family just as much as Phoebe’s family was hers. “I packed pajamas and fresh clothes for both girls, their toothbrushes, and a couple of Luci’s dolls. I figured the poor little thing could use some cheering up.”
“Thank you so much,” Phoebe said. If Marge hadn’t beenleaning into the car, she’d have opened the door and gotten out to hug her.
“Oh, and please tell Olivia not to worry about Buster. I fed him dinner and Ben is out now taking him on a walk. We’ll keep him in the house with us tonight so he doesn’t get lonely.”
Phoebe remembered then about the dog. What a shame he couldn’t go to the hospital with them. She had a feeling everyone in the family could use a good dose of therapy dog right about then.
After promising Marge that she’d call with updates, Phoebe drove back down the driveway. What she would’ve given for a Marge and Ben herself, she thought.
Unfortunately, when she returned to the hospital, she still wasn’t allowed back to see any of them. Perry came out to collect the things she brought, and thanked her. He looked terrible, but he assured her the girls were okay. Jake was the one they were most worried about now, and one look at her parents told Phoebe it was wearing on them.
“He’s in recovery, and Olivia was able to spend some time with him. The doctor says the surgery went well,” Edward told her. He looked exhausted.
“Let’s all go home and come back in the morning,” Phoebe suggested. For once, her mother did not argue.
By the time she fell into her own bed, beside Rob, Phoebe was too exhausted to lie awake worrying. About the fact she’d barely seen the boys all day. About money. About the fact she lay beside a husband who was too disillusioned to turn over and kiss her good night. Instead of fretting, it had been all she could do to kick off her sandals and crawl into bed in the clothes she’d worn all day. She was out cold before she remembered she’d not brushed her teeth.
This morning, she thought the next day, would have to be different. She vowed to call Dave and make a plan for the house. Rob had gone into work, and she’d convinced Anna Beth to take the boys for the morning. “Jesus,” she’d said when Phoebe called to explain why. “How is Jake? I can’t picture him laid up for a second.”
Tears pricked her eyes as Phoebe realized with a start she did not know if Jake would be all right. The surgery may have gone well, but the fracture was serious and he’d be in traction and then rehab for a long time. And it wasn’t just the leg. There still wasn’t any clear understanding of what had gone wrong out there. Although nobody dared say the words aloud, she had a bad feeling it involved Jake. And Phoebe could tell she was not alone.
She’d seen it bubbling beneath the surface in Perry, when she’d visited the hospital late the night before. He looked god-awful. She understood as a parent what Perry was already feeling and Jake could not; when your children’s well-being was threatened, there was no telling how you’d react. Brothers or not. Even in a big close-knit family, when it came down to a crisis, your children trumped everyone.
After signing in at the visitor’s desk, Phoebe stopped at the Starbucks cart in the lobby. She spent almost thirty dollars on coffees, which she could not afford at all. But given how deep she was in the hole, what difference did six more coffees make? In that case, why bother with her usual skinny latte? She ordered herself a mocha Frappuccino, and watched with zero concern as the young barista mixed the creamy confectionery drink. She didn’t even blink when the girl dumped in chocolate syrup.
“Whipped cream?” she asked.
Phoebe stared back at her youthful smile. “Drown it.”
Now, as she stood mesmerized by the gauzy summery viewoutside Luci’s hospital room windows, she remembered her tray of drinks.
“Phoebe?” Olivia rose, and met her in the doorway. Luci was sleeping behind her in the bed.
“Hi! How is she?” Phoebe whispered, coming to her senses.
“She was up a bit last night, but she’s fallen back to sleep, thank goodness.”
Olivia looked exhausted, but Phoebe noticed she was wearing the plaid pajama pants she’d picked up from Marge at the house the night before, and that cheered her. She handed her a cup of tea. “I remembered you like chai lattes.”
“How in the world?” Olivia asked. She pecked Phoebe gratefully on the cheek and pulled a chair over next to her own.
Phoebe shrugged. “I noticed Jake drinking them and gave him a hard time. He’s normally a boring black coffee kind of guy. You’re sophisticating my brother. We didn’t think it could be done.”
