Page 32 of Sunset on the Solstice

She was sick and sweaty and shaking. Bethany took her hand and guided her to a chair at the kitchen table, into which she fell. Bethany and Valerie looked at one another as though searching for answers.

“It looks to me like we’re going to Montana,” Esme said, a snarl in her voice. “We’re getting Shelby back, and we’re not taking no for an answer.”

Rebecca put her hand over her mouth. She wasn’t sure how to face this. Over and over, she was reminded of when she’d gone to Montana, supposedly to “get Shelby back,” only to be asked to leave. She remembered how meek and frightened Shelby had looked, a new mother with a screaming, tired, hungry baby, a new wife with a screaming, tired, hungry husband. She’d been twenty-two at the time and far too young.

“I should have protected her,” Rebecca whispered now, thinking of not only that day in Montana but of all the days before that, of Shelby’s wedding day, of the day Shelby had brought Jared home for dinner and he’d diminished the qualifications of female writers.

“She didn’t want to be protected,” Valerie whispered. “She fell in love with him, and she thought love was enough.”

“But who told her love was enough?” Rebecca asked, her voice shaking. “Fred and I had a wonderful marriage. We talked about everything. Did we fight? Of course we did, sometimes. But I always thought that we gave our kids a good idea of what to expect in a healthy partnership. I always thought we taught them what love is.”

“It’s easy to get twisted up in ideas of love,” Valerie said. “I’ve seen it a lot in the wedding business. I can’t tell you how often I’ve seen relationships fall apart a few weeks before they were supposed to walk down the aisle, all because the woman realized there wasn’t respect in her relationship. It’s always like she wakes up from some wedding fantasy and realizes that the man in front of her doesn’t actually like her.” Valerie took a sharp breath. “But it doesn’t always happen before the wedding. Sometimes it happens after. Years after.”

“Do you always know it’s coming?” Bethany asked.

Valerie closed her eyes. “I usually know.”

Esme squeezed Rebecca’s hand. “You can protect your children. You can give them all the information you have. You can try and try and try. But they’re still going to make their own mistakes, honey. That’s the nature of all of it.”

Rebecca didn’t know what to say. When she closed her eyes, all she could see was Shelby and her three—three! —children next to a glittering mountain stream. With a fourth baby on the way, Shelby was going to need more help than ever.

“I need to get home,” Rebecca said suddenly, yanking herself up so that her chair rattled onto the ground behind her. “I need to look at flights. I need to go.”

16

Cambridge, Massachusetts: Winter and Spring 2027

In February, Shelby married the love of her life, Jared Kissinger, and moved into a two-bedroom apartment not far from Harvard campus, so that he could walk to classes every day. During those first couple of weeks, Shelby fell into a happy rhythm. Now that Jared was out of the hospital and walking normally, now that everything seemed easy and clear and happy, and now that Shelby was pregnant with their first child, Shelby realized there was nothing much to do but learn how to be a wife. This meant, she guessed, cooking and cleaning, or getting a job somewhere, although when she suggested that to Jared, he looked at her as though she were crazy. He didn’t have to say it, but she guessed that he didn’t want her to work now when they were newlyweds. Not when she was pregnant.

During February, March, and April, Shelby busied herself with doctor’s appointments, cooking, baking, and cleaning. Her favorite thing to make was dessert—cakes and pies and tiramisu and ice cream—but Jared soon told her that he didn’t want either of them to gain any unwanted weight, so she stopped that pretty quickly. Her sweet tooth continued to rage, though. It reminded her of college at Columbia, how she’d always stayed up late writing papers and eating sweets. She and Molly had had their favorite cookie place, not far from campus, and they’d often met there to eat and drink coffee and complain. Shelby felt her first pang of loss, thinking about those cookies and her old, dear friend.

But getting married and starting a new life with Jared meant letting go of parts of her old life. Columbia was out. New York City was out.

In mid-April, Jared didn’t come home. Shelby had worked for hours on a beef Wellington, which she was quite proud of and eager to show off. Standing in her apron at the kitchen counter, preparing the last of the salad, her ears craned for the first sounds of her husband, which usually involved the key in the lock and his boots on the welcome mat.

Usually on Thursdays, he was home at six thirty, maybe seven if he had a little more studying to do. But seven crept to seven forty-five, which crept to eight fifteen, and still, Jared wasn’t back. He hadn’t written or called, either. The beef Wellington had grown cold, so she put it back in the oven at a low temperature, terrified of burning it. She didn’t want to make the place smell bad and enrage him even more when he got back from wherever he was.

It never occurred to Shelby how strange it was that she was scared to write and call Jared herself. Since he’d woken up from his coma, his moods had been difficult to read, so much so that she’d taken to smoothing things out for him beforehand, trying to make his route through the world simple and easy. If things were easy for Jared, then everyone had a good time. If things were easy for Jared, Shelby was allowed to keep smiling and laughing. She could sleep at night.

But when it hit eleven that night, Shelby didn’t know what to do. She decided to call one of Jared’s friends, a guy he’d gone to high school, undergrad, and now grad school with. His name was Stephan, and he was stuffy and arrogant but seemed genuinely to care about Jared.

Stephan answered reluctantly. “Hello?”

“Hi, Stephan. It’s Shelby,” Shelby said, speaking faster than she wanted to. It made her sound uncertain. “I was wondering if you know where Jared is? He didn’t come home, and I’m getting worried.”

“Um, yeah. He’s all right,” Stephan said.

There was a shuffling, followed by footsteps. Shelby heard a roar that meant Stephan was out at some bar. Was Jared out at the bar with him? Why hadn’t Jared invited Shelby along? She was pregnant, sure, but that didn’t mean she didn’t like going out.

She hadn’t known that getting married to Jared would mean missing out on life experiences.

“And he’s okay?” Shelby asked Stephan, hating how stupid she sounded.

“He’s fine, Shelby. Just go to bed, all right? He’ll be late.”

There was a burst of laughter, which told Shelby they were all out, laughing about Jared’s nagging wife. Her gut turned sour, and she hung up the phone.

That night, Jared got back a little after one. He was drunk and smelling of beer and greasy food, and he took off his shirt and crawled into bed. Shelby was wide awake, panic lacing its way through her chest. She wondered if Jared had kissed another woman tonight. She wondered if he was that kind of guy—not to tell his wife about his plans so that he could cheat.