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She put her plate down and then noticed Aiden heaping a plate with food. Either he had an extraordinary appetite, or he was intending to share it with someone. She was the only one who had noticed what he was doing. Everyone else was still dissecting Izzy’s behavior.
Teenager.
Under a great deal of stress.
Completely understandable.
Hideous year.
So many memories in this place.
Aiden saw her watching him and froze. They stared at each other for a moment, and then she turned back to the group and drew the conversation and attention toward herself.
Over Clare’s shoulder she saw Aiden slip away from the group, following the same path Izzy had taken.
Flora relaxed a little, relieved that someone was going after Izzy. It was going to be dark soon. She just hoped he’d be able to help. Maybe it would be easier for Izzy to talk to someone her own age.
They’d moved on to dessert by the time Clare noticed he was missing.
“Where’s Aiden?”
Todd glanced around. “He was here a moment ago.”
“These strawberries are delicious,” Flora said. “The sweetest I’ve tasted.”
“I grow them—” Clare launched into a detailed account of how she netted the berries to keep away the birds, how they’d ended up with a glut the previous year and she now had jars and jars of jam.
Flora was thinking about Izzy, but she was also thinking about herself. Thinking of all the times she’d buried her own needs and behaved in ways contrary to her nature in an attempt to be accepted. But it wasn’t really acceptance, was it? It wasn’t acceptance if you had to change who you were, or suppress your own needs. It wasn’t acceptance if you were afraid to be yourself and live the life you wanted to live.
The sun gradually sank low on the horizon, sending sparks of golden light across the surface of the lake.
Clare took Molly to bed. The adults stayed on the sunloungers, enjoying the peace of the evening.
Flames from the firepit darted upward, warming the air around them and tiny solar lights picked out the path to the water and led all the way to the boathouse. On the far side of the lake Flora could just about make out the silhouette of two people sitting on the dock.
She hoped Izzy was talking and Aiden was listening.
Todd appeared with a tray of coffee.
Jack sat down on the sunlounger next to Flora. He was obviously still agonizing about Izzy. “She said ‘I’m going to stay at home and look after you and Dad.’ Did you hear her?” He took the coffee mug Todd offered with a nod of thanks. “Is that what this is about? Is it because she feels she has to look after us?”
Clare stretched out next to Todd. “Is that what she’s been doing?”
“I suppose she has in a way.” Jack stared at the flames flickering in the firepit. “She does a lot around the house. I’m not the world’s best cook. And I miss things. I forget to send Molly with a drink. I make her sandwiches she doesn’t eat because I can’t for the life of me remember all the small details in the way Izzy does. Molly hates ham. I need to remember she hates ham. Anyway, Izzy took over, and I was grateful for it.”
“It’s probably been good for her, Jack.” Clare was holding Todd’s hand. “It’s good to be busy and feeling she
is contributing is important for her self-esteem.”
“But she seems to think I’m inept and incapable.” He gave a self-deprecating smile. “She could be right. I obviously need to get my act together and do more domestic stuff.”
If that was the problem, why hadn’t Izzy just yelled at her dad and told him he should be doing more?
Flora didn’t ask the question aloud. She’d already said enough, and was relieved that her intervention and honesty didn’t seem to have harmed her relationship with Jack.
She leaned against him, nursing her coffee in her lap.
“You’re quiet.” He trailed his fingers down her arm. “Still thinking about Izzy?”
