Evelyn Juniper Cove
Evelyn
Juniper Cove
2022
Evelyn released Kareela’s hand. At hearing her daughter’s news, she’d wanted to wrap her arms around her, the way Violet had. To hold on tight, instead of pushing her away. But for years now, it felt as if she were being held together by nothing stronger than faint wisps of a spider’s thread. That if she let herself truly connect to her daughter, when it was time to step away, she’d fall completely apart.
So she backed away, the news hitting her like a mallet to the chest. A baby. A new life.
Her daughter was thinking of becoming a single mother, with an elderly woman in her care. And Evelyn, who after all these years had thought she was finally free, thought she could leave without guilt—no one to care for but herself—was planning to abandon her.
A baby. Evelyn couldn’t process what this meant. Not now. “I have a board meeting,” she said. “I’ll do my best to help financially.”
She walked toward the side door, where her purse hung on one of the old wooden hooks her father had made. She stared at it. She was about to leave this house, this town, this life, but Kareela had asked her to stay. Evelyn slung the bag over her shoulder and stepped out the door, onto the gravel drive.
“Mom?”
She turned. Kareela stood, hands crossed in front of her, face so wide and open and expectant.
“Mom, are you happy for me?”
Evelyn bit her inner lip—happy, yes, but terrified. For Kareela. For herself. “You want this baby? Knowing the way it will change your life? Knowing what the world is like, and…doing it on your own?”
Kareela stood, her face still as a statue. “I won’t be on my own,” she said at last. “Thomas will help. Probably more than I want.” She chuckled. “He wanted this baby all along.”
“But you didn’t.”
Evelyn saw the slight convulsion of her daughter’s throat as she swallowed. “I wasn’t sure.”
Evelyn registered surprise at the smile she felt spread across her face as she stared at her girl—the six-year-old version, ten, fourteen, today. The way Kareela’s expression said, I am now.
“I’m happy for you.” Despite the fear.
Kareela’s face lit.
“And all of Gran’s costs,” said Evelyn, “if you’re sure that’s what you want, will be covered. Help with a bigger place, too. With some home care, if she ever needs it. You won’t have to worry about that.” Evelyn hesitated, her hands against her middle—uncertain, now, if she should leave. If she wanted to, after her daughter’s request, after the news of this child. “Well…” She gestured to the car, fighting the urge to cross the distance between them, take Kareela in her arms the way she should have upstairs. To stay, even though she’d convinced herself that if she wanted to be any good to her daughter, the best thing to do was leave. “I better…”
“Go.” Kareela waved her off.
Evelyn sat behind the wheel. She turned the ignition. Her baby, a mother. She looked back at her daughter, tempted still, to get out of the car, run, take her in her arms the way she used to. But she wasn’t ready yet. She was too raw. Too broken. Too ashamed. She hoped she would be ready. One day. She slowed the car over the gravel drive.
The night that had haunted and sullied every moment was out in the open. Her daughter knew, and that knowing, surprisingly, was a relief. It reminded Evelyn she’d been someone different once. Someone who laughed and hoped and planned for the future. Who had relationships that meant something.
For the first time in years, she wanted to become that person again. Or someone close to it. Evelyn put her foot on the brake, thinking of Antony as a baby, of Kareela, of the joy she was certain she would feel if she held her grandbaby in her arms. She had been broken. But for a baby—for her baby—maybe she could put herself back together again.
She put the car into reverse, eased it back up the drive, then stepped out to see Kareela still standing at the door, watching her. “That night…” Evelyn swallowed. She blew out a long stream of air, then continued. “It broke me. I was trying so hard. Had been trying so hard my whole life. Despite my father. My mother. Ella. Antony. Those boys in the schoolyard and all the years of so much hate. Of trying to ignore it, be above it…” She shook her head. “I don’t know, live, despite it. Then after that night, it was just too much. It was too terrifying to love. I mean, I did. I do love you. But…it broke me, Kareela. They broke me.” A shiver of revulsion ran through her as she recalled all the times she’d seen the men in town, seen Courtney, and the small smile and nod he always gave—as if he owned her. As if he’d won. “And keeping silent about it, just letting it all fester inside with no way out, I couldn’t see a way to put myself back together again. After a time, I couldn’t even care enough to want to.”
Evelyn stopped, her fists clenched to dull the shaking. “So, I don’t know what more to say, except that I don’t regret you. I regret the hate, the fact that I brought you into a world that can be as awful as this one. But not you. You, I love. Even though I’ve not known how to show it, been too afraid of letting myself feel it the way I used to.”
Kareela stood, brow furrowed, biting her lower lip. She gave a slight nod, as something like a whisper escaped her closed lips.
Evelyn nodded back. “You, I love.”
She stepped into the car, eased down the driveway, and pulled onto the road. Not five minutes away from the house, she pulled over and closed her eyes, thinking of the last time she’d been truly happy. Of the people who brought her that joy. Her mother. Kingsley. Her children. And her one real friend, who she’d pushed out of her life—pride and anger and fear making her do it.
Evelyn pulled out her phone, not Antony’s, which she’d had to retire years ago. And the act of reaching for it—expecting Antony’s and being reminded that this last piece of him was gone—sent a tremor of pain so intense, so fresh, it was like she was back in that moment the officer stood at the door, speaking the words that would alter all their lives forever.
She took several breaths, not letting the shock of emotion steal her resolve, and dialed a number she still remembered after all these years, hoping as it rang.
“Hello.”
“Hi, uh…”
“Hello?” The voice so much the same, yet different.
“Dani? It’s Evelyn.”
“Ev…Jackson?”
“Yes. I…well…I heard about Charles. I’m sorry.”
“I heard about Kingsley.”
Silence.
“I just…” Evelyn closed her eyes, regret over all the lost years rushing through her. “I miss you. I miss who I was when you were my friend.”
“Oh, Evie.” That laugh, the one Evelyn didn’t know until this moment just how much she’d yearned for. “I miss you, too. I miss us, and was hoping you’d call.”
Evelyn stared at the field, stretching as far as the eye could see, wishing she’d made this call years ago: the night that second officer showed up at her door, the night she realized for herself the true reason Charles, and Dani, had refused to stand beside her. “I’m going to do some traveling.”
“Oh?”
“I thought maybe I could come see you. Or that we could go somewhere together?”
“Oh!”
Evelyn hesitated. “I have Kingsley’s ashes. I didn’t know what to do with them. But he always wanted to go home.” Evelyn straightened as the idea came to her. She’d thought she could never return without Antony, but, she realized, he would have wanted her to. Thoughts of the good times—hot sun, cool breezes, and friends—filled her mind, and she knew that’s what she’d do, whether or not Dani joined. Not find some place to wait to die, as she’d thought weeks ago, when formulating the decision to put Violet in a home and flee somewhere, but go back to the last place she’d felt truly safe. See their old house, their old friends—the ones who were still left—and, hopefully, remind herself how to live. “If you wanted to come,” said Evelyn, “I could show you where he’s from. Where we were from.”
“I always said I wanted to go to Jamaica. That one day, you had to show me around.”
Evelyn laughed, the sound and feeling so foreign it startled her. “You did say that. And I promised I would.” Evelyn’s smile grew as a flock of starlings rose out of the field, hundreds of them soaring across the sky. “Also, I’m going to be a grandmother.”
“You don’t say.” Evelyn could almost see Dani shaking her head, the way she did. “You’ll love it. I have two.”
“Two!”
“Twins. They’re better than your own kids. You get to send them home.” Another laugh. “It’s good to hear from you.” Dani’s voice sounded wistful, yet full of joy. “So many times I picked up the phone to call, but I wasn’t sure…”
“Me too.” Evelyn paused. “It’s in the past.” For the first time, she believed it, hoped that not just that, but so many hurts she’d held on to, let weaken her, cripple her, steal the things in life she most wanted, would one day be in the past, too. “I haven’t done well,” she said. “In life. But I want to do better. I think I need help.”
“Travel and therapy,” said Dani. “Not just friendship therapy. I have an incredible psychologist I can get you in touch with.”
“A psychologist?”
“Of course. You know how nutty I am.”
“I tried that once.” Evelyn shook her head, despite Dani not being able to see. “Well, not a psychologist, exactly. A support group. Talk therapy. Not for me.”
Dani gave a half laugh. “What? So you tried something kind of like counseling once, and you’re going to write off every psychologist on the planet?” She paused. “It was hard, losing Charles just after losing both of my parents. And those sessions…” Evelyn imagined Dani was shaking her head, even though Evelyn couldn’t see it. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
“Huh…” Evelyn looked to her hands. She’d always wondered if maybe she should go back to a group—especially after taking that bottle of pills. Or something different. Something like what Dani was talking about.
“The best thing,” said Dani, “is she does virtual care. The pandemic did bring some good changes—no more sitting awkwardly on a couch.”
Evelyn glanced at the car’s dash. Maybe she’d try; call up the woman who’d helped Dani, see if she could help her, too. She couldn’t make things worse.
Evelyn would do it. She would call the therapist. Travel to Jamaica. Maybe other places, too, and then, hopefully, come back—for Kareela. For her grandchild. And for Antony. For who he would have wanted her to be. How he’d want her to continue on, embrace this reason to live: new life. And embrace the life that had been there all along, but that Evelyn had failed to see.
“I should get going.” Evelyn kept her gaze on the field, seemingly empty again, but holding so much possibility. “I’m on my way to a work meeting. About to give my notice, actually.”
“You don’t say.”
Evelyn could almost see Dani’s smile, the crease at the side of each eye. Would her hair be gray? Or dyed the same red that had always matched her firecracker spirit?
“I’m glad you called, Mrs. Jackson.”
A warmth flowed over Evelyn. “Me too.”