Chapter 1 – Sophie
1
SOPHIE
Six Weeks Later
C ape May, New Jersey, is a picturesque Victorian beach town that I frequented as a child with my parents. The air is salty, and just a huff of the sea breeze can lower your heart rate to a blissful level. Each summer of my childhood was spent on these beaches, looking for seashells and Cape May Diamonds, walking the mall, and eating ice cream. My life and family have changed so much since those days, but I remember one thing clearly, almost as if it was yesterday. I remember that at the end of each of those summers, I felt whole. I felt peaceful.
Here I am now, trying to manifest the same peaceful feeling I had back then. I came here in search of that feeling, of a solace I realize I have been missing for a long time.
Today, I signed my divorce papers, a day that will be forever cemented in my mind as one where my dreams died. I had big plans. I wanted a family of my own, much like the one I grew up in, but my partner betrayed me in a way I still cannot fully wrap my brain around. The only place I could think to go to begin picking up the pieces is Cape May.
I’m realizing now that driving here straight from Scranton, Pennsylvania was maybe not my wisest decision. It’s the first weekend in April, and while it’s not officially the high season yet, I have no reservations and no plans. I called my assistant on my way down here and asked her to clear my schedule Luckily, my caseload isn’t too heavy and my best friend Claire, who is also a therapist at the same center, agreed to take any emergencies. So, I have nowhere to be for two weeks. And, nowhere to stay.
I plop down on the cool sand, let out a breath, and reach for my phone. I’m here now. This is going to be okay.
I open the vacation rental app and search Cape May. The first listing catches my eye because the house reminds me so much of my grandparents’ house with its large wraparound porch and big bay windows. It even has a turret tower, giving it the castle-like appearance that I loved about their home. I used to sneak into their bedroom and look out the window as far as the eye could see. Lucky for me, this old Victorian features an adjacent guest cottage with exactly the availability I need.
I quickly scroll through the description and then request a reservation from a woman named Eleanor. She doesn’t reply immediately, giving me the chance to suck in a cleansing breath of ocean air. I’m letting the cool sand sift through my fingers and contemplating the meaning of life when my phone dings. Eleanor’s picture is hard to see but she looks to be in her sixties and she has a kind smile. I click on the message:
The guest cottage is available for your requested timeframe. Would you mind calling or texting me? I hate the internet. 609-555-3142
I chuckle and type her number into a text message. She tells me I can come over and check the place out if I am already in town. I stand up and brush the sand off my legs. I take in the smell of the salt air as I trek back up the beach, and I instantly feel at ease. I made the right decision coming to Cape May to heal. It has never steered me wrong before and I know it won’t now.
This is the place where I will recover and pick up the pieces of my life.
When I pull up to the Victorian house on Perry Street I am overcome with nostalgia. The home is even more like my grandparents’ house than the pictures portrayed. My chest is tight as I swallow the memory of my last time staring up at their Victorian, a for sale sign firmly planted in the yard.
Before I march up the steps, I glance up and down the short block. Perry Street is shaded with mature trees, and each house is more beautiful than the next. A sense of serenity washes over me as I walk up the steps and prepare to knock. Just as I am about to grab the crab-shaped door knocker, the large burgundy front door swings open. I am greeted by a woman in a long sage green boho dress with long wavy hair that is a mix of gray and blonde. She is wearing red lipstick and dangly earrings at noon, but she has kind eyes, and I have a sense that they can see straight through to my broken spirit.
“You must be Eleanor. I’m Sophie.” I hold out my hand to shake hers, self-conscious of my chipped nail polish and chewed cuticles.
She smiles warmly at me. “Call me Ellie, please.” She holds the door open further. “Please come in.” She starts walking toward the back of the house while speaking quickly. “This is the house I grew up in. I inherited it from my parents and now I live here all alone. I just love having company. You’re also welcome to stay in the main house but I’m sure you’d prefer the privacy of the guest house. Is it just you who will be staying?” She turns around as she asks the last question. A baby cries in the next room. “Coming, Lulu!” she sings, dashing to the other room and coming back with a sweet baby girl on her hip. She has pink chubby cheeks and a mess of wispy blonde curls around her ears. “I’m babysitting.” She smiles down at the baby. “This is Lucy.”
I grin and reach for the baby’s chubby little hand. “Hi Lucy, you’re so cute.”
Lucy is bashful as she nuzzles her face into Ellie’s neck, tugging on the neckline of her dress.
Ellie adjusts Lucy’s hand and leads me through a sliding glass door and down the steps of the deck to a small cottage. It has the same sage green siding and burgundy front door that the main house has, with a large bay window on the front and a smaller one on the right side. We walk by planters on the small patio with pink and purple petunias basking in the sunlight. If it’s possible, the little house looks happy, and I feel like it’s beckoning me.
“It’s not much but I think you’ll find yourself comfortable. It’ll be perfect for just you.” She unlocks the front door, and we step into a tiny living area with a teal crushed velvet couch, a small end table, and a small flat-screen TV. Behind that, there is a queen-sized bed with a night table. To my left is a small kitchenette, there is a cooktop and a fridge but no oven. I think, for now, I can work with this.
“Go on, have a look around. If you like it, you’re welcome to stay. You’ll have to complete the payment on that godforsaken website, because that’s how I get paid, but I really don’t follow the booking rules. Or any rules at all for that matter!” She laughs at herself. I really like her already.
I make a show of checking out the rest of the space, but I already know this will be where I find myself again. I walk into the small bathroom, thrilled to find a deep claw-foot bathtub. I envision myself soaking away my sadness in bubbles and wine. I haven’t cared for myself properly in far too long. Between fertility treatments, the stress of getting pregnant, being in my strained marriage, and helping others at work, I am long overdue for some self-care.
I walk back out to the front patio, where there is a bench and a small café table. I think about the cups of coffee I will drink out here listening to the birds chirp good morning. I remember what Cape May did for me as a child, and I am manifesting that it can do the same for me now.
“I’ll take it.” I smile. “I think this place is just what I need.” Plus it sure beats staying at my dad’s house.
Ellie reaches for me and gives my shoulder a familiar maternal squeeze that strikes me as oddly forward, though not entirely unwelcome. “Wonderful! And you’ll be with us for two weeks?” she asks, clarifying the availability I asked for in our initial message.
“Or is indefinitely okay?” I joke, then quickly add, “Yes. Two weeks should do it.”
We are interrupted by the rumble of an engine, then the sound of a pickup truck door closing. Outside a man—tall, muscular, and bearded, with brooding blue eyes under a baseball cap—approaches the cottage. And he doesn’t look happy to see any of us. “I didn’t expect you to be out back,” he says gruffly.
“I was just showing Sophie here the guest house. She’s my new tenant,” Ellie says, handing him the baby. “Sophie, this is my neighbor and longtime friend, Liam.” She gestures at the man who is still wearing a salty expression.
I hold out my hand for him to shake but he doesn’t move to shake mine. Feeling my cheeks flush, I stick my hand in my back pocket. “Hi, I’m Sophie.” I offer him a smile. “Your daughter is beautiful.”
He doesn’t return it, and he doesn’t meet my eye. “She isn’t my daughter,” he snaps. “She’s my niece.” He shifts her to his other hip and lets out an exasperated puff of air. “Is her diaper bag all packed?” he asks Ellie. “I’m sorry but it’s been a long day.”
“It’s all inside, but she may need a snack.” Ellie remains stoic, as if she is used to his cantankerous mood.
“Great. Well, I’ll show myself out and see you tomorrow.” He stalks toward the back steps and disappears inside.
Once he is gone, Ellie turns to me apologetically. “I’m sorry about him,” she says, knitting her brow. “He isn’t the happiest guy on the block. He recently got custody of Lucy, and I think it’s been an adjustment for him.” She shrugs as if to say, what can I do?
“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,” I assure her. “I am preoccupied with my own shi–stuff, anyway.” I pull out my phone and complete the reservation booking on Ellie’s listing. “I just paid for the two weeks. I appreciate you accommodating me so last minute.”
“No trouble at all, dear. It’s still the off-season. I haven’t been booked here all winter. This place is a ghost town until May.” She starts to walk toward her house but stops abruptly. “I almost forgot!” She hands me a key on a ring with a keychain charm.
I take it from her and run my fingers over the smooth clear stone. “Thank you. Is this a Cape May Diamond?”
“That it is.” Her eyes crinkle when she grins at me.
“I used to collect these all the time as a girl,” I say wistfully, the memory sending a rush of nostalgia up the back of my neck.
Ellie nods solemnly, as if my nostalgia is palpable. Then she turns to go inside. “Just text me if you need anything!” she calls behind her.
I don’t plan on needing anything.
* * *
I wake up the next morning to the sound of chatter and giggling in the garden. I glance at my phone and see that it’s only 7:15 a.m. When I sit up fumbling for my phone I remember the empty bottle of wine that I helped myself to from the liquor cabinet last night, sans dinner.
“Ugh…” I groan. I cannot believe I drank the whole bottle. And I never took my bubble bath. I frown at the realization. It’s funny, even though helping to heal people is what I do for a living, I don’t know the first thing about how to heal myself. I’m going to have to work on that.
I’ve had my phone on Do Not Disturb since I left yesterday. I specifically told my dad and Claire where I was headed and took off. So why do I feel a pang of disappointment when I see that I have no missed calls or texts from James? I know in ninety days, we’ll be divorced; I know he’s with someone else now.
I don’t know what I expected, but suddenly I’m aware of just how alone I really am. It’s disconcerting. I groan again, this time more audibly, and I worry Ellie has heard me when there’s a soft knock at the door.
“Sophie, are you okay in there? I, uh, it sounds like you might be sick?” Ellie sounds unsure, like she knows she might be overstepping.
“I’m okay!” I shout back, embarrassed. I throw the pillow over my face and whisper-scream expletives into it. “I am just waking up.”
“Oh goodness, I hope Lucy and I didn’t wake you!” Ellie replies apologetically. “We’ll head inside.”
I don’t even have the courage to reply. My head is pounding, so I let myself drift back to sleep.
I wake up a while later, and my head still feels as if it’s going to implode. I want to cry when I remember that I don’t have any Advil or really any food in my new residence. It’s 10 a.m., and I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday. No wonder that wine went straight to my head. I throw on one of my comfy lounge outfits, walk to Ellie’s back door, and knock softly. She comes quickly, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she opens the door.
“Hello, dear! I’m so sorry if we disturbed you earlier.” She pauses, giving me the once over. I hear a children’s show playing in the background. “What can I do for you?” Her expression is warm and welcoming.
“I, uh, was wondering if you might have something for a headache?” I wince as I say it, partially out of embarrassment and partially because I don’t even know how my head is still attached.
Ellie smirks. “Get into the wine, did you? The Cape May Winery makes a mean red.” I must look embarrassed because then she smiles. “Sure, come on in. I was just fixing myself a little brunch. Would you care for some bacon and eggs? I’m intermittent fasting this week!”
I want to laugh at her usage of “this week” because if she is anything like me, she’s tried everything to shed those few stubborn pounds. Fertility treatments have not been kind to my once trim physique. Where I once had abs, there’s now a softer midsection. Up until now, I haven’t found it in me to care. James loved me for me…or so I thought. My stomach grumbles audibly as I smell the bacon that she has in the oven.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then!” Ellie laughs, reacting to its angry growl. “Come sit. Do you like coffee?” She ushers me into an old wicker kitchen chair with a homemade seat cushion tied on that reminds me of the chairs my grandmother used to have in her dining room. I take note of the empty highchair next to me and peer into the open living room where baby Lucy is in the playpen, holding herself up to a stand and bopping along to a toddler tune.
“Y-yes, please,” I say. It’s all I can manage. I’m overstimulated by the sunlight and the noise of the baby’s music.
Ellie places a steaming cup of coffee and two Advil in front of me with a small pitcher of half-and-half and some sugar cubes. I fix my coffee, breathe in the heavenly aroma, and take my first sip.
“So, what brings you to Cape May, dear?” Ellie wonders aloud as she cracks some eggs into a bowl.
I take another sip of my coffee and a deep breath, feeling instantly better and more able to engage in conversation. “I just filed for divorce from my husband of thirteen years,” I say, catching the melancholy in my voice but at the same time feeling relief having said it out loud. “I just needed to get away for a while.”
Ellie drops the spatula on the floor and turns to me as she picks it up, eyebrows raised. “I’m so sorry. I can’t say I was expecting that, but I thought I saw a sadness in your eyes,” she notes. “I obviously didn’t want to pry. If you’d like an outsider’s perspective, though, I am a bored old bitty with a lifetime of experience.”
I appreciate the sentiment, even though she doesn’t look a day over sixty, and give her a grim smile. “The long and short of it is, I am broken, and he found someone else who isn’t.” I sigh, staring down into my coffee mug.
Ellie moves the spatula around the pan with her back to me but turns when what I said registers. “Sweetheart, I am sure you aren’t broken,” she soothes, speaking to me with a maternal kindness I can appreciate.
“Cape May has always been my safe place.” I suck in a breath and then word vomit just pours out of me. I’m sure I am giving Ellie way more than she bargained for with my life story. She is quiet but listens as she pours the bacon grease into a can to harden. From the other room, Lucy starts to cry, interrupting us. “Coming, Lulu!” Ellie calls.
I clear my throat. “How old is she?” I ask meekly.
“She just had her first birthday.” Ellie smiles. Lucy whines again. “I’m coming, baby.”
I swallow a lump in my throat. The intrusive fear that I may never get to be a mother floods my mind. I have always wanted to be a mother. I never in a million years thought I would find myself divorced and infertile at thirty-eight. More importantly, I never thought my husband would become a parent with anyone other than me. The realization slams into me with hurricane force. I may never get to pick up my own crying baby.
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself. “Please, let me get her.”
I am out of my seat before Ellie can put the pan down.
* * *
It’s 5 p.m. before I wander back to my little guest house, trying to think of a plan for dinner. I unexpectedly spent the day with Ellie and Lucy, and I had the best time. It filled me up in a way I wasn’t expecting. I got to feed her lunch, then Ellie and I walked Lucy to the market, and I picked up some food for the cottage. Ellie and I got to know each other over afternoon tea while Lucy napped. It all feels so right, like I’ve been here all along.
I’m smiling as I unlock the door and hear the rumble of Liam’s pickup pulling into the driveway. I must admit that I am curious about him, but I’m far too awkward and fragile right now to even attempt a friendly conversation, so I go inside and peek at him from my little front window.
Today, he seems jovial as he chats with Ellie at the side of the house, his eyes crinkling as he laughs at something Ellie tells him. Lucy grasps at the sides of his face, pulling it to hers. He laughs and kisses the side of the baby’s head before waving Ellie goodbye. This display of tenderness is a world of difference from the man I met when I arrived yesterday, making me even more interested in who he is besides Ellie’s single next-door neighbor.
I close the curtain and reach for my phone. I haven’t looked at it since this morning. I have several text messages from Claire, my assistant Ashley, and surprisingly four of them are from James. I didn’t expect to hear from him after signing the papers yesterday. I’m not sure if I have the mental capacity to deal with him right now so I decide to open Claire’s messages first.
Claire: Hi… Just checking in. I haven’t heard from you much since you arrived in Cape May. I hope you’re okay. Call me, please.
Claire: It’s been a couple of hours. Can you at least let me know you’re okay????
Claire: If you’re okay, I am going to kick your ass. You’re giving new meaning to the word solace!
I laugh to myself and quickly type out a text back saying I will FaceTime her soon. Then I open my assistant’s message confirming that two weeks is enough time. I feel a smidgen of guilt over this. I know people depend on me for their weekly therapy sessions and here I am moseying around the beach, drinking away my feelings and my own need for therapy.
I text Ashley back and I make sure I let her know that I appreciate her. She is probably taking some heat from my crankier patients for the inconvenience. I told her to tell them I had a family emergency and I needed some time off. It’s not a lie. Your husband having an affair, knocking the girl up, and then consequently having to file for divorce, is definitely a family emergency.
Before I bring myself to read James’ text messages, I reach for another bottle of red wine. I pour myself a hefty glass, grab a fleece blanket, and settle on the teal sofa. Wine is about all I can think of for dinner now, despite purchasing several microwave meals earlier today. Who needs food anyway? With an exhausted sigh, I pick up my phone again.
James: Sophie, I don’t know what to say besides I’m sorry. I hate the way this turned out for us.
James: I didn’t want to become a dad this way. It was always supposed to be me and you.
James: I know you probably don’t want to talk to me and that’s okay, but I wanted to tell you that I talked to a realtor about listing the house.
James: When you’re ready, we should probably chat about it. Take care, Sophie. I’m sorry for everything.
That last text was just sent within the hour. I have a hard time believing that he cares this much. He just wants to get on with his life with Brittany. They can ride off into the sunset and make a whole basketball team of beautiful babies. I don’t know what to say back to him. It all feels too fresh. My eyes are just beginning to well up with tears when there’s a soft knock at my door.
I bolt off the couch and over to the door, swinging it open just in time to see my new neighbor, Liam sneaking away. There’s a bag of what smells like Chinese take-out at my feet.
“Liam?” I tilt my head, my brow furrowed in confusion.
Liam stops in his tracks and slowly spins around to face me. He runs his fingers through his tousled mess of almost jet-black hair and looks at his feet before meeting my eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“What are you doing here?” I eye him curiously but make sure to keep my voice light. “Did you bring me food?” I squat down and pick up the bag.
Liam rocks back on his heels and clears his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday, and I thought maybe you didn’t have dinner yet. I ordered too much food.” An awkward chuckle bubbles out of him. “My eyes are bigger than my stomach I guess.”
“Liam…that’s,” I suck in a breath, “that’s really nice.” I offer him a tight smile.
Liam shakes his head. “It’s nothing, honest. I hope you like lo mein.” He turns to go.
“Thank you,” I call after him.
Liam looks over his shoulder and gives me a wave. “Good night, Sophie.”
Maybe he isn’t so bad after all.