Chapter 10
The second Bonnie was back inside her own house, she burst into tears. She collapsed on the couch, letting all of the day’s hurt, embarrassment, and pain wash through her in wave after wave. While Jack’s suggestion to sell the house in the city was sound financial advice, it tore at her heart to even think about doing so.
Bonnie had lived half of her life in that house. For the past thirty years, it had been her home. She’d raised her kids there. As deep and lovely as her memories of the summers in Lake Placid were, there were three times as many memories in Albany. Every single birthday party the kids ever had took place there. Countless skinned knees, family dinners, game nights, long talks, overdue science fair projects, and late-night ice cream sundaes.
It wasn’t just the kids, either. There were a few years before James’ birth when it was just Bonnie and Peter. It was the site of much of their relationship, even more than the lake house. Peter worked a lot, more than Bonnie ever wanted him to, but the big house in the city was still stuffed with memories of him.
They had slow danced in the living room to old jazz records and stayed up too late talking about the kids and their dreams. The backyard was the site of dozens of dinner parties and lazy Sunday afternoons. Walking through the house was like walking through a living museum of Peter and Bonnie’s marriage. It felt as much a part of Bonnie’s family life as any individual member.
It was hard enough to mourn her husband. Confronting the debts he’d left was another hardship, and having to consider selling the house on top of that? Bonnie had never known such a deep ache. It was like the world was determined to erase her husband. First, he was gone, then the legacy of his business, and now every last one of her memories.
It was too much to bear.
When Bonnie had cried herself out of tears, she hauled herself up to the big clawfoot tub upstairs. It was her favorite addition to the house. Peter had bought it for her for their twentieth wedding anniversary. Their bathroom had gorgeous windows overlooking the backyard toward Mirror Lake. Sunlight poured into the room at all hours of the day, so no matter when she got the chance to run a luxurious bubble bath, it was always surrounded by light and beauty. Peter had even gotten her a special tray to rest across the tub to hold her book and a mug of tea or a glass of wine.
She didn’t bother with the tray tonight. Instead, she put a fragrant lavender bath bomb into the tub and filled it with hot water. The light scent and soothing, moisturizing fizz invited her to finally relax again. She soaked in the water as long as she could—until it was chilly and her skin had become puckered and cold.
Her favorite robe was still hanging on the back of the bathroom door, and the dresser in the bedroom was full of her favorite lake house pajamas—light flannels for the chillier nights at the fringes of the season, and linens for deep summer, all of them in gorgeous pastel floral prints and soft to the touch. There were touchstones in this house to ground her and remind her that she wasn’t completely adrift.
Bonnie’s life was undeniably different now. Two weeks ago, she never could have predicted all of the trials she’d faced now. She wasn’t sure the person she was two weeks ago could have weathered the storm. But here she was, on her own two feet. She’d looked some of her worst fears in the face, and they hadn’t pulled her under. Perhaps there was some truth to Jack’s reassurances—she would get through this, somehow.
She went downstairs to retrieve a book and take stock of what was in the kitchen. As she padded through the familiar hallways and passed the beloved pieces of art she’d chosen, the pictures of her family she’d had printed, and the shelves of board games, movies, and books, she knew that her life had started to change before Peter’s death.
Her children had been born, grew up, and then moved out. They were scattered across the country, their patterns and habits already so different from what they’d been when James was small enough to carry in the snuggly down to the water. If she were truly honest with herself, she knew her life had changed hundreds of times before in big—and small—ways.
This was a big change. A whole series of big changes. But she could survive them. It was time for her to grow up, too. She could sell the house in Albany. If it meant holding on to this one and keeping her head above water, she could make the decision to let it go.
The memories weren’t stored in the spaces between walls, anyway. They lived in her. She had photo albums and her own thoughts to remind her of all the events the Wilkins family had gone through in Albany together. At the end of the day, a house was just a house. It was a slab of foundation, four walls, and a roof. Someone else would make it a new home and fill it with their own laughter and love, and that wouldn’t diminish Bonnie’s experiences there at all.
It would be all right. She just had to mourn one more thing. She’d always miss the house and the life she’d had in it. But she couldn’t move backward. Her only choice was to find a way to keep moving forward on her own. She wouldn’t even take Jack’s help unless strictly necessary. It was kind of him to offer, but she noticed he wasn’t the first person to talk to her like they expected her to flounder on her own.
Sure, she might not have ever had a job, and she’d relied on Peter for a lot of things over the years. She couldn’t deny that. But she was a smart woman, and she’d raised two remarkable, capable children. That didn’t come from nowhere. Bonnie could sell the Albany house, pay off Peter’s debts, and figure out how to finance her own future all on her own, with no help from anyone. She was certain she’d make mistakes along the way, and probably wouldn’t be smiling the whole time, but she was determined to do it.
A few raindrops hit the patio doors as she hunted through the bookshelves for something to read. While she watched, the drops multiplied until it was a full-on rainstorm, each fat blob of water staining the deck darker in the moonlight. Bonnie loved a good summer storm. There was something renewing about them. They cut through the heat and humidity and washed the sand out of the cracks of life. Plus, she loved the smell—the damp earth, the sharp scent of wet concrete, dewy flowers—all of it was intoxicating.
She stood by the open back door, breathing it in and letting it cleanse her, too. This was the perfect way to wind down after her harrowing day. The distant rumble of thunder rolling through the Adirondacks was as soothing as a kind smile on a friendly face.
This place could be home, she thought. At least for now, she could put her roots down here and see where things went. It might be lonely at first without Peter, but that would be true no matter where she went. Here, she had at least one friend. Or at least a friendly neighbor.
It was a good start.
The faintest cry of a kitten caught her attention, pulling her gaze from the horizon. She heard it again, and then a third time before she located the cat. The poor thing was soaked, its black and white fur plastered to its tiny forehead. Bonnie watched it try to wriggle under the latticework blocking the underside of the deck. Its paws were muddy from trying to dig through the gap to get shelter from the rain.
“Here, kitty, kitty…” Bonnie crouched low and puckered her lips, making kissing noises to call it closer. “Come here!”
There was no way the cat could fit through the tiny gap. Bonnie worried it would get stuck. Conditions certainly weren’t ideal to be outdoors, and Bonnie would much rather have the cat inside than trapped in the rain. If it managed to get under the deck, there was also the risk it wouldn’t be able to get back out. That would be a headache to deal with and, no doubt, traumatizing for the sweet kitten.
When it didn’t respond to her beckoning, Bonnie steeled herself to go out into the rain to grab it if she could. There were plenty of towels and clean pajamas inside; what was a little mud in the name of rescuing the little tuxedo-furred baby?
“Come here, kitty! Come inside,” she called, sliding open the screen door.
The squeaky hinges of the screen door, more than any of her calling, caught the cat’s attention. Two perfectly round green eyes flickered toward the sound. For a few seconds, the soaked bundle of fur stayed frozen as if considering its options.
“Here, kitty! I won’t hurt you,” Bonnie promised. “It’s warmer up here, I promise.”
That broke the spell. Whatever had compelled the cat to seek shelter under Bonnie’s deck disappeared, and it went bounding off into the storm. Bonnie quickly lost sight of it in the dark. The last she saw was the flick of the white tip of its tail as it slunk into the bushes at the edge of the property line. She sighed and shut the screen door again. She supposed it was just as well. No sense worrying about a cat; there was enough on her plate already. Still, she was a little disappointed it hadn’t come running up into the house to keep her company.