Chapter 17 - Family #3
She was drained. Robby’s shower was too good to pass up for washing her hair, so she stripped, stepped into the shower, and gave it a thorough shampoo.
Then she wrapped her hair and body in towels, went into the kitchen, found the wine Robby had bought, poured herself a juice glass, and walked out to the sunroom with it.
She looked through the door. The dog was still there.
She walked back to the bathroom, ran hot water in the tub, got in with the wine, and soaked.
After that, she felt almost normal, put her jeans back on, pulled the cream turtleneck out of her backpack and over her head.
She found a brown sweater of Robby’s and put that on too.
Then she towel-dried her hair and found heavy socks.
She was glad there weren’t any cigarettes, or she might have smoked some, even though she’d quit after the breakup of her marriage.
Instead, she fixed half a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk and sat at the table, checking her email and the headlines.
What a luxury — internet at home. Robby said it was not always reliable, but it was there now.
She hoped he was okay, but there was nothing she could do for him, so she went back to the sunroom.
It was still light. She walked over to the door.
He . . . Grace felt sure it was a male .
. . hadn’t moved. She unlatched the door.
He got up and went methodically down the five steps.
When he got to the bottom, he turned around and looked up at her.
She went out and sat on the landing, her stocking-feet on the next step.
The dog laid down at the bottom, facing the lake, his back to Grace.
That’s where Robby found them, another juice glass of wine later.
He’d come inside. Didn’t smell food. Worried.
Walked all through the house. No Grace. No lights.
Open wine bottle. Did she go out to the shore with a glass of wine, like she’d do at her cabin?
Then he remembered the dog, or whatever it was, his heart sped up, and he headed for the sunroom.
The sun was just setting, tingeing the clouds with deepening shades of peach and aqua.
She was there, her hair glowing in the last rays.
He could just see the animal at the bottom of the steps, a bulky shadow in the dimming light.
He stepped out quietly, so as not to startle either of them.
Of course, they both looked at him, two sets of steady, brown eyes.
He sat down next to Grace, so their bodies were touching.
They sat like that until the sky had turned a deep shade of azure, and they noticed the cold.
As they stood up, Grace said, “I don’t think we need to feed him, but I’m going to put some water out.
” Robby nodded. When she brought the soup pot filled with water, the dog watched her put it on the landing.
She figured he’d come up in his own time since he had earlier, but she swished her hand around in the water, so he’d hear the sound.
Robby was cooking scrambled eggs. Bread was in the toaster, waiting to go down.
She walked over, opened a cabinet, was about to get plates down, when Robby came up behind her, put his arms around her, and laid his cheek on top of her head.
She reached up and clasped his forearms. After a minute, he leaned down and kissed her neck, and she let out a quiet laugh and knew he was smiling.
He moved away, pushed the toast down, and moved the eggs off the burner.
Soon they were sitting across from each other at the table.
“Thanks for fixing this. I’d’ve just gone to bed. I confess to half a peanut butter sandwich earlier.”
“Thanks for being easy.” He looked across at her. “And giving me space.”
“I understand all about space, and I’ll listen if you want to talk, but it’s up to you, no pressure.”
Robby looked down at his plate, absently.
“I told Marie when I left you before the lockdown, I never expected to feel like that at thirty-six, like a teenager. Now, I feel like that again. I don’t know who I am.
” He put down his fork and picked up his toast. “Covid’s changed everything.
I have an entirely different life.” He took a bite.
“I know you do too. Lots of people do. But yours is positive — steps forward toward a goal. Mine — except for you — is so fucking complicated.”
“It seems so now. You’re tired and overwhelmed. You can’t solve anything right now. Just breathe, eat, and rest. Be grateful you don’t have to solve anything tonight.”
Robby looked at Grace. “You know some things. We’re coming from different cultures, different worlds, but there are common truths.
Instincts.” He took a bite of toast. Chewing, he said, “We need to drink that champagne. We need to celebrate having each other. Loving you is something I’m sure of. Something positive.”
*******
Later, in the dark, Grace asked, “Do we have any must-do’s tomorrow?”
“No.”
“It might be better then — simpler — if you take me back up the Trail. I hate it that I don’t have a car at times like this or can’t call an Uber.
But being by yourself might be easier on you in the long run .
. . make it easier to deal with your feelings, your family.
If it comes down to it — I don’t say this easily — you should choose your family over me.
You’ll find other partners, but you can’t find another family.
I’ve told you from the first, I envy you for your community, for all the people who love you.
Don’t risk that. Don’t take it for granted. ”
“I’ve already thought about going back up the Trail, but to get away from here, at least until Monday. Right now, though, I’m going to do what you said earlier — sleep.” He turned his head and kissed her forehead.