2. Chapter Two
W hen I pulled into our driveway and opened the three-car garage door, I wasn’t surprised to see Annie’s car wasn’t there. She mentioned she was meeting friends for lunch, and then she had an appointment. I’m sure she told me what the appointment was, but I couldn’t remember. I felt bad sending her calls to voicemail during my meeting, but I couldn’t leave the table when people were giving us donations for the youth program. Sometimes, my work had to be a priority. I knew she didn’t always agree with that, but when I was home, she had my full attention.
I kicked off my shoes at the back door. She hated when I left shoes scattered around the house, so our compromise was that I took my shoes off in the laundry room when I entered from the garage. I didn’t like wearing shoes in the house. I didn’t want to carry them upstairs when I first got home. I wanted to walk in, slide my shoes off, and leave them somewhere. I made my way to the kitchen. I filled a glass with water and drank it slowly while flipping through the pile of mail on the counter.
I had about an hour before I needed to head to the airport. My suitcase was already packed. Hopefully, Annie would be back from wherever she went this afternoon so I could see her before I left. I planned to spend the first two or three weeks at camp and then join her in Seaside. This year, it would be longer than just the week of the 4th of July. Neither of our kids would be at the summer house. Amber and Wyatt were taking their late honeymoon vacation. Technically, since he was only a couple of seasons into his career, he should have gone straight to summer camp, but he played his ass off this season and deserved some time off the ice. Plus, he made it very clear that he would always make time with his wife a priority both in the off-season and during the season when not on the road. As the GM, I wanted him focused on the team, but as her father, after watching everything she went through in a previous relationship, I was glad she found someone who prioritized her and didn’t ‘give a fuck what the management thought,’ as Wyatt put it when he and the coaching staff didn’t see eye-to-eye on only attending the second half of camp. He told us he had no intent of ever spending every week at camp. At dinner last week, Amber mentioned that she might go to Seaside once Wyatt headed to camp. She couldn’t imagine missing a summer there.
PJ was vacationing with friends for the next two weeks, and then he was heading to camp. He wouldn’t make it to Seaside this summer. I was almost positive this would be the first summer that Annie had the house to herself other than the week or two that I would be there. I was sure she’d love the quiet. I imagined she’d spend hours reading in her hammock on the porch while listening to the wind chimes the kids made when they were younger. She would walk to town each morning and then enjoy a freshly baked pastry and coffee at her favorite coffee shop. Or maybe she would wait until the afternoon and head to the ice cream shop her best friend’s family still owned. The one she worked at each summer in high school and college. The very ice cream shop we met at 35 years ago.
Just as I turned to head upstairs, I saw Annie’s stationery. The linen paper with the lavender foil monogram at the top that I bought her every year as one of her Christmas presents. I unfolded the sheet and read her words.
Meet me in Seaside. After years of therapy, promises, and disappointments, I’m giving you one summer—a chance to rediscover us in the place where our journey began. At the end of the season, we’ll determine if our marriage is still worth saving. When we return, we either come back recommitted to our life together or ready to meet with a divorce attorney.
The puck’s on your stick, darling.
Last night, when we got home from dinner with my family, I knew she was upset that I hadn’t announced my retirement. But I didn’t know why she thought I was going to. We had mentioned it in passing last summer. She talked about how she wanted to retire and was ready to leave the Symphony. She hadn’t played in the symphony in years. About seven years ago, she transitioned from being an orchestra member to working in the back office and helping organize the fundraisers. She was ready to walk away completely, and I encouraged her to do that. She organized one last fundraiser, and then she said her goodbyes. When we talked about it, I told her I could consider retiring because I had someone in mind to take over. But then this opportunity to start the youth foundation landed on my lap, and I couldn’t walk away from it. She’d always understood when I changed my mind and had never been angry about it. She’d been my constant supporter for the last 35 years. I didn’t think I needed to tell her because she’d always accepted whatever I wanted.
My ass landed with a heavy thud on the bar stool as the linen paper slipped from my fingers and floated to the ground. What am I supposed to do now?
The coaching staff and scouting team were expecting me at our summer camp. This was the time that we invited our players from all levels to come and work through clinics together. Most of our veteran players don’t spend the entire summer at our camp. They came toward the end of the summer, but our new players and anyone in our farm teams took advantage of this opportunity. I didn’t spend the entire summer there. I always went to Seaside for the 4th of July and for part of the summer festival. Although it had been a while since I’d been there for that. I hadn’t missed the first weeks of camp since I joined our coaching staff. These were non-optional weeks for me. I needed to be there at the start of camp and at the end of camp when our veteran players attended. My wife knew this. She knew how important these weeks are.
I slipped my hand into my pocket and removed my phone. That’s when I saw I not only declined 3 phone calls from her, but I ignored 5 text messages. My eyes quickly scanned the messages.
Where are you? Our therapy appointment started 10 minutes ago?
Are you on your way?
Please don’t tell me that you forgot.
Are you fucking kidding me? Where the fuck are you?
I am so tired of being the only one who shows up to our relationship. And I mean this both literally and figuratively. You checked out years ago. I’m the one who stayed, and I’m the one who’s put in the work. Today proves that you don’t give a fuck about me. I am not your priority anymore. And I haven’t been for a really long time.
My head slumped forward and landed in my hands. The appointment that I couldn’t remember that she had was therapy. It was our appointment. The standing appointment we had twice a month. How the hell did I forget that?
I was at a loss for what to do. Torn between wanting to run upstairs, grab that suitcase, throw it in my car, and drive as fast as I could to Seaside and knowing that I had responsibilities at summer camp. The puck’s on my stick. It’s time for me to put up or shut up or in this case it’s time for me to show up.
When my phone went unanswered, I immediately sent a message.
I’m leaving for Seaside tomorrow. You ARE my priority. If you don’t feel that way, it’s my fault. I’ll fix this. I promise.
Last night, after finding Annie’s letter on the kitchen counter, I spent three hours rearranging my summer commitments while I waited to hear back from her. But she never called, and my text showed delivered, but she didn’t respond. My coaching staff insisted they didn’t need me on site for any of the summer camp weeks. I told them my goal was still to be there at the end. I called both of my kids and told them their mother and I were spending the summer at Seaside. I called our housekeeper and asked her to please do a deep clean on the house, including removing all of the perishable food from the refrigerator, because I didn’t have time to do it, and I was going to be leaving in the morning. She was familiar with our routine when we closed our primary residence for the summer when I headed to camp and Annie went to Seaside.
Then I called my father and let him know about the change in the plans. I told him that I had promised my wife I would make her first retirement summer one that she would never forget. I actually said those words, and I meant them at the time. Somehow, I got busy, and I didn’t plan anything. My original idea was to choose one of the places on the list that hung on my refrigerator. Years ago, we sat by the fireplace in our living room, jotting down all of the things we wanted to do when we retired and another one with all of the places we wanted to travel. Both lists hung on our refrigerator, and none of them were crossed off.
I put my two suitcases into the trunk of my car before slamming it shut, then I put the small soft-sided cooler on the passenger seat. It contained some drinks and easy-to-eat food to keep me satisfied on my drive to the Oregon coast. I backed the car out of the garage, and just before I hit the button to close the garage door, I put the car in park and ran into the house, grabbing both lists from the refrigerator. It was time for me to make my wife a priority again.
It was still dark when I left our house. The drive was just short of twelve hours without stops, so I needed to get on the road as soon as possible.
I’m leaving now. My plan is to drive straight through other than stops for gas. I’ll tell you if that changes.
Six hours later, I finished my first audiobook as I pulled into the gas station in Redding. After filling the tank and grabbing an energy drink, I tried calling again, but she didn’t answer. When I got her voicemail, I poured my heart into my words. “I’m halfway there. I just got gas in Redding. I brought our retirement lists with me. I think there are a few things on each list we can do this summer, and maybe you can show me your favorite things about Seaside. It’s been far too long since I’ve spent more than a handful of days there. Let’s spend this summer the way we did the first year together—inseparable. I love you. You have always been the most important part of my life. I’m sorry if you don’t feel that way. That’s on me. Let me make it up to you. I’ll see you soon, my love.”
My updates on the journey went unanswered. Anne Marie Kennedy was the second most stubborn person I knew. I held the title in that category, so it didn’t surprise me that she was giving me the silent treatment until I proved I would show up and put in the work. About an hour from Seaside, I spoke my commitment into the universe. “I won’t give up on us. Anne Marie, Annie, my love, my heart, you are now and have always been the most important person in my life. We are worth the fight you’re going to put me through this summer. I’ll do whatever it takes because I’m not leaving Seaside without you by my side.”
To prove to myself I could fully commit to my marriage this summer, I called my secretary and left a detailed voicemail. “Hey, Lauren. I am unavailable for any calls, emails, text messages, or meetings this summer. My brothers and father can step in for me for anything KSG or Youth Foundation-related in my absence. The coaching staff has everything under control for the Caribou and summer camp. The only people who can reach me are my wife and kids. Please forward anything that comes up to the appropriate substitute in my absence. Have a great summer and be sure to take time off.”
When I pulled into the single-wide, three-deep driveway at our summer house, I expected to find Annie’s car, but her usual space was empty. The house was dark, and nothing was on the patio. I unlocked the front door and turned on the light. Sheets covered the furniture. She hadn’t made it to the house yet.
Panic set in. What if I was wrong and her non-response wasn’t because she was waiting for me to show, but because something happened to her? I called her, and again, I got her voicemail. I called PJ, and he picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“When did you last hear from your mom? I got to the house and she’s not here.”
“I talked to her at dinner after the team event. Amber would know Mom’s usual summer routine. They normally drive to Seaside together. They always take three or four days to get there. No clue what they do on the way.”
“They do? I didn’t realize that.”
His scoff wasn’t needed, but much like me, PJ didn’t hold anything back. “Every year, Dad. Sorta sad you don’t know that.”
“Yeah, it is. I’ll call Amber. Thanks.” Once I disconnected the call, I immediately hit Amber’s name.
“Hey, Daddy. What’s up?”
“Where do you and your mom go on your drive to Seaside? She left yesterday and isn’t here. I just got to the house.”
“Well, like she said last night at dinner, she and Meredith were meeting in Ashland. They have hotel reservations for three nights. They’re seeing four shows. It’s their responsibility-free time. Turning off their phones and enjoying their time. If we need them, we can call the hotel in an emergency.”
“She told us that?”
“Yeah, Dad. She did. She wanted to be sure you, me, and PJ could reach her.”
My fingers scraped against my scalp. I didn’t remember that conversation at all. “So I have a few days to myself here?”
“Sounds like it. You can open the house for the summer, fill the fridge with favorite foods, and plan a big gesture. Flowers, books, the works. You’ll figure out something. Good luck. And, Dad?”
“Yeah, Princess?”
“Don’t screw it up.” My darling daughter was the perfect combination of us. Her hold-nothing-back, calls-you-on-your-bullshit side was definitely from me. The side that never wanted to hurt anyone’s feelings and the tendency to keep her heart guarded was her mom.
They say the hardest part of parenting is realizing your child doesn’t need you anymore. They’re wrong. The toughest part is when they start parenting you. “I’m going to fix this, Amber. Your mom is my world, and somehow, along the way, I stopped showing her that and started taking her for granted.”
Once I ended the call, I made my way to the kitchen to find the laminated checklist Annie kept in the top drawer. Opening tasks were organized by room on one side, with closing tasks on the other. After I removed the sheets from the living room furniture, I tossed them into the washing machine with then added the ones that covered the beds upstairs. After I started the wash, I wandered through the house and looked at the pictures of my family. Each summer we spent in Seaside was documented on the walls in frames throughout the three-bedroom home.
When I got to the wall outside the primary bedroom, I faced three of my most cherished memories—our first date, the night I proposed, and our wedding. All three at Painted Rock Beach. It took five asks before Anne Marie agreed to go on a date with me, and she finally agreed when I stopped asking her out for dinner or a movie and instead asked her if I could spend the day with her at her favorite place in Seaside. She told me to meet her at Sea Breeze Café the next morning, and she’d show me everything she loved about Seaside.
Breakfast at the café, where she refused to let me pay for her meal. Then a walk to the bookstore where she insisted we each choose something to read once we got to her favorite spot. I forced her to let me buy her book by purchasing a gift certificate. Then she let me buy her a coffee at Seaside Brew before we went to the most unique place I’d ever seen. A small beach covered in colorfully painted rocks that tourists and locals left to commemorate their trips or special occasions.
Three years to the day of our first date at that beach, I took her to paint rocks together. When we finished, I handed her mine, and tears filled her eyes when she read the words “Will You Marry Me?” on the sunset-inspired rock. Two years later, we exchanged wedding vows at that same spot. We’d originally planned to marry the summer following our engagement, but Annie got an offer to spend three months playing the cello with a small ensemble in Paris. I knew I’d miss her, but I was her biggest champion the way she was my ultimate supporter. I refused to let her pass up the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. When I took my bride’s hands into mine, I promised to always support her dreams.
Today was the beginning of something incredible. I just know it. I don’t know how I know it, but I do. The way every fiber of my being feels alive for the first time and how time practically stood still tells me that Jonas is someone who’s going to be in my life for a long time. It’s far too soon to think he’s ‘the one’ or start planning a wedding or dreaming of raising babies and bringing them to Seaside each summer, but I can’t help myself. I want to think about those things. He bought me this journal today. Actually, he bought me a gift certificate at the bookstore because I was being stubborn and refused to let him pay for anything. I chose a book and this beautiful coral journal with linen pages. I’m going to use it as my summer journal and fill each page with a memory.
Whoever says there are no such things as perfect days has obviously never spent a day with someone like Jonas. He opened doors for me. He placed his hand on the small of my back to guide me from one spot to another when we were in a crowded coffee shop or the bookstore. His eyes never left mine when I babbled for hours about my dream of playing the cello for the San Francisco Orchestra and told him about everything I’d done to make the dream a reality. Most people tune out or try to change the topic because they think the music is boring or old-fashioned. But Jonas not only listened, he asked questions. While I spoke, I felt like the most important person in the room.
The only thing I regret about our day together was waiting so long to accept his date request. I’m unsure why I declined his dinner invitation each time. Maybe I was being stubborn, thinking someone so handsome and talented couldn’t possibly be interested in me. Or perhaps I was guarding my heart from another summer romance heartbreak. The one that’s inevitable when teenagers and young adults leave Seaside and head home. Unfortunately, most of us can’t take the magic of the summer with us.
My summer wish is that we find a way to make things work when I go back to the conservatory and he returns to life as a rising hockey star.
As I closed the journal and pressed it tightly against my chest, my eyes immediately found the framed photo of us that first summer on the fireplace mantel. The one her best friend took without our knowledge. We stood, hand in hand, looking at the water on our last night in Seaside. Annie’s blond hair is a wind-blown mess, thanks to my insistence on her leaving it down because I love the way the lighter layers framed her face. Her head rests against my arm. What you don’t know from the picture is that this is the exact moment I told Annie I loved her for the first time, and I promised to love her every day of my life. I can hear my words in my mind as clearly as I can smell the salty air. “Annie, it’s going to be hard. Between my schedule and yours, we’re going to make this work. Letters and phone calls. And I’ll see you as often as possible. I’ll love you until every star in the night sky fades. Nothing and no one will ever be more important in my life than you. I know this is sudden and we’ve only known each other one summer, but someday, we’re going to look back on this moment and tell our children and grandchildren about the night I promised to love you until the end of time.”
Oh, my love. Where did I go wrong? How did we end up like this?