Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Anna
The morning sun filtered through the gauzy curtains in her childhood bedroom. The seagulls made their wake-up calls just beyond the windows, and she could hear the wind and ocean calling outside the cottage, too. Inside the house, everything was too still.
Anna blinked awake in the room, tangled in a too-warm quilt, her neck stiff from the unfamiliar pillow.
It took her a moment to register where she was.
Martha’s Vineyard. Home. Her dad was gone, and her husband was in the air somewhere in the world, protecting this country while everyone else slept.
She reached across the bed instinctively for her phone. 6:42 a.m.
And yet the silence in the house was unnatural. There were no scents of coffee drifting up the stairs. No clinking of dishes. No muffled footsteps from the kitchen below. The twins were still asleep in their room across the hall, a small miracle, but the house itself felt frozen.
Growing up, mornings had been sacred. Predictable.
Her mother would be awake before dawn, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and toasted sourdough wafting through the house.
There’d be the faint hum of the kettle, the slam of the back door as Lily slipped out to the pottery studio before breakfast. And before her father died, the quiet, happy murmur of her parents giggling like teenagers, their voices low and affectionate through the paper-thin walls.
She thought back to one of those mornings when she was thirteen and Cody was sixteen. It had been just after six then, too; still dim outside.
She remembered the faint thump of bass coming through the floorboards, followed by the unmistakable screech of a guitar riff.
Whitesnake, of course. Her dad had a thing for ’80s hair bands, and her mom never stopped encouraging it.
Anna had stirred awake to the sound of David Coverdale wailing through the speakers and the smell of pancakes drifting up the stairs.
She’d climbed out of bed and opened her door just as Cody stepped into the hallway, rubbing his face, his hair a complete mess.
“They’re doing it again,” he’d muttered, already annoyed.
Anna had just grinned. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”
Cody’s friend, Daniel Calloway, had stayed over the night before. He padded out of the guest room behind them, yawning. “What’s happening?”
Anna motioned for them to follow her. They crept to the top of the stairs, peering down into the kitchen where the lights were bright and the chaos was in full swing.
Their dad was at the stove, flipping pancakes with exaggerated flair, using the spatula like a microphone as he belted out the chorus to “Here I Go Again.” Their mom twirled across the tile floor in fuzzy socks, a mixing spoon in her hand, lips mouthing every word as if it were a duet.
Then, without warning, David grabbed Lily’s waist and dipped her low, kissing her as she laughed, flour smudged on her cheek.
Daniel blinked like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming. “Are they… dancing?”
Anna nodded. “Yup. They do this almost every morning.”
Cody groaned. “It’s honestly exhausting.”
“They’re like sitcom parents, but with less shame,” Anna had said, watching with a quiet kind of awe. “Only better. They actually like each other.”
Daniel let out a laugh. “I wish my parents did stuff like this.”
Cody shot him a look. “Be careful what you wish for. You haven’t seen the slow dancing that comes after the waffles.”
But even Cody couldn’t fully hide his smile. She’d caught him watching their parents just a little longer than he had to before turning back down the hall, shaking his head.
Even then, Anna had known what they had was rare.
She still did.
She shook her head before she closed her eyes and let out a sad sigh. Those were her favorite memories of her parents.
But this morning? Nothing.
Anna slipped from bed, careful not to disturb the creaky floorboards.
She padded to the hallway, then to her mother’s room, knocking gently before pushing the door open a few inches.
The room was dim, curtains drawn. Lily lay curled in bed, her silver hair fanned against the pillowcase.
Her eyes flickered open as Anna entered.
“Hey,” Anna said softly. “Everything okay?”
Lily blinked slowly, raising a hand to shield her eyes. “Migraine,” she muttered, her voice low and flat. “I just need a little more rest.”
Anna frowned. Her mom got up so late. Not even when she had the flu on Christmas morning, not when she broke her leg, and her father had threatened to zip tie her to the bed so that she rested like she was supposed to.
Migraines were always fierce, but her mother had never stayed in bed for them before. Something wasn’t right.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “Do you want some coffee? Maybe caffeine will help. Something light to eat?”
Lily just waved her off. “Later.”
Anna backed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. A tight ball of unease settled in her stomach. She made her way downstairs, grabbed her phone, and shot a text to Margot.
Hey. Mom says she has a migraine. She’s still in bed. That ever happen before?
More and more. She hasn’t been opening the studio with any regularity. I stopped by this morning. There was a sign on the door: Closed for the season.
Anna froze in the middle of the kitchen.
“Closed for the season?” she said out loud in a gasp.
That didn’t make sense. This was April, the start of the tourist trickle that would become a summer flood.
Her mother’s pottery studio always thrived in the spring and summer.
She could see her shutting everything up in October or November, but April?
That wasn’t right. People came in looking for handmade mugs, vases, and wind chimes.
Lily loved this time of year, always said it made her feel like the island was waking up again.
She reread the message, her thumb hovering over the screen.
She didn’t say anything. She’s just… in bed.
She hasn’t been herself since your dad passed. You know that. But this? It feels different. Like she’s completely given up, I think it’s a Godsend that you and the kids are here right now. Keep an eye on her, okay?
Anna slipped the phone into her pocket and turned toward the kitchen counter, rolling up the sleeves of her pajama top. She needed to do something. Anything.
The coffee beans were still in the same ceramic jar they’d always been in—a chipped teal container her mom had made herself decades ago. Anna ground a scoopful by hand, the whirr of the grinder echoing in the still kitchen. She measured the water, loaded the machine, and set it to brew.
As the smell of dark roast filled the space, it did something to Anna’s chest. A tightness, a tension, released just slightly.
She busied herself and pulled eggs from the fridge, finding the old skillet that had cooked hundreds of Sunday breakfasts.
Bacon. Toast. Her movements became automatic, a rhythm carved by years of watching her mother do the same.
She moved around the kitchen like she hadn’t been gone for years. It was like an easy rhythm in her own kitchen back in Colorado.
The sound of soft feet on the stairs made her glance up. Nora appeared in the doorway, her curls a mess, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“Is Grandma making breakfast?” she asked.
Anna wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Not today, honey. She’s not feeling well. But I’m on it. You want to help?”
Nora nodded eagerly and climbed up onto the old wooden stool by the counter. Blaze trailed in a moment later, already humming some song from yesterday, his pajamas twisted around his tiny waist.
They cooked together, Nora cracking the eggs with careful concentration, Blaze stealing pieces of toast from the rack. Anna kept glancing toward the hallway that led to her mother’s room, hoping the coffee would coax Lily out of bed. But the door stayed shut.
After breakfast, she poured a mug for herself and another for her mother, setting it on a tray with a slice of buttered toast. She carried it upstairs and knocked again.
“Mom?” she called softly. No answer.
She eased the door open. Lily hadn’t moved. Her eyes were open, staring toward the window.
“I brought you coffee,” Anna said gently, setting the tray on the nightstand.
Lily nodded faintly, but didn’t sit up.
“Just leave it. I’ll drink it later.”
Anna stood there for a moment, unsure whether to say more. She thought about pressing, asking her why the studio was closed. She had a hundred questions for her mom, because the woman who was letting a migraine keep her in bed wasn’t the mother she knew and loved.
Anna let out a long breath and shook her head.
She had to give her mother some grace. She knew how bad it had hurt her to lose her father—she couldn’t imagine losing Luke.
She didn’t know the exact pain her mother was going through, and she had to remember that she needed softness, kindness right now and not someone judging and pushing her.
So, instead of saying all the things that were jumbling around in her brain, she just said, “Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”
Back downstairs, she cleaned the kitchen while the kids watched cartoons on the old loveseat. The house still smelled like breakfast, but that tightness was back in her chest.
Her mother had always been the strong one. The one who held everything together when Anna was little. The one who swept in with a hug and a cup of tea when things fell apart. But this morning, Lily looked fragile. Lost.
Anna stepped outside onto the back porch, her phone pressed to her ear as she waited for her brother to pick up.
“Yeah?” Cody’s voice came through, rough and tired.
“She wasn’t up this morning,” Anna said softly. “I mean, Mom wasn’t up. She’s usually down before six, but… nothing. No music, no coffee, no humming along to Bonnie Tyler while she flips pancakes.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Is she okay?”
“I think so. She’s still asleep. But… it’s not normal. I can’t remember the last time she slept in.”
Cody exhaled through his nose. “I don’t know, Anna.”
She frowned. “Is that normal, though? Has she done this before when you’ve stayed over?”
“I said I don’t know,” Cody replied, sharper than she expected. Then, softer, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”
Anna leaned against the wall, eyes drifting toward the closed bedroom door down the hall. “It’s okay.”
“I’ve tried,” he said, quieter now. “I’ve tried to be there for her since Dad died, but she shut me out. I call, I check in, but she never really lets me in anymore. Not like before.”
She heard the ache in his voice. The frustration beneath it.
“Cody… you’ve been dealing with your own grief too,” she said gently.
“You retired from the Marines. You ended things with Nessa. We lost Dad. You were in the middle of your own whirlwind, and then more got thrown at you. No one faults you for taking care of yourself.”
Cody gave a dry chuckle. “Everyone but me.”
Anna closed her eyes for a beat. She didn’t know how to make it better, only that he shouldn’t have to feel that kind of guilt alone.
From the other room, a small voice called, “Mom? Blaze knocked over the orange juice!”
Anna sighed and smiled faintly. “Duty calls. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Yeah,” Cody said. “Later.”
She ended the call, but the sound of her brother’s sadness lingered in her ears.
Anna tucked the phone into her pocket and headed toward the kitchen, where sticky footprints and a sheepish-looking Blaze awaited her.
She knelt beside him, grabbing a towel, pushing away her worry for now.
The kids needed her. And hopefully, her mother would allow her to clean things up for her later, too.
Anna poured herself another cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, staring out the window toward the ocean. She had missed this place something fierce, but she hadn’t prepared herself for how different it would be without her dad there. Or, how different her mom would be.
Anna had learned to be strong, resilient, and tough as nails from her mother. She had watched her move through life’s trials with grace and ease all throughout her life. It was hard to watch her stumble right now.
Anna’s grandparents had all passed on, from both sides of her family.
And Lily handled all of it with grace and poise.
She took control of all the situations and made sure that everyone else was cared for.
Lily had been David’s strength when he lost his mom and dad, and she was the one that her brother and sister leaned on during their parents’ deaths.
Her family had all left the Vineyard after that, choosing to live the rest of their lives out in Florida, where it was warm.
Anna let out a long breath as things started to make sense to her.
Lily was always the one taking care of everyone else, through everything, but when her world shattered, no one was there to take care of her. Anna closed her eyes as she leaned against the counter and took in that realization.
“If you’re on a plane, you put your mask on first. You’re no good to anyone else if you’re dying,” Dad would say. “Your mother would put everyone else’s on first, then put hers on and still be handling it all better than anyone else. I don’t know what I’d do if she ever leaves me.”
Anna smiled at the memory. Her mother had always been selfless and the caretaker in every situation, but it seemed she had burned her candle down until it was nothing.
It was time that Anna stepped in and took care of her mom.