Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Lily
Lily had slept through her alarm again.
Not that it mattered. The soft trill of it barely registered these days. It would buzz, insistent and cheerful, and she would turn her face into the pillow, hoping sleep might drag her under again before she had to face the truth.
He wasn’t downstairs.
He wouldn’t be, ever again.
The thought twisted in her chest like something physical.
It was sharp and hot and impossible to breathe through.
Her mornings had always belonged to them.
The coffee pot already gurgling when she padded into the kitchen.
David humming along to some ridiculous song from the ’80s while he flipped eggs with a spatula he insisted was lucky.
His smile when he saw her. The way he’d kiss her like it was the first time, every time.
Now there was only silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that echoed.
Motionless, she stared at the ceiling as the light crept through the curtains. The idea of getting out of bed, of setting her feet on the floor and walking into a kitchen where he would never be again, was gut-wrenching.
So she stayed still.
When Anna had come to the bedroom, she’d made up a lie about a migraine. She needed something to explain why she didn’t want to get out of bed, why she couldn’t.
People were more likely to understand a migraine and less the reality that grief kept pulling her under every chance it got.
It was nearly noon when Lily finally swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her head pounded, but it was from the quick movement. She wanted to close her eyes again, curl up under the covers, and go back to her dream about David.
The blinds were still drawn tight, cloaking the room in a sleepy gray light. The ache in her joints made her groan quietly as she stood. She didn’t need a mirror to know she looked as tired as she felt. Her body hurt almost as much as her heart did.
Beyond the door, bright and persistent, the twins’ laughter danced through the old cottage.
Lily closed her eyes for a moment and just listened.
The twins were up, alive with the sort of energy that only children had, or maybe the sort only children gave freely to the world before life dulled its edges.
“Do you think there’ll be crabs this time?” Blaze asked.
“There was last time! And remember the horseshoe shell we found? I still have it,” Nora said excitedly. “I want to find one of those birds with the funny red beaks. You know, the ones Mom said were endangered.”
“I want a turtle,” Blaze announced. “A real one. Not a shell. A real, live turtle. Maybe it could live in Grandma’s bathtub.”
Nora giggled. “Ew, Blaze! Her bathroom would smell so bad.”
“Only if he poops a lot.”
“Where would we shower?” Nora asked.
“With him,” Blaze giggled.
More laughter echoed, bouncing off the kitchen tile and walls, flooding the hallway.
Lily couldn’t help the small smile that tugged the corners of her mouth.
Even through the fog in her head, the sound of her grandchildren filled something hollow inside her.
It felt nice that they could be happy in a house that had felt paused for so long.
David would love hearing their laughter.
He would be in there with them, teasing and playing with them.
He was much better at that than her. The thought made her stomach tighten with emotion.
“Mom,” Nora called, her voice a singsong from the other room. “Can we go now? Pleeeease? You said we could go to the beach this morning.”
“It’s not even morning anymore,” Blaze chimed in.
Anna replied, her voice muffled but patient. “I know, babies. We will. Just give me a little more time, okay?”
Lily exhaled slowly and reached for the sweatshirt tossed at the foot of her bed.
It was one of David’s old hoodies, his favorite Harvard sweatshirt that was worn and faded from years of use.
Wearing it made her feel close to him, like he was hugging her.
Lily’s limbs felt like lead, but she shrugged into it, moving slowly, purposefully.
She hadn’t meant to sleep so late. She hadn’t meant to stay curled up in the dark with her grief for company.
She showered slowly, letting the warm water loosen the stiffness in her shoulders and rinse the weight from her. She didn’t bother with makeup but brushed out her hair and twisted it back with a clip. She dressed in soft linen pants and a chambray button-up, old but clean.
When she stepped into the living room twenty minutes later, sunlight poured into the space.
The windows had been opened, allowing the briny Vineyard air to drift in, carrying with it the distant crash of waves and the cries of gulls.
The sunshine in the house, the smell of the sea, it all felt foreign to her, but it also felt nice.
She stopped and stared at the windows for a minute. She’d forgotten that the curtains and windows even opened. She’d wanted them all closed for so long, because she didn’t want anyone to come visit her or see her in this state.
She shook her head before she looked around the living room. Blaze and Nora were sprawled on the floor, flipping through an old field guide to sea life. Anna stood at the counter, pouring coffee, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head.
“Hey,” Lily said softly.
Three heads turned. Blaze jumped up first, barreling into her with all the force of a nine-year-old boy. Nora followed, more restrained but no less enthusiastic.
“Grandma!” Blaze beamed up at her. “We thought you were hibernating.”
“Like a bear,” Nora added.
“I’m not quite that ferocious,” Lily smiled, ruffling Blaze’s hair. She looked over at Anna, whose expression was carefully neutral but whose eyes gave away the concern she was trying to suppress.
“You okay?” Anna asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Lily lied, but gently. “Bit of a migraine this morning. It’s passed now.”
Anna nodded and sipped her coffee. She didn’t press.
Lily cleared her throat. “I heard something about the beach.”
Blaze’s whole body bounced. “Yes! We want to find turtles and birds and maybe a shark tooth!”
“I don’t know if sharks leave teeth just lying around,” Nora said skeptically.
“They do if they bite stuff,” Blaze replied with confidence.
Lily looked at Anna. “If you want, I can take them. Get some fresh air. Stretch my legs.”
Anna blinked, a little surprised. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I think I need it.”
“Well, I could run to the market and get a few snacks for the kids. Margot did well, but she didn’t exactly get any kid-friendly things.”
“Yeah, she probably wasn’t thinking about that when she went.”
“I thought I’d make some fried clams and some chowder for dinner. Does that sound good?”
“I can make chowder,” Lily said quickly.
“No, Mom, I can do it. I don’t want you to go to extra trouble for us. I think it would be nice for you to see your recipe in action.”
“I’d like that,” Lily replied after a small hesitation. “You go do that, and me and the kiddos will spend some time together.”
It’s not that Lily didn’t love spending time with her grandkids, but the thought of venturing out of the house, let alone her bedroom, was causing anxiety to rip away at her chest. She tried to focus on her breathing so she could calm herself down.
She needed to get out of her bedroom and the house. She needed to spend time with the grandkids; it was what David would be doing if the roles were reversed. It was hard, though; her bed was practically screaming for her to come back.
If she didn’t do this, Lily feared she would waste away in her bedroom and no one would be able to save her.
“Are you sure, Mom?”
“No,” she said with a self-deprecating chuckle as she shook her head. She could feel the tears pricking at her eyes. “But I know that I want to and I need to. We’ll be fine, Anna. Go do what you need to do.”
Anna held her breath for a moment before she let it out and nodded. The kids hugged her quickly as they all got ready for their different adventures.
Ten minutes later, Lily and the kids were outside. The sun on her face felt good; it had been a while since she really noticed the sun at all.
The path down to the beach was familiar under Lily’s feet, though the sand shifted in places more than she remembered.
The faint crunch of shells mixed with the softer hush of the tide, and she could feel the uneven give beneath each step, as if the earth itself was slowly exhaling.
Just beyond the back porch, wild rosebushes and beach plum framed the narrow path, their tangled limbs heavy with late spring bloom.
The scent was delicate, floral, and salty, the kind of perfume only the coast could offer.
Past the dune grass, the world opened wide.
Vineyard Harbor glistened under a sky that couldn’t quite decide if it wanted to be overcast or blue.
The water was a dusky slate with streaks of silver, rippling lazily beneath a breeze that carried the scent of brine and sun-warmed cedar shingles.
Small boats bobbed on their moorings just beyond the breakwater, white hulls nodding like old men agreeing with something unsaid.
Sea grass whipped lazily in the wind, and the wooden slats of the pier groaned with age, bending ever so slightly under the weight of memory. The gulls wheeled overhead, their cries both plaintive and defiant, echoing faintly from the curved shoreline.
Blaze ran ahead, his hoodie flapping like wings, a canvas bag slung over his shoulder. He moved with the kind of reckless joy Lily hadn’t seen in years—barefoot, determined, utterly unbothered by the possibility of splinters or soggy hems.
Nora kept a more measured pace, stopping to inspect a snail shell near the dune fence, her dark hair blowing across her cheek as she crouched with care. She brushed sand from her fingers like it offended her.
“Aw, man, this is so cool, Grandma!” Blaze called over his shoulder, his voice carried high by the wind.
“Be careful,” Lily hollered after him, but the words barely reached him.
She put her hand out as if she could reach out and pull him back.
The pier had always looked fragile, grayed and bleached by sun and storm, and Lily didn’t think anyone had been out there in at least a year.
She knew that since she’d lost David, she hadn’t gone near the pier herself.
Salt had eaten away at the nails, and some of the boards were dark with rot.
“If he gets hurt, it’s his own fault,” Nora muttered under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief as she brushed off her knees. “You’d think he’d never seen water before.”
Lily followed, slower, but smiling. The salt air filled her lungs in a way the stale stillness of the house could not. It tugged at her memories, some bright, others aching.
“Look!” Nora called, crouching near a tide pool. “There’s a crab under that rock.”
Blaze skidded to a halt and dropped to his knees beside her. “Move it gently. Don’t squish him!”
They huddled close, whispering observations like little scientists. Lily came closer and peered down. A small, sand-colored crab scuttled sideways, disappearing beneath another rock.
“Fast little guy,” she murmured.
“He was hiding from us,” Nora said with a grin. “But we still found him.”
“Turtles now?” Blaze asked.
“Let’s walk toward the jetty,” Lily suggested. “Sometimes they sun themselves there.”
“Sun themselves? You mean they tan?” Nora giggled.
“Yup,” Lily answered with a laugh.
The two kids giggled as they ran ahead, taking in as much as they could.
It was nice to see that wide-eyed wonder again; it had been a while, and their laughter was doing good to crack the ice around her heart.
They made their way along the shore, the children darting like sandpipers, picking up shells and seaweed, shouting discoveries.
“Grandma, look! Is this a whale bone?” Blaze asked excitedly.
“That’s a piece of driftwood, sweetheart.”
“It looks like a spine! Are you sure?” Nora asked as she went to inspect the driftwood with her brother.
“Cool! Can we keep it?” Blaze asked. “I can tell people that it’s a whale bone. The kids in my class will never know the difference.”
Lily laughed and shook her head. “Yes, you can keep it.”
Their joy was relentless, infectious. Lily found herself laughing more than once, though the sound surprised her every time it escaped her throat.
Her legs ached and her chest felt heavy, but she kept walking, watching their bright shapes dart along the sand.
She even felt a slight bit of guilt for laughing and being happy with her grandchildren.
She wished that David were here to experience all of this.
Near the jetty, they found a collection of smooth stones, round and flat.
“Skipping contest!” Blaze shouted, picking one up.
“I’ll lose,” Nora said. “But I want to try.”
Blaze’s stone hit the water with a plunk and sank.
“You have to throw it sideways,” Lily coached, demonstrating the flick of her wrist.
They practiced, laughing when their rocks sank too soon. Lily managed two skips and earned applause from both kids.
They stayed until the wind turned sharp and the sun slipped lower.
Lily knew she would pay for this excursion with sore knees and aching muscles later.
But as Blaze tucked a broken shell into his bag and Nora found another patch of seaweed that she insisted looked like spaghetti, she grew certain she had been right about needing this.
Not just for them. For herself. For the pieces of her that had been collecting dust, just like the studio.
“Can we come back tomorrow?” Nora asked, her cheeks flushed from the wind.
“If it doesn’t rain,” Lily said.
Blaze grinned. “Then I’ll ask the weather guy to make it sunny.”
Lily wrapped an arm around each of them as they headed back up the path.
Tomorrow could wait. But today? Today was good enough.