2
… Makes You Stronger
Max
“He’s on his way.” Robyn walks into the kitchen, beaming with a wide, slightly weary smile.
“That’s good,” I reply flatly and scratch my nose.
I don’t blame her for being happy her son is coming home—she hasn’t seen him in years.
But as the possibilities of how the next few weeks will play out unravel in my mind, something spiky stabs the inside of my stomach and I rub my belly.
I pinch my lips together, wondering if I’m right or if I’m being ignorant, trying to pretend the tension in this house isn’t about to explode the minute Mitch walks in.
Affectionately rubbing my arm, Robyn tilts her head, and her light brown eyes flood with understanding. There’s a silent plea in them too, begging me to try harder, to not let my feelings about her son stand in the way of this long-awaited reunion.
“It’ll do Bill some good to see him,” I add, forcing a smile.
“It will,” she agrees.
The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes seem to get deeper every day. The last few months have sucked the life out of her, and it’s heartbreaking to watch.
Still, Robyn Adams remains one of the dearest people to me, a mother when mine wasn’t around and I needed one the most. Even when Robyn could have hated me simply by association, she took me in and showed me love.
Unlike her son.
“Are the new meds kicking in?” I ask, hoping to change the subject.
Robyn nods, filling a glass with water. “I think so. He seems more relaxed, anyway.” This time, her smile isn’t convincing and reminds me so much of Mitch.
For weeks, I’ve been counting down the days until his arrival.
More like scratching them off in my brain.
I knew today was coming, that no matter how absent he’d been over the years, he’d never miss the opening of the Four Brothers brewery.
But despite picturing it countless times, I’m still not sure how I’ll react once I see him again.
I’ve repeatedly wrestled over hypothetical scenarios, and the only likely outcome is an eruption of anger and hurt. The massive fireball in my chest every time I think of seeing him tells me I’m better off hiding, keeping away from the entire Adams clan, at least until Mitchell leaves town.
“Wouldn’t it be better if I wasn’t here when he—” I begin, but am interrupted when Robyn takes my hand.
“I’d like you to stay. Having you here makes all of this easier.”
I’m not sure why she’d think that. The Adams’ house is the last place I want to be right now.
I’m only sticking around out of some deep-seated thirteen-year-old guilt trip.
After all, I’m partly to blame for the dysfunction in this family.
So, I’ve got this sick need to make whatever I can better.
I remind myself that I’m here to support Robyn, even if the man coming over won’t want me around.
She must see the uncertainty in my expression, feel the tension building on my back. “Max, I understand. If you’re not comfortable here, I won’t force you to stay.”
She takes a sip of water, keeping her eyes down, but her sadness triggers my own. She’s just trying to be kind, but I can’t abandon her. Today is as stressful for her as it is for me. Probably even more so.
I’m a big girl. I can handle this. Besides, we’re in the same boat; we’ve both been hurt by an Adams man. We need to support one another.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll stay.”
Her pale pink lips straighten into a tight smile, and she nods once.
Suddenly, Bill, who’s in the living room, hacks harshly, and we both freeze, waiting for the upcoming fit. Only it never comes, and my stomach drops as Robyn hurries to check on him. I follow behind, seeing her shoulders sag with relief.
“He’s fine,” she says. “I guess the meds are working.”
I recognize the small glimmer of hope that flickers through her eyes.
Not a glimmer that he’ll get better, though.
One that is thankful for the break the new medication is giving him.
She needs that right now. The doctors remain adamant that this isn’t a cure.
Nothing is guaranteed. This will only temporarily minimize his struggles.
“Stupid man,” Robyn whispers under her breath, returning to the kitchen and reaching into a top cabinet for something stronger than water. She sets two glasses on the table and pours some brandy.
“Have one.”
It’s an order, not a request, and I take it, swallowing down the alcohol in one gulp. I grimace as the burn runs down my throat.
Robyn, on the other hand, sips it as if savoring an expensive wine, and though she winces with every swallow, she keeps dragging it out. I guess the burn of the brandy is a welcome distraction from everything else. And I completely get it.
“You don’t think he’ll change his mind, do you?” I begin, keeping my voice low, but glancing over my shoulder. “When… Mitchell gets here?” The name sticks like molasses in my throat, only not as sweet.
“About treatment?” Robyn asks, and I nod.
If there’s anyone more stubborn than Mitchell, it’s his father, and the thought of those two forces colliding once again makes my stomach cramp.
With a frown, Robyn shakes her head. “At this point, nothing will change his mind. Not even our boy. It’s too late.”
And just like that, I know she’s accepted what I’m finding too hard to. That Bill’s death is inevitable.
I’m not exactly sure why I can’t accept it.
I should hate him for what he did to my parents, for breaking them up and causing my father so much pain.
I should despise him for how he hurt Robyn, or for how he broke his son’s heart.
I should absolutely loathe Bill Adams for the position he put me in and for causing a rift between me and my former best friend.
When I was younger, Bill was like a stepfather.
Stern with Mitch, he was kind and funny with me.
He’d tell bad dad jokes and would patch me up if I took a nasty spill off my bike out front.
I’m aware that everything happens for a reason.
All I’ve been through has shaped me into who I am today.
As they say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?
And then there’s Robyn. Over the years she’s been such a good friend.
And now she’s like family. But she’s also my boss.
If Bill hadn’t refused treatment, maybe he’d be doing better, and then Robyn could come back to the inn and relieve some of the weight from my shoulders.
Then I wouldn’t need to stick around to keep the inn afloat. I could even get out of this town.
I don’t belong here. Not today of all days.
As if reading my thoughts, Robyn grips my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It means the world that you’re here. I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done, Max.”
That inner guilt trip makes a comeback, and I cover her hand with mine. “Don’t mention it,” I say with a nod, then add a lie for good measure. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”
Mitch
The garden outside my parents’ home needs weeding, which shouldn’t be a surprise. After all, the man who usually does the gardening is sick.
Dying.
I should take some time while I’m in town to do it, but I quickly stuff the idea down. I won’t be here long enough.
Dragging my suitcase behind me, I lazily walk up the red brick path to the door and use the brass knocker to announce my arrival.
No use making all that noise and disturbing everyone with the doorbell.
Or maybe I’m trying to convince myself that’s the reason, when deep down, I’m just not comfortable walking in there anymore.
I haven’t been home in over ten years, even though I meant to come back to visit. At first, my excuses started small, then became bigger, and the next thing I knew, I couldn’t even remember what my front door looked like.
Everything seems unchanged, from the creaky front steps to the nearby porch swing, yet also totally foreign. As if living in New York has filtered out all the Oakwhite from my bloodstream.
I drum my fingers against my suitcase handle. My anxiety hits an all-time high, tying up my tongue in a knot, making my heartbeat batter inside my chest, and I still have no clue what I’m going to say to the man.
What do you say to the person who gave you life, but is also the reason it all had to change?
The moment the door swings open, all my worries vanish like a thick summer breeze, replaced instead by a whirlwind from the past.
I’m greeted by Maxine Nolan and my heart stops beating before it dives into my stomach. With red hair that’s closer to flaming orange, and unique blue eyes rimmed with dark, almost obsidian, she stands a foot away, still a rare beauty.
I remember when those eyes had the power to make time stand still. When the doors to my soul, controlled by her profound stare, would unlock and open wide.
But that was a long time ago.
Today Maxine’s eyes don’t hold that mysterious power I used to love so much. They’re filled with confusion, and a dash of hate, no doubt mimicking what she sees in my glare.
“You’re here.” A gentle statement, as if trying to convince herself, but there’s no ignoring the disappointment radiating off her, and it punches me in the gut.
I used to be someone she could count on. Someone she didn’t doubt. Guess a lot has changed since then. Except for the hurt shooting from her ocean eyes. That’s the same pain that brewed in her gaze the last time I saw her. Years haven’t weakened it even a bit.
“Of course, I’m here. Why are you?”
She purses her lips, shaking her head, then steps back, swinging her arm as an invitation for me to come in. I tuck my tongue to the side of my mouth. I don’t need her permission. This is my parents’ house, after all.
I set my suitcase aside. The house still smells of linen with faint hints of cinnamon. But beyond that, there’s a smell I’m not used to. A sterile, chemical smell. Other than the sound of the buzzing cicadas outside, the house is silent. Eerily silent.
“He’s just taken his pills, so he’s a bit out of it,” Maxine informs me as she walks toward the living room. “Don’t bother him for too long.”
I follow in her wake, ignoring how she orders me around my home, telling me about my father, as if I’m the intruder.
“Where’s my mom?”
“She’ll be right back.”
I had hoped my mother would be a buffer between me and my father. Though I’d rather be anywhere but here, there’s nowhere else I have to be. Not right now, anyway. “Maybe I should come back later.”
“No,” Maxine answers, halting in her steps. Even with her back to me, I see the tension in her slight frame stiffening her delicate shoulders. “You should get it over with now. That way you don’t have to stick around for too long.”
Like some sort of backhanded smack, her words hit me hard. She steps into the living room and taps my father on the shoulder. He’s sitting in a recliner, facing the windows, looking out onto the backyard. “Bill? Mitchell’s here.”
“Good,” Dad says, his raspy voice holding a fragment of the deep tone it used to.
Even without seeing his pale, sunken-in blue eyes, his voice tells me cancer has taken more than his independence.
He’s lost at least thirty pounds since the last time I saw him, which was years ago when he came up to New York City to watch me play in the Stanley Cup finals.
Max turns to me. “I’m going outside,” she says, the chill in her voice practically matching the temperature in the house.
She moves around me as if trying to keep as much distance between us as possible.
The light spilling in from the window casts a golden glow across her face, and I notice her reddened eyes and remnants of tears streaked along her cheeks.
I reach out to touch her, but catch myself and instantly clench my hands into fists, tucking them at my sides.
The impulse hasn’t faded over the years.
Even though Maxine is the last person I want to be around, her presence still has a soothing effect, and I’m stupidly desperate to cling to it, and to her, just so I don’t have to face my father alone. Or face what’s happening.
“Hey, Dad.” I take his hand, but it’s like brittle icicles in my overheated palm.
“Good of you to come. How are you doing?” he asks as I sit across from him on the couch.
“Not bad. I guess you’ve been better,” I say, trying to lighten the mood with a joke.
A faint smile cracks his somber expression, but it seems like it takes too much effort for his weak body and fades as quickly as it appeared.
The patio doors are cracked open and a tiny breeze floats in.
Clouds, leftovers from a distant hurricane offshore, cover the sky, but sunlight peeks through, desperate to warm Oakwhite Bay’s shores.
Though summer in the Bay is usually pleasant, sometimes it turns wet and dreary, and the chill reminds me that summer is ending and will soon be gone.
So will many things around here.