Chapter 3
Alice
Alice could only bring herself to go down to her mom’s kitchen when the light streaming into her bedroom window had turned golden and her body demanded food.
She hadn’t had much to drink at the funeral, had barely cried, but her body felt like she’d been up sobbing all night.
So much for the healthy approach of repressing tears so she didn’t get dehydrated as well as aggrieved – she had a headache anyway.
Her mom was in the kitchen, microwaving canned soup. The choice of food suggested it was closer to lunchtime than breakfast, though with her mom, one could never know. She had always believed in food as cognitive fuel rather than something to be enjoyed.
‘Hi,’ Alice said, announcing her presence as she walked over to the fridge.
Her mom started, as though she’d forgotten Alice was home, when in fact she’d taken care to remind her several times of her visit. ‘Good afternoon, dear. Sleep well?’
‘Yeah, fine,’ she said, the lie slipping out automatically.
She opened the freezer and scrounged through the shelves until she found the object of her search: two heels of bread.
This freezer could always be counted on for a few of them.
The heels had never been up to her mom’s standards.
Little was, to be fair to the heels. ‘How about you?’
‘Well, yes, but I’ve been up and working for’ – she checked her watch as Alice inserted the bread into the toaster – ‘eight hours now.’
Alice winced, not sure if she’d meant it as a slight.
She’d certainly made it clear to Alice throughout her childhood that productive people were the best kind of people, and they woke up early.
The refrain had been repeated enough times that Alice had considered five hours of sleep a luxury in high school.
‘How has your afternoon been?’ Alice asked, chewing on her lip distractedly.
Her mom frowned. ‘Making my way through a grant application.’
Alice was always thankful when the family farce ended and they could talk to each other like colleagues.
Most people probably didn’t speak to their parents like this.
But most people didn’t share the singular experience of academia with both of their parents and not much else.
Alice only saw her mother when she was in London for work anyway.
She rolled her eyes sympathetically. ‘The worst.’
The microwave beeped and her mom removed the steaming bowl. ‘And how’s work?’
‘It’s going well,’ Alice said. ‘I’m hoping my dissertation will be done soon, so I’ll have to start job hunting to secure something by the spring.’
‘Are you thinking of teaching or research?’ her mom asked, sitting at the counter.
‘My advisor, Jeremy, has a connection at the Royal Botanical Society and wants to recommend me for a research position. That would be an ideal option for me, since they’re conducting some of the most groundbreaking work in the field.’
‘That’s nice,’ her mom said, but she looked as though her mind was already drifting back to the troublesome grant application. ‘I haven’t heard of it, but if your advisor thinks it’s a good fit, I’m sure he’s right.’
‘Yeah,’ she said feebly, not feeling the same sense of accomplishment and excitement she’d felt upon Jeremy first mentioning the possibility.
But then again, her parents were math professors and didn’t know the significance of many of her accomplishments.
That was why Oxford had been so important to Alice, why she had sacrificed her social life for it – Oxford was a language everyone understood.
And while she didn’t wield it for attention in many places, she wasn’t above it when it came to her parents.
There was a long pause in which neither of them seemed to have anything to follow up with. ‘Have you heard from your father recently?’
Alice blew out a measured breath. ‘Yes. He sent a wedding invitation.’
Her mom’s eyebrows raised slightly. ‘Oh, he’s marrying her? I was never sure why it took him so long.’
Alice repressed the urge to roll her eyes in a much less sympathetic way than she had before.
Her mom certainly knew that refusing to sign the divorce papers for years, long after her dad had had an affair with a grad student and gotten her pregnant, was the reason he hadn’t remarried sooner.
When she’d moved to DC with Alice because she couldn’t bear to work at the same university as him anymore, it had seemed like she’d half expected him to realize his mistake and follow them. He hadn’t.
‘It’s probably simpler to be legally married, with the kids,’ Alice said, trying for a reassuring tone.
‘Yes,’ her mom said distantly. ‘David’s always been reasonable. So, are you going?’
She recoiled at the insinuation that she might be the kind of terrible daughter who would consider spitefully skipping her own father’s wedding to the woman who had destroyed their family.
It wasn’t the sort of question her mom would normally ask, which meant the news must have shaken her. She felt guilty for bringing it up.
‘It depends,’ Alice hedged. ‘If my dissertation is done, the defense will conflict with the wedding.’
Her mom nodded. ‘Your father understands that school always comes first,’ she said, returning to her soup.
Before she lost her attention for good, Alice decided to share her news.
‘I’m staying for the summer. Not here,’ she said quickly, before her mom could think she was imposing, ‘but at camp. I’m co-directing with Briar.
The first session starts in two weeks, so I can stay here, or I can get a hotel… ’
Her mom didn’t look up. ‘You can stay here. I’ll be busy with work, but you can take care of yourself, can’t you?’
‘I can,’ Alice said.
While she should have been proud of her independence, instead she felt a pang of longing for Susan, who would have happily welcomed her into the Elwood home and taken care of her. But Alice would never see Susan, would never be welcomed into her house, again.
It was only when she stepped out of Freddie’s car and into the swampy air of early summer that Alice fully understood why she had offered to co-direct.
She felt the pull that this land had on her so intensely, so suddenly, that it forced her to recognize that it had always been there, buried under years of bitterness.
The familiar scent, a unique mixture of moss, smoke and the hydrangeas Susan had taken such care to cultivate, was overwhelming, and Alice stood there for a long moment.
She knew now that she couldn’t have come back to the US without coming here, a place that somehow still felt like home to her, even if it was a fanciful thought.
Then, Briar emerged from the trees. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded, looking at Alice once more as if she were a ghost.
Freddie closed the trunk. ‘Do you want me to park somewhere else, or…?’ Then he seemed to notice who Briar was addressing. ‘Er…’ he started, glancing at Alice awkwardly.
‘You hired me,’ Alice said, forcing herself to look Briar in the eye. ‘So I’m here.’
Briar stared defiantly back at her and Alice was reminded that Briar had won every staring contest the two of them had ever had. She looked away, and Briar pounced at the show of weakness.
‘Obviously, I wasn’t being serious,’ Briar scoffed. ‘I had a moment of insanity, but it’s over now. You can leave.’
If Alice had thought about what arriving at camp was going to be like, she supposed she could have seen this coming, saved herself the trouble, and flown back to London. But, as with most things having to do with Briar, she had stubbornly refused to think about it.
‘I’m just trying to help,’ she said finally.
‘Come on, Briar,’ Freddie said, slinging his duffel over one shoulder. ‘It’s what Susan would’ve wanted.’ Something flashed across Briar’s face at his words, but without waiting for her response, he started through the trees on a path leading towards the cabins.
Briar opened her mouth and then closed it, narrowing her eyes at Alice. ‘You can just pack up and leave for the whole summer with no warning? What about your DPhil?’ She pronounced the word as though it was a curse. ‘And don’t you have a girlfriend?’
‘I talked everything through with my advisor, there shouldn’t be any problems.’ She tucked her hair behind her ears, looking up at Briar pleadingly. She ignored the girlfriend question. Briar didn’t have to know that Alice hadn’t dated anyone in years. ‘It’s all sorted.’
Briar huffed, seeming unconvinced, but turning down the same path as Freddie.
Alice followed, not expecting Briar to say anything else.
But, after a moment, she continued in a jarringly upbeat tone, ‘We’re in pretty good shape already, there’s not much to do.
Really, it’s thoughtful of you to volunteer, but we’re doing just fine. ’
‘Uh huh,’ Alice said as they emerged in the clearing at the center of camp, where the mess hall and the director’s cabin sat on either side of a flagpole.
A feeling of déjà vu struck her, as though she’d had this conversation with Briar in this exact place before.
She’d only been here for a few minutes and her mind was already playing tricks on her, trying to marry the Briar in front of her with the years of memories this place held for the two of them and coming up short of any logic.
Alice was always disconcerted when logic failed her.
Briar stopped in front of the director’s cabin, gesturing to the door. ‘Well, if you’re set on staying, make yourself comfortable.’
Alice squinted at the door, confused. ‘You’re not staying in the director’s cabin?’
Briar smiled blithely. ‘No, I am. But we’ll have to share.’
Alice stared at her, feeling as if she’d walked right into a trap. By the look on Briar’s face, she was enjoying this.
‘Look, I should have apologized at the funeral, but it didn’t seem like the right time. I’m sorry, and I get that you’re mad—’ Alice started.