Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Vivian set down her coffee cup and leaned back in her chair, stretching a little.
She had another day off at home, but she was feeling far from rested.
She had spent the morning trying to not think about the money that Frank had left her, and she'd read a book out on the back porch while enjoying a cup of coffee.
Although it had been a lovely experience, especially because the weather was so delightfully warm and yet hinting at autumn, she felt restless.
She didn't like feeling on edge in her own home, but every time she let her mind wander, it inevitably went straight back to the thought of the money that was lying in the safe.
I've got to forgive Frank, she thought to herself, taking a deep breath. Sally was right. That needs to be the first step. Then I can just relax and do something with the money when I think of it.
She closed her eyes, picturing her husband and feeling a surge of hurt and wistfulness.
She missed him a great deal, and she wished that her memories of him were untainted by his secrets.
But she knew that she needed to accept her reality and forgive him for what he had done.
For the most part, he had been a wonderful husband and father and she was determined to focus on that.
“I forgive you, Frank,” she whispered, and although she could sense in her gut that it was still only partly true and that it would take a while for her to fully release the resentment she felt, she felt her heart grow lighter.
She had taken the first step in the right direction, and she would get there as long as she persisted.
She opened her eyes again and smiled. Sally had been right, and all at once the money didn't seem like such a terrible thing anymore.
She glanced down at her book, which was lying open on her lap.
She had been enjoying it, but she still felt a little restless and decided that she would come back to the porch to read more later.
She tucked a bookmark into the crisp white pages of the novel and set it down on the table beside her chair.
She picked up her empty coffee cup and wandered into the kitchen, which was tidy and spotless except for the frying pan and plate that were the casualties from her earlier lunch.
She considered washing them up right away, but then the thought of cleaning caused her to think of something else.
She glanced up at the ceiling, thinking of the attic.
She had meant to go through the keepsake chests and some of the storage shelves, getting things more organized and perhaps throwing away some things she no longer needed and that weren't sentimental to her. She’d stopped her reorganizing project the last time she'd been up there because of finding the money.
She realized that she'd been avoiding the attic ever since, not wanting to think about the whole thing.
No time like the present, she thought briskly, starting toward the attic. She was halfway up the staircase when she realized she would probably want to dust some items as she went along, and she turned around and made her way to the basement to get some cleaning supplies.
A couple of minutes later, she was climbing the staircase to the attic, feeling a surge of sentimentality and a bittersweet ache in her heart.
She felt almost nervous to go through old keepsakes, worried that seeing everything now would make her feel differently about her past with Frank.
She shook her head, determined to not let herself get too upset by what had happened.
She vowed to stay as positive as possible, reminding herself that Frank had been a good husband and that nothing had taken away the fact that he’d loved her and the children very much.
She opened another one of the keepsake chests, not feeling ready to continue to look through the one that had held the money in it.
This chest was filled mainly with photo albums, and she pulled one of them out and set it in her lap.
She knew that she didn't need to look through the photo albums in order to organize the attic, since photos were certainly not something she was ever going to get rid of, but she was feeling overcome by a nostalgic mood and she wanted to look at the pictures of her children when they were little and of her husband when she had trusted him completely.
She combed through page after page of old memories, feeling both joy and an ache in her chest as she beheld all of their happy former times.
Although she was perfectly content with her current life and she loved the way her children had grown up into adults, sometimes she missed when they were little.
And she certainly missed Frank, with his flashing smile and twinkling eyes.
He had exuded charisma and confidence, and he had made her believe that he was capable of anything.
I guess he would have fixed his mistakes if he had stayed with us, she thought, feeling tears spring to her eyes.
Maybe that's part of why he never told me.
He was always so sure he could do anything he set his mind to.
He was probably always totally certain that he would fix the problem of the debt he'd gotten himself into.
“Mom?”
Vivian looked up, wiping a stray tear off her cheek. She wasn't positive which one of her daughters had called her name, but her guess was that it was Julia.
“I'm up here!” she called. “In the attic.”
Sure enough, a moment later she heard footsteps on the stairs and Julia appeared.
Julia looked flushed and healthy for the most part, but there were circles under her eyes and her hair was a little messy, which was uncharacteristic for her.
Vivian knew that parenting a newborn was never easy, and that throwing a toddler into the mix was sure to create chaos.
She made a mental note to make Julia and Cooper another casserole.
“What are you up to?” Julia asked with a smile, looking down at the photo album in Vivian's lap. A moment later her smile vanished as she noticed Vivian’s tears. “Are you all right, Mom?”
Vivian laughed breathlessly, gently shutting the photo album. “Oh, I'm fine. I'm only sniffing because of all the dust up here.” She gestured to the cleaning supplies that she’d brought up to the attic with her. “It needs a thorough dusting.”
“Mom.” Julia knelt down next to her mother and put a hand on her shoulder. “I have a newborn daughter and I have definitely been experiencing more than my fair share of roller coaster emotions. That makes it easy for me to recognize the emotional turmoil of another. Are you crying about Dad?”
Vivian nodded, letting some of the tears fall out of her eyes. “It's—it's just hard to miss him so much and not be able to talk to him about this whole thing,” she said.
Julia nodded, shifting from a kneeling position to a sitting one.
For a moment she was quiet, looking out across the attic as if she was remembering all of the antics that she'd shared with her siblings there when they were children.
“What do you think he would say if you could talk to him about it?” she asked finally, turning to her mother with a sympathetic expression.
Vivian shook her head. “I have no idea, that's just the thing. I don't know why he did what he did or how he justified it to himself. It's a mystery to me, and when he was alive, I'd thought there was no mysteries at all between us.”
“But if you could guess, what do you think he would say?” Julia prompted.
“I'm struggling with this too. I've been thinking about it a lot, and I think the best thing to do is just try to trust Dad's thought process as best we can.
We know he wasn't trying to hurt any of us, and that's a good place to start.”
Vivian shut her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.
“I think he would tell me that he wished he hadn't gambled so much.” For a moment she could imagine Frank vividly and she laughed, shaking her head.
“And then he would tell me that it was almost worth it because it was so much fun.
But then he would get serious again and apologize for risking our futures.
He would tell me that he didn't want me to worry, that he had wanted to carry the burden of the situation alone.
He would probably brag about all the ways he got the money to pay off his debts, and then he'd take my hand and tug me up this staircase to show me the money in the shoe box as if it was Ali Baba's lamp.” She felt tears in her eyes again, but this time her emotions were bittersweet.
Julia laughed a little. “That sounds like Dad. I never would have expected him to do anything like this, but being overly confident was definitely in his wheelhouse. He was always sure he could do anything. That's probably why he gambled so much. He probably kept being sure that he was going to win and then of course he didn’t.”
Vivian sighed. “I just wish that he'd been content with the life we had together. We didn't need any extra money. The Lighthouse Grill gave us plenty of income to raise you children and have this nice house.”
“I bet it wasn't about the money,” Julia said softly. “I think it was like an adventure for him. And that doesn't make it okay, but at least for me, it does make it a little easier to forgive.”
“I know what you mean.” Vivian looked down at the photo album in her lap and laughed involuntarily when she saw an old picture of Frank dressed as Santa Claus on Christmas Eve, holding up one of the cookies the children had left out as if it was a first prize medal.
“He thought of everything as an adventure, didn't he? I always knew he was a little reckless, but when it came to you kids he was always careful. I never dreamed he would be reckless about your futures the way he was with that gambling.”
“I know,” Julia said, “but remember we don't know when he got into debt like that. It could have been after we were all grown up.” She placed a reassuring hand on her mother's shoulder.
“We can't know what happened, and in the end, we don't need to know. What we know is that we love Dad and he loved us.”
Vivian nodded. She didn't know what else to say, but a comfortable silence hummed between herself and Julia and she realized that she didn't need to say anything. She began to turn the pages of the photo album slowly, and Julia leaned over her shoulder to look at the pictures.
As Vivian gazed at the photographs, she was struck by how involved Frank had been with each of his children while they were growing up.
“Your dad was always there for you,” Vivian said softly.
“Whether he was teaching Dean how to play baseball or teaching you girls how to swim, he was always ready to get involved with taking care of you and making sure you were equipped with good skills for your lives.”
“Oh definitely.” Julia smiled fondly at the picture of her father teaching her how to ride a bike.
“He always knew how to make the scary stuff seem less scary. He was always cracking jokes and making us want to be all big and brave. I remember when I was learning how to swim, and I was so afraid of learning how to float on my back—he told me to pretend that I was a puffer fish and blow air out of my cheeks while I tried to float. The way he demonstrated it was so funny that I just kept giggling. In a little while I wasn't afraid anymore. I still wasn’t too good at floating, but at least I wasn’t as nervous. ”
She laughed, and then a soft look came over her eyes. “I’ve been really struggling with this, but I’m realizing that it wouldn’t be right to be upset with Dad forever over the mistakes he made. I know now how challenging it is to be a parent. Whatever he did wrong, he was still a great one.”
Vivian pulled her daughter into her arms and they sat quietly for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts. Vivian felt her heart heal up a little more, and then all at once she gasped.
“What is it?” Julia asked, pulling out of their embrace and looking at her mother with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Oh yes.” Vivian stared into space with shining eyes. “Something just clicked for me. I know what I’m going to do with the money your father left.”
“You are? That’s great! What is it?”
Vivian shook her head. “Sorry, honey. I think I’m going to wait to reveal it until the whole family is together.”
Julia pretended to moan with disappointment. “Okay.” She winked. “I’m looking forward to it.” She kissed her mother on the cheek. “Do you want help reorganizing the attic?”
“Would you? Aren’t you too tired from looking after those little ones?”
Julia chuckled. “I am tired, but you know how much I love organizing things. I think it would be just the thing to revitalize me. Cooper bought me the most wonderful closet organizer, and getting to arrange everything in Quinn’s closet gave me an adrenaline boost for hours.
” She grinned. “What do you say, Mom? Shall we get those old bins of winter hats sorted out?”
“Yes please. And who knows? Maybe we’ll find some little hats in there you can take for Macey or Quinn.”
Vivian shut the photo album and Julia helped her to her feet. Her heart felt light with relief and excitement as she began to reorder the attic with her daughter.