Chapter 8
The decision to go back to Bluebell Cove came to Juliet in the middle of the night.
It was three days after Danica’s last day of eighth grade, and the city had at once bolted to the mid-eighties, drenching her in sweat.
The air-conditioning unit in the Greenwich apartment stopped working abruptly, and Juliet tried and failed to sleep on the pull-out couch in the living room, listening to people on the street scream.
In the bedroom that was now Danica’s full-time, Juliet could hear her daughter crying.
Already, Alvin had left for Singapore, and he hadn’t bothered to say goodbye. Juliet wasn’t sure how Danica would ever forgive him. Then again, with Juliet the only parent around, Juliet knew that she would take the brunt of the blame for everything falling apart.
Danica couldn’t hate someone who wasn’t around, her iconic and wealthy and worldly father. By comparison, Juliet looked pathetic and unemployed and raggedy.
In the days since Danica had run out of the restaurant and collapsed in Central Park, Juliet had traced through her memory of the phone call with Ivy numerous times.
Ivy had begged for information. She’d told Juliet to breathe and calm down.
But after Juliet had hung up on her, Ivy had only tried to call her back once.
Each time Juliet considered this, she came to the same conclusion.
Her sisters didn’t have the will to try to understand her, not when Juliet wasn’t so keen on telling them anything real about her life.
When a horn blared in front of her apartment, Juliet got up and made herself a cup of tea, which she sipped at the kitchen table, watching traffic purr past. She remembered her most recent trip to Bluebell Cove, months ago now.
She remembered sitting on the bed she slept in at Ivy’s place when she visited.
It was the same bed, incidentally, that she’d slept in as a child and later a teenager.
From the bedspread, she could see all of the cove, glinting in the moonlight.
Everything had been quiet, save for the wind through the spindly tree branches outside.
Juliet suddenly ached to inhale that gorgeous air.
She ached to leap into the cove and stretch her limbs and feel the waves lap against her body.
She ached to show her daughter the nooks and crannies of the woods that surrounded the town.
She wanted lobster and clam chowder and biscuits.
She wanted to stop watching rats dart in front of her feet when she walked down the road.
It didn’t take long to find someone to sublet the apartment in Greenwich Village.
Within two days, Juliet had fifteen online requests to see the place, and by the end of the week, she’d decided on a twentysomething couple who proved they came from money and could handle the rent.
“And there’s no way we can extend the contract? ” the woman, an artist, asked.
“We’re going out of town for the summer,” Juliet said, glancing at Danica in the corner, who glowered at them all from behind her layers of eyeliner. “Danica starts school in September.”
The couple looked disappointed.
“We have something for now,” the guy told his girlfriend, taking her hand.
It didn’t take long for Juliet and Danica to pack up their things and get out of there.
With the money she was already saving by not paying Manhattan rental prices, Juliet bought a clunker car.
Everything they didn’t want to take with them was driven to a cheap storage facility far outside of the city.
The facility was creepy, with hundreds upon hundreds of garages filled with other people’s forgotten things.
What remained in the back were three suitcases.
“Doesn’t it feel good to have so little?” Juliet asked her daughter, slipping into the driver’s seat and smiling.
Danica crossed her arms tightly and stared straight ahead. “How long is the drive again?”
Juliet tried to laugh. “Six hours! But we’re going to have fun. We’ll stop wherever you want to stop. And we can listen to whatever you want.”
Danica snapped her head around to glare at Juliet.
Juliet started the engine, feeling her smile melt away.
The highway was wide open and practically empty at this time of the morning, long after rush hour.
And within the first few hours of their journey, Juliet found herself dropping into her own nostalgia.
“You know, I left Bluebell Cove when I was eighteen,” Juliet tried again, praying that she and Danica could relate to one another. “I took a bus all the way to the city with only a backpack.”
Danica remained quiet, although Juliet could tell she was listening intently.
“I had more dreams than I knew what to do with,” Juliet continued. “I’m sure I was no fun to listen to. I remember my best friends looking at me suspiciously, like I was constantly living with one foot out the door.”
Juliet remembered Callie looking at her with pain in her eyes.
Callie had been so afraid that Juliet would get up and leave her behind at any moment.
They’d taken thousands of photographs with disposable cameras, Callie trying to latch onto the memories of every moment.
Juliet wondered where those photographs were.
Yanking Juliet back to the present, Danica made a noise in the back of her throat.
“But maybe that’s like you with your writing?” Juliet suggested, praying for a link between herself and her daughter. “You seem so driven to be an artist. Not like other kids?”
Danica shrugged. “Being a writer just means being watchful, I think. You don’t have to abandon everyone you’ve ever known to make it work.”
“But what about what you said before? About traveling? Experiencing other cultures?”
Danica laughed. “I never said that, Mom.”
Juliet sighed quietly. This was going to be a heck of a ride.
At around one thirty that afternoon, Juliet pulled over at a quaint diner with old-fashioned red-and-white striped plush booths. Danica sat down and studied the menu glumly, while Juliet stepped outside again to update her sister Ivy on their location and what time they’d be getting in.
Ivy answered. “So you’re really coming?”
Juliet tried to laugh, but it sounded all wrong. Hadn’t they been texting all week? Hadn’t Juliet updated her about the apartment rental and the storage facility?
“I told you we are. I want to get Danica out of the city for the summer.” She lowered her voice, then added, “She’s been having a hard time.”
Ivy was quiet for a moment. Juliet thought she could hear the ocean somewhere beside her.
A part of Juliet sensed that Ivy wasn’t so keen on Juliet coming to Bluebell Cove. But Juliet felt too sensitive—and too nervous—to ask if it was still all right. They’d already rented out the apartment. They’d already packed up their things.
“And what about your husband?” Ivy asked finally. “Will he be staying with us, too?”
Juliet remembered how cagey she’d been last time they’d spoken, how she’d said something about a man leaving them behind. Ivy surely knew that that man was her husband. Did she want to embarrass Juliet into saying it aloud?
Was this Ivy’s way of getting back at Juliet for a lack of honesty?
Or was this just an older sister, trying to embarrass a younger sister?
Juliet filled her lungs with air and told herself to remain steady. Family was complicated.
“Alvin has to work,” Juliet said finally.
“And you?” Ivy asked. “Do you have to work as well?”
“I took the summer off,” Juliet said. “As I said, Danica’s having a hard time.”
“It’s good to be there for our kids,” Ivy said. There was a jitteriness to her words, as though she was being very careful. “We’ll have a big dinner tonight to welcome you.”
After lunch, Juliet and Danica got back on the road. Danica was scribbling something in her notebook, and Juliet wanted desperately to ask Danica what it was.
“Are you more of a poet?” Juliet asked finally. “Or do you focus more on prose?”
Danica stopped writing and turned her head to look at her mother. Again, Danica felt exposed and stupid. “I’m writing about what’s happening around me,” Danica said finally. “I’m writing about how much I miss the city. I’m writing about how stupid this all is.”
Juliet squeezed the steering wheel firmly. “You could write letters, maybe,” she said. “To Mary. You could bring back the forgotten art of letter-writing.”
“Why would you write a letter when you can write an email?” Danica shot back. “I mean, letters get lost in the mail.”
“They don’t get lost as often as you think,” Juliet said.
“For hundreds upon hundreds of years, humans sent letters. Romantic letters and friendship letters and letters between family members. It’s so often how we get to know people through reading the letters they left behind.
I remember when I went to summer camp as a teenager.
It was a fashion camp. We were supposed to learn how to model and make our own clothes.
I missed my best friend Callie so much. We wrote each other letter after letter.
I asked my counselor every afternoon if there was a letter from her. ”
Danica furrowed her brow. “Callie?”
“Callie,” Juliet said again, her voice breaking the slightest bit.
“You’ve never mentioned her before,” Danica said.
“She was my Mary,” Juliet said, throwing her head against the headrest. She braced herself for Danica to ask what had happened to Callie and where she was now.
Instead, Danica asked, “Are you done? I mean, with your career?”
Juliet was caught off guard so much that she let the car slow down the slightest bit. “I beg your pardon?”
“I mean, you can’t go back to the fashion world, right?” Danica asked.
“I’m not done,” Juliet said firmly. “I’m taking the summer to hang out with you in one of the most beautiful places on earth.”
“The place you couldn’t wait to get away from,” Danica pointed out. “The place you hated as a kid.”
Juliet was too stunned to answer. Her thoughts swirled so violently that she thought she was going to get sick. They never told you that with motherhood, your children would grow up and throw reality back in your face.
Juliet and Danica spent the next hour and a half in silence. Juliet knew better than to pick apart how Danica treated her. She knew that Danica’s sour mood was the result of so many factors that Danica couldn’t change, some of which were all Juliet’s fault.
But by the time they pulled into the driveway at Ivy’s place—the house in which Juliet had grown up, the house directly next to the Bluebell Cove Eco-Lodge—Juliet had worked herself into an anxious sweat.
Celia and Ivy would take one look at Juliet and Danica and realize what a failure Juliet’s life was.
They’d understand that she was a terrible mother, and her daughter hated her.
Before they got out of the car, Ivy appeared at the front door wearing a nervous smile. Behind her was Celia, peering out curiously.
“Those are your aunts,” Juliet said.
“Great,” Danica said darkly.
Juliet bit her tongue. “Come on.” She got out, leaving their stuff in the car. She felt Danica like a shadow, following her up the stairs. The screen door screamed, drawing Ivy and Celia out for awkward hugs.
“Danica!” Celia said. “It’s wonderful to meet you. Congratulations on finishing middle school!”
Danica grimaced into a sort of smile.
“Your cousins are about to go for a walk to the cove,” Ivy said. “Do you want to join them? We’ll probably sit down for dinner in a half hour or so.”
Through the front door, Juliet could see Celia’s daughter and Ivy’s children zipping up their sweatshirts and putting on their shoes.
Sophie, Celia’s daughter, waved happily and then came out to introduce herself.
She was in from Washington State, where she was studying environmental journalism, just like her mother.
Already, Juliet sensed a camaraderie between Celia and Sophie, proof that all of the difficulties they’d had in their relationship had melted away and left them with understanding and love.
“The cove is gorgeous this time of day,” Sophie said to Danica, urging her off the porch and on the little path that wrapped around the old house. Ivy’s kids followed them, waving nervous hellos to Juliet.
Ivy and Celia looked at Juliet, trying to create warmth in what felt like a chilly relationship.
“We have a bottle of wine open,” Ivy said finally, gesturing for Juliet to come in.
“How was the drive?” Celia asked.
“It was okay. Exhausting, but okay.” Juliet wondered what her sisters thought of the crummy car she’d driven here. She’d forgotten to be embarrassed by it.
It didn’t exactly fit in with the picture she’d been trying to offer her sisters of her luxurious Manhattan life.
Juliet ran her fingers through her hair and inhaled the smells of growing up: the cut wood waiting to be burned in the fireplace and the bricks and cedar that made up the house's foundation.
If she tricked her brain a little, she could imagine her father, James Harper, booming from upstairs that it was nearly time for dinner, that the girls needed to wash their hands.
She remembered how frightened Theo had been of James Harper, how he’d never wanted to play if James was the one meant to watch over them.
He preferred it when Ivy or Celia was watching.
Callie hadn’t liked James too much, either.
But maybe because she’d been a little girl, she’d known to smile and be polite.
“Are you okay, honey?” Ivy dared to ask.
Juliet inhaled sharply. “I’m fine! I’m fine.” She took the glass of wine and raised it. Doom and gloom swirled in her gut. “To a brilliant summer with my sisters,” she said.
But Celia and Ivy didn’t look like they believed her at all.