4
A cool breeze drifts off the water, gentling the summer heat. My car windows are open, letting in the rich loamy air and leafy sunshine smells of the countryside. I wind down the narrow road that edges the lake, the rippling blue water on one side and the cool, shaded forest on the other. I skate the middle, staying out of both.
A grey heron sails past, veering toward the lake. Her choice is easy. She’s a water bird—she’ll go to the water. Human choices aren’t so easily made.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we had the instinct of a heron? Then when we made a choice, for someone or against someone, for something or against something, we’d never have to doubt it.
We’d always know what we were meant to do.
I turn on the radio—classical—to tune out the piping bird calls and the roll of the waves. Then I let the sun stroke my face as the light feathers through the leaves, falling across the road.
Daniel and I made a deal. A bet. An agreement.
We’ll both open up. We’ll open ourselves to the possibility of finding someone. We’ll stop being so busy and so consumed by Abry and we’ll be open to finding a partner. Maybe even love.
I think he only agreed to do this because he’s worried about me. But I only agreed to it because I’m worried about him.
That’s the way with family though. Worry is the ticking second hand while love is the watch case holding everything together.
Anyway, whoever finds love first wins, and whoever doesn’t will have to do something they hate. For Daniel, that’s posing shirtless for an Abry billboard ad. For me, it’s taking a two-week no internet, no phone vacation at the beach.
I take a long sip of coffee—my third cup of the day. It tastes like cherries and roasted almonds and richly roasted beans. I swallow more from the steaming cup. I’m running on fumes and I have to help Mila with her spelling words for her test tomorrow.
The chateau is ahead, framed in the bright blue daylight. It’s nearly 6 p.m., but today is the summer solstice, which means the sun will stay high above for hours more. Sunlight slants down over the chateau’s dove-gray stone and spills over the two towers with their curved windows and high pointing roofs. Usually, when I round the bend and see the home my family has lived in for generations, I feel a ping of happiness.
But today that ping is popped when I see the cars lining the circular drive.
There’s Daniel’s BMW.
Fine.
Max’s AC Cobra—the red one he brings out on nice days.
Also fine.
And then there’s another car. A 1985 Vauxhall Cavalier. Bluish Gray. Rusted undercarriage. A cracked headlight. A bumper sticker that reads “Powered by Good Vibes.”
Not fine.
My mum’s back for the first time in years.