27. August
27
AUGUST
So that really happened.
Phoebe had a healthy baby girl. The bundle of baby powder and magic I’d held in my arms twenty-six years ago was a mother now. She was going to raise a little Sam of her own. Probably a hellion, based on her initial cries. Definitely smart and no doubt as beautiful as her mother and grandmother, once she got out of the bald, wrinkled and grouchy-old-man phase all new babies went through.
The sun was still thinking about rising as I sat on the hard concrete steps out front, feeling drained in the aftermath of all the emotions that had swamped me in the last few hours. Excitement and fear for Phoebe. Wonder, pride and a touch of horror that her body could actually do that. A touch of regret that mine never had. An explosion of love and joy tinged with worry for the little one who’d emerged into such a troubled world.
I wished for her sake that being human wasn’t so damn complicated. Maybe she’d find a way to make things better. Or at least, invent a workable teleportation device to other worlds. Somebody had to do it eventually .
I stared at the nondescript tan-and-brown house next door. In the faint morning light, I could see three cars in the driveway and a pink bicycle lying on its side on the lawn. How many families had rented the place since we left it? Did that bike belong to a young girl hopelessly in love with one of the neighbor kids? Would she be friends with the new addition to our family someday?
Had she found the initials I’d impulsively carved into the closet molding before I moved away? AR + WH. I’d wanted to leave some physical evidence that our love existed, even if it was entirely in my imagination at the time.
“Mamacita Mimosas,” Bernie said, taking a seat to my left and handing me a glass of what appeared to be innocent orange juice. “We’ve earned this.”
I took a sip, my lips puckering and throat burning. “Did we earn that much of it?”
“Were you not there for the same Aliens reenactment I was?” Bernie shuddered dramatically. “Phoebe’s birth was easy by comparison and nowhere near that graphically disturbing. When you have a baby in the hospital, the nurses whisk away all the evidence while you’re bonding so you don’t have to see it. It’s not just floating up around you like?—”
“We all saw it,” I said, putting my hand on her arm to stop the description. “It’s burned into our retinas and through all time and space. A thousand years from now, people will still tell the story, but all we’ll remember is that you cried harder than the rest of us combined when you got to hold Sammy for the first time.”
She slid me a grin. “Pretty sure you gave me a run for my money, August.”
“Pretty sure nobody was looking at me.” Sammy’s hands were just so tiny .
“Also, she’s remembering wrong,” Morgan said, dragging a cushion from a patio chair and dropping it on the other side of me before joining us. “I heard some horror stories from Yvonne about your birth experience in the hospital, Bernie. You were just too blissed out and in love with your bundle of joy to notice. Like Phoebe was today.”
Bernie’s smile softened. “She’s going to be a great mom.”
“Speaking of Yvonne, she and Phoebe are asleep now. Todd and Wade are taking turns holding Sammy and making breakfast.”
Another Sam in the world. Samantha Lane.
“I can’t believe your kid just had a kid, B.” I looked over at her, wide-eyed. After the last hour I’d thought I was all cried out, but saying it out loud, I felt more tears welling. “How did we get here so fast?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Bernie said a little morosely. “At least she waited to make me a grandma until she was a grown woman with an education and a reliable partner.”
“You sound so grown up right now,” I whispered, and she elbowed me with a laugh. “You’ll have to get a new tattoo to balance things out. Or maybe beat all the men on the racetrack three weeks from now.”
“I approve of both of those ideas.”
“To Bernadette,” Morgan raised her glass with a tired smile. “Officially the sexiest grandmother I know.”
“Why thank you. You’re a lovely and devoted dogmother yourself.”
She smirked. “Yes, I’m very proud. They may shed on all my clothes and poop outside, but they’ll never ask for my car keys, invite me to be at their home birth or tell their therapist what a bad mom I was.”
They turned to me expectantly.
“Don’t look at me. I can’t even keep a plant alive, and I’m the human Merlin barely tolerates.”
“But you handled this whole experience like a pro.” Morgan sounded impressed. “Wade told me you kept Todd’s brain from exploding, stood up to the evil grandmother, and distracted Phoebe between contractions.”
Bernie cleared her throat. “She also helped a certain someone make it to the sink before she could get sick all over my floor.”
“I thought we promised never to mention that again.”
I snickered. “Yay me.”
“Oh, and you got a haircut and sent your book in yesterday,” Bernie added. “So, we can call you the hottest writer we know again.”
“Huzzah.” I’d have another drink to that.
Morgan laid her hand on my arm, her expression intense. “You finished your book? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well, between your Exorcist impression, all the bodily fluids and the screaming, we were kind of busy,” I told her. I mean, giving birth was a beautiful thing and I adored my godchild and her new baby with all my heart and soul, but there was no denying the process was also a teensy bit…gooey? And Phoebe hadn’t held back her feelings or her volume at all . My ears were still ringing.
I seriously loved that girl.
“There is a lot of bullshit involved in being a woman, isn’t there?” Bernie said thoughtfully after taking another sip of her mimosa. “Think about all we have to deal with throughout our lives. And I’m only talking about the biology, because I could rant about male privilege for the next year.”
She absolutely could.
“The painful periods you hate until they start to go away,” she went on. “The hormones, the cramps, the aching boobs and unexpected hair growth. Then pregnancy, which is always one wrongly positioned fetus or maternal health issue away from being a life-or-death emergency. And what do we get at the end of it all? When we’re done growing the next generation of humanity with our own bodies, so our entire species doesn’t perish from the earth before the boys figure out how to get their sex-bots to do it instead? Menopause.”
“Hot flashes, chin hairs, and a desperation for collagen supplements that actually work,” I added as the champagne started kicking in. “Meanwhile, men get to pee standing up and somehow look better with wrinkles. Although there is a ball-length issue that Wade was telling me?—”
“Stop.” Bernie burst out laughing. “Please, I don’t need to hear about my brother’s balls. Morgan? Are you okay?”
My sister was crying beside me. Not only crying but holding back sobs behind her clenched fist and looking like she might start hyperventilating at any moment.
I set down my glass to put an arm around her and she shuddered against me.
“I was so scared, August.”
Bernie got to her feet quickly, backing away and shaking her head at my look of abandonment. “I think you two need to talk. And I need to hold the baby again.”
Morgan took my hand and held it so tightly my fingers turned white. It was terrifying, to be honest. She never cried like this.
Morgan was the warrior. I was the basket case. That was how things worked in our family.
“Scared about what?” I prompted hesitantly.
“You wouldn’t talk to me. I didn’t know how to help you, and every time I tried it only pushed you further away. Mom brought the affirmations and hugs to the table. The way you did today. It made me realize that you’ve needed that from me, and I didn’t give it to you. I’m good at tough love, you know that. Sarcasm and solutions. That’s what I have in my tool kit. I thought you hated me for—” She broke off and buried her face in her hand.
Hated her for what?
I rocked her a little in my arms, still bracing myself for a brush-off. “I could never hate you, Morgan. You’re my sister.”
Her laugh sounded painful. “You did for a little while. After you left with Mom and I stayed behind.”
“Oh. That. Well, teenagers are stupid. You know that better than anyone.”
I’d admit, it hadn’t been easy for me to adapt to the change. It was the timing, more than anything. I was starting high school in a new place without my big sister and protector to turn to. Without a friend like Bernie. And with Mom’s insane work schedule during production, I was dealing with most of it on my own and failing miserably. I hadn’t realized how much our mother relied on my sister to handle things until she was gone. To keep us all on track. To make sure I’d done my homework and got to school on time. It was too much responsibility to put on a teenager, I knew that now. But back then, I’d felt a little abandoned. Like Mom and Morgan had both gotten what they wanted and I’d been lost and forgotten in the shuffle. But I’d gotten over it years ago.
“She wanted me to go with her to Italy,” Morgan confessed. “Did you know that? At least for the week of my school break. I told her I couldn’t drop everything and leave the country. That I had responsibilities.”
“You blame yourself for not going with her?” I felt myself sliding into shock.
“She wouldn’t have been carrying those bags,” she said tremulously. “I would have rented a car and she wouldn’t have been on her own.”
Every breath I took was sharp as a razor blade as I realized that we’d both been blaming ourselves instead of talking to each other. Why hadn’t we talked to each other?
“Morgan, I nagged her for weeks before she left, trying to get her to stay home because the cardiologist didn’t think she was up to the trip.”
Her brow furrowed. “She didn’t tell me he said that.”
“He strongly implied and she ignored. And after reminding her for the dozenth time, she told me she’d been proving the doctors wrong for decades. She said that if she died in Italy, at least she would have lived, and asked me what my excuse was. For not living. For using my writing as a justification to say no to everything.”
I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of my mouth. I’d been holding them in for too long now.
“We were still arguing about it when I dropped her off. Then I jokingly said…” My voice cracked. “I said, ‘Fine. Have fun. Just don’t die in Italy.’ Those exact words.”
“Oh August.”
“We laughed about it—she even said that sounded like a great title for a book—but then she did. She died, and it felt like I’d cursed her or something. Like I made it happen, and everything that came after was all my fault. If this is a guilt contest, I think I win this round.”
Morgan tilted her head back and wiped furiously at her face. “You never told me any of that.”
I shrugged, exhaustion heavy on my shoulders. “You didn’t want to talk about it and I couldn’t. After the celebration, we stopped sharing things with each other. Instead, we made piles and lists and planned the trip to bring her back. The one I couldn’t go on because it took me this long to start piecing my life back together.”
“I shouldn’t have pressured you about it. I had to go, for me, and I didn’t want you to feel left out, so I kept pushing. Even after you got sick and obviously weren’t going to make it.” She shook her head, as if castigating herself. “Then after I came back, everything was different. You were at dinner and working and wanting to enter the race. It was wonderful, and everything I wanted for you, but I didn’t trust it. It was such a dramatic change, August. Especially the racing part. It worried me, because I wasn’t sure if you were… I’m still not sure where that idea came from. Yo u’ve never shown the slightest interest in cars or the race before.”
Instead of trying to explain, I took a page from Chick’s book. I pulled out my phone, found the message from Mom, and put it on speaker without a word.
By the time she said “Ciao, bambina,” Morgan was crying again. But oddly, I felt lighter. It was all out there now. Whatever came next, we were finally sharing it together. As sisters.
“As far as I can see, she managed to get what she wanted from both of us,” I told her. “You went to Italy with her to have an adventure. I finished my book, I’m racing her car and I’m attempting to get a life. Pretty sneaky when you think about it.”
Morgan sniffed and leaned into me. “I secretly disliked that race for at least two years, you know.”
“I know.” Mom might have mentioned it.
“After the first race, I wanted to celebrate him surviving cancer together. At a resort with umbrella drinks, waterfalls and couple massages.”
“I seem to recall you going to several resorts together in the last few years.”
“Yeah, well, when it comes to time with him, I’m greedy.” She sat up straight again. “But his loyalty to his friends and his passion for whimsy are what make him who he is.”
“You said the word. Say it again so I can record it. Whimsy.”
She stuck out her tongue.
“That’s why he’s the right man for me. I love him to distraction, and he is the perfect balance between you and me.” When I raised my brow, she explained, “Eccentric and creative, but solid and responsible. I know I need some eccentricity in my life. Without it, without you and Mom, I got so focused on my goals and lists that I forgot what being silly felt like. I forgot to dance and put on ridiculous outfits and laugh until my sides ached. Until Gene.”
“Aww. You’re welcome.”
Her smile was watery and wry. “Yes, thank you for forcing me to fill out a dating profile and then poke a stranger online without knowing whether or not he was a serial killer who just happened to like the same books I did.” She hesitated. “I never would have told you to poke Wade.”
I tried not to wince at that. “Sure you don’t want to reword that statement?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Because he’s your friend?”
“No. Because he’s not enough like me.”
My double take almost gave me whiplash. “What? He’s too much like you. He’s too attractive. Too stable. Too reliable. He’s?—”
“Too hesitant to go after what he really wants,” she finished pointedly. “You’re living proof of that.”
“The man who owns a small section of the neighborhood doesn’t go after what he wants?”
“None of that is for him.”
“What does that mean?”
She looked like she was trying to find the right words to explain herself. “If you went inside and woke up Yvonne to ask her about Wade, she would praise him for being the man of the family. She might also tell you that she wishes he had more fun and followed his passions, and that she blames his father for that. For making Wade feel responsible for everyone’s happiness but his own.”
“And why would she think that?” I asked. Wade had told me about the text message and his father days ago, but I was pretty sure he’d downplayed how deeply it had all affected him.
“Because it’s true. Wade’s dad was a trucker who cheated a lot and never came home to be with his kids. Basically, he was the reason all country songs were invented. ”
Bernie had never mentioned her father. Neither had Wade until the other night.
“Sounds like a prize.”
“He used traveling as an excuse. His get-out-of-responsibility-free card. It affected Wade a lot. He set out to be a different kind of man. One who stuck around and gave all his focus to his family. Who invested in businesses with an eye on their security and wasn’t easily swayed or distracted by his personal desires. I wasn’t surprised when he married a woman he liked instead of loved,” she continued thoughtfully. “It probably seemed like the smartest, safest decision, even though it didn’t turn out that way. You, on the other hand…”
“I’m a dumb decision?”
She took my hand again. “I actually think you’re unexpected and inspired. When you’re not hiding away in your house like a phobic hermit, you’re fun and smart and interesting. Impulsive and passionate.”
“I appreciate all the compliments, but let’s get back to why you wouldn’t poke him for me.” I was done worrying about how wrong that sounded.
“He keeps his heart close and you wear yours on your sleeve. He’s a details man and you’re a dreamer. The only thing you had in common was that neither of you thought you deserved good things, so you didn’t go after them. But maybe that’s changed now. For both of you.”
“I’m not sure if you’re saying you approve or not.”
Morgan frowned. “Who cares if I approve? It’s not any of my business, is it?”
“Did you just say something wasn’t your business?” I reached for my phone again. “Forget whimsy. Can I record that for posterity?”
She ignored me. “I may have been a little upset initially, but only because I was the last to know. Which circles back around to it being my fault because I didn’t know how to talk to you.” She pushed a stray curl behind her ear and sighed. “For the record, I never did. You and Mom were always connected in a way I couldn’t be. You have that same wild imagination she did. You were both artistic and creative, continuously distracted by shiny objects. She believed in mermaids and you wrote about shapeshifters and witches. And you both loved musicals, which I will never understand.”
“Please,” I scoffed. “You two were the iconic women goals I could never reach. You’re as driven as she was. Peerless in your fields. You were both unapologetic about taking what you wanted. And she always admired you. So much we had this thing we said whenever we weren’t sure about something. What Would Morgan Do? That’s how much you’ve always had your act together.”
“That’s what it is you know,” she surprised me by saying. “It’s all an act. I can organize and plan as much as I want to, but none of us ever really have it all together. Mom didn’t, and I certainly don’t.”
“Don’t lie to make me feel better.”
“It’s true. No matter how old we get, we still screw up and burn out and miss opportunities. We have good days. Good years, when we’re lucky. And then we go through pandemics and cancer scares. Lose the most important person in our lives or part of our roof to a bad storm. We call it winning if we survive and we keep moving forward, waiting for the next good day to come around.”
I pressed my shoulder to hers. “You sound really smart right now. Like a teacher or a wise, beautiful principal.”
“I’m trying to be serious,” she chided softly. “The only way I got through this year was by not thinking about Mom more than I had to until we could bring her home. Maybe it wasn’t healthy to push it all down, and I did worry about that occasionally, but it was the only way I could cope until it was time to leave. Then there was one evening on the cruise. I was on the balcony, holding her journal while I looked at the stars and all that ocean. And in that moment, when I knew I’d done what I’d promised to do for her, I let myself feel it. All of it. When it was over and I’d stopped crying, I felt better. That was one of my good days.”
“I had the opposite problem. I couldn’t think about anything else.” Until Wade knocked on my door.
“I know. We kept missing each other, you and I. Hopefully we can change that now.”
“What did she say about me?” I asked quietly. “In the journals?”
Morgan took a shaky breath, obviously not expecting the question. “She said you were her unexpected gift, and that she’d never met a soul with a bigger heart. She felt protective of you, because you never learned how to hide it from people who could damage it, but she thought it meant you were destined for great things.”
It sounded like Mom, but I still narrowed my eyes until she added, “She also said you were a moody pain in the ass, and she wished you left the house and dated more often.” I snorted and she took my hand again. “People bitch in journals, August. In between the poetry, they bitch. She wasn’t perfect.”
I glanced over at the pink bicycle again, now sparkling in the sun, and thought about our precious little Sammy. “Was she sad about not being a grandmother?”
Morgan shook her head. “She was already everyone’s mother. And aunt. And sister. And best friend. The only thing she ever wanted was for all of us to be happy.”
“And for everyone to think we were five or ten years younger so they’d believe her when she lied about her age.”
Morgan’s shoulders started shaking at my words. “You know she once introduced me as her friend at a bar, and the man thought we were a couple.” She laughed out loud. “I went with it. Even gave her a little pinch on the butt to sell it to the guy so she could get her flirt on.”
The tears I’d been holding back slid down my cheeks and I laughed with her, because I could picture it perfectly.
Morgan’s smile dimmed slightly. “About the journals. She talked about her parents a little, in the older ones. You already know the story about the father who raised her knowing she wasn’t his, but…she didn’t have an easy time coming to terms with all of it. With them. I mean, I think she was born with that restless, creative spirit, but knowing the rest, I finally get some of what started her on her path, you know? What drove her to excel at everything. To be there for everyone. To never stop moving.”
“She had a great life, Morgan. She loved traveling.”
“Don’t get defensive; I know she loved it. What I’m trying to get at is that I also know you didn’t. Not always. You hated starting over at new schools.”
“I was shy, chunky and tripped over my own feet on a daily basis. Add constant new-kid hazing on top of it? Of course I didn’t like it.”
“Because it was Mom’s thing. You’re right, it worked for her and made her happy. Clean slates and new states solved all her woes. But for you, it might be different. If you found what you were looking for here, for example…? I think it would be okay to decide to stay. The truth about fresh starts is that you don’t have to travel anywhere to make one. We could try it right now, if you want to. With you and me.”
She was looking at our hands while I stared at her in wonder. Was she saying she didn’t want me to move away? That she wanted us to be closer, regardless?
“I think I’d like that.”
She nodded quickly and wiped the last of the wetness off her cheeks. “Good. We’re going to be okay, you know.”
“I know.”
“I was thinking I might call some of Mom’s friends to come out to the race with me. Will you email me the design you made for Jiminy so I can share it with them?”
My lips parted. She was coming to the racetrack too? “Absolutely.”
“Let’s go have some breakfast.” She got to her feet, pulling me along with her. “Don’t make out with Wade in front of me yet, all right? Not so soon after the bloodbath.”
I chuckled. “It wasn’t that bad. It was actually kind of beautiful. After the part that wasn’t.”
Morgan paled and paused. “Let’s stop talking about it, okay?”
“Okay. Oh, and Morgan?”
“Yes?”
“In the spirit of our fresh start and so you won’t be the last to know this time, I have a new puppy.” I waited a beat. “And I asked Wade to move in with me last night.”
Those big Sophia Loren eyes nearly popped out of her head as I passed her in the doorway, laughing at her shocked expression.
A fresh start, right here. With her.
Yeah. We were going to be okay.