Chapter Twenty-Nine
As it turned out, Kit, Beth, and Abby left their homes on different days and drove their own cars back to Maine.
Abby was the first to leave, having met with her lawyer and the Realtor on the same day.
She packed up the things she wanted from the house and somehow managed to fit it all and Benny into her SUV.
Kit, on the other hand, had a full schedule: appointments with her newly hired divorce lawyer, her banker, and a financial planner whose company had an office in Augusta.
While she didn’t want to strip the house bare—as suspected, Russ wanted to keep it as part of the settlement and was willing to pay her for half—there were some items she couldn’t leave behind, things she’d been gifted by her mother or her children over the years, all mementos of her life up till now.
She rented a small U-Haul trailer and had it attached to the back of her car, then loaded it up.
She tried not to appear greedy, but in the end, Russ said he couldn’t tell anything was missing, which to her mind said a lot about how much he’d noticed or prized over the years.
She sorted through her clothes and packed up those things she’d never wear again for the local hospital’s thrift shop.
It seemed she’d been doing a lot of that lately, she mused as she hung several evening gowns at the back of her closet.
She looked at each with some degree of nostalgia.
She’d worn her favorite to Abby’s wedding, the others to Russ’s firm’s black-tie Christmas party, the last of which had been six years ago, after the firm had moved their holiday celebration to a luncheon at a fancy Center City hotel, much to everyone’s relief.
Those earlier, fancier parties had had the feel of a red-carpet event, and while some had reveled in them, Kit had not.
Still, she’d lifted the dress bags with a sigh, as if saying goodbye to old friends.
They had had some good times together, she and Russ, she had to admit, but she doubted she’d have an occasion to wear an evening gown, and the one she’d worn the night Abby and Evan got married now appeared tainted in the light of his infidelity. It, along with the others, had to go.
Once the closets and the dresser drawers had been emptied, their contents in suitcases—shopping bags for the overflow—she packed it all into her car, tucked in the dog’s bed and his toys, his food and his treats, his dish and his water bowl.
She accompanied Wally out into the backyard one last time and they made the rounds of her garden with him at her heels.
She’d loved every inch of her yard so much, these beds she’d dug herself one hot Pennsylvania summer, had sweated and cursed her stubbornness at refusing to call in a gardener to complete the job she’d started that first spring after they’d bought the house.
Too late to plant perennials if she wanted color and lots of flowers that summer, which she did, so she’d put in annual beds that first year.
Somewhere she had photos of the waves of zinnias and cosmos and four o’clocks that had sprung up quickly and given her a riotous display of color until late in the fall.
In early October she’d planted peonies and lilacs, irises and rose campion and hydrangea, and while the peonies took a few years to flower, once they took off, they rewarded her patience with glorious blooms. Every year she’d fill vases and bowls, and for a time, the entire house smelled like a spring garden.
The irises had come from her mother’s garden, and the thought of leaving them behind to possibly become overgrown or—horrors—cut down, knowing Russ’s disinterest in all things associated with yard work, made her sick.
She went into the little potting shed and grabbed a few pots and her trowel, and began to dig the iris rhizomes from the ground.
When she had several of each color in the pot, she turned her attention to the peonies.
The dark-red shoots were just emerging from the soil, so she knew it was a good time to divide them.
She filled a cardboard box with some soil and plopped the roots in.
Looking around the garden, she saw silvery leaves of rose campion and dug up a few of those to add to her haul.
By the time she was finished, she was sweaty and her face bore smears of soil.
She laughed at her reflection in the hall mirror when she caught a glimpse and headed upstairs for the shower.
By the time she’d showered and dressed, she realized it was too late in the day to begin her drive north.
She carried her pots and boxes to the patio so she wouldn’t forget them when she left early the following morning and was just explaining to Wally that they wouldn’t be leaving till the morning when Russ came in.
“Kit?” he called out to her.
“I’m here.” She came into the hall.
“Is everything all right? I thought you were leaving this morning.”
“I got sidetracked. Actually, I sidetracked myself. I made the mistake of going out back to take one last look at my garden—”
“Aw, Kitty.” He put his arms around her. “I know how much you put into those flower beds. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t be.” She brushed an errant tear from her face. “I just pillaged it. That’s why I’m still here.”
“Pillaged?”
“I dug up some of my favorites to take with me. I hope you don’t mind.”
Russ laughed. “Take whatever you want. Dig it all up if you want to. They’re all yours, every bulb and every one of those . . . other things.”
Kit laughed with him. “Roots and rhizomes.”
“Right.” They looked at each other with a mixture of love and sorrow and a longing for what had been—what might have been—for several long moments. “Can I take you to dinner, or . . . something?”
She was tempted, but the cut had been clean. “Thanks, but I thought I’d go over to the café and visit with Ned for a bit. I’ve only seen him once since I’ve been home, and I’ve missed him. I want to hear more about his plans.”
Russ nodded. “You know he’ll be house-sitting while I’m gone.”
“Yes, he mentioned it.”
“Do you think Beth’s all right to take on all these plans of hers?”
“She’s met with her doctor, he’s set her up with a colleague of his in Augusta, and she has scripts for the meds she’s taking, so she’ll be all right. As all right there as she would be here.”
“I meant, will she have the energy and the strength?”
“Beth’s very different in Maine, Russ. It’s like the place has revitalized her.
I think she’ll be fine, and if she starts looking tired, Abby and I are right there to slow her down.
I haven’t seen her this happy since before Mom died, when she first bought the coffee shop.
Abby, too, is like her old self there. She’s animated and full of ideas and eager to do everything. ”
“And you? Has the Camp in the Meadows revitalized you?” he asked.
“In some ways. I love it there, I do. I love that old house, I love knowing that people in my family built it and lived in it and raised their family there. But I still am confused about so many things—who my mother was, for starters. I know in my heart that the answer to that question is at the root of the feud between Maxine and Mom—assuming she’s still my mom. ”
“She’ll always be your mom. Ed will always be your father,” he reminded her. “They were good parents, Kit. Don’t ever forget that, and don’t let anything else take from the love they had for you.”
“You’re right, of course.” She felt the sting of tears again, and refused to let them fall. She’d cried enough this week. “Anyway, I’m going to drop in on Ned.”
“Have a good time.”
She could feel his eyes on her as she went into the kitchen for her bag.
“Wally hasn’t been fed yet,” she remembered. “Oh, and I left his food and his bowls in my car.”
“I’ll come out and get them. Leave his leash, and after he eats, I’ll take my old pal for one long last stroll around the block.
” Russ opened the front door and held it for her.
They walked in silence to her SUV, where she handed over Wally’s supplies.
She expected him to comment on the fact that she had a U-Haul and a car filled to the roof, but if he noticed, it was clear he didn’t care.
“So I guess I’ll see you later,” she said. When he hesitated, it occurred to her that he might have made plans thinking she’d be gone. “Or whenever. Have a good evening.”
“You too.”
“Oh, and if I don’t see you in the morning—have a wonderful trip. I hope it’s everything you want it to be.”
“Thank you, Kit. And I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”
“Thanks. I hope we both do.” She got into the car and he closed the door for her. She rolled down the window, but there was nothing more to say other than “Be safe, Russ.”
She knew he was watching as she backed the car, trailer and all, down the driveway, and out onto the street. She lowered the driver’s-side window and waved as she passed the house but couldn’t bear to look at him.
Beth’s coffee shop, the Caffeine Connection, was on the corner of two side streets in a small college town, and at three in the afternoon, the mothers who’d met before picking up their kids at the elementary school had just left and the kids getting out of class for the day had yet to arrive.
Kit found her son in the office, his feet up on the desk, head back, eyes closed, his brown hair tumbled over his forehead much like it had done when he was five or six years old and had rejected going to the barber in the strongest possible terms.
She stood in the doorway, watching him, wondering if he was resting or sleeping—she never had been able to tell for certain with him.
“Mama.” His voice was raspy and his speech slow. “Come on in and keep me company for a few minutes.”
“You look exhausted.” She sat in the chair next to the desk.
“Yup.”
“How’d you know it was me?” she asked.
“Your perfume.”
“I’m not wearing any perfume.”