Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
E sme spent two nights with LeeAnne, her husband, and Fran before she booked a flight from Wisconsin to Boston and turned back in the rental car. At the terminal, she threw her arms around LeeAnne and urged her to come back to Nantucket to visit. Nantucket is where you were born, she breathed. The ocean misses you!
LeeAnne still didn’t know Esme’s children, just as Esme didn’t know hers. They’d been divided for too many years—brought together only through letters and phone calls. It was time to fix that.
Esme regretted never telling her children about LeeAnne’s cancer. LeeAnne’s cancer was one of the single biggest events of Esme’s life, and that had only made Joel’s diagnosis that much worse. And she’d carried this story quietly, thinking that speaking it aloud would bring back the pain. It was nonsensical. But everything surrounding pain was.
LeeAnne waved wildly until Esme disappeared into security and emerged on the other side. She sat at an airport bar with a glass of rosé and watched planes coming and going until hers was ready to board. She was in the tenth row, seated beside a young mother with a baby who didn’t wake up the entire time. The mother was strawberry blond and thrilled to be traveling east to visit her cousin. When she learned that Esme lived in Nantucket, she chirped with happiness.
“We might go there for a day or two,” she said. “I’ve heard it’s just a dream. Tell me, what was it like to be raised there?”
Esme thought of many things she could tell this young woman: that her high school boyfriend had left her dramatically, that her half sister had nearly died of cancer, that her mother had passed when she was so young that she didn’t remember her. But she also thought of the beautiful things: the surf across the white beaches, the autumn sunlight on a blustery cold day, the Christmas celebrations and the bright ice cream cones and the idea—above all—that they were living in the most glorious ecosystem in the world.
So she said, “It was magical.”
And the young woman said, “I thought so.”
Esme still hadn’t unblocked Victor on her cell phone. She had no way of knowing if he was already back in Nantucket. Maybe he’d already driven the rental car to Valerie’s and been forced to explain Esme’s disappearance. Her heart panged with sorrow for him. But she was too terrified to remove the block.
I’ve changed. He’s changed, too.
Esme found her car in the airport parking lot—right where she’d left it when she’d traveled out to California with Valerie, Alex, and Victor. It felt like a million years ago now. They’d taken Esme’s car because Victor’s was acting up. Esme jangled her keys and slid into the driver’s seat, touching the steering wheel, feeling her thoughts return to themselves as they did in any safe and familiar environment. Within the next few hours, she’d see her grandchildren again. Within the next few hours, she’d share some glasses of wine with her daughters on the veranda overlooking the water. She couldn’t wait.
Esme pulled into the driveway to find Bethany and her youngest daughter, Phoebe, standing alongside Bethany’s car, squabbling about something. Phoebe was holding a baseball bat that looked three times the size of her, and Bethany looked frustrated in the way of young mothers who’d said something too many times and still hadn’t been heard. But Bethany’s and Phoebe’s faces broke into smiles when they spotted Esme.
Esme cut the engine and got out. Phoebe threw the baseball bat and flew across the driveway to hug her. Bethany had her hands on her hips. She was grinning.
“Look at you!” she said.
Esme blinked back tears and hugged Phoebe. “What did I miss?” she called.
“Everything!” Phoebe cried, tugging her hand. “Come on!”
Esme allowed herself to be dragged back into her house. Bethany hurried in after her, throwing apologies around. “It’s sort of a mess,” she said. “We did some arts and crafts last night, and then today, everyone went to school and left it in a state of chaos.”
But to Esme, the house didn’t look anything like a pigsty. It looked lived in. It looked safe, happy, and warm. Paintbrushes and scraps of paper and buckets of paint were strewn across the table. A guitar was on the sofa, a laptop was charging on the side table, and books were scattered every which way. Folded laundry was piled in a chair toward the window. Esme sat down on the sofa and swept her fingers over the guitar.
“That’s Chad’s,” Phoebe announced, speaking of her cousin. “He’s terrible.”
Esme cackled and pressed her hand over her mouth. “I’m sure he just needs to practice.”
Bethany turned to Phoebe. “Why don’t you head upstairs and play with your sister?”
Phoebe dropped her lower lip out as far as she could. But Bethany’s tone meant business, and Phoebe soon complied. This left just Bethany and Esme alone in the living room.
“Rebecca is almost here,” Bethany said. “I just texted her to come back. Valerie, too.”
Esme raised her eyebrows. “You sounded the alarm.”
“We didn’t know when you were getting home,” Bethany said. “We’ve been sort of worried.”
There was such a tenderness to Bethany’s voice. It was still more proof of what a compassionate doctor she was. Proof, too, that she didn’t want to step over any boundaries. She wanted Esme to know she respected her.
From upstairs came the sound of a speaker system. Phoebe and Maddie were blaring something female and pop.
“Let’s go outside,” Bethany suggested. “The kids know where I am if they need me.”
Esme followed Bethany to the kitchen to procure wineglasses, a bottle of chilled rosé, and snacks like crackers and cheese. Esme realized she’d skipped lunch and was famished. She grabbed a few strawberries, washed them, and ate them as they walked out back.
The water curling into shimmering waves nearly destroyed her. “I missed this,” Esme breathed.
Bethany watched her with curiosity.
“It must sound ridiculous,” Esme said. “I wasn’t gone very long.”
“No.” Bethany swept her fingers through her hair. “But something happened. Didn’t it?”
Esme raised her shoulders and filled two glasses with wine. She wasn’t fully ready to get into it.
Rebecca arrived a few minutes later. Valerie came ten minutes after that. Esme fell into their warm embraces and flowed gently into the stream of their conversations. They were getting used to one another again after so many decades apart, just like Esme and LeeAnne.
Valerie hugged her extra hard. “Thank you again for volunteering to drive across the country with Dad,” she said tentatively.
Esme felt it like a stone in her belly. She drummed up the courage to ask. “Did he make it back?”
Valerie glanced at Bethany and Rebecca. Worry was etched into the crow’s feet around her eyes. “He got in last night.”
Esme nodded. They know we split up.
And then she thought, I’m a grown woman. I can do what I want. I can think what I want.
“Mom, are you okay?” Rebecca asked. Her voice cracked.
“I’m just fine, honey,” Esme said. She wrapped both hands around her glass of wine and tried on a smile that didn’t fit her face.
“Dad looks beaten up,” Valerie said.
“It was a long drive,” Esme offered. “Miles and miles and miles. And you know your father. He refused to let me drive even a portion of the way.”
“I forgot what a control freak he is,” Bethany said.
Esme wanted to point out that Bethany had gotten that from Victor. But she came by it, honestly.
But saying that wouldn’t have helped anyone, so she kept it to herself.
Esme folded her hands on the table. “I stopped in Wisconsin to see your aunt LeeAnne.”
Her daughters’ faces were illuminated. This was an easy answer, they’d decided. Maybe it meant that everything was all right.
“How is she doing?” Rebecca asked.
“She’s wonderful,” Esme said. “She’s taking care of her mother right now.”
“Fran? You saw Fran?” Bethany demanded.
Esme bowed her head. She felt a shimmer of shock that she’d really done that. “I hadn’t seen her since right before she left my dad.”
“How was that?” Rebecca demanded.
The three of them looked frightened, as though they wanted to peel back through time and protect their mother from what she’d done to herself.
“It was fine,” Esme answered honestly. “She’s a very old woman. She probably doesn’t remember much about the past.” She swallowed. “She probably doesn’t remember how much she hurt me. And it doesn’t matter in the long run.”
“It does, though,” Valerie said.
The other two nodded ferociously.
Esme filled her lungs. “There’s a part of that story I never told you. I was waiting until you were old enough, maybe. After everything that happened with Joel, I never found strength.
“Your aunt LeeAnne was diagnosed with leukemia when she was in middle school,” Esme said. “It was a horrible time for our family. The first round of chemo didn’t take, and she was forced to seek treatment in Boston. That’s why I spent the summer of 1975 in Boston. It was for LeeAnne. Not for your father.”
Esme’s three girls gazed at her with surprise.
“The second round of chemo didn’t take either,” Esme remembered. “I was in total shock. Fran wasn’t taking it well; she was very cruel to me because I was the daughter who was well. I was the daughter who wasn’t really her daughter. My dad, your grandfather, was going back and forth between Nantucket and Boston. He was falling apart. But he wanted to keep the Veterans’ Dinners going. I think that’s what he lived for during that time.”
Valerie’s face echoed shock.
“The third round plus radiation worked,” Esme stammered, remembering that it had been a last-ditch effort, remembering that nobody had thought LeeAnne would survive. “By that time, Fran and Dad were all out of sorts with each other. They weren’t connected at all. They were thrilled that LeeAnne was healthy again, but they couldn’t find love for each other again. It was a tragedy. But it was also the kind of thing that happened all the time.” Esme laughed gently. “It happened to your father and me, after all.”
But there was a difference between the stories, Esme thought. I still loved Victor when he left. I sought his love until the bitter end. Does that make me a fool?
Rebecca cupped her neck. “I can’t believe you never told us this.”
“It just turned into one of those things,” Esme said. “I didn’t know how to say it. But I knew I needed to get you three tested for the gene passed through me and onto your brother. The three of you are fine. Healthy.”
Valerie’s eyes were ponderous. “You would have told us otherwise.”
“I would have,” Esme said. “I wouldn’t have wanted anything to befall my future grandchildren.”
Valerie burst into tears and pressed her hands over her face. Esme hurried up to wrap her arms around her. Rebecca and Bethany were wordless. It was true that Valerie’s reaction seemed sensational, like too much.
But it didn’t take long to understand why.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Valerie dotted her fingers over her forehead. “I just found out.”
The realization grew between them like a wave. Esme’s jaw dropped.
“You just found out…” Esme trailed off.
Valerie nodded. “I’m pregnant.”
Esme clapped her hands over her cheeks. Shock shot through the air. Everyone celebrated at once: Rebecca was on her feet to shriek and Bethany sobbed. Valerie sat in the center of their attention, glowing. Clearly, this was the first time she’d told anyone except Alex.
“We wanted a baby so badly in California,” she explained. “But we never thought it would happen for us. It was part of the reason for our downfall, I think.” She wet her lips. “But now we get this incredible second chance.”
It took a few minutes for the chaos to die down. Esme refilled her glass with wine, and Rebecca fetched Valerie a lemonade and sparkling water. Esme watched Valerie like a hawk, wondering what it was like to be pregnant at forty-one. She prayed for no complications. She prayed it was all right.
Valerie was quick to tell them that women in California always got pregnant at that age. Times had changed. Esme knew that. But it was sometimes hard to wrap her mind around how swiftly it had all altered.
Women her age had gotten pregnant at nineteen or twenty. Esme had felt very old at twenty-four.
With the second glass of wine, Esme was finally able to translate bits and pieces of what had happened with their father on the road. She didn’t give much away; she simply grew terrified of what was happening between them. “I didn’t want to betray myself anymore.”
Her daughters looked satisfied, as though they’d imagined that were the case.
“You don’t have to give Dad any more time than you want to,” Valerie said. “He doesn’t deserve it.”
“Yes, but he’s changed,” Esme admitted softly. “I know you know that.”
Valerie dropped her head.
“You’re writing a book with him,” Esme reminded her.
Valerie was tentative in saying, “Okay. Yes. I admit he’s not as bad as he once was.”
“And it was very cool of him to abandon his publishing contract,” Rebecca said. “He had that thing for months before returning to Nantucket.”
“You should have seen him last night,” Valerie said, sweeping her hand across her stomach. “He looked so broken. His face was gray.” She bit her lip. “It must have killed him that you left like that.”
“It’s a taste of his own medicine,” Rebecca said.
Esme was quiet, watching the waves roll onto the beach and recede. If she tilted her consciousness just a bit, she could imagine her daughters and her son racing up and down the sand, splashing one another in the surf. She could imagine herself to be in her early thirties without all these aches and pains, with long and flowing hair, with a crater in her heart where she’d ached to go to college.
She’d made it eventually. She had. But getting there had nearly shattered her.