by Olivia Miles
“You say that now, but in time—”
But Heather was shaking her head. “No. I…I’m not cut out for marriage, I’ve learned.”
Kim swallowed hard, falling silent. What did that even mean, not cut out for marriage? Maybe she wasn’t cut out for marriage—the obligations and sacrifices were already piling up, and she was already struggling to balance her needs with Bran’s, and they were only engaged.
Was she just not cut out for it? Was she unwilling to compromise? Was she incapable of holding up the promises that she’d already made, much less the vows she’d intended to say?
Her stomach felt a little queasy and she set down her coffee. Her diamond ring glittered in the morning sunlight. She felt like it was trying to tell her something.
The women fell silent, the topic of conversation clearly not up for further discussion.
“Well, I think I’ll walk into town before the day slips away,” Kim said, fighting off the injured feeling that her sisters didn’t jump on board. They still had two weeks stretched ahead of them: long and lazy, sun-filled days.
Besides, right now, she almost needed to be alone with her thoughts. And she wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend that everything was okay…with their father or with her sisters. Or with herself.
8
Heather
Since losing her job at the magazine, Heather had grown all too used to long days that dragged out before her without much structure or purpose. Here on Evening Island, she at least felt like she had an excuse to be so idle, or passive. There was no mortgage to worry about or bills to open, reminding her of life’s responsibilities and the looming stress that she hadn’t received a single call back from the numerous magazines and local papers she’d applied to, despite securing a reference from her former boss, who tried to be understanding of Heather’s “situation” but not understanding enough to continue to employ her.
She’d loved that job once—loved sharing ideas for the holidays and tips for the new homeowner, loved thinking that maybe she’d helped another woman start a new tradition or find new meaning in her home—until it had started to feel like a sham and a lie. Like she was pretending to be something she wasn’t. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing anymore. Or who she was.
Once she had been Heather Taylor, of Grosse Pointe. Then she had been Daniels’s wife for five years, with hopes and dreams, hosting small dinner parties for friends, and the occasional holiday meal, too, balancing a career that always came second to family life, until it was all that was left, and then, it hadn’t been enough. What made her the expert on a happy home, after all?
She’d let everything slip away, one by one, until she had nothing left. No friends had called in a while. Though to be fair, she hadn’t reached out, either. And her career… Now it might be all that remained if she could find a way to even salvage it. She’d be like Andrea, who seemed satisfied enough on her own or at least never complained about being lonely or wanting more. She’d throw herself into her next opportunity, meet new people who wouldn’t even have to know about her former life. Her first chapter. She’d be the carefree single woman who made it clear that she preferred it that way. She’d be strong and independent.
But it wouldn’t come naturally. Nothing did anymore.
Well, other than cooking. Here in the quiet kitchen on the island, it didn’t feel so wrong to make a meal again. Her sisters would live off cereal if left to their own devices, she knew, so she took stock of the lean ingredients and made a lunch out of the tomatoes, cheese, and toasted bread, her efforts worthwhile when Andrea deigned to look up from her work files for a few minutes to smile and thank her.
Heather took her sandwich across the street to the shore, eating alone as she’d grown used to doing and watching the sailboats bob in the distance. Eventually, she stood and followed the lakefront path, dipping her toes in the clear, cool water, staring out over the horizon, wondering about where land hit, what it held. Thinking that she used to look so forward to the future, back when it was all mapped out and planned for her, and now she rarely even gave it much thought. She walked along the West Shore, letting the sound of the lapping water soothe her, all the way down to the view of the South Shore Lighthouse, keeping her feet busy and her mind distracted by her surroundings. She and Daniel used to come down here, to watch the ferries passing by. He’d enjoyed coming to the island, but he’d never loved it as she did. Still, he never complained. He’d been good like that, willing to stand at her side. After they’d already ended things, he’d come to her mother’s service, and even though they were pretending that they were still a happy couple, she knew that he wasn’t faking his emotion when he wiped the tears from his eyes.
She pulled in a sigh. When she was younger, she assumed that people who divorced just stopped loving each other, but now she knew that life was so much more complicated than that. But some things, like the simplicity of this island, made it easier to accept.
She didn’t think about Billy until she began to trek in the direction of home, her route meandering so she could take in some of her favorite sites on the island, her gaze drifting down the tree-lined street of smaller homes closer to the shops and inns in town, toward Billy’s family’s house. He might be inside, or out front on the yard or his porch, or he might have taken the ferry back today, to get ready for the workweek tomorrow.
She decided to check, under the guise of friendship, because that was all it was, of course. All it ever had been. And now, she was certain, all it ever could be.
The house was painted a happy shade of blue, softer than the color of the water, reminiscent of summer skies and fond memories. She slowed in front, near the overgrown hydrangea bushes that were bursting with pink blooms, but the wraparound porch was empty, and the inside of the house appeared dark; the windows were closed, not open to any fresh air or lake breezes, and the door was firmly closed behind the screen.
She fought back a sigh of disappointment, telling herself she could always look for him next weekend, or take the ferry over to Blue Harbor, hop in her car and drive to Pine Falls if she really wanted to see him, but that would be something the old Heather would have done. Back when she was spunky and confident. Back when she thought that the world was hers for the taking, not one that would knock her down when she wasn’t expecting it.
“Looking for me?” a voice behind her said, and she turned, pleased, to see Billy grinning back at her, his arms full of grocery bags.
“I was out for a walk.” She reached out to take the closest bag. “Let me help.”
“Thanks.” He jutted his chin toward his flagstone path, indicating that she should go first. “Door’s unlocked,” he told her as they approached the porch.
Heather turned the knob, letting herself into the familiar hall, and back around the corner, to the cozy kitchen, where she deposited the bag on the counter. She could still remember ditching her bike on the front lawn beside Billy’s ten-speed and coming into this very room in search of a cold glass of lemonade, their cheeks sweaty and flushed, their eyes bright and eager for more. She’d relished every minute of life back then, looked forward to every hour on this island. She hadn’t wasted any of it.
Well, other than never telling Billy how she felt about him.
She opened the pantry and neatly stacked the dry goods, unable to resist organizing a few of the items already there by category. Her cheeks flushed when she caught Billy staring at her with a curious grin.
“Sorry,” she said, laughing at herself. “Force of habit. My September article four years ago was about pantry organization, and it was a fan favorite.”
“After that, I have to insist that you stay for dinner.” Billy flashed her one of those adorable smiles that used to make her want to stare at him until she had to go home and began unloading the groceries: a bottle of wine, some fresh fish, an assortment of vegetables.
“You know how to cook!” She couldn’t help but be impressed. Daniel hadn’t even tried, not t
hat’s she’d minded. She used to enjoy cooking for the two of them, or friends and neighbors who regularly stopped by. She used to enjoy the simple pleasures of domestic life, knowing that something she had created had brought happiness to another.
Other than last night and today, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d cooked something more advanced than some pasta with jarred sauce—she nearly laughed when she considered how that subject would have gone over for her readership. Nights out were few and far between, and the one time she’d called her favorite take-out place, they’d assumed she wanted the usual order: meaning, an order for two.
“Yes, I can cook. I find it relaxes me after a busy day.” He looked out the window. “Or, a not so busy one.”
She laughed. “In that case, I can’t see how I can resist.”
Not that she needed much convincing. She’d always enjoyed Billy’s company, the ease of their banter, not to mention the way her heart would flutter every time he smiled her way. She knew that there had been talk amongst the mothers on West End Road that she and Billy would end up together someday, but when she brought Daniel home that summer after college instead, her mother had been gracious and understanding, and not the least disappointed. “Whatever makes you happy makes me happy,” her mother had told her.
Now, Heather didn’t know what made her happy. But she knew that she was happy at this moment, being with Billy in this sweet cottage under the shade of the tall eaves.
“What can I do to help?”
“Pour the wine?” He gathered up a few ingredients and motioned back to the door. “I thought we could outside. I find myself never wanting to stay indoors for long when I’m here on the island.”
“Me either.” She followed him onto the porch that extended back to the kitchen. Soon she was settled on a wicker chair, sipping a glass of wine from a local winery in Blue Harbor, watching Billy man the grill at the base of the far steps.
Billy closed the lid and crossed the wood-planked floor, happily accepting a glass of wine as he settled onto a chair. “Well, this is the way to spend an evening.”
Heather felt her cheeks flush, and she rushed to say, “I hope my sisters will survive without me.” But then, they’d survived the past year without each other, more or less. Or at least, gotten through it.
“If they give you a hard time, just tell them I made it impossible for you to say no.”
That was certainly true. “I can’t remember the last time I had someone cook for me.”
“Your husband doesn’t cook?” Billy asked lightly.
Heather tensed, thrown for a moment. But then, of course, Billy wouldn’t know. He’d assume that she was here for a girls’ trip. That’s what she’d led him to believe. A little pre-wedding celebration that would hopefully be nicer than that awful shower.
“Daniel and I are no longer together,” she said. “We’re no longer married, I should say.”
He frowned. “My mother didn’t tell me.”
Heather shrugged. “She wouldn’t have known, at least, that was the intent. We were already separated before the funeral, but with my mother being so sick, I didn’t mention it to anyone. It didn’t seem like the right thing to do at the time.”
Even her sisters didn’t know this, or her father, because they were dealing with their own grief and struggles. And then it eventually became easier not to talk about it at all.
Bille’s smile was sad. “That’s a lot to hold in.”
She nodded. It had been, but eventually, it became a relief, because the reason they’d split up, the real root of it all, was too painful to discuss. Even now.
“How about you? Is there anyone special in your life?” Judging from his presence here alone, she assumed there wasn’t. Maybe even hoped so, too.
“Nah.” He shook his head. “No one special.”
Was it the wine, or did his gaze seem to linger on her a little longer than she was used to? She felt her cheeks flush and took another sip from her glass, hoping to hide it or at least blame it on the warm summer night.
“I’m married to my work, as my mother is keen to tell me in a deeply disappointed tone.”
She laughed. “She just wants what’s best for you.” Both of their mothers had.
Heather could still recall one of the last conversations she’d had with her mother about her struggles to start a family, how her mother had told her to keep an open mind and trust that everything would work out as it should in time, even if it didn’t feel that way.
Oh, how she’d wanted to believe her. Now, with a wave of guilt, she realized that she no longer did.
“You would think having a doctor in the family would be enough to keep my mother happy for a few years at least.” He shook his head. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t say it got a little lonely sometimes. That’s why I like coming out here every chance I have. With surroundings like this, it’s hard to feel anything but completely fulfilled.”
Heather couldn’t agree more, which was why she couldn’t explain that space that still seemed to fill her chest, a gap that couldn’t be made whole again. A hole that she might just need to live with, somehow.
“No pets?”
“No time.” He smiled. “And how’s your job? Last I knew, you were writing for a magazine?”
She hesitated, but then decided that there was no sense in hiding the truth. She and Billy went far back, and she could trust him with things that she hadn’t even told her sisters yet.
“I’m between jobs at the moment.” She sipped her wine, not sure of what reaction to expect, but Billy didn’t seem too surprised or even worried. Of course, he didn’t know the part about her missing not one deadline, but two, about how she’d been let go, forced to pack up her things and admit that, yet again, she’d failed at something that had been so important to her.
“So you’re a free woman in every sense of the world.” He grinned. He always had a way of making her feel better, but something in his words stung this time. She was a free woman. And that was not what she’d planned.
She’d intended to be married, happily so, with a kid or two or another on the way. She thought there would be birthday parties to plan, not just dinner parties. She thought there would be more holidays to host, ones that grew bigger with each new family addition. Instead, her world had become smaller.
“I suggest a toast then,” Billy said, raising his glass. “To old friendships and…new possibilities.”
Heather sucked in a breath before she brought her glass to her lips. New possibilities. Sitting here beside Billy, she almost dared to believe that could happen. Once, she would have let herself.
Kim and Andrea were still on the patio when Heather arrived home, full of delicious food, her head only slightly fuzzy from the wine. The remnants of dinner were left on the table—a random meal of bread and fruit that had been sourced from their meager options.
“There you are,” Kim said, only it came across as more of an accusation.
Andrea, however, gave her the once-over and seemed to approve. “Let me guess. You ran into Billy?”
“I ran into Billy.” She tried to keep her tone neutral, but it wasn’t easy, and she could tell by the twist of Andrea’s mouth that she had more to say. Her sisters were fully aware of how she tried to hide her tears the entire car ride home at the end of every summer, how she’d kept a framed photo of her and Billy on her bedside table until she’d left for college, and only taken it down when she met Daniel. How when they played “house” or “wedding” as young girls, in her mind, Billy was always her groom, and she wasn’t shy in saying so.
Heather glanced at Kim, who wasn’t looking at her with the same amused expression. If anything, she’d dare to say that Kim looked annoyed.
“You could have invited us to join,” Kim said. “If you’re only friends.”
This was true, Heather considered, and she hadn’t thought to try to reach them. She wouldn’t analyze that decision-making process right now. She’d had a nice tim
e. A relaxing time. And now she felt stressed again. Uncertain and defensive.
“It wasn’t planned. I ran into him on my way home and he invited me to stay for an early dinner. There are plenty of other nights for us to have dinner together.”
“Maybe, but the same could be said for when we go back to Chicago.”
No one spoke because there was no argument. They all lived in the same city, and although they inhabited different neighborhoods, they hadn’t made it a priority to meet up but instead pushed it off, vaguely, as something they could always do. But didn’t.
“We’re all here,” Heather said gently. “We came.”
“I know, but it just feels different,” Kim grumbled.
“Because it is different,” Andrea said, not unkindly. “We’re all grown up now, Kim. We all have our own lives.”
“And Mom’s not here,” Kim whispered.
No. She wasn’t.
Heather dropped into a chair. “We made the effort to get here. Now we’ll make an effort to make the most of it.” And she meant that, because being here was so much better than being back in the city, in that lonely house.
Kim was nodding her head. “That’s true, and that’s why I put together a schedule for us.”
Andrea was the one to laugh out loud in surprise. “A schedule? For a vacation? If I didn’t know better, Kim, I’d say that you were starting to sound like me.”
“I don’t want to squander this time,” Kim said. She reached into her straw beach bag and pulled out a sheet of paper, filled with handwritten notes in some form of bar chart.
Andrea skimmed it and then passed it to Heather. Bicycle rides, shopping trips, lunch at a different restaurant each day. As if Heather had the funds for that sort of thing right now. She was perfectly happy with a sandwich here at the house or tucked into her bag for one of her excursions, because like Billy had pointed out, it was difficult to stay indoors when you were here on the island surrounded by so much natural beauty.