***
Not long, apparently.
Summer woke to the sound of someone trying, and failing, to be quiet as she tiptoed into the room.
“Delaney.”
“Damn, I thought you were sleeping,” Delaney said.
“You’re not very sneaky.”
“Sorry. I’m here to take you home.”
***
Home is where the heart is. A house is built from boards and beams, a home is made from love and dreams. There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.
For the past fifteen years, Summer had worked so hard at making a home for herself and her family.
That day Willow left ten-year-old Summer standing in the produce department at the grocery store, Officer Telluride had told her he’d take her home, as if she should be relieved. In reality, she dreaded the feeling of that place she called home, the feeling of quiet and fear and apprehension. She dreaded the constant longing she felt for something more, or maybe just something different.
Now she was thirty-four, walking back into the very same situation she’d sworn to change. She had everything she’d always wanted—a nice husband, a big family, a puppy—but she still longed for something different, and home was the very last place she wanted to be.
Nevertheless, she signed the discharge paperwork and climbed into a wheelchair so an orderly could wheel her down to the exit. Delaney seemed nervous the entire time, tapping a foot, examining her cuticles for hangnails, checking her phone for messages. Summer was relieved when they got into Delaney’s car and she could call her out on it.
“Why are you so nervous?” Summer said, her tone sounding way more demanding than she meant it to.
“What? What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, ‘What do you mean?’”
Delaney laughed, a high, airy sound that conveyed nerves more than amusement. Still, she didn’t answer.
“Dee. Tell me what’s going on.”
Delaney backed out of the parking spot and drove toward the exit, giving the road a serious amount of attention.
“I just don’t know how to handle this version of Summer. This isn’t like you. You’re not yourself. I feel like I’m on pins and needles. Eggshells. I’m really worried about you. I haven’t been sleeping at all.”
Guilt and anger, in equal parts, rushed into Summer’s bloodstream.
“Oh,” Summer said, sarcasm creeping into her tone. “I am so sorry. I am so sorry that while I’ve been dealing with Willow, five children, a heart surgery and a mental breakdown, you haven’t been sleeping. I am so sorry I put you through that, Delaney. I just can’t imagine what it’s like.”
They pulled out onto the main road and Delaney sighed, pretending to hit her head on the steering wheel. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” Summer felt like a jerk. Of course her recent stress had affected her best friends. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I really am. Okay? I know what you meant. I was just being a bitch.”
“You totally were.”
“I hereby resolve to be nicer.”
Delaney laughed. Then Summer laughed. They both laughed, tears leaking from the corners of their eyes, until they pulled into Summer’s driveway. She had no idea life would be testing her new resolve the very next moment.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The second she set foot in the house, Summer could tell Derek had given the kids a serious talking to. He’d probably spent all morning cleaning, too. She could see the lines in the carpet from the vacuum, and because they were wobbly and multi-directional, she knew what Nate’s contribution had been.
Sarah, Luke and Nate sat side by side on the couch. Sarah had her feet tucked up under her and was reading, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. Nate and Luke also had books in their laps, which was very out of the ordinary. Not surprisingly, Summer could see they were engaged in some kind of physical game, either thumb war or arm wrestling. She smiled.
Derek had strapped Hannah into her high chair and moved it into the living room. He’d given her a book, too, but she used it to beat on her tray as she squealed.
“Welcome home, Mom,” the three big kids chorused.
“Home, Mama!” Hannah shouted.
Derek, carrying Olivia, came in from the bedroom. “Hi, Honey. Welcome home. Thanks for bringing her, Delaney.”
“I risked my life,” Delaney said, “but I’d do it again for you.”
“Daddy made us promise to sit down and be quiet. He said we couldn’t move from this spot.”
“Luke! I also told you to pretend I didn’t tell you that!”
Summer couldn’t help but laugh at Derek’s expression. Luke giggled.
“Mom, he said that if we can sit quietly for the first hour you’re home, he’ll feed us ice cream,” Nate said, and Sarah answered, while still looking at her book, “And they’ll never sit still again.”
“It’s so good to be home,” Summer said. Then it dawned on her. “Where’s Willow?”
The three big kids looked up from their books, and Summer sensed a secret afoot.
“She’s packing,” Derek said. “She felt responsible for your, um, fainting spell. She felt guilty she was so late bringing the kids back from the park.”
“I told her it wasn’t her fault,” Sarah said. “You just had a lot going on and you weren’t feeling like yourself.”
For reasons Summer couldn’t explain, even to herself, Sarah’s words caused the panic to set in again. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Breathe in, breathe out. Willow’s presence had definitely caused a lot of stress over the past several weeks. But she was Summer’s mother. Even though Summer hadn’t kicked her out, it felt like she had. Where would Willow go?
Where has she been all this time? Winter asked. She’s an adult. It’s not your responsibility to figure that out for her.
Of course, Willow, with her knack for breaking silence, clattered into the living room just then, teetering on impossibly high heels and dragging a huge duffel bag behind her.
Every head in the room swung towards her.
“All packed up and ready to go,” she said.
Every head in the room swung back towards Summer. Everyone waited for her to speak.
“That’s a big bag,” she said.
Derek took a sudden interest in his shoes. Delaney shifted from one foot to another. The kids blinked.
“Well, I guess I’ll hit the road,” Willow said.
Decision time, Winter said.
Allowing Willow to stay was, undoubtedly, the right thing to do. She was family. Summer didn’t believe in turning family away. Just because Willow had been a crappy mother didn’t mean Summer had to be a crappy daughter. In fact, being a good daughter would stop the cycle. And more importantly, it would demonstrate her values to her children. And yet, having Willow here had been the final straw when it came to Summer’s mental health break. Somehow, despite her promise that she was here to help, she managed to create additional work for Summer. Her presence compounded Summer’s stress and made Summer nearly homicidal. Summer opened her mouth, then closed it again before any sound escaped.
Willow stood there with her bag. She looked around the room, from person to person. She blinked. “Well, I guess this is good-bye,” she said.
She still didn’t move. She was obviously waiting for something. She was waiting for Summer to stop her. Summer knew the right thing to do. And she always did the right thing. But wasn’t doing the right thing exactly what had landed her in the hospital?
***
The entire family—her kids, her husband, her mother, and even Delaney—waited on her to make a decision.
Why did all the responsibility have to land on her shoulders? Couldn’t Derek have just asked Willow to leave before Summer returned from the hospital? Why didn’t he have the courage to do that? She always had to be the courageous one.
When Sarah was two and became dangerously dehydrated from a fever, Summer had to pin her arms down wh
ile the nurses at the hospital stuck an IV in her arm. Sarah thrashed and screamed as blood poured down the crook of her elbow, and Derek turned his back, supposedly afraid he’d act out a violent fantasy on the nurse if he watched.
When Nate was three and fell off the jungle gym at the park, his forearm was completely bent in the middle. Derek turned ghostly pale and covered his face with his hands while Summer commandeered Sarah and Luke into the car and drove them all to the hospital.
These situations arose constantly over the course of their marriage. And now this. Forcing her to choose. Forcing her to choose between her mother’s happiness and her own sanity. In essence, forcing her to kick her own mother out of their house.
Well, guess what, world? I can do it. I’ve been courageous since I knew what it meant.
“Yes, I guess it is good-bye,” Summer said to Willow.
Willow’s face fell. Sarah’s face fell. Nate’s face crumpled. Luke looked wildly from Summer to Willow to Derek, unsure what to make of all this. They’d all been expecting her to say Willow could stay. In that split second following her announcement, Summer wavered. She wavered like the heat waves coming off asphalt on a summer day. Then she broke.
“Fine. You can stay.”
In that instant, the house—and all those pairs of eyes blinking at her in surprise—became suffocating. She marched right out of the house then, in search of fresh air.
Just as the front door shut behind her, she heard Willow say on a sigh, “I just knew she’d come around.”
Just like that, she was trapped. Again.
***
Dr. Strasser smiled at Derek and Summer from behind the desk in his pristine office. “I would say it’s nice to see you both again, but I wish we were meeting under better circumstances. Let’s dive in.”
Summer smiled. Dr. Strasser was like an old leather armchair. He was a fixture, one she always felt comfortable in. He’d been their counselor for years and had seen them through some rough patches, like the time they went without sex for four months because she was too embarrassed by the way she looked to get naked, and the time Derek had his own breakdown after she gave birth to Luke and he was afraid he couldn’t support their growing family.
Derek nudged Summer, jarring her out of the past. Looking back on it, life seemed so much simpler back then.
“We’re happy to see you, Dr. Strasser,” she said.
He smiled. Not an amused smile, really, Summer noticed. There was something else behind it.
“Tell me what’s going on,” he said, steepling his fingers in the way that had driven Josie crazy when she and Paul came in during The Marriage Intervention.
Summer was at a loss for words. Both Derek and Dr. Strasser looked at her, waiting. She could hear the clock ticking. It reminded her of the clock ticking at her house.
“Summer?” Derek said.
“I’m not sure where to begin,” she said. She felt herself burst into tears. “My life is a wreck.”
Dr. Strasser raised an eyebrow and handed a box of tissues to Derek, who held it out to Summer. Although she wanted to continue, to lay it all out there for Dr. Strasser, her body emitted nothing other than a high-pitched squealing sound.
Derek rubbed her forearm, and when she looked at him out of the corner of her eye, she could see him trying not to laugh. Unexpectedly, this brought on her own fit of laughter, in a note as high as the squealing, only this time, hysterical in nature. When she finally calmed down enough to look up at Dr. Strasser, she saw that his own eyes twinkled with amusement although his mouth remained unsmiling.
“Sorry,” she gasped. “So sorry. It’s just that—well, it’s just that this isn’t like me. The crying, the squealing, the hysterics. The mental breakdown.”
“I understand,” Dr. Strasser said. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“Right,” Summer said.
When Dr. Strasser and Derek looked at her again, waiting, she shrugged and threw her hands up. “Fine. I’ll give you the short version.”
They waited.
“Just before this last pregnancy, Derek lost his job. I picked up more work. I got pregnant. I took over my best friend’s dating life. Stressful, right? Derek landed a new job. My other best friend almost went through a divorce. My mother, estranged for, like, fifteen years, showed up on our doorstep and expected to stay with us. We found out our son needed heart surgery. I gave birth. Our son had heart surgery and got an infection. My crappy mother brought the kids home late from the park and I thought she’d lost one of them, and I had a nervous breakdown. I passed out and hit my head on the coffee table. I went to the hospital. I came home and, Hallelujah! I thought my mom was leaving. But everyone guilt-tripped me into her letting stay.”
At this, Derek sat up straight, indignation making his mouth drop open on a big inhale. Summer held up a hand to stop him from protesting, and felt the anger growing inside her torso.
“So I let her stay. So she is still there. She is still flouncing around the house like some kind of beauty queen, acting like she’s a big help, but actually just causing me more work every time she gets a smear of baby poop on an article of clothing. It’s too much. It’s just too much.”
“Ah.”
Dr. Strasser’s response only served to anger Summer further. That’s all he had to say, after she’d poured out the past year of her tragic life?
She knew better than to say anything to Dr. Strasser about his stupid reaction, so she turned on Derek. “Did you have something you wanted to add? When you interrupted me?”
“I didn’t interrupt you, you—”
“You would have.”
He dropped his head into his hands.
“If I may interject?” Dr. Strasser said.
“Please do,” Summer said.
Dr. Strasser leaned back in his chair. “It certainly seems like you’ve had a lot going on.”
This is what you’re paying him sixty bucks an hour for? Winter said.
The normal Summer would have nodded, eager to hear what else he had to say. But the Summer who had been born of exhaustion and overwhelm during the past several months, who thrived on anger and anxiety, mimicked Dr. Strasser’s body language and sat back in her own chair.
“First of all,” Dr. Strasser said, “I think you need to find something, an activity of some kind, that relaxes you. You need some stress relief. I know you enjoy yoga, and I’d say it’s time to get back to that.”
Derek looked smug, and Summer elbowed him.
“Second of all, you need support.”
Again, Derek sat up straight and inhaled, prepared to respond. Summer knew what he was going to say, though, and she beat him to it. “I have to admit, I have a hard time accepting support.”
Derek looked smug. Again.
“She does,” he said. “I do everything she asks of me.”
“But sometimes I don’t want to have to ask! And now you’ve guilted me into letting Willow stay with us.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Freeloading disguised as help.”
“I didn’t guilt you into it, I—”
“You should have had her out of there before I even got home from the hospital. But you don’t want to be the bad guy.”
Holding up both of his hands, Dr. Strasser said, “Hold on now. Let’s bring this conversation back under control. Summer, I’m hearing you say that you don’t want to have to ask Derek for help. You want him to step forward and help you. Is that correct?”
Summer nodded.
“I’m not a mindreader,” Derek said quietly. “I seriously do everything I can for her.” He turned his attention to Summer. “And don’t you think I’ve been stressed out too?”
“Of course you’re not a mindreader,” Dr. Strasser said. “And it’s completely natural that you’ve been stressed out, too. I think we need to examine how the two of you can support each other in the ways you need to be supported.”
At that moment, a fresh wave of guilt washed over Summer. Of course Derek
was stressed out, too. She’d been thinking only of herself.
And, to be fair, Winter said, of all your children.
Summer nodded at Winter, and Derek looked at her quizzically.
“Next,” Dr. Strasser said, “we need to explore your relationship with your mother. I can understand you wanting your own space. However, I am sensing that you carry quite a bit of anger around that relationship.”
Summer heard herself say, “Hmph,” and she almost laughed again.
Wow, you really are losing it, Winter said.
“Last, you need to take responsibility for your decisions,” Dr. Strasser said to Summer. “And if you don’t like what’s happening, you need to set boundaries.”
Summer stared at him, her mouth hanging open.
“Well, it looks like we have our work cut out for us,” Dr. Strasser said. “Shall we begin?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Willow. I need to talk to you.”
The kids, sprawled all over the couch with various body parts in their grandmother’s lap, looked up from their movie to stare at Summer.
“Now?” Willow said.
“Yes, please,” Summer said, even as she felt her teeth grinding together in frustration. No, Willow, a year from now.
Willow sighed as she detangled herself from the kids and hoisted herself off the couch. Summer gestured toward the kitchen. Derek sat down on the couch. All of a sudden, Summer felt nervous.
Again, her memory transported her deep into her past, to a time she interrupted a show Willow was watching because she needed to talk to her. It was before she met Josie and Delaney, so she was probably in sixth grade. Summer had just returned home from school, her lower lip busted wide open and swollen as if she’d been stung by a bee.
When school dismissed for the day, Summer and her classmates headed for the door. Summer reached it at the same time as Jenny Carmichael, a spoiled little witch in her homeroom class. Jenny looked her right in the eye and said something about Summer going home to her skinny, white trash drunk of a mother. Summer tried to punch her in the face. Jenny, of course, was more conniving than Summer (wasn’t everyone?), and dodged Summer’s fist only to immediately swing her own, hitting Summer square in the kisser.
The Motherhood Intervention: Book 3 in the Intervention Series Page 22