by Shirley Jump
Nora sighed and straightened. Instead of Thank you for doing the dishes, there was criticism. “Okay, then where does it go?”
Her mother came closer and peered up at her. “Are you okay? You seem a little…short with me. You barely noticed your children, never asked them about their homework, never checked to see if they finished their dinner. And you let Sarah talk back to you. None of that is like you.”
“Well, maybe I’m changing.” Nora slid the damp dishtowel over the oven’s handle to let it dry. “I’m not up to dealing with a million questions tonight, Ma, so can we drop it? I’m…tired.”
Her mother placed a palm on her forehead. “You’re not warm, so I don’t think you’re sick.”
But Nora was sick. Sick of the problems. Sick of the bills. Sick of trying to find answers she didn’t have. “I told you. I’m tired. I’m going to go to my room.”
“Nora, your children—”
“Will be fine with their grandmother and won’t even notice I’m not there to watch the movie. I’ll come back when it’s time to put them to bed.” Nora turned to leave the kitchen. She could hear the strains of a Disney song coming from the other room and the ebb and flow of Jake’s excited chatter as he gave Sarah a play-by-play of a movie they’d seen a hundred times.
Before Nora could escape, Ma grabbed her arm. “Something is not right with you.”
“I’m fine, Ma. Just…fine.” Nora even threw in a smile for good measure.
Ma pursed her lips and then shook her head. “All right, then. If you insist. Go ahead and go to bed early.”
Nora headed down the hall to the bedroom she’d grown up in. The walls were still painted a pale pink, the twin bed on the far right covered with a newer version of the white comforter Nora had as a girl, and the same braided rug sat in the center of the room, an imaginary lake between her bed and Magpie’s when they were kids.
Nora threw on an old T-shirt and climbed under the covers. Exhaustion weighed down her arms, her legs, and her chest, like a heavy woolen blanket, begging her to succumb, to just…let go. Sleep for a week, a month, until the kids turned eighteen. The best she could manage right now was a catnap before she had to put the kids to bed. Or answer Ben’s voice mails and texts.
Before she could doze off, her phone vibrated, and Magpie’s face lit up the screen. Her closest sister, the one who knew Nora best and the person Nora missed most. Over the years, she’d gotten used to Magpie’s infrequent visits and calls, but a part of her longed for the days when they had shared this very room and stayed up long into the night, whispering secrets and dreams. “Hey, stranger,” Nora said when she answered. “Where are you now?”
Her youngest sister laughed. Magpie—no one called her Margaret, not since the day she’d started to talk, chattering like the namesake bird—traveled the world writing for magazines. She was the only one of the O’Bannon girls to eschew working at the bakery. She jetted from country to country, unencumbered by a man, a family, or a mortgage. There were days when Nora seriously envied Magpie’s life.
“Actually, I’m on my way back to Massachusetts for a quick vacation. I was thinking maybe we should spend some time together. Now, before you say no, hear me out. A friend gave me the keys to one hell of a nice beach cottage up in Truro. Right on the beach, isolated from the tourists, and even though it’s fall and likely to be a bit cold, the Cape is still gorgeous. I have a rare week off, and I was hoping I could convince you to come up and stay with me. Just for one night, if you can’t get more time off. And if you want to bring the kids—”
“Yes.”
“I know it’s hard, because you’re so busy with the kids and work and—” Magpie stopped. “Wait, did you just say yes?”
“I’d love to get away to the Cape for a few days.” Sarah had four days of suspension coming her way. Nora could pull Jake out for those days—he wasn’t exactly missing rocket science in kindergarten—and finally take all those vacation days she’d let stack up. It would give her time to think, to regroup, without her mother breathing down her neck.
And without Ben a few minutes away. Far too easy to call. Far too easy to foolishly rely on again.
“When can you be here?” Magpie asked. “I get in tonight, and I was going to go up there and air out the house, zip over to the grocery store, that kind of thing.”
“I can be there tomorrow,” Nora said. “Me and the kids, if that’s okay.”
“That’s awesome, Nora. Really, really awesome. Maybe we can get Bridge and Abby to come down on the weekend, if the bakery isn’t too busy. Have a barbecue or something.”
Nora laughed. “Are you getting domesticated, Magpie?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Her sister paused. In the background, the Charlie Brown teacher voices of a busy airport droned. “But I am thinking about…and don’t tell Ma this…but I am thinking about maybe staying put for a little while. Actually living in that apartment I pay an ungodly amount of rent for every month. Seeing you guys more than once a quarter.”
“Magpie staying put?” Nora said. Her sister was never one to tie herself very long to one place or one person. The fact that she’d even rented an apartment—really just a holding space for things she bought on her travels—was a miracle. “There’s got to be a full moon or something, if both you and Ma are acting out of character.”
“Probably so.” Magpie laughed. “What’s Ma doing different?”
“As we speak, she is letting the kids eat popcorn. On the couch. In the living room.”
Magpie let out a low whistle. “I better reread Revelations. I think the world is coming to an end.”
Nora laughed and held the phone closer to her ear. Her youngest sister could breathe life and joy into the darkest of days. Spending some time with her would be good, very good. “Magpie, I’ve missed you.”
“Don’t go getting all soft and mushy on me now,” her sister said, but there was a slight catch in her voice. A second later, she brightened again, all traces of emotion gone. “They’re calling my flight. I’ll see you tomorrow. And, Nora?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve missed you too.” Then she said goodbye, and the connection was gone.
Nora lay in her old twin bed, staring at the ceiling and holding on to her phone. The time away was only a few days and yet another way to put off the inevitable, but right now, it felt like a lifeline.
FOUR
The beach house came into view, short and squat and weathered to a soft gray. It was nestled between spindly scrub oak and pine trees and plump green bayberry bushes, with a long sandy path leading to the front door. If Norman Rockwell had painted a beach cottage vacation scene, this would be it. The house had a quaint, welcoming air to it, as if it were saying, Come, stay with me, and you’ll forget all those troubles back in the city. Nora turned off the car and waited while the engine ticked and cooled. “We’re here, kids,” she said.
Jake, who had fallen asleep almost as soon as they got out of Dorchester, roused. He lifted his sleepy head and rubbed his eyes. “Can I go swimming, Mommy?”he
Nora chuckled. Her youngest child, who went from zero to sixty in two-point-four seconds, then crashed just as quickly when the fun was over. “After we get unpacked and say hi to your aunt. Okay?”
Jake leaned over and nudged his sister. He bounced in his booster seat and pointed at the cottage. “Sarah, we’re at the beach!”
Sarah elbowed Jake. “I’m not stupid, Jake. I can see that.”
Nora bit back her hundredth sigh of the day. “Sarah, be nice to your brother.”
“I don’t even want to be here. Why did we have to come?” Sarah scowled down at her tablet. She’d had her head buried in that thing for the entire two-hour ride, barely speaking to her brother and not at all to her mother.
Nora sighed. “Because I think we all need a little bit of a break.”
“I’m gonna miss the class party.” She gave the screen an angry swipe. “And trick-or-treating. And I want to see D
addy.”
“We will still celebrate Halloween, I promise.” Nora didn’t address the question about Ben. This morning, she’d taken the coward’s way out and texted him when he was at work to tell him she was taking the kids to the Cape and would let him know when they were settled.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d asked her husband for a divorce. Maybe she should be talking to a lawyer or filing for a separation or something. But the mere thought of all that paperwork and questions and court appearances pressed the air out of Nora’s lungs.
She got out of the car, opened the back passenger door, and unbuckled Jake. Then she went around to the back, popped the trunk, and grabbed their bags. Jake bounded out of the car and ran up the stairs with Sarah trudging along behind him, dragging her backpack, the straps snaking a path in the sandy walkway.
Magpie burst through the front door and down the stairs. Her long, dark hair flowed behind her like a veil, as flowy and loose as the maxi dress that swirled around her legs. Magpie was tall and thin, almost willowy, and as unconventional as spaghetti for Easter dinner. “My favorite niece and nephew! Come here, you two!” She bent down and the kids ran into her arms. Sarah’s grumpiness disappeared a moment later as she told her aunt about the new kid at school, how far she’d gotten in Plants vs. Zombies, and which One Direction singer was her favorite. Jake butted in from time to time with stories about the classroom bunny and the Tooth Fairy’s recent visit. “Whoa, whoa. You all have been super busy! Let’s get inside and you can tell me all about it over some ice cream. Sound good?”
“Yeah!” Jake punched one arm in the air. “I love ice cream.”
“Why don’t you two pick out your rooms first,” Nora said. She waved the kids up the stairs and into the house. Later, she’d mention the insanity of starting this trip off on a sugar high. For now, she’d take the peace some mint chocolate chip could buy.
As soon as the front screen door banged shut behind Sarah and Jake, Magpie put an arm around her older sister. “Nora, what the hell happened to you? Because, and forgive me for being direct, you look like you got run over by a Mack Truck.”
“The usual. Working too much. Sleeping too little.” And lately, from trying to dodge Ma’s prying eyes and questions. Nora had broken the news about her vacation first thing this morning, which had gone over about as well as peace negotiations in the Middle East. Ma wanted to know why her daughter was in such an all-fired hurry to get out of town, why the kids could afford to take so much time off from school, and most of all, why Ben wasn’t part of the packing list. Nora had held her ground and loaded the car, ignoring her mother’s disapproving scowl and complaints about her desertion of the family bakery. On the way to Truro, Nora had called Abby and Bridget, who had both told her it was about damned time she took a few days off.
Yeah, the usual sounded like it about covered the why-she-looked-like-shit question.
“Let’s go inside,” Magpie said, taking one of the bags from Nora’s shoulder. “For the adults, I bought a whole lot of wine. And good chocolate.”
Nora laughed. “I’m going to need it.” She needed a lot more than a bottle of pinot grigio, but for now, the thought of getting totally smashed and passing out sounded like heaven to Nora. Maybe she could wake up from her wine coma and all the nasty details of her life would have been sorted out by some fairies. And maybe a meteor was going to hit the ground in the next ten minutes too.
The beach house had a slight musty scent but Magpie had already opened the windows, letting in a gentle cross breeze and the shush-shush of the ocean. The kids had peeled off toward the bedrooms, and the sounds of a squabble over dibs carried down the hall.
“Don’t fight, guys.” Nora’s voice sounded weary to her own ears. She put the bags on the floor, then sank into a chair. It wasn’t just her voice that was weary; it was all of her. She was tired of arguing, tired of fighting, tired of losing. Tired of trying to figure out what to do next.
And most of all, tired of pretending she had it all under control.
Without a word, Magpie took Nora’s bags and brought them down to one of the guest rooms. She returned, opened a bottle of white wine, and poured a generous glass. Then she kicked an ottoman over by Nora’s chair and plopped down. Magpie held out the glass and waited for Nora to take it. “Here. You need this.”
“It’s only ten in the morning, Mags.”
“It’s vacation. Drink.”
“You’re a bad influence, you know.”
Magpie grinned. “That’s what you were counting on when you came down here.”
Nora noticed Magpie had only brought one glass into the living room. “Aren’t you joining me?”
“I’ll have some later,” Magpie said. “Right now, I just want you to chill out before you make me stressed.”
Nora took a long sip of wine. It was a smooth, dry chardonnay with hints of pear. Perfect. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a glass of wine. Alcohol hadn’t been part of her food budget in a long, long time. She took a second sip, a third. “Thanks, Mags. You know me well. It’s been a hell of a week, and it’s only Tuesday.”
“Is it just turning thirty?”
Nora scoffed. “Turning thirty is the best thing that happened to me this week. And that’s saying something.”
“You want to talk about it?”
Nora took another sip of wine. She’d skipped breakfast, and the alcohol was already filling her head with soft fuzzies that tempted her to confide in Magpie, to let her family see inside the mess that had become her life. But Nora had held on to the lie of her perfect marriage and perfect home for so long that she couldn’t seem to find a way to let the truth unravel. “It’s not a big deal,” Nora said while her next sip of wine dimmed the panic whispering behind every thought. “Just a stressful few days.”
Magpie studied Nora for a second and then got to her feet and put out a hand. Down the hall, the kids were now arguing over the bed choices. “Come on, Nora, let’s go outside.”
“But the kids—”
“Will figure it out, just like the four of us did. We all survived the war of who gets to ride shotgun without killing each other, and Sarah and Jake will too.” Before Nora could argue, Magpie grabbed her elbow and led her out to the back deck.
The French doors of the beach house opened onto a wide, shaded deck that offered an unobstructed view of the bright blue Atlantic. The neighboring houses were tucked behind trees, just out of view, making it seem as if they were the only people in the world. A sandy path flanked by a wood and wire fence wove through beach grass and down to the water. Gulls cried to each other as they circled over the sand, fighting over whatever scraps littered the edge of the water.
Nora drew in a deep breath of salty air. “It’s gorgeous here.”
“Isn’t it? When Charlie told me about this place and offered to let me stay here, I couldn’t say no.” Magpie wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against one of the posts. “You know, I’ve been all over the world, but the Cape is still my favorite place. ‘Till, in sheltered coves and reaches of sandy beaches, all have found repose again. Ever drifting, drifting, drifting on the shifting currents of the restless heart.’”
Soft, melancholy tones colored her sister’s voice. Nora wondered if maybe she wasn’t the only O’Bannon pretending to have it together. “That’s beautiful, Mags. What’s it from?”
“Longfellow. Thoreau quoted that poem in Cape Cod.” Magpie sighed. “I do so love it here.”
“So…who’s Charlie? I’ve never heard you mention him before.”
“No one special. Just a friend.” Magpie turned, took Nora’s empty glass from her, and set it on the railing. “Let’s grab the kids and walk the beach.”
A conversational diversion, Nora was sure, because any guy who gave a woman keys to a beach house like this was surely more than no one special.
Nora waited to ask again until the kids were with them and charging down the beach. She and her sister had ki
cked off their shoes and strode down the cool, soft sand. “He must be one heck of a friend to trust you with this place.”
Magpie shrugged. “Charlie knew I needed a vacation, and that was enough reason for him.”
Charlie. Nora could count on one hand the number of men Magpie had bothered to mention. “You want to talk about it? About why you, the one who never sits still, need a vacation? I’ve never known you to take so much as a sick day, Magpie.”
Magpie let out a short bark of a laugh. “When has anyone in this family ever wanted to talk about anything important? Besides, I’m fine. Perfectly fine.”
“Aren’t we all?” Nora let the words drift away until all that was between them was the cry of the gulls and the gentle song of the water.
FIVE
The words refused to come. Magpie stared at her MacBook, the screen casting her room with a soft bluish-white glow, and couldn’t think of a single thing to write. She’d stared at his email for over an hour, started and stopped writing a reply a hundred times, before settling into inaction. For a woman who had been on the go since the day she got her first pair of Stride Rite sneakers, being still did not come easy.
I want to see you, Charlie had written. You left without a word. Why?
Because Charlie was the first man she’d ever dated who wanted more from her than a few nights of distraction. Magpie didn’t do commitments, didn’t do long-term. The longest tie she’d maintained was a lease on an apartment in Charlestown, and she could count on one hand the number of nights she’d spent there in the last six months.
Magpie closed the laptop lid and set the computer to the side. She swung her legs over the bed and padded barefoot out to the kitchen. She’d left the windows open, and the ocean whispered on the breeze. It was so peaceful here, so quiet. So unlike her usual life.
For years, she’d avoided the quiet. It gave a girl altogether too much time to think. To realize how alone she really was.
Magpie was reaching to get a bowl out of the cabinet when she noticed Nora sitting outside on the top step of the deck. She had her arms around herself, even though she was wearing a thick sweatshirt.