I thought of Adam, of what he would want me to do, and even though I’d had such a hard time feeling him these past few weeks, I knew he would want me to put one foot in front of the other and keep going. Because, without him, I was all my children had. I was our only hope.
I had to do this for me, for my boys, for my niece watching me. She needed to see me swim, not sink. I stood up and leaned on Emerson. I looked up into her clear blue eyes, the color of the Caribbean. “I’m ready,” I said.
It wasn’t much, but I knew my sister understood. I was ready to start living again.
Two hours later, scopolamine patch behind my ear, I was happy with the choice I had made. Caroline was expertly captaining Jack’s yacht. I, for one, was grateful we weren’t sailing. It had been bad enough to untie the lines and let out the dinghy. Jibs and masts were more than I could take.
I sat on the bench beside Caroline’s captain’s chair, Vivi and Emerson behind us on the blue-and-white-striped bench that was sofa-comfy.
“You should have seen her in her little Seafarer uniform,” I was saying. “Your mom was amazing. She moved through the ranks so quickly that they thought they were going to have to invent new challenges for her.”
“The water’s in her blood,” Emerson added. “Against all odds.”
Caroline laughed.
“I’m so excited,” Vivi said. “I’m excited about camp, but I’m also excited to have all of you to myself for three whole days.”
Having my entire family’s attention on me didn’t happen often, but when it did, I savored it too.
“Aunt Emmy, here’s what I want to know.”
I was expecting her to ask something about camp. Instead, she said, “What’s the deal with you and Mark?”
Caroline glanced back at Emerson as if to say, You can tell her, but keep it clean.
Emerson smiled, and I swear she looked fifteen again. “I kept telling Mark I didn’t want to date him, that it was distracting and not in my plan.”
Caroline shot a look at Emerson that I knew meant, And then he started sneaking in your window, which isn’t distracting and is in your plan?
“So we were seeing each other here and there, but nothing serious at all.” She paused, taking a sip of her Perrier. “But remember that Internet series I starred in, Make It Happen?”
Caroline and I both groaned, and Caroline said, “How could we possibly forget?”
I pulled the cellophane wrapper off a bag of popcorn and put it in the microwave.
“What’s that?” Vivi asked.
She got to keep her clothes on, but in terms of writing, lighting, and production value, that show was just a notch above porn. “It was this awful show Aunt Emmy starred in.”
“Mark told me he had watched that entire series nine times just to see me.”
“Nine times?” Caroline asked, horrified. “How? Why? And, again how?”
I groaned. “If he watched that trash nine times, he is head-over-heels, can’t-breathe-without-you in love,” I said.
“I can’t wait to grow up and be in love,” Vivi said, sighing wistfully. “You and Mark are so cute.”
Caroline shot me a pleading glance. She couldn’t say anything because she was the annoying mother and would be immediately disregarded. But I was the cool aunt, so I could say, “Oh, Viv, don’t rush it. Being young is wonderful and so fleeting.”
“Yeah,” Emerson interjected. “Love is complicated.”
“You can say that again,” Caroline added.
“You and Mark don’t seem complicated,” Vivi said.
As I removed the popcorn from the microwave, I decided to change the subject. I turned to Emerson. “What’s next for you after this movie?”
“I’m trying out for a new part . . .”
I nodded, and Caroline said, “But?”
“But I’m not sure. I mean, it’s not that I’m not sure about the part.” She sighed and rubbed her fingernail with the pad of her thumb. “It’s kind of hard to explain. It’s just, like, how much longer do I have as an actress, you know? Ten years if I’m super lucky and have an amazing dermatologist.”
“Well, of course you’ll have an amazing dermatologist,” Caroline interjected. She turned back and winked at her sister.
“I won’t be relevant that much longer and I’m not even that relevant now. And then what do I have?”
I reached over and took her hand, swallowing the feeling that, compared to what I was going through, this was trite, insignificant bullshit. But to her, this felt real. “You’ll never be irrelevant, Em.”
She looked up toward to the sky. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Vivi, let’s talk about camp some more.”
“No,” Caroline said, “it’s OK. She should hear this. I think we shelter our girls from our real feelings, and it makes them grow up thinking there’s something wrong with them when they feel self-conscious.”
“Yeah, Aunt Emmy. I want to know everything,” she said, rapt with attention.
Emerson sighed. “I’ve been doing this for eight years, and I haven’t had my big break. Maybe I need to look at life after Hollywood. I want what the two of you have, you know? I want someone who loves me unconditionally. I want to have something when this is over.”
I opened the paper bag, and steam and the smell of butter rose. I couldn’t imagine being Emerson. The cameras, the lights, the people following her around, wanting to take pictures with her, wanting her autograph. Everyone wanted a piece of my little sister. It must have been exhausting. There were plenty of days that I envied the money and the perks that came along with her life. But there were some major drawbacks, too.
She shook her head and grinned the tiniest bit. “That, Vivi, if you must know, is what’s complicated about Mark. He’ll never leave Peachtree Bluff, and if I’m not ready to quit acting, then we could never be together.”
“It could be kind of romantic,” Caroline said. “A bicoastal life.”
“What would that even look like? I’d fly in on the weekends, see my husband like a third of the time? What kind of life would that be?”
Both my sisters turned to me at the same time, as if it only now occurred to them how much time Adam and I spent apart.
I looked down into my popcorn bag, and Emerson sighed. “I’m tired and frustrated with being so average. Maybe it’s time to give it up.”
I thought back to the dreams I had had. I could see my work hanging in galleries and picture myself in New York, surrounded by fans and selling out at openings.
And then . . . what? I fell in love. I had children. And I couldn’t find my way back to me. I had obsessed over them so completely, feeling the pressure of being a picture-perfect wife and mother getting heavier and heavier. Now I was in the opposite predicament of Emerson. Where she was beginning to realize that once her career was over, her life would be suddenly, fiercely empty, I was realizing that once my children were in school, I would be forced to admit that I had sacrificed my entire life for them. That was why I was so intent on homeschooling. If they were still at home with me, I didn’t have to face the fact that I had watched all my dreams evaporate into thin air.
“Don’t give up,” I said. “I wish I hadn’t.”
Caroline turned to look at me. We were both wives and mothers. She was the pampered, Park Avenue housewife whose week revolved around Pure Barre and blowouts, and I spent my days in sweats cutting coupons on post. But we were the same. We both knew what it was like to completely sacrifice ourselves for the good of someone else.
“Really?” Emerson said, looking as shocked as I felt that I had just admitted that, even to myself. “Wow.” Emerson and Caroline had always been closer than Emerson and I had been. But I couldn’t help but feel like, with a few simple words, our bond had just been forged more deeply. I was the one who understood the crossroads Emerson was facing.
“Hey, Sloaney,” Caroline said. “We’re almost to Charleston. Could you help get us docked for the night?”
I smiled delightedly even though this wasn’t really my thing. “Come on, Viv,” I said. “You need to learn the ropes.” I winked and added, “We’ll have you boating like a pro before you even get to camp,” as Caroline called, “We’re docking stern to bow!”
“Your mother,” I said, “is the best boat docker I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Even in the roughest currents or trickiest channels, one engine or two, it’s nothing for her to slide right into any dock or slip.”
Vivi grinned proudly.
I thought again about how I had given up everything else I loved in pursuit of one passion. My stomach churned when I considered that, perhaps, my husband had done exactly the same thing.
TWELVE
the natives
ansley
The girls had been gone one day, but as I looked around my kitchen, it was hard to believe it hadn’t been longer. Mail was stacked on the island. Peanut-butter-and-jelly crusts, along with sippy cups and a jug of chocolate milk, were still at the boys’ spots from lunch. The paper towels AJ had dropped had unrolled and made a trail from the sink to the fridge. In short, there was stuff everywhere. And that was just in the kitchen.
The back door opened and James walked in, Preston strapped to his chest. “Whoa,” he said, looking around the kitchen. “Ans, the natives are winning.”
I smiled at him tiredly.
“What can I do to help?”
I sighed. “Taking them to breakfast was a huge help, James. Thank you so much.”
I glanced longingly at my design bag in the corner of the room, wondering how I would have any sketches or mood boards for Jack by the end of the week.
“Well, I’m at your service,” he said. Then he paused. “When do they go to Linda’s again?”
We both laughed. I was still angry with James, of course, but today had cemented us as partners in crime. We only had each other. He might look a little too pristine in his collared shirt and pressed shorts, but no matter what I could say about James, there was no denying he was a great dad—and uncle.
He walked into the den. “How’s Doc McStuffins, AJ?” I heard him ask.
“It’s the one where the fire truck gets dedydrated.”
“Oh yeah?” James asked, laughing at his mispronunciation. “Hey, where’s your brother?”
My ears perked.
When AJ didn’t respond, I ran into the den. “Where’s Taylor?
“Taylor!” I called.
“Taylor!” James also called, running upstairs.
I checked the front door. It was still locked.
“Taylor!” I heard James call again.
Mom walked out of her bedroom.
“Good land of the living! What is all this commotion?”
Before I could answer, I heard a gasp and I went running.
When I reached Emerson’s room, I gasped too. There were thick, black smears all over the wallpaper, bamboo coverlet, windowsills, and doors. “Taylor, no!” I said, lunging at him. I grabbed the tool of destruction out of his hand as he screamed.
“What is that?” I asked, as if he were going to respond.
I looked up at James. “Ah,” I said. “Eyeliner.”
Mom appeared in the doorway. “That’s going to be tough to get out.”
Emerson would be thrilled to hear her nephew destroyed her favorite eyeliner, but that was nothing compared to the havoc he’d wreaked on my favorite guest room.
“No, Gwansley. No!” Taylor was still screaming.
James scooped him up in one arm, Preston still strapped to his chest, and said, “All right, you little monkey. Let’s get you downstairs into the holding area.” He tickled his belly with his other hand, and Taylor giggled. “Do we need to take you to the zoo?” James asked, making a funny face at Taylor. “Because we only draw on paper, not the house.”
He trotted down the stairs, and I stripped the coverlet and shams off the bed to take to the cleaners.
“Noooooo!” AJ shrieked. Biscuit started barking, adding to the chorus of obnoxious noises.
OK. Wall eyeliner would have to wait.
I ran downstairs. “Buddy,” James was saying, “we can only play with Play-Doh in the kitchen.”
“But I want Play-Doh while I watch Doc!”
I closed my eyes and slowly looked down to see Play-Doh ground into the gorgeous loose weave of my Stark Natura rug. I leaned over and grabbed the mound off the carpet, cringing at the orange residue jammed well into the fibers.
There was no doubt about it: the kids were winning.
James grimaced.
“It’s OK, it’s OK,” I said. “You know what? I say we pack it up and drive over to the beach.”
James nodded. “Excellent plan, Gransley.”
“I want to go,” Mom chimed in.
“Beach, beach!” Taylor said.
“Yay, beach!” AJ agreed.
“Gransley, I need to tinkle!” AJ exclaimed.
“Let’s go, let’s go,” I said.
I smelled it before he said, “Uh-oh.”
James attempted to cover his laughter with his hand as a puddle of golden liquid formed at AJ’s feet. Well, at least it was on the hardwoods.
“Come on, Taylor,” he said. “We’re going to go out to the guesthouse while Gransley handles this situation.”
Before he could even take his nephew’s hand, I heard a loud burp, and as I turned, a stream of spit-up shot out of Preston’s mouth.
“Oh my God!” James yelled, unstrapping the Baby Björn and holding Preston away from him, the baby’s little legs dangling in the air. James looked down at the spit-up covering his clean, pressed shirt. And the poor guy couldn’t even see the rivulets running down his back.
“Nope. That’s not coming out,” Mom said. Now it was my turn to laugh.
James cocked his head to the side and looked at Preston, “Really, buddy? I keep you clean and fed all weekend and this is how you repay me?”
Mom and I shared a glance. This was a make-or-break moment. Would James get mad, hand us the kid, and run off?
But he just laughed and said, “Let’s go get you cleaned up, big guy.”
“Wow,” Mom said. “I’m impressed.”
James shrugged. “He’s my kid, Grammy. I even love his spit-up.”
* * *
THAT EVENING, WHEN EVERYONE was clean, changed, and blowing bubbles on the front porch, James looked over at me and said, “I have a surprise for you.”
I should have bit my tongue, but I couldn’t. “I’ve had about enough of your surprises for one year.”
“Ouch,” he said, wincing. “OK, I deserved that. But I promise you’ll like this one. I met a preschool teacher last week—”
I raised my eyebrow.
He laughed. “Come on, Ans. A sixty-five-year-old preschool teacher. She’s coming to watch the kids and put them to bed while we go out for dinner.”
I gasped. “You’re kidding.”
He looked at me seriously. “I would never kid about something as serious as bath time.”
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, SHOWERED and mercifully childless, we were sitting on the patio at Azure, one of my favorite restaurants, sharing a bottle of Opus One. James ordered it and he was paying, so I figured, why not?
“You impressed me today,” I admitted.
“I did?” he said, taking a sip of the decadent wine.
“Yeah. I honestly thought you’d leave Preston with me, claiming some work emergency or something.”
He laughed. “I know I have flaws, Ansley, but I take my kids seriously.”
I wanted to roll my eyes and ask if that’s why he abandoned them earlier this year for a supermodel.
“Plus,” he said, “I promised Caroline I would do this for her.” He looked at me intently. “I know I screwed our life up royally. But Caroline is my world. I would do anything for her. I will do anything to get back in her good graces.”
The waitress filled my wineglass again and placed our tuna tartare
between us. The wine had made me a little loose lipped, so I asked, “Are you shocked she’s giving you another chance?”
“Honestly?”
I nodded.
“Beyond.”
James motioned for me to help myself first. Despite his unfortunate Yankee upbringing, he did have good manners.
I served myself two slices of tuna, a few of the soba noodles, and a bit of the seaweed alongside it, and said, “I know she’s a lot, James. I know she is. I still blame you, but I think even Caroline knows marriages fall apart because of two people.”
He smiled. “She’s a handful, that woman. But her complexity is what makes her so beautiful.” I noticed tears in his eyes as he said, “She is everything, Ansley. She is my life. I will fight to win back her trust until the day I die if that’s what it takes.”
I could feel my heart shift just the tiniest bit. I thought maybe he was sincere, maybe I should be on his team. “That’s good to hear,” I said. “It really is.” Then, trying to lighten the mood, I said, “And the day you die may be really soon if you ever cross her again.”
We both laughed. I took another sip of wine and felt myself relax—until I saw Jack walk through the front door of the restaurant. With Georgia.
James followed my concerned gaze and shook his head.
Maybe it was the wine, maybe because he had been such good company, but for some reason I found it all spilling out to James. The breakup, how I missed Jack, how awful it was to see him with someone else.
He paused for a few seconds, long enough for me to feel like a totally irrational, middle-aged fool of a woman. I was about to formulate some excuse, blame the wine. But then James said, “She’s just some woman, Ansley. For Jack, you’re . . .” He paused. “You’re the moon.”
I smiled and took a sip of wine. As I swallowed, I hoped against hope that James was right. I hoped that someday, somehow, Jack would find his way back to me. That he could find it in his heart to choose me again. That despite what I had put him through, he would take the moon over Georgia.
The Secret to Southern Charm Page 8