Point Hope

by Kristen James

  Was it Leena? He’d said no, but Rosette wasn’t sure she believed and trusted her husband.

  She shook her head. Suddenly her surroundings seemed to materialize before her, making her realize she’d been lost in her thoughts. Here she was driving through town, her mind on her problems, not paying any attention to traffic. That might have been why Amanda had died in that car accident. Rosette normally preached to others about safety in the car.

  She pulled into a nearby parking lot and rested her head on the cool steering wheel for a minute. What was she doing? Could she believe Trey and just drop it? That was exactly what she should do. She was married; she had made a commitment to her husband and to their family. They believed in duty, responsibility, and family tradition. She chose to believe in those things, and to value them, right?

  She sat up, pulled in a deep breath, and started driving again. She passed a silver-and-red fire hydrant—there were oddly painted hydrants all over town, including a white-and-green one out by their house—and it made her think of how well she knew little details about Coos Bay. She was familiar with every street, including each Victorian or shingled house all along the way. She’d spent her entire life here, her entire life with Trey and his family as part of it. They’d grown up together. Now they had their own family here. She couldn’t imagine living here without him in her life, couldn’t imagine just meeting to pass kids back and forth.

  Could they ever completely let go of the hurts and grudges that were tearing holes in their relationship?

  She pulled into the strip mall parking lot and spotted Summer outside, sitting on the sidewalk, her back against a building and her head on her knees. Summer saw the car and sprang up.

  Rosette wasn’t used to the overwhelming stench of alcohol that filled the car as soon as Summer sat inside. She turned her head toward the window to cover her mouth and draw in a deep breath.

  “Summer,” she started, “What on earth happened? I thought you didn’t want to act like this anymore.”

  Summer was crying, facing the other window. “I didn’t mean to. I mean, I didn’t want to.”

  They were halfway through town, heading back home. Rosette pulled the car over to the curb in the last open space on the block. “You can talk to me.”

  Summer shrugged as she wiped at her nose. “It was so stupid. I was with some old friends…and it was just nice to forget things for a while.”

  Rosette wished she could just give Summer a look instead of saying anything, but she knew more than a look was needed. “Listen, you probably know you can’t hang out with them if you want to change.”

  “You’re worried I’ll drag Alex down with me?”

  Sighing, Rosette reached over to touch Summer’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be just like Amanda was, or like Alex is, or outdo anyone. And you don’t have to get into trouble either. It is perfectly okay to take some time and figure out who you are.”

  Summer glanced over, but as soon as Rosette returned the look, then Summer turned away. “You’re not kicking me out over this?”

  “Were you trying to get kicked out?” Rosette immediately returned.

  Summer shrugged.

  “We’re family,” Rosette said, “We stick by each other. And we help each other when things get tough.” Of course, she could lecture or make some threats, but who listened to that?

  Maybe Summer wouldn’t believe it today, or even this month, but she would remember those words. She would think about them every time she looked at another bottle or got a call from her drinking friends. It would matter at some point.

  Rosette crossed the bridge heading to Charleston. After passing by the businesses, she glanced off to the left toward Seven Devils Road. Ever since she’d heard Amanda had wrecked out there, something about the road bothered her. The thought came and went so often she’d gotten used to the ambiguity, but suddenly something clicked. Ricky had proposed to Amanda out that road. He’d taken her to a secluded spot where they could see the South Slough, the waterway that separated their peninsula from the mainland.

  It wasn’t just some random road where she’d had her wreck. Maybe there had been a reason she was out there.

  ~ ~ ~

  Trey was in the kitchen and didn’t see Leena walk over, but she was the only one who ever tapped on the side door. He walked over to open it, preparing what he’d say. Wind gusted in with her, blowing her hair and fluttering her frilly shirt.

  She stepped inside, already speaking. “That was sweet of you to bring Rosette roses.” Her voice had an edge today. “Were you feeling guilty?”

  Guilty? He hadn’t done anything. Yet.

  She closed the door behind her and stepped closer, and it felt like she was luring him and advancing on him at the same time. Before she’d moved, he had sensed that she would reach out like she did before.

  Then he remembered what he’d planned to say.

  “Leena, I was brought up to treat a lady with respect and to offer a helping hand, but I think, in this situation…I need to distance myself.” He stayed put, his hands on his hips, blocking her from walking further into the house.

  She pulled in her pouty mouth just a bit and straightened, but she was still standing close, too close.

  “All right,” she said indignantly.

  Behind him, he heard the front door swing open. He hadn’t heard anyone pull up or the garage door open, but he knew Rosette was walking in. Before he could turn his head, Leena laid a hand on his chest and tilted her face up toward his.

  He looked over and saw Rosette falter. She must have caught sight of them, not believing her eyes at first. Then he saw the second of realization. Even then, Trey was so surprised to see her, and so focused on her face, that he almost forgot about Leena’s hand on him. Suddenly it burned into him, worse than any scarlet letter.

  Rosette paused for the smallest second as a blush raced across her face. Any angry blush? Or hurt?

  Leena stepped back. “Oh, hi, Rosette. I just stopped by to see if you guys needed help with anything.” Her voice was only slightly higher than normal, and it sounded way too innocent. She was daring Rosette to say anything, Trey thought, or to even act like things were out of whack.

  He couldn’t run or speak. He simply stood there like an idiot.

  Rosette looked at him, then at Leena, and continued walking toward the stairs without saying a word. She climbed them with her coat still on.

  Trey stared after her in the hollow silence, his hands on his hips and his insides seething. Anger pulsed in him—at himself, at Leena, and at how stupid he could be. Without even looking at Leena, he pointed toward the back door. When he heard her footsteps retreat, he went upstairs and knocked on their closed bedroom door. There was no answer.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rosette grabbed the flower-print suitcase and threw it on the bed. She unzipped it and flipped back the top, but then she stood staring at the empty space, pulling in ragged breaths.

  Is it Leena?

  No!

  There isn’t anyone else. Just you.

  Just you.

  There was someone else, and it was happening right here in her house. There was Leena, who could date all kinds of single college guys, or young Coast Guardsmen, or some tourists looking to get lucky. Why her husband? They had kids. A house together. Trey was good looking, but he was still suffering from occasional PTSD episodes. For a while after the blast, he had traumatic brain injury symptoms, leaving him a bit ditzy at times and forgetful. Did Leena want to wreck a home, to steal a damaged guy?

  Trey was her damaged husband, damn it!

  And he could have waited until after all this, waited until they decided what to do, instead of sneaking around and stabbing her in the back.

  Hope whined from the crib. Little thumps meant she was kicking her legs, unhappy about lying down. Rosette could hear Jake and Candice arguing in the bathroom, but she didn’t listen to the words.

  She didn’t want to stand here and cry. Instead she
rubbed the tears from her face and carefully selected several shirts from the closet, shirts that she liked but didn’t wear all the time. She pulled out some of her pants and set them in the suitcase as well. Undergarments. Her travel case with little shampoos and spare makeup. A couple pairs of shoes. Once she’d filled the suitcase, she zipped it shut and set it in the closet.

  Now she was packed. She could grab that suitcase and leave anytime. Not that she would leave on Alex’s birthday. And she didn’t know how to handle it—take the kids or leave them? Where would she go? Right now that didn’t matter. What mattered was that she could leave.

  Trey felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like he’d seen the flash of an explosion and was waiting for the blast. Rosette didn’t come downstairs that evening, not even as dinner time rolled around. If she wanted to torture him, it was working. He made bacon-wrapped scallops, one of her favorites, but she wouldn’t even answer the door when he took her plate up. He stood there a minute, plate in hand, wondering what the heck to do.

  “Okay, I’ll just leave your dinner out here on the shelf,” he announced to the closed door as he headed back to the top of the stairs, where he stopped. This couldn’t be it. Sure, he’d heard of the straw that broke the camel’s back, but this wasn’t enough to kill the rest of their marriage.

  Alex was watching him when he came back into the kitchen.

  “Guess it’s just us tonight.” Trey sat down and realized Candice and Jake had eaten most of their dinner already. Just us was a bit ironic, considering Trey, his kids, Alex, and Summer were all sitting at the table.

  “These are really good,” Summer said.

  “Thanks.” He could have sworn a look flashed between Alex and Summer… Were they friends now and he’d missed it? He had noticed that they sat outside and talked sometimes.

  “Can we watch a movie tonight?” Candice asked. “Despicable Me? We recorded it. And I ate my alien brains.”

  “They’re Brussels sprouts,” Jake retorted, pointing his fork toward her. It always grossed Jake out when Candice called them “alien brains,” but Trey had to agree with her.

  “It’s kinda funny. The movie, I mean,” Alex said.

  Jake had his mouth full again, but he held his fists straight up, Superman style.

  “Sure,” Trey said as Alex launched into a movie overview for Summer. While they were busy talking, Trey walked upstairs. The plate was gone from the hallway, so at least Rosette had eaten. Unless she’d thrown it out the window. He knocked and waited. She didn’t answer, but it sounded like she’d walked over to the door.

  “Do you want help tonight?” he asked, talking at a level that should make it through the door but hopefully not downstairs. “I can get up with Hope and let you get some sleep.”

  The door opened a crack. “No, I can handle it tonight.” She started to close it.

  “Wait!” He put his hand in the way, hoping she wouldn’t slam it on him. If she did, he deserved it though.

  Before he could speak, she leaned closer. “You lied to me!” She hissed through gritted teeth, her mouth barely moving.

  “It wasn’t anything, Rosette.”

  “Like hell it wasn’t!”

  He pulled his hand back and watched the door click shut. He rubbed his temples and stood there several minutes, debating. Wasn’t there any way he could show her that she meant everything to him? That he didn’t want anyone else? Finally he heaved a sigh and headed back to the kitchen, realizing halfway there it was loud with some kind of blower noise. Summer stood at the sink, rinsing the dinner plates, while Alex and the kids stood in front of the popcorn maker.

  They didn’t notice him, so he stayed back and watched the scene. Alex and Summer joked over the noise while Jake and Candice moved their heads back and forth to watch. He tried to remember what he’d heard about Summer before; none of it was very good. She had been hell-bent on wrecking her life, but now it almost looked like that had been a cry for help.

  Candice spotted him and grinned. “Kettle corn and butter flavor!”

  “In two bowls,” Jake clarified. Trey already knew Jake liked only salt and butter on his popcorn.

  Trey felt anything but lighthearted, but he was happy everyone else was. He grabbed a handful of the butter flavor. “Looks like it’s movie time.”

  Summer came into the living room with them. Someone had already pulled the movie up and paused it. Trey sat with a little kid on each side and a bowl on his lap. They watched the movie, and he thought about Rosette, wishing she wasn’t upstairs by herself.

  After the movie, he put the kids to bed, and then heard Alex and Summer talking in the kitchen. Part of him wanted to join them, but something told him he wasn’t needed or wanted. Another part of him felt like he should eavesdrop. What did they have in common? What could they talk about all the time?

  Trey went as far as lingering in the hallway before walking into the office. They weren’t hiding or even whispering, so he tried to ignore his concerns. For now.

  In the office, he shut the door and sat down, wondering what the hell he’d do. There wasn’t any chance Rosette wanted him sleeping upstairs with her tonight, and he didn’t want to lie down on the couch while Alex and Summer were around. The computer sat with a dark screen, but he didn’t feel like turning it on. Rosette always posted pictures on Facebook and often tagged him, and he hopped on here and there, but he preferred to communicate in real life. But the last few years he’d withdrawn from both that and the little online networking he did. He’d withdrawn from a lot in life, actually. Then Ricky’s death had shaken him up, reminding him that he didn’t have endless time. He couldn’t say life had gotten better, but he’d changed, woken up somehow.

  He looked down at Rosette’s papers and photos spread across the desk. She’d done an amazing amount of work and research to put everything together for the family history book. It would mean a lot to the kids someday. It meant a lot to him now. He began flipping through the pages, waiting for Alex and Summer to go to bed so he could too.

  The next morning, Trey rose extra early and took a shower in the downstairs bathroom. Sleeping on the couch left his back and joints stiff. The hot water helped, and he let himself linger a few extra minutes, visualizing the streaming water washing away his mistakes. Since everyone was still in bed, he wrapped a towel around his waist so he could go to the laundry room. He got lucky. There was a load of whites halfway folded, and he had a white, button-up shirt and a pair of cargo shorts in the stack. The outfit made him think of a breezy summer afternoon instead of early spring, but maybe dressing for the weather he wanted would make their day on the beach today turn out better.

  He listened for Rosette to come downstairs, knowing she’d be up early for Alex’s birthday. At least, he hoped she wouldn’t try to skip out on their plans today. She couldn’t be so mad at him that she’d hurt Alex. As he waited, though, he wondered. If she were that mad, it meant he had screwed this up for everyone.

  Once he heard her, he blew out a relieved breath and met her in the kitchen. With one glance, he saw the damage from last night all over her face. The skin under her eyes looked purple. Even worse, her eyes looked half dead. She had Hope cradled in one arm as she used the other to pull items out for breakfast.

  “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he started. “Can we put it aside for today? For Alex?” That was low, but he had to do it. Alex specifically had asked for the entire family to go to the beach for his birthday. That’s not a small deal coming from a teenager.

  “Just sweep it under the rug, again?” A fire flamed in her eyes, one that scared him. She’d been depressed, numb, and just plain tired of fighting with him before all this happened. Now she could be mad enough to do something about their tattered relationship. Like end it. She was dropping things onto the counter with a loud, rattly flourish. A metal bowl tipped off the edge and clanged to the floor like a bell, ringing while it spun.

  Rosette hopped back, pulling Hope close. “Freakin’ A!” It was
Rosette-style cursing, but for once it didn’t make him laugh. She was bone-tired cranky, enough to let it show, and that was rare.

  “Can I take Hope for you?” he asked.

  Guilt flashed through her eyes before she nodded and gently handled the baby over. Hope threw her arms out in a delayed startle. Trey pulled her close, cradling her by his neck. She was such a tiny little bundle. Not even two weeks old.

  “Aren’t we having cake for Alex?” he asked, giving Rosette something to focus on. She was a task person and liked to check things off her list. Not this time apparently. She threw him a death glare. “I know I’m making you mad, and I’m sorry,” he said, almost ready to give up. “I just don’t want us to screw up his birthday. Later on, kids remember the screw ups more than the wins. I want him to remember a good birthday.”

  She kept her back to him. “Of course I made a cake. It’s in the laundry room.”

  Of course she did. He was the undependable one; she always came through. He stepped through the doorway into the laundry room and saw the cake plate sitting on top the washer. It was an impressive, towering cake, iced in green, Alex’s favorite color. A small car sat on top, amid the sixteen candles on the outer edges. The car even matched Alex’s jazzy racing car, except this one was already painted white with green racing stripes. Alex had yet to paint his.

  For an odd second, seeing the cake made him sad. Sometimes it seemed he was watching life through a haze instead of living it. He just wanted to live today, more than anything, and make memories for the photo album.

  “You did an awesome job, Rosette,” he said, hoping she’d hear how proud he was. “You’re an incredible mother.” She didn’t answer so he added, “I’ll go see if Summer wants to come sing happy birthday.”

  He pulled the baby blanket up over Hope before walking outside. It was slightly chilly but it looked like the day was going to warm up. It felt funny to knock on the trailer door, but he sure wasn’t going to just open it. Summer peeked out a minute later, looking like she’d come straight from bed. Her golden hair wasn’t flat and shiny like usual, and she still had a pillow crease on her forehead. She shielded her eyes. It was bright outside today.