At times, I almost felt like Jack should have warned me that he possessed the world’s strongest genes. Then again, I had to consider that it was only in my mind, that her clear resemblance to a man few people I knew had ever met was nothing more than a figment of my imagination.
For the rest of our lives together, it would be the thing that sat, heavy and unspoken, between Carter and me; it would be the thought I could hear him thinking. Which is why nothing could have prepared me for the night, when Caroline was nine months old, when he came to me and said, “Do you think we should start trying again?”
It had caught me so off guard I said, “Trying what?”
He laughed. “For another baby, of course.”
I know I looked at him like he was delusional. He rubbed his big, rough thumb over Caroline’s dainty cheek and said, “She’s so perfect, Ansley.” He stared at me, that deep, penetrating stare that disarmed me so fully. “You did such a good job with her. Why wouldn’t you do it again?”
Fear coursed through me that he was challenging me, that he could see inside me, hear my thoughts, know that while I was in love with him, in love with my life and my family and fully committed to all of the above, ever since that rainy night in Georgia, Jack had been the tune that I could not get out of my head, the hum that constantly ran in the background.
But he couldn’t know. I’d never told him, never talked to Jack, never visited him, never done a single thing to betray my thoughts. And so, in some ways, I realized that refusing to do what I had done before would be an admission of my feelings, a confession that no, Caroline’s father was more than a hazy memory from my past, and yes, we were dancing on some dangerously thin ice.
I looked up at him and said, “Carter, are you sure about this? Are you certain you can go through this again?”
He smiled at me encouragingly and leaned down to kiss me. “As long as I have you,” he said, “I can do anything.”
As I stared down into Caroline’s sleeping face, I knew that I had already begun to feel that pull on my body, that maternal feeling that nudged me, that whispered in my ear that one would never be enough. I already knew that I would want another baby to love. But I had never imagined that Carter would go through all of this again. I had never considered what, in the end, this complicated decision might cost me.
THIRTY-FOUR
only one
caroline
Once Dad was gone, my sisters and I always used to wonder when Mom would start dating. We had seen friends’ parents do it. We knew what that looked like. While the idea of my mom moving on with someone else made Sloane’s stomach turn, it was something I was endlessly fascinated by. I think I always knew the chances were good that she would find someone else. And I, for one, felt almost strangely comfortable and happy that it seemed Jack might be the guy she finally chose after all these years.
I watched Jack walk off the porch that night. I ran out the back door and got to him before he could get too far down the sidewalk. I was, sadly, out of breath. But for the first time in a long time, I didn’t care about what I looked like or what I felt like or what my situation was. I cared about my sister, my mom, my nephews, my children. My family. In this new phase of my life, I couldn’t see my family without Jack. I knew that if my mom was honest with herself, she couldn’t see a family without Jack, either.
Before he said anything, Jack wrapped me in a hug. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I can’t imagine.”
I shook my head. “I can’t imagine, either. This shouldn’t happen to Sloane. She’s too good a person. I want things to go back to the way they were before.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Me, too.”
I pushed the hair out of my face. It was a windy night, the sunny, clear morning giving way to a blustery evening. “She loves you, you know,” I said.
He shook his head. “I thought she did. I always thought she would, anyway.” Jack sighed, tears coming to his eyes, too. “But I think she’s right. I think our time has passed. I need to move on.”
I nodded firmly. “You do.”
He looked puzzled.
“You know . . .” I started. Even heartbroken and exhausted, I was crafty, after all. “Georgia has strict rules against living on boats.”
His eyes widened. “What? Why has no one told me this?”
“They usually give you a bit of a grace period in Peachtree, mostly because Dockmaster Dan wants the cash, but it is against the law, and eventually you’ll have to move.”
“So you want me to move?”
Jack took his jacket off and wrapped it around my bare shoulders. I hadn’t realized I was cold until I was warm again.
I laughed. “Yes.” I paused. “I don’t know about your financial situation or anything, but I know of a great house on the market.” I raised my eyebrows and pointed behind me.
It was Jack’s turn to laugh. “Caroline, I can’t buy the house next to your mother’s.”
“No. I get that. It’s super expensive.”
He smiled. “Let me rephrase. I can buy the house next to your mother’s. But I probably shouldn’t.”
“Why not? No one else is living there. Seems like a shame to let that prime waterfront Peachtree real estate fall into the hands of someone else.” I gasped. “What if it’s some man who sweeps Mom off her feet?”
I could tell by the conspiratorial gleam in his eye that that did it. “What if it is?” he asked. And his tone was all I needed to tell me that the man would be him.
“She has always, always wanted to decorate that house,” I said.
I pulled a scrap of paper out of the pocket of my dress. “This is the number of Mr. Solomon’s son. I suggest you call him before it hits the market. This thing will go in a skinny minute.”
“So you were just carrying this around with you?”
I shrugged. “Truth be told, I was going to ask James to buy it for me as a summer house. He could suck up a little bit. But if you buy it, we’ll come stay with you.”
He laughed. “Caroline, there is only one of you.”
“So I’ve heard.” I turned to walk back toward the house, realizing that I had Jack’s jacket. I chased him back down the street and handed it to him.
“Thanks,” I said. “She’s a tough one, but once you wear her down, once you get inside, no one will ever love you more.” Then I whispered, “If you can bear it, give her one more chance.”
My eyes welled as I said it, realizing what my poor mother had gone through these past few months, what she had sacrificed. She was barely working, every time she went to the grocery store she had to buy four different kinds of string cheese and eleven brands of fruit snacks, we were constantly drinking all of her favorite coffee without replacing it, and quite often she was the one who ended up doing all six loads of laundry per day that this family produced. And she never complained. At least, not to us. I’m sure Sandra and Emily got an earful. But she never let us know if she was unhappy. Which made me think that maybe she wasn’t.
As I walked up the front path, I turned to look back over the water. The beauty of it was a surprise every time. The marsh grass growing on the islands, the ancient cedar trees that formed paths and trails that we spent hours traveling on when we were young. I couldn’t explain why, but somehow, in that perfect evening moment, I knew that Adam was going to be OK. They were going to find him. They were going to bring him home. I had no basis for this thought at all. It was just that when you were in Peachtree, it simply felt like everything would be all right.
THIRTY-FIVE
serenade of summer
ansley
Carter, Caroline, Sloane, and I had gone to visit my grandmother in Peachtree Bluff when I was six months pregnant with Emerson. Grandmother’s health had been slowly fading for years. Like an oil painting left too close to a window, you weren’t sure it was less vibrant. It was only in looking back that you realized how vivid it had once been.
Carter and I were in a wonderful place in our marriage, whi
ch was a good thing, since the realization that I was pregnant had not gone like I had imagined. When I told him, ecstatic tears streaming down my face, the first thing he said, as icily as I’ve ever heard him, was, “How could you?”
I remember how alone I felt then, how the breath caught in my throat. But I went to him, sat on his lap, and said, “Carter, it’s your baby. It’s our baby. After all these years, it’s our miracle.”
I remember wrapping my arms around him and how he didn’t wrap his back. And I realized in that moment, with horror, that he didn’t believe me. The pain of that pierced through me, and my first reaction, as it often is in these situations, was anger.
I jumped up off his lap, crossed my arms, and said, “Are you serious right now? You think I went out and got pregnant by someone else without telling you? Do you know how this has weighed on me, how the life we have lived has nearly torn me apart? Do you honestly know me so little that you believe that about me?”
I turned to walk out the door. I had no plan, really. Sloane and Caroline were both spending the night at friends’ houses, and I knew that I could leave tonight, check into a hotel, and worry about tomorrow tomorrow.
But mercifully, Carter grabbed my hand. He looked at me warily. “Ansley . . .”
“Carter . . .”
He took a deep breath. “Is this even possible? Are you sure?”
I grinned. He was getting it now. “Carter, I swear to you on our children’s lives.”
It was the fourth time I had seen him cry in all our years together. I wanted to wait to tell people, but Carter just couldn’t. I didn’t stop him from calling friends and family. I knew this pregnancy was different for him. Of course, it meant more. I knew instinctively that Carter would be more attached to this third baby than our first two. I prayed that it was a boy, so that if the girls noticed a difference, they would always believe it was because of the baby’s sex, not because it was the only one that was biologically their father’s.
We had celebrated straight on through, and by this sixth month of pregnancy, it felt like we had been on some sort of extended honeymoon. Carter couldn’t stay away from me, couldn’t get enough of me. He worked less, stayed home later in the mornings, took the girls to school, made sure my every craving, need, and want were met. I was the queen. It was magic.
Being pregnant with Emerson had restored something in our marriage, something that, like a perfect accessory that completes a room, I hadn’t even known was missing until I got it back.
Caroline and Sloane had gone over to Starlite Island with their grandparents, who were also visiting for the long weekend. I remember the sky that morning when I woke, how it was a baby blue, the way it mingled with the rising sun, tinting the clouds perfectly pink, swirled together like cotton candy on a stick. It had made me smile, that baby pink and blue, like God had colored the sky for me that morning, for this baby I was growing inside me. Carter and I had laughed about it. It would be, unbeknownst to me, the last time we laughed on that trip.
An hour later, we were walking down the boardwalk, toward our favorite breakfast spot on the water. I was already tasting pancakes. Carter was pointing out boats that belonged to friends or famous people he knew, marveling that this little map dot had become such a yachting destination.
I saw him from the other end of the boardwalk, like a blurry apparition, but I knew Jack was in Atlanta, had moved there. I hadn’t seen him since after the night I told him I was pregnant with Sloane, told him that I couldn’t talk to him or see him anymore. It was too hard. There were too many feelings, too much at stake, so very much for me to lose. And I could feel him wanting more. Jack had tasted what it was to have me, had decided that the life he never wanted, the life that he and I would never have, was maybe what he wanted after all.
It was the last time I had seen him. Of course, I couldn’t come to Peachtree Bluff without thinking of the man I first fell in love with all those years ago on that sandbar a couple of miles across the horizon. But as we got closer, I knew it was him. I could feel my heart pounding, and everything in me wished that I had broken my vow and called him just once. I should have told him that I was pregnant.
He smiled and waved. I was still fairly small, and if you saw me straight on or from behind, you might not even notice. Carter reached his hand out to Jack.
“Good to see you,” Jack said.
I felt his eyes travel to my stomach, and that sick feeling set in. He was studying it like a hidden picture, searching for the clue that would complete the puzzle.
And then he said, “Oh, my God. You’re pregnant.”
Our eyes met, and in that moment, I knew he knew he had done the wrong thing. I laughed lightly and said, “Well, geez, Jack. I’m not that old!”
He laughed, too. “Of course not. Congratulations. I know you two are absolutely thrilled.”
I could feel Carter’s eyes on me and then on Jack. When he dropped my hand, I felt my heart race again. When Carter started walking toward the other end of the boardwalk, I knew he knew. I wasn’t sure what to do. Run after him? Give him time?
It was the one thing that Carter made me promise, that he would never know who Sloane and Caroline’s fathers were. I couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea that he could live his life never knowing. As I suspected, it began to weigh on him. Yet he didn’t want to know who the man was. Even before we married, we never talked about past relationships, where we’d come from, who had shaped that path. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that we had found each other, that our future was the two of us.
And so we compromised. I told Carter that the father was someone from my past, someone I had once loved, someone who never wanted children of his own but had agreed to give me, give us, the one thing that we wanted so badly. Carter was angry at first, said that I had been irresponsible, that I had risked our family by letting the other man know he had children. I didn’t argue. He could never understand.
But now he understood. In an instant, Carter understood that Jack was the father of his other two daughters. He knew who their brown eyes and dimples belonged to.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I’m so sorry. But you should have told me. How did you think I would react?”
“I didn’t think I’d see you,” I responded, anger in my voice. But it wasn’t Jack’s fault. I knew it even then. This was a situation I had created.
“I know you don’t really owe me an explanation, but—”
“Of course I owe you an explanation, Jack,” I said. “After all these years, Carter and I are having our own baby.”
There was a thinly veiled sadness in Jack’s eyes, and I could feel him thinking about what might have been. I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about it, too. But I was old enough to know that what might have been was never as good as what was. It just wasn’t. I had moved on. I didn’t fantasize anymore about what would happen if Jack had decided he did want children, that we did want the same things in life. Because I knew that Carter was the man I was supposed to marry, raise a family with, be with forever.
But I loved Jack, of course. Always. And I don’t know what it was about that moment, when I should have been running after my husband, that made me say, “You have given me everything I ever dreamed of. I will love you until the day I die.”
“I will love you even longer than that, Ansley.”
I nodded and headed down the dock, into that cotton-candy-colored sky. I knew that Carter and I would carry on. We would get through this. It had been naive of either of us to think we could make it through an entire lifetime and never run into the true father of our children. It had been ludicrous to think it was a secret we could keep, even from ourselves.
Dockmaster Dan didn’t speak to me that morning, simply tipped his hat, his eyes viewing me like he knew I needed to be alone with a secret, a secret that, I had to consider, maybe wasn’t as secret as I believed it to be.
But Peachtree Bluff was a town of hidden truths, o
f stolen moments, a town that had borne the clandestine, the furtive, the surreptitious tales of the sea since well before the Revolution.
I knew, as the wind caught my hair just so, making me feel like that little girl who had come here when her heart was so innocent and her future so wide, that this town, with all its gossip and chatter and crazy characters, might thrive on a little good-natured fun. But when it mattered, when it was important, this place, this corner of the world that time seemed to have forgotten, would bear the big secrets, the earth-shattering ones, until the tide washed it over and, like time itself, it existed no more.
* * *
WHEN I LOOK BACK on my life, I know that I will remember my summers in Peachtree Bluff with the most fondness. Bringing my girls when they were tiny to visit my grandmother. Driving Boston Whalers over to Starlite Island, collecting shells, admiring the wild horses from the widow’s walk, playing tag in the front yard, having water-balloon wars. And my childhood summers here, when the world was so pure, nothing was scary, and I was so full of innocence, were the closest, I think, that one could ever get to heaven on earth.
Those were the good times, the times that would always fill my heart with the most gladness. In some ways, this year, even with all of its troubles, would be one of those times. No matter how difficult it had been, whether Adam was lost or found, we were a family again. We were together. We had always loved one another; we had always held one another in our hearts. But something deeper had happened over these past few months. We had become family in the way we were when Carter was still alive, in the way we were always meant to be. And I knew that all of us would treasure this time for the rest of our lives.
My heart felt so heavy that chilly night, as I sat wrapped in a blanket on the outdoor sofa, looking out over the water, at the way the moon reflected and danced and spun, the way the stars glowed here in a way I couldn’t remember seeing anywhere else in the world. A part of me knew that this was wrong, that I should be watching these stars with Jack. A part of me knew that I was protecting myself from something I didn’t need to be protected from. And that I was protecting my daughters from a threat that wasn’t a threat at all. But opening your heart after it has been closed for so many years is hard. It’s unthinkable at moments, actually. Right now, my plate was full. So if my heart was a little less full than it could be, that was something I was going to have to be OK with. It seemed that night that Jack had closed the door on a possible future for us. That hurt. But I knew it was nothing compared with the hurt I had caused him in our life together—or lack thereof.
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