Mystic Summer

by Hannah McKinnon

  “Sorry, dude. Don’t mind me.” He points affectionately to Lucy, who is wriggling in my mother’s arms in the next room. “It’s been a while since I’ve slept.”

  “That’s rough. How long has she been up for?” Evan asks warily.

  Toby shouts out to the kitchen. “Janey, how old is the baby?”

  Jane scoffs. “You mean Lucy? Who is seven months old?”

  Toby winks at Evan. “That long.”

  Grand Central has nothing on Jane’s house at dinner hour. There is the usual family banter, where everyone talks over the top of one another, no one listens, and conversations are repeated at least a half-dozen times before we sit down. Jane makes an initial scramble to scoop up toys and kick stray shoes out of the way, before giving up and dumping them all in the dog’s bed. Randall announces loudly that Lucy’s diaper needs changing.

  I steal a peek at Evan to see how he’s handling all this. Toby has gotten up long enough to pass out beers to the guys, and the men have hunkered down in the living room to watch the game.

  Jane corners me in the kitchen. I notice Lucy isn’t the only one who’s been changed; Jane’s traded her stained yoga pants for crisp jeans.

  “Did you just put on makeup?” I ask.

  She ignores me. “So, how is Evan’s visit going?”

  “Okay.”

  Jane shakes her head. “Just okay? Are we talking about the same guy in the pressed shirt who’s entertaining my kids in my living room?”

  I glance over. Evan has moved down to the carpet and is building LEGOs with Randall. Toby and my father are still glued to the couch.

  My mother, who has busied herself with the salad, is pretending not to listen, but she can’t help herself. “Evan surprised Maggie. Isn’t that sweet?” She points the salad spoon at Jane. “Did you know Erika forgot her wedding veil in Boston, and Evan drove it home for her? Saved her all that trouble.”

  Jane drains her glass of wine. “Jesus. I can’t even get Toby to drive to the market for milk. And if he does, all he comes home with is a bag of Twizzlers.”

  “I can’t wait to see an episode of Evan’s show,” my mother continues. I wonder how many of her book club friends she has called since he arrived.

  “It doesn’t air again until this fall, Mom,” I remind her again.

  “How long’s he here for?” Jane asks, dumping more wine in to her glass. The Newport trip has clearly worn off.

  “He has to drive back tonight,” I say. “They’re filming tomorrow.”

  My mother actually sighs. “Such a fascinating line of work.”

  “I don’t care what he does for work,” Jane scoffs. “The man helps out.” She nods toward the living room, where Evan is clearing the men’s beer bottles. We watch in silence as he brings them into the kitchen and rinses each one before setting them in the recycling bin.

  “Shall I set the food out?’ he asks.

  “Thanks, that would be great,” Jane says sweetly, before abruptly excusing herself to go to the living room. “Dinnertime!” she barks.

  There is a rumble as everyone heads for the table. “What’s for dinner?” Randall asks, suspiciously.

  “Pizza,” Evan tells him, bringing the boxes to the table.

  Owen brightens. “Cameron took us for pizza!”

  I wince, glancing around to see who else has heard. Evan doesn’t seem to have noticed. But my mother does. I ignore her flat gaze, and start passing out plates. “We’ve got cheese and pepperoni.”

  “Cameron likes pepperoni,” Owen continues. “That’s what we had at the pizza place.”

  “Owen, why don’t you come sit by me?” I say.

  Jane plops down on the other side of me. “So. Slices with my kids and Cameron. When exactly was this?”

  I can tell Jane is haggard-tired and mad at the world today. And she especially does not like it when her children’s schedule, menu, or social interactions are in any way altered without her knowledge. But surely she is not about to start in with me. “You were on your way home from your lovely weekend getaway,” I whisper. “The one I gave up my first weekend of summer to babysit your offspring for?”

  Jane nods toward Evan, who is laughing at something Toby said, and lowers her voice. “You’ve got a guy like this, and you’re hanging around with Cameron?”

  I ignore this. “We were at the playground and the kids were starving.”

  This does not dissuade her. “But I left you a homemade casserole. Organic quinoa casserole.”

  “The kids had fun, Jane. It was just a playdate.” I pass her the salad.

  “You mean a date.”

  “Yes, Jane. Because four kids under the age of five makes for a really hot date.”

  Jane shrugs, stabbing at her salad. “I don’t get it, Maggie.”

  “It was just pizza. It was impromptu.”

  Jane shoves a slice of cucumber in her mouth and grins wickedly. “Impromptu? Or impassioned?”

  I glare at her.

  Toby slides into a chair beside Owen and grabs a plate. “So, what’ve we got?”

  Jane smiles at him. “Impassioned pizza.”

  Toby frowns at his plate.

  “We forgot drinks,” I say loudly, desperate to switch the subject before my mother joins us. “Who wants water?”

  Owen turns to his mother. “They didn’t have water at the pizza place. Maggie let us get Coke.”

  Jane turns an apoplectic shade. “You gave my kids soda?”

  Toby smirks, probably because he’s relieved not to be on the receiving end of this lecture for once.

  “Do you have any idea how many dyes and sweeteners are in a bottle of soda? They cause cancer.”

  “Relax, Jane. They had water, too.”

  Owen shakes his head. “We drank the Coke.”

  “So,” Evan says, having passed out plates to everyone else. “What can I get you, Maggie?”

  I fix him with a grateful smile. “Cheese, please.”

  “You want a Coke with that?” Jane snips.

  My mother is heading our way with a stack of napkins. My father is wandering around looking for a free seat.

  There is a moment of silence as everyone digs in, before my father sets his piece down with an expression nothing short of wistful. “This is great. Where is this pie from?” He grabs a box and reads it aloud. “Mystic Pizza. I haven’t been there in ages. Have any of you?”

  Jane shoots a look at me.

  My mother finally sits down. “I think I’ll have a slice of pepperoni.”

  “Cameron’s favorite,” Owen says.

  Eighteen

  I needed to talk to Cam. About that moment—that kiss—whatever it was those few days ago on the bridge. But there were far more pressing matters.

  Thursday morning I arrive as I said I would at Yale-New Haven Children’s Hospital. The woman at the cardiac catheterization lab reception counter asks me for identification. “Are you family?”

  “Cameron Wilder, the father of your patient Emory Wilder, is expecting me,” I tell her. Which is not entirely true. In fact, he may be hoping that I don’t show up at all.

  The nurse glances at her computer screen. “Are you Lauren Peale?”

  My cheeks flush at the mention of her name. I glance down the hall, feeling suddenly out of place.

  “No,” I say. “I’m Maggie Griffin.”

  “Family?”

  Lauren Peale is family. Lauren Peale, the mother, who may at this very moment be coming up in the next elevator. But I’m already here, and no matter what Cam may think of me right now, I want him to know my word is good.

  “Yes,” I lie. “I’m family.”

  Inside the room, Cam is sitting on a hospital bed, bouncing Emory gently on his lap. They don’t notice me standing awkwardly in the doorway.

  “Good morning.”

  Cam looks up. “You came.”

  But he’s not the only one in the room. “What a surprise.” Mrs. Wilder is sitting in the corner armchair, and sh
e looks at me quizzically. But I’m so relieved that she’s not Lauren that I return her look with a smile.

  “Just wanted to drop by and wish you all well. I brought you lunch,” I stammer, holding up a bag from Mystic Market. “And a little something for Emory.” His eyes travel to the pink gift bag in my other hand.

  Cam stands, shifting Emory to his hip. She turns to look at me and breaks into a grin. It’s all the permission I need to step into the room and tickle her foot. “Hi there, baby girl.” She’s surprisingly rosy-cheeked and alert. “So, everything went well this morning, then?”

  Cam grimaces. “Actually, we’re still waiting for our turn in the catheterization lab. There was a change in the schedule.”

  “It’s been a long morning,” Mrs. Wilder says, still studying me. “Would you like a seat?” She gestures to a chair beside her own.

  “Oh, no, thank you. I’m fine.” I hand Cam the gift bag. When he reaches in and pulls out the little stuffed elephant I brought, Emory locks her eyes on it.

  Mrs. Wilder stands. “I think I’ll get a drink of water.”

  Cam waits until his mother is well down the hallway. “Thanks for all this, it’s really nice of you.” Then, “I didn’t think you were coming after all.”

  “Is it okay that I did? I don’t want to impose, but we’d talked about it the other night—”

  Cam finishes the sentence. “Before your boyfriend came.” His tone is void of any sentiment.

  A wave of guilt hits me dead center. “Yeah. Before that.”

  Emory breaks the thick silence that follows with a squeal. She reaches one arm out toward me and instinctively I reach back.

  “She wants your necklace,” Cam says, glancing at the silver heart pendant my grandmother gave me. I touch it, realizing only now the significance of my having worn it here.

  “Can I hold her?”

  Cam gently passes her to me. When I show her the pendant, Emory seizes it, a silver heart in her tiny fist. I glance at Cam.

  For the first time since I arrived, he smiles. “Careful. She’s got a thing for shiny objects.”

  “You’ve got good taste,” I tell her, and without thinking I press my nose to her head and inhale her baby scent. A wave of worry rises inside me as I do. “I can’t believe you’ve been waiting all morning. How are you feeling?”

  He sits on the bed. “We’re hanging in there.”

  There is the sound of nearing footsteps in the hall. We all turn. I’m filled with relief as an older couple carrying flowers walks by.

  “Cam, I’m sorry, but I had to tell the nurse that I was family.”

  He shrugs. “That’s okay.”

  “She asked me if I was Lauren.” I watch him carefully, but there is no indication of surprise or offense at my having asked.

  “Yes,” he says. “I put her name on the register.”

  When he doesn’t offer any more, I do. Fully aware that this is not my business. “So she’s coming, then?”

  Cam shakes his head sadly. “I don’t think so. She finally sent a message that she was working in the Seward Peninsula. She thanked me for the update on Emory, but . . .” He doesn’t finish the thought.

  At that moment, a young male orderly breezes through the door. “Hello, sunshine! It’s almost your turn.” He comes up to me and tickles Emory’s tummy. Emory emits a small noise of distress and turns in her father’s direction.

  “Just a few things to go over, first.” I hand Emory back and stand to the side, watching as they take her vitals and do a brief checkup. Cam answers each question calmly. No formula since last night. Water until 4:00 a.m. Wet diaper fifteen minutes ago. “So are they ready for her now?” Cam asks.

  “Just about.”

  Mrs. Wilder returns and hovers by the bed. They undress Emory together, and put on what looks to be a tiny hospital gown, but still it swallows her up. She starts to cry. The nurse applies a numbing cream to Emory’s upper leg, where I assume the catheter will be placed. Soon after, the cardiologist who will perform the catheterization arrives with an attendee. He introduces himself as Dr. Weil.

  “It’s okay, Emmy,” Cam murmurs. He sways her back and forth, as Dr. Weil goes over the procedure. Emory will be taken to the cardiac catheterization lab and the anesthesiologist will sedate her under general anesthesia. At that point, the catheter will be inserted through a small incision in her groin and advanced into her heart with the help of ultrasound. Additionally, a transesophageal echocardiogram will be done with a probe placed down Emory’s esophagus, to take pictures from inside Emory’s heart. Measurements will be taken of the heart valves and blood vessels, and the doctors will determine the actual size of the defect. If all goes well, Emory will remain under anesthesia and the device to close the hole between her ventricles will be delivered through a long sheath. Once it is properly placed using X-ray and ultrasound, the catheter will be removed and Emory will be brought to the recovery room. The entire procedure is expected to take two to three hours.

  Instinctively, my eyes travel to Cam’s. He is reverent; a man about to hand over his only child. But he seems at peace with all that Dr. Weil has just explained.

  Suddenly I feel too large and out of place in the room. When Cam shakes the cardiologist’s hand, tears spring to my eyes.

  “I’ll be right outside,” I say, though no one is listening.

  Out in the hallway I press myself against the cool concrete wall. Moments later Dr. Weil leaves the room. His gait is purposeful as he moves down the hallway toward the bank of elevators. He can’t be any older than Toby—I imagine him waking up this morning and drinking coffee at his kitchen counter, still in his pajamas—yet here, now, this otherwise ordinary man is in charge of Cam’s little girl’s heart.

  Moments later, Emory is wheeled out of the room, just a little bundle in the center of the bed. Cam walks alongside, holding onto her the whole way. Emory looks uncertain. I wonder what she makes of all the bright lights and strange faces.

  I want to follow them. I want to say something to Cam. But they’re already halfway down the hall and I realize I don’t know what my place is here.

  At the elevators, Mrs. Wilder stops and hugs her son. She remains behind as Cam steps inside with the nurse and orderly. The elevator doors close. I watch as she puts a hand to her forehead. It’s a moment before she turns and sees me still standing there.

  “What do you do in Boston?”

  The cafeteria lighting is only half a shade less bright than the glare of the hospital halls, and I feel utterly exposed sitting across from Mrs. Wilder at the narrow café table.

  “I’m a teacher at a private school just outside the city. But I was just let go, so . . .”

  She glances at the clock, and I can’t blame her. She probably wants to call her husband. She’s probably worrying about her grandchild.

  I stand up. “I should go. Would you please let Cam know that I’m thinking of them?”

  Mrs. Wilder looks offended. “Sit down, Maggie.”

  I sit. “I don’t want to intrude. And I should probably get back to Mystic. My friend Erika is getting married and—”

  “I could use the company. Tell me about your students.”

  “Okay.” As I detail my job at Darby, I can’t help but feel Cam’s mother scrutinize me across the café table in a similar style to that of Ainsley Perry across my desk. Perhaps more kindly, but it’s an interview, nonetheless.

  “Why teaching?” she asks finally, when I finish. In the midst of the smell of coffee and cafeteria food, I’m somewhat thrown by the philosophical question.

  “I love kids.” A lame textbook reply. “What I mean is, I love getting to know who my kids really are. And what they’re good at or curious about. I like guiding them in the direction of their strengths.”

  She doesn’t get sentimental like some do. But she doesn’t glaze over like many others do, either. “Isn’t it hard to give kids those kind of creative opportunities, given all the standardized testing in classr
ooms these days?”

  Despite the fact that her only child is long out of school, Mrs. Wilder is abreast of educational trends. I sit up taller. “It can be. But assessments also give us valuable information. I guess it’d be nice to have more of a balance.”

  “Balance is good. If an unrealistic goal.”

  It’s a sweeping statement.

  Mrs. Wilder leans forward. “Maggie, has Cam shared much about his last year with you?”

  I don’t want to cross the line at divulging private conversations. But then, so many lines have been crossed already. “Yes, some of it.”

  “Then you know how he came to be a single father.”

  “I do.”

  “And you also know how special Emory is.”

  I glance outside. There are no clouds in the sky. I’m spiritual enough to take that as a good sign. “Cam told me about her heart condition. About the ASD. But he said she’s doing well.”

  Mrs. Wilder smiles sadly. “She is, for now. But we don’t know what the future holds, and Cam has already struggled so hard just to keep up with the present.” She looks directly at me. “In the last year, he left his field of work, moved back home from across the country, and started a new business. All with a new baby. It hasn’t been easy.”

  “For any of you,” I rush to add.

  “What I mean to say is that Cam’s life has been full of surprises. Difficult surprises.”

  “I know.” Though even as I say the words, I realize I don’t know. Not like Mrs. Wilder must.

  “Despite all the strides Cameron has made, there will always be the matter of Emory’s mother.” Mrs. Wilder does not call her by name. “She could come back at any time.”

  Lauren Peale, who, to my knowledge, is not coming today. I wonder how Mrs. Wilder feels about her. Whether she views Lauren as a missile gone off its trajectory, capable of shattering all that Cam has constructed for them, or as a missing piece to an incomplete puzzle.