by Sophie Love
“Our baby’s first day at school,” Emily whispered.
*
On the drive back to the B&B, Emily wondered what they would do with their day. Chantelle had been in their lives for less than a week and already she couldn’t remember what she’d done with herself before her.
“What shall we do today?” she asked Daniel.
“I think I should move in,” he replied, his gaze still fixed out the windshield.
Emily started. “Today?”
Daniel looked across at her and smirked. “It’s time for us to be a proper family,” he said.
Emily’s stomach somersaulted. Things with Daniel were suddenly moving very fast, and it shocked her just how much she wanted them to.
They reached the inn and Daniel parked outside his carriage house. As they went inside, Emily felt a strange pang of nostalgia. They’d hardly spent any time at Daniel’s but it still felt special to her, a place etched with memories. Already it felt less lived in, transformed by recent events. Daniel had taken a ton of his stuff to Tennessee when he’d left over the summer and hadn’t unpacked any of the boxes or suitcases, so there were already some bare shelves and stacked luggage in the corner.
They got to work right away, boxing up Daniel’s books and records, folding up his clothes and zipping them into suitcases. The kitchen took the longest to clear because Daniel was so fond of his culinary experiments and seemed to own a specific frying pan or pot for every eventuality. But overall, clearing the carriage house took very little time. Daniel had spent so many years living in such a small space, Emily wondered how he would adjust to the sprawling, endless mansion. Not to mention he had been alone for so long and would now have to co-habit not just with his partner and daughter but with a whole host of random guests, as well as the inn’s staff! Emily reminded herself that there would undoubtedly be some teething problems.
On their final trip down the driveway to the carriage house to pick up the last bits, Daniel and Emily stood on the small porch, looking in at the now empty space.
“It looks so strange,” Daniel said, a hint of melancholy in his tone.
Emily hoped he wasn’t regretting his decision.
Back up in the main house, Daniel got to work unpacking his items and finding places for them in the master bedroom. Emily herself became more preoccupied with Chantelle’s room. It wasn’t really suitable for a young girl. The place had been decorated with guests in mind and all the furniture was far too adult. Chantelle needed a kid’s bed rather than this huge king-size antique one. Her teddy bear tucked into the crisp white covers looked lonely and forlorn. She needed toys and a trunk to store them in and a shelf to display them on. And she could have a little desk under the window so she could look out over the backyard rather than the current window seat made of oak and strewn with silk crimson cushions. Then there was the large wardrobe taking up space across an entire wall. Even with all the clothes Emily had purchased for Chantelle it was too big.
Emily decided then to fix the room up for Chantelle. It could be a DIY project they undertook as a whole family. Chantelle could choose the colors she wanted, and they could go to the store and find matching pillows, blankets, curtains, and rugs. In the meantime, however, she wanted to do something to make the room nice for Chantelle right away, and she struck on the idea of getting some of her old toys out of the attic. She’d packed up all of her and Charlotte’s toys when she’d converted their old room into the first guest bedroom all those months ago.
Leaving Daniel absorbed in his own tasks, Emily went up into the attic and searched for the boxes of toys she’d carefully tidied away.
It made her feel quite emotional as she began looking through them all again. Even though she’d spent a lot of time carefully packing them away, something about the fact she was giving them a new lease on life by passing them on to Chantelle made her a little melancholy, as though she were letting go of Charlotte in a way. But it also felt so right that Chantelle would get Charlotte’s old toys since she did feel like her sister’s spirit was living on in Chantelle.
As Emily rummaged around selecting toys she thought would be appropriate for Chantelle, she became distracted by a box of photographs. She remembered them instantly as the ones that Daniel had rescued from the outbuilding during the storm, the ones he’d sacrificed his own photographs to save on her behalf. She’d never had a chance to look through them. She took the first box down off the shelf and settled herself on the floor.
The first bunch of photographs were from when Emily had been a baby. They were all of the Sunset Harbor house, almost all during the summer vacation, and the vast majority featured her mom, Patricia, as well. Her parents looked happier in these old photos than she ever remembered them being. Perhaps there’d been a point when their marriage had been successful after all.
As the years progressed, Patricia became a less frequent occurrence, her smile even rarer. Charlotte appeared as a baby, then as a toddler. Then both she and Patricia disappeared entirely. It was almost as if Patricia had died along with Charlotte, though Emily realized it was more likely that she had moved behind the lens, choosing to stay out of the limelight much in the same way she began to choose not to come to Sunset Harbor at all. The happy family snapshots in the backyard ceased. Now, the photos seemed to be fraught moments, captured through necessity. An eight-year-old Emily with her dad at a lonely Thanksgiving table. A forlorn Emily of nine opening birthday presents with some friends while her dad watched on morosely. The years passed but the gloom remained.
As Emily leafed through the photos, looking at the snapshots of time she’d never before seen, a thought suddenly struck her. In all the photos since Charlotte’s death, Emily and her dad had been together. That made sense if Patricia had been the photographer. But Emily was certain her mom had stopped coming to Maine entirely when she was around ten, and she certainly hadn’t been up for Thanksgiving or Halloween or any of the other fall celebrations. Emily wracked her brain, trying to bring to the forefront any memory that might include her mom, knowing how many things she had repressed from her mind, but came up blank. But if her mom hadn’t been with the family then who had been taking the photos?
Emily looked back, studying the Thanksgiving one. There were three places set at the table. She studied the Christmas photos and noticed that amongst her unwrapped gifts of books, shoes, and coloring pens, and her dad’s gifts of socks, ties, and shirts, were a woman’s robe and a large silver pendant in a presentation box. Who had the third set of gifts been for? It couldn’t have been Patricia, could it? Was there a third person who’d cropped up in Emily’s childhood that she’d forgotten about? Someone who’d been close enough to visit on Thanksgiving and Christmas?
She’d begun to fear her father had a secret lover earlier in the summer when she’d found so many pictures by the same artist. Here, now, was the closest she’d come to finding actual evidence that such a woman may have existed. And yet there wasn’t a single photo of this phantom woman. Had her father thrown them all away when the affair ended, or had the woman purposefully stayed out of the shots so that the affair could continue?
She shook her head, confused. The last thought didn’t make sense. Say there was a secret lover who stayed out of the shot of the camera out of fear of being discovered, then why would that woman also be present for Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthdays; in other words, making herself well known to Emily? Had they sworn her to secrecy? It seemed like a callous and unpleasant thing to do to a young girl, to make her lie to her mother about her father’s secret lover, and yet what other explanation could there be? Was that why Emily had so thoroughly erased her childhood memories, because she’d always been trying to forget?
The thought troubled Emily. She didn’t want to believe it. But as with most things concerning her father, her mind would often run away with her. Because she didn’t know the truth, she was left to invent it.
Suddenly, Emily felt the familiar sensation of blackness
clouding her vision. She was slipping back in time again, to one of those places her mind had erased…
She was hot, far too hot. It felt like the covers of her bedspread were suffocating her. She kicked them off, her legs clammy with sweat. Charlotte’s bed was empty, and she remembered that her dad had put her in a different room so that she wouldn’t catch the flu. Emily felt suddenly very alone. Even Charlotte’s panda bear, which her sister had given her to keep her company, was not comforting her. Though her legs were shaking and unsteady, Emily climbed from her bed and made her way down the mezzanine ladder.
It was fall, she knew that instantly by the chilly air—not as cold as winter air, but definitely no longer containing that unmistakable springtime warmth. She laid her hand against the wall, feeling suddenly very unstable on her legs.
“Daddy?” she called. But her voice was hoarse and barely any sound came out.
Fear began to make her tremble. She didn’t know why, but feeling sick and being alone was terrifying. She wanted someone to cuddle, someone real rather than a stuffed toy. Just then a dog appeared on the stairs. Emily had forgotten its name already because it was something long and complicated. Persephone? Was that it?
The dog came up to her and nuzzled its wet nose into her palm. Emily immediately felt calmer and less frightened. They walked together, side by side, along the corridor. Then carefully, still unsteady on her feet, Emily began to step down, Persephone beside her guarding all the way to the bottom landing. Once there, Emily waited to catch her breath. Then she heard voices coming from the kitchen. One was her daddy’s. The other was a lady, probably the lady who’d brought Persephone over. Was her name Diane? Diana? Something like that.
Emily walked down the corridor toward them, her legs becoming increasingly weak. Then suddenly she began to slip, her knees buckling, and she tumbled to the ground. Persephone began to bark immediately, as though trying to alert the adults to Emily’s collapse. It worked. Her dad appeared, and the woman too, and they both rushed toward her.
“Emily?” her dad said. “Emily, can you hear me? Emily?”
Emily started back to the present moment, becoming suddenly aware that the voice calling her was not her father’s but Daniel’s. Her cheeks were wet with tears. She wiped them away.
“We have to go pick up Chantelle,” Daniel was calling. “Where are you?”
Emily stood hurriedly, alarmed by how absorbed she’d been in her task. She’d had blackouts before but none quite as intense as this, none that lasted so long and was filled with so much detail.
“Coming!” she called, rushing for the attic door.
She bumped into Daniel on the third floor landing.
“Sorry,” she said, hurriedly. “I got distracted getting these for Chantelle’s room.” She held up the armful of teddies and dolls in her arms.
“Are you okay?” Daniel asked. “You look like you’ve been crying.”
“They were Charlotte’s toys,” Emily explained, choosing to tell Daniel the selective truth rather than the whole truth.
Daniel wrapped his arms around Emily and kissed her head. “I think it’s really nice of you to give them to Chantelle. She will adore them.”
Emily rested her head against Daniel’s chest and breathed deeply. Her memory had badly shaken her. She hoped he couldn’t feel her trembling.
*
Chantelle skipped along the path toward them, her grin the widest Emily had ever seen. Beside her ran two other kids, a slight boy with jet black hair and a ruddy-cheeked girl with bushy ginger pigtails. They were all laughing and joking together. Emily swelled with pride to know that Chantelle had made friends.
“Hey,” Daniel said to Chantelle. “Who are your friends?”
“This is Toby,” Chantelle said, gesturing to the boy. Then she flung an enthusiastic arm in the direction of the boisterous girl. “And that’s Bailey.”
“Are you Chantelle’s daddy?” Bailey asked in a loud, quick, confident voice. “Do you want to meet my daddy?” she added before Daniel had a chance to speak. “He’s a pilot so he can’t always pick me up from school but he’s here now. There.” She pointed.
A gray-haired man and a much younger woman with striking red hair came over. Bailey jumped into her dad’s arms and he began to swing her around, making her giggle loudly. Emily noticed the way Daniel watched them with an air of envy, as though disappointed in himself for not having thought to swing Chantelle around in the same manner. He tried to get involved with the game that Bailey was dragging her dad into with Toby and Chantelle, but ended up looking a little lost on the periphery.
“I see you’ve met our little monster,” the woman said to Emily, smiling with youthful beauty. She held her unblemished hand out to shake. “I’m Yvonne. That’s my husband, Kieran. What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Oh,” Emily said, blushing slightly. “She’s actually not my daughter. Daniel is her father but I’m her, well, not quite stepmom because we’re not married yet.”
“Yet?” Yvonne said jovially, raising her eyebrows.
“Oh, I don’t mean it’s in the cards anytime soon,” Emily said, starting to get even more flustered.
Yvonne laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s complicated. I get it. I’m Kieran’s second wife so I’m a stepmom every other weekend and for half the school vacation. Then his ex has got stepkids too, and has gone on to have more kids with her new partner as well. We’re the definition of complicated.” She grinned welcomingly. “You have no idea how hard it is to organize Christmas.”
Emily laughed, feeling instantly at ease in Yvonne’s company.
“Do you have any other kids of your own?” Emily asked.
Yvonne shook her head. “I would have loved to have had more but after Bailey I miscarried. Then Kieran said he felt too old for more kids. He was forty-five when we had Bailey. He’s fifty-one now. I’m only thirty so it’s a bit of a shame to stop at just the one but, like I said, there’s plenty of stepsiblings and half siblings to spend time with.” She smiled. “I know what you’re thinking. Big age gap.”
Emily shrugged a little sheepishly. “I guess I was just wondering how you met.”
“On a seven thirty-seven from Portland to Reykjavik.” She grinned. “We fell in love and a year later he proposed at thirty-two thousand feet.”
Just then, Toby’s parents arrived. Seeing that their son was engaged in a game with the others, they came over to where Yvonne and Emily were standing.
“This is Wesley and Suzanna,” Yvonne said to Emily.
The man shook Emily’s hand and the petite woman smiled. She was clearly whom Toby took most of his features from. They shared the same straight, jet-black hair, slim noses, and wide lips. Emily instantly noticed how much more timid Suzanna was than Yvonne, who was as loud and confident as her daughter.
“Are you new to the neighborhood?” Wesley asked.
“It’s a long story,” Emily said, feeling a little awkward by her and Daniel’s unusual circumstances. “My dad lived in Sunset Harbor for a long time, then I moved here when I inherited his house.”
“Where are you folks from originally then?”
Emily felt even more uncomfortable. “I’m from New York City. Daniel’s lived in different parts of Maine for most his life, but Chantelle grew up in Tennessee.”
She saw a frown appear between Wesley’s eyes.
“Chantelle’s adopted?” he asked.
Emily shook her head. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m not explaining this well at all, am I? She’s Daniel’s daughter from a previous relationship.” She laughed self-consciously. “I think next time someone asks if I’m new to the neighborhood I should just say yes.”
Wesley laughed, and it helped put Emily a little more at ease.
“Where do you live?” Wesley asked. “If that’s the sort of question with a straightforward answer?”
Emily laughed. “I can answer that one! We live on West Street. We’ve just converted the house into a B&B. The Inn at Sunse
t Harbor.”
Suzanna, who had thus far been listening with a polite smile on her face, suddenly raised her eyebrows. “West Street?” she asked. “That’s a nice part of town.”
Emily heard the emphasis on the word “nice” and felt suddenly self-conscious. She was proud of the inn, of the sweat and toil she’d expended to renovate the place, and she hated to think that Suzanna had some kind of preconceived notion of her being a rich kid handed everything on a plate. She felt somewhat judged, with the sudden desire to defend herself.
“It is,” she said confidently, taking a leaf out of Yvonne’s book. “My dad lived there for many years but the house became really rundown after he disappeared. It’s been a bit of an ordeal getting it back into a livable condition, not to mention an emotional ordeal.”
Suzanna’s demeanor instantly changed, as though she’d realized in herself that she’d been judging Emily. Instead of a glint of jealousy, Emily instead saw sudden burst of sympathy in her eyes.
“That sounds tough,” she said meaningfully.
Emily felt a little guilty for her defensiveness. “The worst thing is my neighbor, though,” Emily added, trying to lighten the mood. “He’s a real pain in the backside.”
Suzanna smiled.
Just then Chantelle ran over. “Emily, can I play at Toby’s house?”
Emily looked at Wesley and Suzanna.
“How about we make plans for the weekend?” Wesley said. “We could all get together. The kids would love it.”
“I’d like that a lot,” Emily replied.
They exchanged numbers, then said goodbye.
Back in the truck, Emily was happy that Chantelle wasn’t the only one to have made friends today. The prospect of having some other parents to negotiate this whole thing with was just what she needed. But as they arrived back at the B&B, Emily saw a car parked in the driveway. It was red and rusted in places, clearly very old, and certainly not the type of car that any of the guests she’d have would drive. She looked over at Daniel and frowned. His face was pale, devoid of any color.