Summer Dance

by Nan Rossiter

  “It used to belong to my dad.”

  “How come we never saw it before when we visited you?” Elijah asked, running his hand lightly over the glistening chrome and silky turquoise paint.

  “Because it’s usually stored in a barn.”

  “Did he give it to you?” Elise asked, her eyes wide with wonder.

  I nodded.

  “How come he doesn’t use it anymore?” Elijah asked.

  I laughed, suddenly realizing why Lizzy always sounded like she was on the verge of losing it when I talked to her on the phone. “How come you guys ask so many questions?”

  Elijah shrugged. “I was just wondering,” he said, his voice trailing off.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, putting my arm around him. “You can ask as many questions as you like. My dad left this car to me when he died—that’s why he doesn’t use it anymore.”

  “Great Bubbe died too,” Elijah said in surprise, as if it was the oddest coincidence that he knew two people who’d accomplished the same mysterious act.

  “I know—that’s why I came to see you today.”

  “I didn’t know your dad died,” Elise said, her almond eyes filling with tears.

  I squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, El—you don’t need to be upset. It was a long time ago.” She nodded but still looked like she was going to cry.

  Lizzy came up behind them. “Hi, Sal,” she said, giving me a quick hug. Then she eyed her kids, and scolded, “I don’t think you guys looked both ways before running over here.”

  “Yes, we did, Mama,” Elise protested.

  “Not really, El—I was watching. Just because it’s a parking lot doesn’t mean a car can’t pull out. Elijah, it’s your job to look after your sister.”

  Elise looked down, obviously stung by the reprimand.

  “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” I asked, putting my arm around her. “The big sister looking after her little brother?”

  Elise looked up hopefully after hearing my suggestion, but Lizzy just shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s not how it works in our house.” And at this, Elise looked down again, obviously crushed.

  “Thanks for coming, Sal,” Lizzy said, turning back to me and mustering a tired smile.

  I nodded. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “She was a hundred and three, for heaven’s sake—she had a long, full life.”

  I nodded. “It’s still sad to see an old soul go . . .”

  Lizzy motioned to the car and smiled. “I didn’t know you still had this! I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up.”

  “It’s all right,” I said, smiling. “My mechanic says I need to take it out once in a while.”

  “He’s right, but I bet you had to pay a pretty penny to get it on the ferry.”

  “It’s okay. It was fun.”

  Lizzy glanced at her watch and then at her kids. “We better go in.” She gave me another quick hug and then ushered Elise and Elijah across the parking lot. “I’ll talk to you back at the house—do you remember how to get there?”

  I nodded, locked my car, and as I walked up the path to the front door, I thought about the abrupt and impatient way Lizzy had treated her children—especially Elise. She was more like her own mother than she realized—and all I could think was how had that happened? How had my dear, nonconforming, freethinking, all-accepting friend evolved into a dim reflection of her self-centered mother? Are we all destined to become—as the saying goes—like our parents? My mom had died before I’d really gotten to know her, so I had no way of knowing if I was anything like her.

  I settled into a seat in the back and listened to the somber, monotone reading of several Psalms and scriptures; then I watched Simon make his way to the front. Although I’d received a holiday card with a picture of their family on it every winter, it had been years since I’d actually seen Simon in person and I was surprised by how much he’d aged. His face was pale and he’d put on weight. He cleared his throat, and in a voice choked with emotion, he shared some childhood memories from the summers he’d spent on Nantucket with his grandmother. One memory was especially poignant and we were all captivated as he talked about it. Simon didn’t even look down at his notes as he recounted the long-ago summer night when he and his grandmother had sat outside the beach house gazing at the stars. She’d pointed to the different constellations, telling her young grandson their names; then she’d quietly told him about being able to look up through the rafters above her bunk in the concentration camp and being able to see the Milky Way sparkling in the sky; in that moment, she said, she’d felt a sudden overwhelming peace and she’d known in her heart that God was with her—he was as constant as the stars. It was the only time, Simon said, she’d ever spoken of it.

  Twenty minutes later, the service was over. After all the planning I’d done—making ferry reservations for the car, finding a hotel room for the night, and arranging for reliable help to keep Cuppa Jo open for the two days I’d be gone—the service was over. The celebration of Mrs. Cohen’s long, triumphant life was over in a heartbeat, and we were off to see her laid to rest; and as soon as her casket was lowered into the ground and the Kaddish prayer solemnly prayed, we were off again—this time to Shiva, which was being held, because Simon’s parents had moved to Florida, at Simon and Lizzy’s house, confirming my belief that the Jewish people are thorough when saying good-bye to their loved ones.

  When I pulled up in front of the house, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Not that you could get a house painted in the short time between someone’s passing and their funeral, but it looked like Simon and Lizzy hadn’t put in any effort at all into getting ready to host Shiva—the house was desperately in need of paint, and the gutters were clogged and moldy; the grass was so long it had gone to seed, and the mower, sitting in the side yard, looked like it had died in its tracks, the grass behind it slightly shorter than the grass in front. I hadn’t been to the house since Elijah was born, but I couldn’t believe how—in the span of seven years—it had fallen into such disrepair.

  I followed an older couple up the sidewalk and overheard them expressing the same sentiment . . . along with their reasoning. “I heard,” the old woman whispered to her husband, “Simon’s wife struggles with depression . . . and she drinks!”

  What’s this? I thought, frowning and tucking behind my back the bottle of kosher chardonnay I’d brought. Was this the latest scuttlebutt being passed around Lizzy’s world? I waited silently behind them while they knocked on the door, and was surprised when they continued their conversation, seemingly unaware that I was behind them. “It’s truly a shame Simon couldn’t have found a nice Jewish girl to marry. If he had, he probably wouldn’t have a retarded daughter.” Sheesh! I thought. If Lizzy is an alcoholic, I can certainly understand why!

  The door opened and the couple stepped politely inside. I followed them around in line and continued to listen as they solemnly greeted Simon’s bereaved family—including Simon—who gave his grandmother’s next-door neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Rosenberg, long hugs and thanked them for coming.

  “I’m so sorry,” I murmured into Simon’s shoulder when it was my turn. “Your grandmother was a lovely lady and your eulogy was perfect.”

  “Thanks, Sally,” he said. “She was very fond of you.”

  I nodded solemnly and then headed for the kitchen—where I knew I’d find Lizzy. “Hey,” I said, giving her a hug too. I held out the bottle. “Am I tempting the devil?”

  She frowned. “What?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Rosenberg think you have a drinking problem.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And they are entirely correct,” she said. “Now, hand it over.” I handed the bottle to her and she immediately opened it, poured two glasses, and handed one to me. “If I don’t have a drinking problem now, I will by the end of this week.”

  “This lasts all week?”

  She nodded. “We are expected to be prepared to receive guests at any time.”

&nb
sp; I shook my head. “The service was over in no time, but the grieving goes on for days.”

  “Exactly. Thank goodness we have plenty of food,” she said, sliding a plate of cheese and crackers in my direction.

  I reached for a hunk of cheddar. “Mmm, I’m starving.” And then I looked around the kitchen and frowned. “Where are the kids?”

  “Out back,” she said, taking a long sip of her wine.

  I looked out the kitchen window and saw Elise and Elijah sitting on swings, but not swinging. “Are they banished?” I teased.

  “No, I just needed a little time to myself,” Lizzy said, refilling her glass.

  “Liz, I don’t mean to meddle, but it seems like things—overall—aren’t going that well. Is everything okay between you and Simon?”

  Lizzy shook her head and laughed. “Did you get that impression from the state of our house or from the dark cloud of discord that hangs above it?”

  “Well . . . both, I guess.”

  She took another long sip and sighed. “Simon lost his job and money is tight. We’ve burned through all our savings and we’re behind on our bills, including our mortgage. On top of that, our credit cards are maxed out. There’s no money to do anything—we can’t even afford to fix the lawn mower.”

  I frowned. “How did Simon lose his job?”

  Lizzy glanced over her shoulder to make sure we were really alone. “He was caught stealing from the hospital pharmacy,” she said quietly. “He and another employee were involved in a scheme where they forged unnecessary prescriptions for patients, charged them to the patients’ insurance, and then sold them—or in Simon’s case, took them himself.”

  “You’re kidding!” I whispered. “How did he get involved in that?”

  “It all began when he hurt his back—at least that’s what he tells me. Back then, he was prescribed painkillers, but his back never really got better; then he started missing work.”

  “How come you never told me?”

  She shook her head. “It just spiraled out of control so quickly—he was suspended while they investigated, and then, without warning, he was fired. So, not only do we have no income, but we also have huge legal bills while he tries to fight their decision and not go to jail.” She took another long sip of her wine. “It’s a nightmare.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I have to go back to work . . . although I don’t know if anyone will take me. I have an interview next week, but I haven’t worked as a nurse in ten years, so I’m sure I’m going to need retraining.”

  “That’s going to take time.”

  She nodded. “I know . . . and we’re probably going to lose the house.” She refilled her glass again. “Now you know why I’m so short with the kids.”

  “I’m sorry, Liz. I had no idea.”

  She nodded. “I’ve learned you truly never know what another person is going through.”

  “Does your mom know?”

  She shook her head. “No.” Then she frowned. “I told you she’s in a nursing home, didn’t I?”

  “No!”

  “Yeah, she fell and broke her hip, and when she went to rehab, they discovered she had some sort of dementia going on and said it wasn’t safe for her to live alone, and since there’s no way she could—or would—live with me, we had to move her from rehab straight to a nursing home. She thinks she’s going home, but her house is already on the market, and when it sells, the state will take everything because nursing homes are so insanely expensive.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Sheesh! Did you change your name to Job or something?”

  “You’d think so,” she said, laughing. “Our only hope is that Simon’s grandmother left him something, but we won’t know until Shiva is over and her will is read.”

  I took a sip of my wine. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed. In the meantime, if there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  She nodded. “Actually, there is something, Sal . . . and I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t so desperate.”

  “Anything,” I said.

  “Yeah,” she laughed. “You’re going to wish you didn’t say that!”

  “No, I won’t,” I countered, thinking she was going to ask me for a loan—which I would happily give her.

  “Well . . . do you think . . .” She paused, eyeing me. “Do you think you might be able to take the kids for a couple weeks—just until I can get my act together?”

  “Of course,” I said in the most positive voice I could muster while trying to hide my dismay—how in the world was I going to manage taking care of her kids and run Cuppa Jo? “But what are you going to do for child care after you find a job?” I asked, hoping she might see that a short-term fix like the one she was proposing wasn’t going to solve her long-term problem.

  “I guess Simon will have to become Mr. Mom.”

  I nodded. “When were you thinking?”

  “Well, we have Shiva all week and my interview is the following Monday, but Simon has to go to court that day, so I was hoping you might be able to just take them back with you. It would be so much easier if they weren’t here for Shiva.”

  I nodded. “Of course,” I said, practically choking on my words.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, eyeing me skeptically.

  “I’m positive,” I said, refilling my glass . . . to the rim!

  The very next evening when I looked in my rearview mirror, Elise and Elijah were slumped on top of each other, sound asleep in my backseat, and although the sky, as we crossed the Bourne Bridge, was a glorious pink and orange, I didn’t wake them. They’d been chattering nonstop since we left, and I wasn’t going to ruin a good thing.

  Chapter 35

  “How is it?” I asked, looking over at Elise and Elijah and Liam. We were all sitting on a bench eating ice cream while we waited for the ferry bringing Lizzy to Nantucket. It was the exact same bench on which Lizzy and I had sat ten years earlier when she’d told me she was expecting Elise. Little did I know, back then, that I’d sit on the very same bench, ten years later, with three kids—one of which was that baby girl. Life certainly does take some interesting turns!

  “Mmm,” Elise said dreamily, seemingly unfazed by the melting strawberry ice cream dripping over her knuckles.

  Elijah nodded as he tried to keep up with his chocolate.

  “And you?” I asked, eyeing my other sidekick.

  “Great!” Liam said, swiping his tongue expertly around the base of his black raspberry ice-cream cone and grinning. As always, he had everything under control.

  “Can we play potsie?” Elise asked, eyeing the cobblestone walk that must’ve reminded her of a hopscotch board.

  “When you finish your ice cream,” I said, licking my coffee cone.

  “I don’t want any more,” she said, holding it out.

  “You’ve hardly had any,” Liam said.

  “Yes, I have, and I want to play potsie.”

  “Well, you have to wait till we’re all done,” he said, “so you may as well keep eating.” I smiled and gave him a discreet thumbs-up, and he grinned and returned the gesture. I’d had Liam on loan all week, and he and I had been in cahoots, trying to keep harmony in my house—which hadn’t been easy! I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without him. He’d been a godsend in keeping Elise and Elijah entertained and happy, quickly picking up on the little things that might set Elise off and running diversion to keep that from happening. At the same time, he helped me at the bakery, briefly forgoing his apprenticeship at the boathouse.

  “I don’t want any more,” Elise repeated, holding out her cone, her hand covered with dripping strawberry ice cream.

  “Okay,” I said, pointing to a nearby trashcan. “Throw it in there.”

  She walked over, held the cone high above the can, and released it like a falling bomb, and it plopped onto the top of an empty bottle, splattering her shirt. She looked at her shirt and then her hand like it was a foreign object. “Sticky
,” she said in a despairing voice.

  I popped the last bite of my cone in my mouth. “Let’s go find a ladies’ room,” I said, ushering Elise to the nearby public restroom. “You guys stay here. We’ll be right back.”

  Liam and Elijah both nodded.

  Moments later, we reappeared and found Liam drawing a hopscotch board on the sidewalk.

  “I wanted to draw it,” Elise whined.

  “You can,” Liam said, holding out the chalk he’d been carrying in his pocket all week.

  Elise took the chalk in her freshly washed hands and proceeded to draw the board while Liam and Elijah dug their favorite stones out of their pockets. When Elise finished, she reached into her pocket for her stone, too, but her pocket was empty and she suddenly looked like she was going to cry.

  “Here, take mine,” Liam said quickly, holding out his perfectly smooth stone.

  “Thanks,” she said shyly, taking it from him.

  Meltdown averted, I thought with a relieved sigh.

  Then, out of the blue, she stepped forward and, before Liam knew what was happening, kissed him right on the cheek!

  I covered my mouth in surprise, trying not to laugh, but it was too late, and to add insult to injury, Elijah almost fell over giggling while Liam’s face turned beet red. “What the heck did ya do that for?” he asked, wiping his cheek on his shoulder.

  “Because I love you,” Elise said solemnly.

  Liam shook his head as if he’d never heard anything so silly. “Well, it’s your turn . . . so go.”

  I bit my lip, still trying not to smile—I didn’t want to betray my young friend, but if I were a ten-year-old girl, I’d have a crush on him too!

  Ten minutes later, the ferry came into view and as it drew closer, we saw Lizzy waving from the deck. Elise jumped up and down with excitement, dropping Liam’s stone, and when he saw it skip into the grass, he quickly picked it up and tucked it back in his pocket.

  “Mommy!” Elise called at the top of her lungs.

  Lizzy hurried down the ramp, and as her two offspring ran into her arms, Liam and I stood back, watching and smiling, utterly relieved that Lizzy was finally here to resume care of her children—it had been the longest two weeks of our lives!