Seeking Sara Summers

by Susan Gabriel

  “The semester was rough,” Ashley said. “But John and I studied like crazy to get through exams. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” She beamed, as if proud to have a man support her.

  When Grady and Sara were engaged, they had presented a perfect picture, too, even though they didn’t have a clue what marriage entailed in terms of commitment and sacrifice. But she had thought she was happy back then.

  “Everything smells great, Mrs. Stanton. Can I help you with anything?”

  “No, I think I’ve got everything under control,” she said, knowing this statement wasn’t the least bit true. The only thing even vaguely under control was the meal; the rest of her life was up for grabs.

  “Then I guess I’ll go check on John,” Ashley said.

  When Ashley left Sara relaxed her face and glanced at the clock. Her mind jumped time zones, something it did with growing ease. It was after midnight in Florence.

  “Merry Christmas, Julia,” she said softly. The words caught in her throat. Sara lowered her head and swallowed a lump of regret. She had no idea what Julia’s Christmas plans might be. She had not heard from her for over a week—a fact she was determined not to worry about. She forced herself to focus on another task.

  “Hi, Mom,” John said.

  She looked up, startled by her oldest son’s sudden appearance. She stretched to hug his 6 foot 2 inch frame. He had surpassed Grady by two inches, a fact he loved to bring up in front of his dad. John reminded Sara of Grady right after college. Tall, lean, a perfectly proportioned body, a charismatic smile. He even wore his thick brown hair the same way Grady had. Short on the sides and longer on the top with an addition of a mustache he had grown the last couple of years.

  “How’s it going out there?” Sara asked.

  “Ashley and Dad are talking about how the courts have been affected by the current administration.”

  “Well, I don’t see how you tore yourself away,” Sara said.

  “Ash and I have already had that conversation a thousand times,” he said. “Besides, I wanted to check on my dear, old mom.”

  “I like the ‘dear’ part, but I’m not too fond of the ‘old.’”

  “You know what I mean.” John poured himself a tall glass of orange juice and drank half of it in the first gulp. His Adams apple was prominent like Grady’s but John wasn’t nearly as self-conscious as Grady had been at his age. For his entire sophomore year in high school Grady had worn turtlenecks. Nothing Sara or Julia had said to him would make him stop.

  “Ashley seems to be doing well,” she said.

  “Yeah, she’s great. And I’m really happy, Mom.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, honey.” Sara glimpsed the boy he used to be. Confident in the direction he was going, even if others weren’t.

  “Have you had a chance to talk to Sam?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” he said. John unloaded clean dishes from the dishwasher, his job while he was growing up.

  “You know how he looks up to you.”

  “I know, Mom. I will,” his tone softened. “You know he still hasn’t brought anybody home for Christmas.”

  “He’s still young, honey, give him time. By the way, have we heard anything from your sister?”

  “She called a little while ago. She’ll be here soon.

  “Good,” Sara said. “Now go back and entertain the troops. I’ve got everything handled in here.” She turned him toward the door and gently pushed.

  Sara’s oldest, most responsible child left the room, his head just below the top of the doorway. A few seconds later Grady laughed from the next room. He had settled into his role as patriarch with relish, currently holding court in the living room. Grady enjoyed being a father much more now that the children were grown. Sara supposed she enjoyed this phase more, too. Her job description had shortened considerably. Now she was to keep the family traditions going and be the person they returned to. A touchstone, of sorts, with no true needs of her own.

  Sara thought of Julia and weighed the price of family traditions. But did it have to be either/or?

  “Jess just drove up,” Sam called from the living room.

  Sara joined the welcoming committee at the front door. Their vibrant, disorganized daughter arrived juggling a briefcase, flowers, duffle bag, and excuses. Her cheeks were red from the cold and her face was framed with large silver hoop earrings. Her gray bulky sweater dwarfed her.

  “Better late than never,” Sam joked, getting in line for a hug.

  It was only in the last few years that this tradition of embracing each other had begun. After they had ceased living together.

  “Sis, you remember Ashley,” John said.

  “Yes, hi.” Jessica shook Ashley’s hand. “How’s it going big brother?”

  “No complaints,” he said, sounding like Grady. “How about you?”

  “Don’t get me started,” she laughed.

  Jess glanced at John with what could pass for admiration. During their childhood, they would have gladly exiled the other to the outer reaches of Antarctica if given the chance. Jessica was constantly taking his things and then losing them or breaking them, totally usurping John’s need for order.

  “Sorry, Mom. Traffic was horrible.” Jess handed Sara a bouquet of yellow roses as if a peace offering for her lateness.

  “No problem, honey. I’m just glad you made it here safely.”

  Sara left everyone in the living room to put the roses in water and finish up dinner. At half past seven everyone gathered at their usual places around the dining room table.

  “You’ve outdone yourself,” Grady patted Sara’s shoulder on the way to his chair.

  By creating this moment, Sara had fulfilled Grady’s dream of what their life together should be. They would grow old together, gradually adding more chairs around the dining room table as their children gathered with spouses and their children. This extension of himself, like the extension needed for the dining room table, would confirm his legacy. But why wasn’t this enough for Sara?

  Family gatherings always had a staged quality to her. Her father and brother had ignored the holidays after her mother died. It was a day to close the restaurant and not cook. Devoid of tradition, holidays became a day to watch sports on television and order Chinese from the one restaurant that stayed open. To this day, Sara preferred sweet and sour pork to turkey and dressing.

  Any holiday traditions they observed had originated with Grady’s family including a large Christmas Eve dinner and presents opened early the next morning. These events had occurred at Grady’s parent’s house until a few years ago, with Stella being the master of ceremonies. To move these events to their house was a hard-won battle, and was yet another thing she doubted Stella had forgiven her for. They now went over to Grady’s parent’s house for an elaborate Christmas brunch meant to reduce Sara’s efforts to insignificance.

  A perfunctory grace preceded food passed and plates filled. Everyone seemed happy. Everyone, it seemed, except Sara, who felt detached. Even though she had often thought she would give any of her children the internal organ of their choice, she also realized that she needed something more. Her guilt felt as tangible as her mother’s crystal vase in the center of the table.

  “The food’s great, honey,” Grady said.

  She thanked him. Sara had barely tasted the meal that she had spent hours preparing. Months before she hadn’t known if she would be allowed another Christmas. And she wasn’t guaranteed next year, either. She thought longingly of Julia in her apartment, the bells tolling the hour on the quiet streets.

  “What are you thinking about, Mom?” Sam asked from across the table.

  “I was thinking how nice it is to see all of you together,” Sara said. This was the expected answer. And everyone went on with their meal. She was invisible to them. And as long as she gave expected answers, she was responsible for her own invisibility.

  Sara attempted to redeem the moment. “Actually, Sam, I was thinking about an old fr
iend.”

  Sam looked up from his plate. “Sorry, Mom, did you say something?”

  Voices fell silent. All eyes were on Sara. She had not anticipated this much attention, but she followed through anyway. “You asked what I was thinking about,” she said to Sam. “And what I was actually thinking about was the friend I visited in Italy.”

  “That’s right. You’ve barely said anything about your trip,” Jessica said.

  “I didn’t think you were interested,” Sara said.

  Until now, the grandest event of Sara’s life had barely been a blip on her children’s radar screen. What would they say if they knew the mousy woman in front of them had had an affair that had taken her breath away? An affair that had been so passionate, she was still trying to get over it. And that kept her up nights and tormented her.

  “We’ve just been so busy,” Sam said, “I guess we forgot to ask.”

  The doorbell chimed. Everyone looked toward the door. “Saved by the bell,” Grady said to Sam.

  “I’ll get it,” Sara said, welcoming an opportunity to break away from the scene. She walked the length of the hallway approaching the front door. Luke followed as official greeter. Sara opened the door, reminding Luke not to jump, and gasped when she saw who it was.

  “What are you doing here?” Sara asked.

  “I thought I’d surprise you.” Julia smiled broadly as Sara worked to open the screen door that didn’t always want to unlatch. She had asked Grady to fix it a dozen times. Sara finally pushed hard against the screen and it opened.

  “Come inside,” Sara said. “It’s freezing out there.”

  “I was hoping you’d invite me in,” Julia said. She stepped inside and opened her arms. Sara hesitated before stepping into them. They embraced for several seconds until Sara realized they were not in Italy but at her front door for all of New England to see.

  Sara was speechless. She couldn’t decide if this was the best Christmas present of her life or the worst. “I don’t know what to say,” Sara said.

  “How about you’re glad to see me.”

  “I am glad to see you. But we’ve just started Christmas Eve dinner.”

  “Who is it?” Grady yelled from the dining room.

  Sara’s thoughts raced to problem-solve the situation.

  “I’d love to meet your children,” Julia said, her smile radiating calmness.

  “I guess that would be okay,” Sara said. Why not? she thought. Julia was just a friend in town who had spontaneously stopped by. No one would know what they really meant to each other, right?

  “We can do this, Sweetie.” Julia squeezed Sara’s hand.

  Sara’s knees momentarily weakened, the state they had stayed in for several days in Italy. She released Julia’s hand and told herself to act normal. “I don’t know whether to be angry at you or grateful,” Sara whispered as they walked down the hallway.

  “I vote for grateful,” Julia whispered back.

  Sara led Julia into the dining room. She took a deep breath. Grady stood; his expression the proverbial deer caught in headlights. “Julia?” he asked.

  “Hi, Grady. Good to see you again.”

  Would Grady clutch his chest and drop to the floor? Sara wondered. He definitely looked that surprised.

  Julia walked over and kissed him on the cheek. His face turned crimson, his Adam’s apple sticking out like a white buoy in the sea of red.

  “Children, this is Julia,” Sara said. “Someone your father and I knew years ago. We went to high school together.”

  The corkscrew Grady had been holding slipped out of his hand and clanged onto the table. Grady mumbled an apology and filled his wine glass to the brim. But he looked like he could use something much stronger.

  Sara introduced Julia to her children and to Ashley. Julia had a knack for winning over people quickly and from the looks on their faces, they were charmed instantly. Sam and John especially looked like schoolboys meeting a goddess. Sara could forget how captivating Julia was, until she witnessed the reactions of other people.

  “Would you like some dinner?” Sara asked Julia, trying to act normal.

  “If that’s okay with everyone?”

  Julia question was followed by unanimous nods and verbal okays, with the exception of Grady who had become the mannequin father in a holiday display case.

  Sara felt sorry for him at that moment, but she didn’t have the energy to take care of him. She was too busy pooling all of her psychic resources to deal with her own shock and surprise at having the third musketeer, and love of her life, arrive at their doorstep.

  Sara gathered another place setting from the china cabinet and everyone shifted to make room for their unexpected guest. Act normal, she told herself again. She’s just a friend. No secrets have to be revealed. Julia sat next to Sara, close enough that their legs touched. Sara pulled open the neck of her turtleneck to release some of the heat that was rising.

  “Grady, pour Julia a glass of wine,” Sara directed, which shook him from his stupor, at least momentarily.

  “Julia’s family moved away during our senior year,” Sara said. “We hadn’t seen each other for almost thirty years and then I visited her last summer when I was in Italy.”

  “You live in Italy?” Ashley asked. “John and I have talked about maybe going there on our honeymoon.”

  “It is a lovely place for honeymoons,” Julia said. She placed her napkin in her lap and nudged Sara’s leg under the table. Sara nudged her back as if warning her to stop.

  “Dad, where did you and Mom spend your honeymoon?” Sam asked.

  Grady looked at Sara. Could he not remember? If questioned about his name, he probably couldn’t remember it, either.

  “We spent a weekend in New York,” Sara said. “We were saving money for this house so we didn’t want to spend that much.”

  “Your house is lovely,” Julia said.

  Grady and Sara thanked her in unison, but it appeared to be the only way they were united at that moment.

  “We were just asking Mom about her trip,” Jessica said. “Now you both can tell us the highlights.”

  Sara cleared her throat and took a sip of wine to swallow her rising panic.

  “You would have been proud of her,” Julia said. “Your mom was practically a native. She drank wine, she explored Tuscany, and she met my friends.” Julia paused.

  “I surprised Julia at her art opening,” Sara said, aiming for a matter-of-fact tone.

  “You’re an artist?” Sam asked. His adoration appeared to increase.

  “A very good one,” Sara said.

  Julia shifted the conversation, asking about each of her children’s lives. Grady was the only person at the table not thoroughly enthralled by her. His eyes stayed focused on his plate. He chewed a piece of turkey, as if it had suddenly become tough to swallow.

  Dinner progressed. Sara barely ate. The scene felt like a dream that threatened to shift into a nightmare at any moment. After all her wishing to see Julia again she was suddenly there. But in her fantasies this wasn’t the scenario she had had in mind. They had included linen sheets, not linen tablecloths.

  Toward the end of the meal, Sam stood and held up his wine glass to make a toast. “To Mom and Dad,” he said. “And to Julia,” he added, beaming over at her. Grady lifted his glass but didn’t drink.

  After dinner Julia helped Sara clear the dishes. “Is Grady in cardiac arrest?” Julia asked when they were alone in the kitchen. “He’s barely looked at me.”

  “What happened between you two, anyway?” Sara asked.

  “It’s a long story,” Julia said. “Is that really what you want to talk about at this moment?” She leaned in to give Sara a kiss. Sara pushed her away.

  “I forgot you hate surprises,” Julia said. “But I think your kids like me.”

  “They adore you,” Sara said. “Everybody does.”

  “Are you really angry at me for coming thousands of miles to see you?”

  “I do
n’t know what I am.”

  “Do you want me to go?”

  Sara hesitated. Of course she didn’t want her to go. But she couldn’t reconcile her obligation to her family with her own needs. “Maybe you’d better.”

  Julia looked momentarily hurt, but quickly regained her composure. Sara had been so wrapped up in her own feelings she hadn’t realized what this must be like for Julia.

  “Will you come by and see me later?” Julia asked.

  “On Christmas eve?” There was no one she would rather spend Christmas Eve with, but she had a houseful of guests. “Where are you staying?” Sara asked.

  “The B & B on Clover.”

  “Maybe I can come by tomorrow after Stella’s brunch.”

  “Maybe?”

  “It’s just such a surprise to have you here,” Sara said.

  Julia leaned in to kiss Sara again and this time Sara let her. Their time in Florence flooded back in sensory memory. She had forgotten how perfectly they fit together and how soft Julia’s lips were.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” Julia said softly when the kiss ended.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” Sara said. She glanced at the door. “We need to be careful, though. We wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened with Melanie.”

  “Although that turned out all right, too,” Julia said.

  “But these are my children,” Sara said. “What would they do if they walked in and caught their mother kissing another woman?”

  “Maybe they’d applaud,” Julia said.

  “I doubt it,” Sara countered. “Say your goodbyes and I’ll try to come by to see you tomorrow.” Suddenly Sara was in control of the situation. She needed to get Julia out of the house. If she didn’t, Sara might leave with her.

  “You’ll try to come by?” Julia asked. “I expected a little more than that.”

  “You don’t understand,” Sara said.

  “I guess I don’t,” Julia said. “Why don’t you explain it to me.”

  “It’s Christmas. There are traditions.”

  “I hate to interrupt your little Norman Rockwell moment, darling, but are these traditions you actually want to participate in?” Julia asked.

  “That isn’t the point.”