A Sea for Summer

by Shelley Kassian

  He approached the garden space with an easy gait, wearing a long-sleeved dress shirt that lay open at the neck. He hadn’t cut his hair in days and the dark wispy strands dusted his shoulders. He couldn’t seem to look her in the eye. “Peter?” He paused on the opposite side of the table.

  “Take a seat,” Caroline said. Peter pulled out a chair perpendicular to Claire’s and sat. He was quiet. Quieter than she had seen him. She always worried when their conversation succumbed to silence. Moments when neither of them spoke. What should she do, if anything, to begin a discussion now?

  Caroline cleared her throat. “Claire, Peter, I’m sure you have questions, such as where are my girlfriends, why is my husband here, and what will happen next? Let me try to explain.”

  Claire nodded, glancing at Peter briefly.

  “The powers that be at Summer Landing wanted to create a place on Daydream Island that was more meaningful than a retreat or spa experience, so when your mother told me of your marriage difficulties…”

  “My mother told you?”

  “Well, as you know, there’s few secrets between us, and when one of us is worried, about anything, the other has always tried to offer their support, but let’s get back to the point,” she said, waving over a server. “I’ve been wanting to develop a couple’s retreat, but wanted programming that would impact a couple’s life, something meaningful and inspirational that might dust off the cobwebs of responsibility and rejuvenate a marriage. It’s not quite counselling.”

  “What is it then?” Claire glanced at Peter as a server placed a beverage in front of each of them. She fingered the glass, noticing that he studied her in a guilty, self-absorbed kind of way. Had he known about this meeting? He’d yet to comment about it.

  “Our new program aims to take couples on a journey. One, that if you’re agreeable, the two of you will take together. You’ll be our first two guests to test it.”

  Claire sighed, slumping against her chair back. “Did you know about this, Peter? Did you agree to a couple’s retreat?”

  He took his time in responding. He leaned backward, too, his hand on the table, long slim fingers slid back and forth across the metal surface. “Your parents asked me to come.”

  “You were pressured into it?”

  He looked at her, staring at her for a lengthy period. What was he thinking? She couldn’t guess what Peter might be feeling. His body posture didn’t suggest anything. “As you know, I make my own decisions. No one pressured me. I wanted to be here. I accepted the couple’s experience, hoping it might help us.”

  He hoped it would help them?

  Claire took a deep breath, broke eye contact and reached for a glass filled with crushed ice, liquid, and mint leaves. She sipped, tasting mint, peaches and sparkling water, reminding her of a beverage she once made at the bakery. She glanced at Peter, holding the drink in her hands, feeling cold moisture against her fingertips while having a memory of one of their first dates, many years ago.

  The recollection caused pain because she associated it with loss. But having Peter near, she recognized her love for this man. Regardless of what had taken place between them, she always would.

  “We’re about to take a walk down memory lane,” Caroline said, clapping her hands. “Claire, your friends have worked tirelessly to build this experience for you and your husband. Hopefully, to help each of you recognize the weaknesses in your marriage, the mistakes you may have made, the successes you have achieved—together, and perhaps, how you might restore your bond. All of this to help you heal past wounds, which you might still carry, and hopefully recognizing the issues will help build a new future together.”

  It sounded like a lot of work. Not a retreat like she had expected, but at this late date, Claire didn’t feel hopeful. “Peter must have known about this. Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “Would you have agreed to take time off from the bakery if your mom had told you?” Peter asked.

  Claire thought about his comment. It sounded like an accusation. Peter often made her feel guilty for working extra hours, even though he had an excess of hours, too. “That’s not fair, Peter. I’m not the only one who has made commitments to ‘activities’ other than our marriage.”

  Caroline gave each of them a look. “Listen, I will direct the conversation, to keep the dialogue constructive, positive, and focused.” Caroline stared at them as if she was their mother and the two adults sitting at the table were no more than children. “It’s time to begin. Finish your drinks, and then we’ll take a walk in our beautiful garden.”

  They walked awkwardly beside each other, their feet crunching along the gravel pathway. The garden was beautiful. Large maples, arbutus trees and green shrubbery lined the walkway, giving them ample relief from the noonday sun. Yet sculptured flower beds and freshly manicured topiary mattered little to Claire. She only had eyes for the man who walked slightly ahead of her. She remembered the boyfriend who had held her hand on similar hikes. He’d pat her shoulder in a kind gesture, tease her, joke with her, and sometimes give her a gentle nudge that made her feel loved.

  Where had that man gone?

  She missed his touch, his teasing, even the embrace of a palm against her arm. She wished he’d break down the barriers and hold her hand. She frowned and glanced at the pebbled pathway, worrying still that he might be stroking someone else’s arm instead.

  Caroline Dean ushered them forward. She paused and faced them. “None of this would have been possible without your friends. You have good friends, Claire. They have gathered special mementos from your past to remind you of your life together, to help you walk down memory lane. Are you ready?”

  Claire glanced at Peter. He shrugged. “We’re ready.”

  They approached a simple white table, adorned with an apron to represent a tablecloth. A replica model of her family’s bakery; a silver spoon and a business card holder with Peter’s business card inside.

  “Grab the spoon, Claire. Tell me how you feel while holding it.”

  Claire grasped the spoon and stroked the cold metal between her thumb and forefinger. It had an insignificant length. She studied the cheap white flower on a blue enamel background. A silver crown at the top. “This is the first gift Peter gave me.”

  “I was traveling.”

  “I know. You had taken a business trip in Vancouver. You’d forgotten my birthday.”

  “It’s the thought that counts. I found the souvenir spoon at an airport gift shop. Sure, it was cheesy and cheap, but it seemed perfect for a woman who wanted to work alongside her parents at the family-owned bakery.”

  “Though you didn’t remember your girlfriend in the right way, I appreciated the gift.”

  “You hated the spoon. Admit it.”

  “How do you feel, Claire? Tell Peter the truth so he can understand.”

  Claire placed the spoon on the table as if grasping the metal burned her fingers. “This spoon gave me the first sign that you didn’t put me first. An airport gift shop and a day late.” She could have said more. She could have told Peter that a silver spoon and a birthday were less important to her in comparison to him, especially after sharing so many years together, but she kept quiet.

  “Peter, how does Claire’s sentiment make you feel?”

  “The ungratefulness doesn’t surprise me, but Claire’s right. I could have been more thoughtful. I could have given her the diamond ring she really wanted. She deserved my commitment, but it’s too late for regrets.”

  “What about the business card holder, Peter?”

  He grasped it, fingered it. “It was a great gift. I’d finished university and was searching for my first job. I struggled finding my first placement. Claire’s gift gave me a reason to keep looking.”

  “Claire put more thought into the relationship.”

  “I suppose you could say that,” Peter said, his tone somber.

  “Did you find a job?”

  “Eventually.”

  “Let’s walk farthe
r. You might as well bring that spoon with you, Claire, it could be useful for what I have in mind.”

  Claire grasped the spoon and followed Caroline as they strolled along the pathway.

  “What year were you married?”

  Peter glanced at Claire as if she’d give Caroline the answer. He frowned, then replied. “The summer of ‘95.”

  “That was a good year. I remember your wedding day. The two of you made a striking couple. Our chefs baked you a reminder of your special day. It’s waiting for you a little farther down the pathway.”

  Claire gasped, seeing a replica of their wedding cake, complete with their bride and groom topper. A silver-framed photograph stood beside the cake. The bride in her princess wedding gown and the groom wearing a smart black suit. They had been younger then, happier. A jar of mixed sand, mixed blessings, pink and blue, rested beside the three-tiered cake.

  “How?” Peter asked.

  “Your mother gave us a picture of the cake. Would you like to cut it? Maybe have a taste?”

  Claire glanced at Peter, unsure of what to do.

  “You’re a pastry chef, Claire. You know how to use a knife, but Peter will help you; won’t you assist your wife, Peter?”

  “I can’t believe it,” Peter said, approaching the table. “This little scene brings back some interesting memories.” He reached for the knife and grasped it, not holding it the way Claire had shown him too many times. “Will you help me, Claire?”

  “Yes.”

  Claire leaned in close to Peter, feeling his right arm brushing against her left, while resting her hand over top of his, hesitant to touch his warm skin, though she used to touch him in a much more intimate way.

  “Cut the cake, you two. What are you waiting for?”

  Claire glanced at Peter, seeing the man she had married. “We can do this,” he said, reassuring her. “It’s just a cake.” And together they applied pressure to the knife and cut through the buttercream icing and layers of cake and filling.

  “Now, serve each other, the way you did on your wedding day.”

  Claire left the warmth of his hand, missing the contact, then placed a piece of cake on a plate and passed it to Peter.

  “No,” Caroline said, shaking her head. “Claire, you need to offer the cake to Peter, your groom, like you did on your wedding day. If I recall, you licked the icing from your fingers.”

  Claire placed the plate on the table. “No. I can’t do this.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s not the same man. He left me.” She thought of the woman he might have left her for.

  “This man standing beside you is your husband.”

  Claire shook her head, pivoted, and walked in the direction they had come, thinking she’d had enough of memory lane and wanted to return to her cabin.

  “You can’t leave, Claire. Not until you’ve served the cake.”

  “It’s okay. Let her go.”

  Claire pivoted to face Peter, not liking the sound in his voice. “So that’s the way it is, you’ll let me leave?”

  “Don’t leave.” Peter picked up the cake with his bare fingers and approached her. “I’ve given you a lot of understanding over the years, and I admit, some sorrow, too. I know I don’t deal well with frustration. I know…I’m part of the problem.”

  “You didn’t want me on my wedding day.”

  “That’s a crass statement. It was our wedding day.”

  Claire pivoted again. “Admit it. I carried a heavy burden, and you didn’t want to make a commitment to me, to...”

  “I had good reasons. You were pregnant.”

  Claire splayed her arms wide. “I didn’t get in the family way by myself.”

  “This is good,” Caroline said, approaching them. “You’re sharing the pieces of hurt that have piled on top of each other over the years. The sorrow you should have talked about long before now. You must confront the hurt to heal. Peter, offer Claire a piece of cake.”

  Tears glistened in Claire’s eyes as he inched closer, but when he held that white commitment laced with buttercream frosting near her mouth, she did take a bite. He did, too. “I was a fool to keep you waiting.” He dipped his finger in the icing and licked it clean. “When I finally had the courage to accept my responsibility, I met the most beautiful woman at the altar.”

  “Am I still beautiful?”

  The question filled her with anxiety, worrying how he might respond. He took a bite of the cake. “A few wrinkles here and there, a couple extra pounds. Some days I miss the brown hair with all the blonde you’ve added, but if it makes you happy, it makes me happy. You look fabulous either way and have aged gracefully.”

  “Let’s continue our walk on the garden pathway. Couples go through seasons of love and seasons of sorrow. I know you’ve had highs and lows in your marriage.”

  Claire gasped, seeing a tiny white diaper shirt and a brown teddy bear resting on a wooden chair. “My baby,” she cried out, reclining to her knees. She picked up the tiny diaper shirt and held it in her hand. “You married me to protect me, my name and our unborn child, and then I…I lost it.”

  Peter knelt beside her. He glanced at her, then fingered the fabric, his thumb massaging her skin tenderly. “I thought you’d thrown this out. It looks like, like it’s never been used. Why did you keep it?”

  “I don’t know. At the time I felt guilty. Helpless, hopeless. I had finally accepted that a small rocket man would come into our lives.”

  “It could have been a girl, a tiny dancer,” Peter said, clutching her hand. “You blamed yourself, but it wasn’t your fault.”

  Claire began to cry; tears escaped her eyes. She stood, still holding the tiny shirt. Peter led her into his arms. He grasped her chin and raised her face to peer into her eyes.

  “Don’t cry. Don’t be sad. It was my baby, too.” he said, holding her hand. Come on, let’s continue our walk along memory lane.”

  She nodded, squeezing his fingers, and as if Caroline knew that this moment needed no additional commenting, she said nothing, but gestured for them to continue their journey.

  Claire giggled, wiping at her eyes, when she saw two mugs from their honeymoon.

  “Nothing special,” Peter said, smiling, “but I had to have them to remember that day.”

  Claire smiled, sniffing. “I felt terrible tucking them inside my purse. I prayed that the hostess wouldn’t notice.”

  A little farther along the path, Claire saw the gift Peter had given her when she’d completed her own pastry chef training, much to her mother and father’s consternation, as they didn’t think she needed anything more than family training.

  “My rolling pin.”

  “I learned my lesson with the silver spoon. You must agree that this gift was more thoughtful and perfect for the occasion. Your mother loved it.”

  “This is good. You’re connecting again.”

  “Your old briefcase. How did the girls find it? I thought you donated it to a secondhand store.”

  “Not on your life would I part with it. It meant a lot to me as I had just begun my company. The briefcase has emotional strings attached to it.”

  Claire became teary again. She paused on the pathway. “What happened between us?”

  “Where do we go from here?” Peter asked.

  “Farther along memory lane.” Caroline gestured.

  They walked past other mementos now, not saying a word. Seeing framed photographs of their two children, a girl and a boy.

  “Stephanie and Chris,” Claire said. “I can’t believe they were ever so small.”

  “We’re fortunate to have them.”

  “Conceiving was difficult.”

  “But with help, we had our daughter.”

  “And our son soon after.”

  “But our little family only grew.”

  Claire giggled, remembering their first puppy, a Yorkie mixed with miniature schnauzer. She paused on the garden pathway, still holding his hand. “What happened?” />
  “I don’t know. Maybe we got lost along the way.”

  They strolled farther until they reached what seemed like the end of the pathway. Caroline led them across an embankment and lower still onto a rocky shoreline.

  “Just one more object for you to see.” A kayak rested on the shore. “You’ve taken this kayak out on the bay many times over the years. I’ve often seen you in it, paddling together. You can take it out now, if you want, cross the water to the opposite beach and end this journey. Or…you can agree to stay on Daydream Island for the next five days, continue to participate in the program, and see where the journey takes you. What do you say?”

  Peter looked at Claire in a hopeful way. He squeezed her fingers. “I’m here. You’re here. I’d like to stay.”

  Claire grasped his hand, hope blooming in her tired heart. “Me, too.”

  “I’ll leave you two to spend some time together, but on the way back to your cabins, you might want to sample a bit more wedding cake. It would be a shame for something so delicious to go to waste.” Caroline grinned as if the camp director had told a joke, then winked and left them where they were standing.

  Peter picked up a rock and skipped it across the bay. Claire watched it bounce, fascinated by the ripples, while being grateful for this opportunity to tackle the hurdles between them.

  Chapter Ten

  Lying in his bed that evening, Peter recalled the first session. After Caroline left them, he had escorted Claire back to the wedding display. They’d sat on a park bench near the collage, eating a replica cake frosted with buttercream icing. He’d used his fingers instead of cutlery. Claire dueled with her silver spoon as if it were expensive silverware. The demonstration provided as much amusement as it did joy.

  He’d watched her, listening to her, getting to know her again.

  That Vancouver souvenir spoon held new fascination. He had regrets. He wished he could go back and change things. That was impossible.

  When they left the wedding collage, Claire’s fingers had been sticky with icing. The balm against his skin had scintillated his tastebuds, and the look in her eyes, let alone the urge to lick her fingertips, perhaps sneak a kiss, had been great.