Beach view lane, p.3
Beach View Lane, page 3
The officer flipped open a pad and weighed her license in his hand. “Seattle, Washington. Is this your correct address?”
She sighed. Who gets a ticket on a bicycle? She knew it was possible, but she’d grown up here, riding the same bike on the same trail for years.
“I’ve been here on an extended visit. Actually, this is my hometown,” she added, incredulous as he wrote her information on the form.
Calvin had been forwarding her mail, and he’d be furious at her for getting a ticket. That wasn’t a good way for them to start over, but surely it wouldn’t go on her driving record. It was a bike, for heaven’s sake.
She exhaled, trying to lessen her annoyance.
While she waited, her mother’s words swept through her. The sea breeze will clear your mind.
Maybe it had on that ride down the Queen’s Flight. She held her head a little higher.
Her mother had always given her good advice. She couldn’t imagine what she would ever do without her.
Slowly, an uncomfortable realization dawned on her. In the bright, unrelenting sunshine, she flipped through the mental pages of her past. Most mistakes she’d made in life were because she hadn’t followed her mother’s advice.
Like the riptide that had almost drowned her.
And the senior prom dress that really had been too tight.
Or Calvin.
The first time they’d broken up while they were dating, her mother had turned up a Carly Simon song on the radio and turned to her. This is about Calvin, she’d said.
The song? “You’re So Vain.”
Yet, April had been powerfully drawn to him, as sure as waves to the shore. She loved him—and a part of her always would—but she’d lost respect for him long ago.
“I’ll need to run this license,” Officer Blumenthal said, turning toward his patrol car.
April folded her arms and nodded.
As she waited, she chewed her lip in thought. As much as she wanted to go home, could she return this time? Before, her daughters hadn’t known what she’d put up with in her marriage. But now, that illusion had been shattered.
Junie had said, Mom, I’m worried about Dad. I think he might be having a midlife crisis. This time, everyone knew. Even her daughters, to her mortification.
She pressed her fingers to her temples; the bone-chattering ride down the hill seemed to have shaken something loose in her mind.
With sudden clarity, scenes from her life shifted like pieces on a chessboard, begging for a new strategy. Where did she belong now? Certainly not at the university where she’d worked for the last ten years. April puffed out a little breath and straightened her shoulders. Pity was no substitute for respect. She still had some pride left.
Yet, she also had to earn a living, and she didn’t relish tearing her family apart. She twisted her mouth to one side in contemplation. Life wasn’t a textbook with the answers in the back.
Officer Blumenthal sauntered back to her. “If you decide to stay, you’ll need to change that address.”
Where would he get that idea? But she wasn’t in the mood to elaborate. “I’m at my mother’s home for now.”
“Well, then. Welcome back to Crown Island.” He motioned to a speed limit sign a couple of car lengths ahead of them. “As you can see, we still take it slow around here.”
“Are you going to give me a ticket for that?”
Officer Blumenthal had the temerity to grin as if this was funny, instead of a costly inconvenience that would also drive up her insurance fee.
And today, of all days, when she could really use a break. “Can we wrap this up? Just give me the ticket.”
The officer shook his head. “Sorry, can’t do that.”
“And why not? Since I’m an actual perp—or whatever you call people like me. Scofflaws, maybe.”
“Scofflaw?” he repeated. One side of Officer Blumenthal’s TV-perfect mouth quirked up again.
Even she cringed at the word that came out of nowhere in her mind. That’s what she got for immersing herself in the past. She loved everything vintage—clothes, furniture, music.
More than anything, she loved researching historical mysteries, such as the enigma of Shakespeare’s identity. Her money was on Mary Sidney Herbert, Countess of Pembroke and literary grand dame. But maybe she was projecting.
If only people didn’t repeat the mistakes of the past. She gritted her teeth. That certainly went for her, too.
“We have a policy of sorts here on Crown Island. First offender scofflaws get a warning.” He touched his forehead. “Consider yourself warned, Ms. Raines.”
She gave him a curt nod. “I appreciate that.”
“And give your mother my best.” Officer Blumenthal turned and strode back to the patrol car.
April glared at him. He knew her mother, yet he still gave her grief?
She set her jaw and got back on her bike. As she rode to meet Deb, she reconsidered Calvin’s visit. This morning, she’d promised herself she would not shed a tear when he arrived. She’d wept and heard it before. All she wanted was for them to simply get back on plan. This was just a day. Like any other.
Except that now, after the Queen’s Flight, it wasn’t. Once again, April recalled her mother’s words. As the mist in her mind continued to clear, the world she’d once known slipped from its axis.
Or maybe it was regaining its balance.
By the time April pulled her bike outside of Cuppa Jo’s, a retro diner with a beach view, she felt different. More confident. More like herself than she had in a very long time.
Decades, perhaps. But would this feeling last?
April parked her bike beside Deb’s among the other bicycles and golf carts locals used to zip around the island. She glanced at the vintage clock on the red Cuppa Jo’s neon sign. Calvin would be on the evening ferry in a few hours, and he expected the old, long-suffering April.
A gust of wind from the ocean blew through her, carrying with it a sudden premonition, warning her of a shift in all that had been. She shivered and opened the door to the diner.
3
“I can’t listen to this anymore!” Junie hung up on her sister, threw her phone against the rumpled pillows on her bed, and screamed. May could be infuriating. This time, even more than usual.
Thank goodness her mother wasn’t home. But she could hear her grandmother in the kitchen.
A muffled ring immediately erupted, and Junie snatched the phone. May was on video again, her perfectly blow-dried, strawberry-blond hair swinging around her shoulders as she strutted through an office complex in Seattle, complete with Roman columns and fountains. Her heels clicked on the hard surface.
“Now what?” Junie brushed straggly wisps of hair back toward her haphazard ponytail and straightened the collar of her husband’s favorite blue cotton pajama top, which hung to her knees. It was the best she could do, though her sister still looked at her with contempt for her appearance.
“Hey, Maileah.” A man’s voice rang out, calling out to her sister with a name Junie didn’t recall hearing. “Are we still on for drinks after work?”
“I’ll see you there,” her sister replied with an airy wave.
Junie waited until the man moved out of frame. “Did he call you May-le-ah? Is that your new name du jour?”
“Shh. You know it is.” Her sister lowered her voice. “May is too plain for my profession, and I’d prefer not to be known as a weather forecast. May Raines-Smith. I sound like a weather-maker.” She smirked. “It’s okay for you and Mom. It’s weird, but you’d think that after dealing with that, Mom would have chosen better names for us.”
Junie had heard this before. “Except no one knows who you are from one week to the next.”
“That’s an exaggeration. I’ve been Maileah for a year. And this time, it’s official. I filed a legal name change.”
“Whatever, Maybelle.” Her sister had been separating herself from the pack practically since birth. And their father only encouraged it. Choosing to ignore that, Junie asked, “Why did you call back?”
“To make sure you won’t tell Mom what I said, okay?”
Junie twisted her lips to one side. “Don’t worry. That’s your job. I’m not doing your dirty work. Or Dad’s.”
“Just because I’m accepting this situation for what it is—”
“I get it,” Junie snapped. “Your maturity is impressive. Is that what you want to hear? But whose side are you on?”
Junie pursed her perfectly outlined lips. “I can see both sides.”
“Well, I can’t.”
“Don’t be such a child.”
Junie tamped down her anger. “You have the nerve to say that after what I’ve been through?” Although her sister was two years older, life had taken a greater toll on Junie.
“Look, I’m sorry.” May—Maileah—actually flushed. “But I can’t tell her.”
“No, that would be our father’s place.”
“She’ll find out sooner or later.”
Junie couldn’t bear that. Her mother had every reason to be angry and hurt over what their father had done, but she also wanted to reconcile and go home. Through her open window, she’d heard her mother and grandmother talking with Deb this morning.
“Maybe not,” Junie insisted. “This can all blow over, just like before. And Mom didn’t quit her job. She took a leave of absence.”
Her sister heaved a sophisticated sigh. “That’s called magical thinking, Sis. I heard even adult children dream of their parents getting back together.”
“And they might. I heard her say Dad is flying in today. You know what that means. He wants her to fly back with him.”
Junie couldn’t believe her sister was accepting this separation as a fait accompli. She could hardly speak to her father anymore, not that he called very often.
“Junie. Listen to me.”
Her sister’s light green eyes bore into hers, even over a screen.
“It’s true,” Junie went on. “If Dad didn’t want to see Mom, he wouldn’t be making a trip here to see her. Crown Island isn’t the easiest place to visit. Seattle is a fairly long flight, or two without a nonstop, then a shuttle or Uber car from the San Diego airport, or maybe Orange County, and finally, a ferry from Summer Beach to the island.”
“I know how to get there.”
“Do you? Because it’s been a long time since you visited Nana. She was very sick this summer.”
“Did you forget she was at the house last Christmas?”
“Of course not.” Her sister was exasperating.
“You have to be prepared. That’s all I’m saying. But don’t let Mom know.”
Junie clutched her phone. “It’s not happening, I’m telling you.” Her stomach clenched with anguish. If what her sister said was true—but no. She couldn’t think that way. Anything was possible.
Junie had to believe that. Now that she couldn’t create a family of her own, she clung to what she had. Nothing good could come from a splintered family.
As her sister opened the door to her office building, she whispered, “I have to go. Promise me?”
“Trust me, I won’t breathe a word.”
“And Junie?”
“What?”
“Get dressed.” Her voice dropped a notch. “You’ll feel better if you do.”
“It doesn’t make a difference, Maybelline.”
“Maileah.” She rolled her eyes, and with a flutter of her manicured nails, she clicked off.
Junie flopped onto the bed. The image in her mind of her father with another woman was almost more than she could bear. Her sister had never been married—or even in love, Junie suspected. She ran through men like mascara. Her sister couldn’t comprehend how deep a bond could be between two people.
Junie ran a hand over her heart as her husband’s face floated into her mind. He was never far from her thoughts, and she missed him with such intensity it brought a physical ache to her body.
She reached out a hand to the empty spot on the bed beside her. “You should be here,” she said as she stroked the sheet, imagining the warmth of Mark’s body there, as if he’d just gotten up to make coffee or catch a flight.
Like that flight to London.
The next day, without warning, her world collapsed. She could still hear the explanation the police offered. He looked left, not right, before stepping into the crosswalk. Opposite to the flow of traffic he was accustomed to at home. Too many Americans make that mistake. If only the cab hadn’t run the light.
Mark had died instantly, she was told.
If Junie hadn’t been sick, she would’ve gone with him. She might have looked in the right direction. She might have seen the cab.
Feeling the same guilt now as then, she stroked the sheet. Had she known she might never see him again, what would she have said or done differently? Did he really know how much she loved him? Those thoughts haunted her sleepless nights, and she could seldom alleviate the ache she felt to her bones.
When Junie had called her mother, she’d dropped everything to be with her and stayed by her side through every harrowing step. Her father had only called. Often enough, she supposed, grudgingly, but he’d remained at the university.
She never forgot that. Just last spring, he’d told her, You’re young. You’ll find another husband. She replied that if he really wanted to console her, he should have gone with her and her mom to London to claim Mark’s body and bring him home for burial. But no, his students were more important. Junie curled her hands into tight fists. His empty platitudes meant little.
Besides, Junie doubted she could love another as she had loved Mark. She curled onto her side, cradling her abdomen and thinking about the child they’d been trying to conceive.
She yearned for a piece of Mark, a reminder in a young child’s face that she could cradle in her hands. Without Mark or his baby, Junie ached with a deep and profound loneliness for which she had few words.
As a widow—how she hated that word!—she understood the potential loss her mother was facing in a way that her sister could not. The breakdown of her parents’ marriage was the death of a relationship, even if it wasn’t perfect by most standards.
A tap sounded at the door. “Hi, honey. Are you okay in there?”
“I’m alright, Nana.” Junie sniffed and wiped hot tears from her eyes.
“Who were you yelling at, dear?”
Junie got up and opened the door. “May. Excuse me, she’s now calling herself Maileah.”
Her grandmother nodded. “You once changed your name.”
“What was I, two years old?”
“Three, as I recall.” Ella smiled and touched the doorjamb. “How about breakfast? Your mother went for a bike ride with Deb.”
“I heard.” Junie was worried about her grandmother, even though she was regaining color in her face. “But let me make something for you. Mark taught me how to prepare the best Eggs Benedict. And it’s not that hard.”
“I’d love that.” A smile bloomed on Ella’s face. “I shouldn’t have such rich foods, but just once won’t hurt.” She held out her hand.
Junie grasped it like a lifeline. Tucking her arm through her grandmother’s, they made their way into the cozy blue-and-white kitchen where they often talked. Junie touched her head to her grandmother’s. “I love you, Nana.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart.” Ella paused. “Want to talk about it?”
“Maileah called me a child.”
“She only says that to make herself feel superior. Probably because she’s not getting the sort of love you had with Mark. A love like that makes you feel confident, on top of the world.” Ella’s voice gained strength as she spoke.
Junie nodded. “I always felt like there was nothing Mark and I couldn’t accomplish together.” She hadn’t considered that about her sister.
Ella eased onto a cushioned bench at the rustic kitchen table. “I’m glad you experienced such a great love. Your Mark was a lot like my Augustus. Smart and talented, with the biggest heart of any man I’d ever known.”
“That’s exactly right. You always understand how I feel.” Junie drew in her lip. She wished her mother could say that, too.
Ella plucked a few basil leaves from a potted plant on the table. More herbs lined the window over the sink, tucked into pottery pots that April had made. Chives, oregano, dill. “These will be good as a garnish. Let me know if you need any help.”
“You’re fine where you are. Just relax.” Junie brought eggs and butter from the refrigerator. Being with her grandmother always made her happy. Now she felt useful, too.
Ella cleared her throat. “Your father called this morning.”
“I heard.” Junie slid a pair of English muffins into a toaster oven and placed a pot of water on the stovetop. “He’s coming, right?”
“Yes. I’m sure he’s missed you.”
“I doubt that. When I was living at home, all he talked about was my getting a job and moving out.”
“Your father only wants you to be happy. While it’s fortunate that Mark left you well-situated financially, having a purpose in life is healthy. Have you thought of what you’d like to do?”
“Mark was the computer genius. The only experience I had was in a shop.” Junie shrugged off the idea. “Dad is more concerned with what he wants, not his family.”
Her grandmother frowned and plucked a few more basil leaves as she listened.
“Mark made me happier than I’d ever been, but Dad could never accept him because he hadn’t gone to college. But Mark was brilliant. He’d been coding since he was ten years old. He’d traveled the world and knew more about people and cultures than any of the fraternity guys I had dated.” She eased eggs into the simmering water with a spoon. Next, she sliced a chunk of butter into a saucepan to make hollandaise—just as Mark had taught her.
“I was tremendously fond of him,” Ella said. “And he would want to see you creating a new life.”
A new life. Junie thought about that. She had met him at a party in Seattle the day she graduated from college. From that night on, they’d been inseparable. When he saw her collection of shoes for every sport and heard how hard it was to find exactly what she wanted, he had an idea to sell specialized sports shoes online. She was all in. Her father had been pushing her to follow him into academia, but that was the last thing she wanted.
She sighed. Who gets a ticket on a bicycle? She knew it was possible, but she’d grown up here, riding the same bike on the same trail for years.
“I’ve been here on an extended visit. Actually, this is my hometown,” she added, incredulous as he wrote her information on the form.
Calvin had been forwarding her mail, and he’d be furious at her for getting a ticket. That wasn’t a good way for them to start over, but surely it wouldn’t go on her driving record. It was a bike, for heaven’s sake.
She exhaled, trying to lessen her annoyance.
While she waited, her mother’s words swept through her. The sea breeze will clear your mind.
Maybe it had on that ride down the Queen’s Flight. She held her head a little higher.
Her mother had always given her good advice. She couldn’t imagine what she would ever do without her.
Slowly, an uncomfortable realization dawned on her. In the bright, unrelenting sunshine, she flipped through the mental pages of her past. Most mistakes she’d made in life were because she hadn’t followed her mother’s advice.
Like the riptide that had almost drowned her.
And the senior prom dress that really had been too tight.
Or Calvin.
The first time they’d broken up while they were dating, her mother had turned up a Carly Simon song on the radio and turned to her. This is about Calvin, she’d said.
The song? “You’re So Vain.”
Yet, April had been powerfully drawn to him, as sure as waves to the shore. She loved him—and a part of her always would—but she’d lost respect for him long ago.
“I’ll need to run this license,” Officer Blumenthal said, turning toward his patrol car.
April folded her arms and nodded.
As she waited, she chewed her lip in thought. As much as she wanted to go home, could she return this time? Before, her daughters hadn’t known what she’d put up with in her marriage. But now, that illusion had been shattered.
Junie had said, Mom, I’m worried about Dad. I think he might be having a midlife crisis. This time, everyone knew. Even her daughters, to her mortification.
She pressed her fingers to her temples; the bone-chattering ride down the hill seemed to have shaken something loose in her mind.
With sudden clarity, scenes from her life shifted like pieces on a chessboard, begging for a new strategy. Where did she belong now? Certainly not at the university where she’d worked for the last ten years. April puffed out a little breath and straightened her shoulders. Pity was no substitute for respect. She still had some pride left.
Yet, she also had to earn a living, and she didn’t relish tearing her family apart. She twisted her mouth to one side in contemplation. Life wasn’t a textbook with the answers in the back.
Officer Blumenthal sauntered back to her. “If you decide to stay, you’ll need to change that address.”
Where would he get that idea? But she wasn’t in the mood to elaborate. “I’m at my mother’s home for now.”
“Well, then. Welcome back to Crown Island.” He motioned to a speed limit sign a couple of car lengths ahead of them. “As you can see, we still take it slow around here.”
“Are you going to give me a ticket for that?”
Officer Blumenthal had the temerity to grin as if this was funny, instead of a costly inconvenience that would also drive up her insurance fee.
And today, of all days, when she could really use a break. “Can we wrap this up? Just give me the ticket.”
The officer shook his head. “Sorry, can’t do that.”
“And why not? Since I’m an actual perp—or whatever you call people like me. Scofflaws, maybe.”
“Scofflaw?” he repeated. One side of Officer Blumenthal’s TV-perfect mouth quirked up again.
Even she cringed at the word that came out of nowhere in her mind. That’s what she got for immersing herself in the past. She loved everything vintage—clothes, furniture, music.
More than anything, she loved researching historical mysteries, such as the enigma of Shakespeare’s identity. Her money was on Mary Sidney Herbert, Countess of Pembroke and literary grand dame. But maybe she was projecting.
If only people didn’t repeat the mistakes of the past. She gritted her teeth. That certainly went for her, too.
“We have a policy of sorts here on Crown Island. First offender scofflaws get a warning.” He touched his forehead. “Consider yourself warned, Ms. Raines.”
She gave him a curt nod. “I appreciate that.”
“And give your mother my best.” Officer Blumenthal turned and strode back to the patrol car.
April glared at him. He knew her mother, yet he still gave her grief?
She set her jaw and got back on her bike. As she rode to meet Deb, she reconsidered Calvin’s visit. This morning, she’d promised herself she would not shed a tear when he arrived. She’d wept and heard it before. All she wanted was for them to simply get back on plan. This was just a day. Like any other.
Except that now, after the Queen’s Flight, it wasn’t. Once again, April recalled her mother’s words. As the mist in her mind continued to clear, the world she’d once known slipped from its axis.
Or maybe it was regaining its balance.
By the time April pulled her bike outside of Cuppa Jo’s, a retro diner with a beach view, she felt different. More confident. More like herself than she had in a very long time.
Decades, perhaps. But would this feeling last?
April parked her bike beside Deb’s among the other bicycles and golf carts locals used to zip around the island. She glanced at the vintage clock on the red Cuppa Jo’s neon sign. Calvin would be on the evening ferry in a few hours, and he expected the old, long-suffering April.
A gust of wind from the ocean blew through her, carrying with it a sudden premonition, warning her of a shift in all that had been. She shivered and opened the door to the diner.
3
“I can’t listen to this anymore!” Junie hung up on her sister, threw her phone against the rumpled pillows on her bed, and screamed. May could be infuriating. This time, even more than usual.
Thank goodness her mother wasn’t home. But she could hear her grandmother in the kitchen.
A muffled ring immediately erupted, and Junie snatched the phone. May was on video again, her perfectly blow-dried, strawberry-blond hair swinging around her shoulders as she strutted through an office complex in Seattle, complete with Roman columns and fountains. Her heels clicked on the hard surface.
“Now what?” Junie brushed straggly wisps of hair back toward her haphazard ponytail and straightened the collar of her husband’s favorite blue cotton pajama top, which hung to her knees. It was the best she could do, though her sister still looked at her with contempt for her appearance.
“Hey, Maileah.” A man’s voice rang out, calling out to her sister with a name Junie didn’t recall hearing. “Are we still on for drinks after work?”
“I’ll see you there,” her sister replied with an airy wave.
Junie waited until the man moved out of frame. “Did he call you May-le-ah? Is that your new name du jour?”
“Shh. You know it is.” Her sister lowered her voice. “May is too plain for my profession, and I’d prefer not to be known as a weather forecast. May Raines-Smith. I sound like a weather-maker.” She smirked. “It’s okay for you and Mom. It’s weird, but you’d think that after dealing with that, Mom would have chosen better names for us.”
Junie had heard this before. “Except no one knows who you are from one week to the next.”
“That’s an exaggeration. I’ve been Maileah for a year. And this time, it’s official. I filed a legal name change.”
“Whatever, Maybelle.” Her sister had been separating herself from the pack practically since birth. And their father only encouraged it. Choosing to ignore that, Junie asked, “Why did you call back?”
“To make sure you won’t tell Mom what I said, okay?”
Junie twisted her lips to one side. “Don’t worry. That’s your job. I’m not doing your dirty work. Or Dad’s.”
“Just because I’m accepting this situation for what it is—”
“I get it,” Junie snapped. “Your maturity is impressive. Is that what you want to hear? But whose side are you on?”
Junie pursed her perfectly outlined lips. “I can see both sides.”
“Well, I can’t.”
“Don’t be such a child.”
Junie tamped down her anger. “You have the nerve to say that after what I’ve been through?” Although her sister was two years older, life had taken a greater toll on Junie.
“Look, I’m sorry.” May—Maileah—actually flushed. “But I can’t tell her.”
“No, that would be our father’s place.”
“She’ll find out sooner or later.”
Junie couldn’t bear that. Her mother had every reason to be angry and hurt over what their father had done, but she also wanted to reconcile and go home. Through her open window, she’d heard her mother and grandmother talking with Deb this morning.
“Maybe not,” Junie insisted. “This can all blow over, just like before. And Mom didn’t quit her job. She took a leave of absence.”
Her sister heaved a sophisticated sigh. “That’s called magical thinking, Sis. I heard even adult children dream of their parents getting back together.”
“And they might. I heard her say Dad is flying in today. You know what that means. He wants her to fly back with him.”
Junie couldn’t believe her sister was accepting this separation as a fait accompli. She could hardly speak to her father anymore, not that he called very often.
“Junie. Listen to me.”
Her sister’s light green eyes bore into hers, even over a screen.
“It’s true,” Junie went on. “If Dad didn’t want to see Mom, he wouldn’t be making a trip here to see her. Crown Island isn’t the easiest place to visit. Seattle is a fairly long flight, or two without a nonstop, then a shuttle or Uber car from the San Diego airport, or maybe Orange County, and finally, a ferry from Summer Beach to the island.”
“I know how to get there.”
“Do you? Because it’s been a long time since you visited Nana. She was very sick this summer.”
“Did you forget she was at the house last Christmas?”
“Of course not.” Her sister was exasperating.
“You have to be prepared. That’s all I’m saying. But don’t let Mom know.”
Junie clutched her phone. “It’s not happening, I’m telling you.” Her stomach clenched with anguish. If what her sister said was true—but no. She couldn’t think that way. Anything was possible.
Junie had to believe that. Now that she couldn’t create a family of her own, she clung to what she had. Nothing good could come from a splintered family.
As her sister opened the door to her office building, she whispered, “I have to go. Promise me?”
“Trust me, I won’t breathe a word.”
“And Junie?”
“What?”
“Get dressed.” Her voice dropped a notch. “You’ll feel better if you do.”
“It doesn’t make a difference, Maybelline.”
“Maileah.” She rolled her eyes, and with a flutter of her manicured nails, she clicked off.
Junie flopped onto the bed. The image in her mind of her father with another woman was almost more than she could bear. Her sister had never been married—or even in love, Junie suspected. She ran through men like mascara. Her sister couldn’t comprehend how deep a bond could be between two people.
Junie ran a hand over her heart as her husband’s face floated into her mind. He was never far from her thoughts, and she missed him with such intensity it brought a physical ache to her body.
She reached out a hand to the empty spot on the bed beside her. “You should be here,” she said as she stroked the sheet, imagining the warmth of Mark’s body there, as if he’d just gotten up to make coffee or catch a flight.
Like that flight to London.
The next day, without warning, her world collapsed. She could still hear the explanation the police offered. He looked left, not right, before stepping into the crosswalk. Opposite to the flow of traffic he was accustomed to at home. Too many Americans make that mistake. If only the cab hadn’t run the light.
Mark had died instantly, she was told.
If Junie hadn’t been sick, she would’ve gone with him. She might have looked in the right direction. She might have seen the cab.
Feeling the same guilt now as then, she stroked the sheet. Had she known she might never see him again, what would she have said or done differently? Did he really know how much she loved him? Those thoughts haunted her sleepless nights, and she could seldom alleviate the ache she felt to her bones.
When Junie had called her mother, she’d dropped everything to be with her and stayed by her side through every harrowing step. Her father had only called. Often enough, she supposed, grudgingly, but he’d remained at the university.
She never forgot that. Just last spring, he’d told her, You’re young. You’ll find another husband. She replied that if he really wanted to console her, he should have gone with her and her mom to London to claim Mark’s body and bring him home for burial. But no, his students were more important. Junie curled her hands into tight fists. His empty platitudes meant little.
Besides, Junie doubted she could love another as she had loved Mark. She curled onto her side, cradling her abdomen and thinking about the child they’d been trying to conceive.
She yearned for a piece of Mark, a reminder in a young child’s face that she could cradle in her hands. Without Mark or his baby, Junie ached with a deep and profound loneliness for which she had few words.
As a widow—how she hated that word!—she understood the potential loss her mother was facing in a way that her sister could not. The breakdown of her parents’ marriage was the death of a relationship, even if it wasn’t perfect by most standards.
A tap sounded at the door. “Hi, honey. Are you okay in there?”
“I’m alright, Nana.” Junie sniffed and wiped hot tears from her eyes.
“Who were you yelling at, dear?”
Junie got up and opened the door. “May. Excuse me, she’s now calling herself Maileah.”
Her grandmother nodded. “You once changed your name.”
“What was I, two years old?”
“Three, as I recall.” Ella smiled and touched the doorjamb. “How about breakfast? Your mother went for a bike ride with Deb.”
“I heard.” Junie was worried about her grandmother, even though she was regaining color in her face. “But let me make something for you. Mark taught me how to prepare the best Eggs Benedict. And it’s not that hard.”
“I’d love that.” A smile bloomed on Ella’s face. “I shouldn’t have such rich foods, but just once won’t hurt.” She held out her hand.
Junie grasped it like a lifeline. Tucking her arm through her grandmother’s, they made their way into the cozy blue-and-white kitchen where they often talked. Junie touched her head to her grandmother’s. “I love you, Nana.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart.” Ella paused. “Want to talk about it?”
“Maileah called me a child.”
“She only says that to make herself feel superior. Probably because she’s not getting the sort of love you had with Mark. A love like that makes you feel confident, on top of the world.” Ella’s voice gained strength as she spoke.
Junie nodded. “I always felt like there was nothing Mark and I couldn’t accomplish together.” She hadn’t considered that about her sister.
Ella eased onto a cushioned bench at the rustic kitchen table. “I’m glad you experienced such a great love. Your Mark was a lot like my Augustus. Smart and talented, with the biggest heart of any man I’d ever known.”
“That’s exactly right. You always understand how I feel.” Junie drew in her lip. She wished her mother could say that, too.
Ella plucked a few basil leaves from a potted plant on the table. More herbs lined the window over the sink, tucked into pottery pots that April had made. Chives, oregano, dill. “These will be good as a garnish. Let me know if you need any help.”
“You’re fine where you are. Just relax.” Junie brought eggs and butter from the refrigerator. Being with her grandmother always made her happy. Now she felt useful, too.
Ella cleared her throat. “Your father called this morning.”
“I heard.” Junie slid a pair of English muffins into a toaster oven and placed a pot of water on the stovetop. “He’s coming, right?”
“Yes. I’m sure he’s missed you.”
“I doubt that. When I was living at home, all he talked about was my getting a job and moving out.”
“Your father only wants you to be happy. While it’s fortunate that Mark left you well-situated financially, having a purpose in life is healthy. Have you thought of what you’d like to do?”
“Mark was the computer genius. The only experience I had was in a shop.” Junie shrugged off the idea. “Dad is more concerned with what he wants, not his family.”
Her grandmother frowned and plucked a few more basil leaves as she listened.
“Mark made me happier than I’d ever been, but Dad could never accept him because he hadn’t gone to college. But Mark was brilliant. He’d been coding since he was ten years old. He’d traveled the world and knew more about people and cultures than any of the fraternity guys I had dated.” She eased eggs into the simmering water with a spoon. Next, she sliced a chunk of butter into a saucepan to make hollandaise—just as Mark had taught her.
“I was tremendously fond of him,” Ella said. “And he would want to see you creating a new life.”
A new life. Junie thought about that. She had met him at a party in Seattle the day she graduated from college. From that night on, they’d been inseparable. When he saw her collection of shoes for every sport and heard how hard it was to find exactly what she wanted, he had an idea to sell specialized sports shoes online. She was all in. Her father had been pushing her to follow him into academia, but that was the last thing she wanted.
