“No!” came the inevitable protests, and she was reminded again that the glorious days of naps were coming to an end. Then what? Usually she used those two precious hours to meal prep for dinner, straighten the house, and pick up all the toys that had been dumped all over the living room that morning even though she knew that they would be upturned again before evening. Those two hours were the only time in her entire day, other than after eight, when she was too tired to do much more than sip a glass of wine and zone out in front of reality television, when the house was quiet. And in the evenings, she had to shift her attention from the girls to Evan, of course, to go from serving her children to serving her husband. To hear the latest updates about work, to give her insight, to be supportive.
Was it so wrong to want something, anything, for herself? To have her own day to talk about, one that didn’t revolve around playground happenings?
The downside of naptime on Evening Island was that she was bound to the house, and the house was not hers, much as she’d tried, with some little touches like colorful throw pillows to replace the faded floral ones that Gran had kept on the patio furniture all those years, and the lanterns and flowers, and fresh linens that she’d bought for all of their beds, even if Ellie did look more disturbed than grateful.
Gemma’s announcement hadn’t helped matters, she thought, as she gathered all the toys into her canvas beach tote. She’d had the sense to pack it, and the toys were faded remnants of her own childhood, found in the hall closet on the top shelf, a relic from another era, much like the old wicker furniture on the porch, or the juice glasses that still bore the faded print of lilacs on the edges. She hadn’t even thought of those in so many years, but once she saw them again, she was overwhelmed with nostalgia and longing, for another time, another place. Another feeling.
She looked back up at the house. When Gemma had broached the idea to sell Sunset Cottage, it seemed to make sense. It was a big house that they rarely visited, worth enough that her share alone would fund the girls’ college bills and Ellie would be able to find a comfortable alternative. The house was so large, and in need of routine maintenance. Hope hadn’t thought about it in so many years; she’d been too wrapped up with her day-to-day life to look back on the past. But now, being here, it seemed that it was all she could think about.
And it was safer than thinking about the future.
At that, her stomach twisted and she set a hand to her waist to settle it. Evan had called already, as she assumed he would, and she’d answered, only to hand the phone to the girls, but the reception had been lost partway through the call. When he’d called again, he’d asked when she was coming home, and she couldn’t answer that because she didn’t know. She couldn’t stay here forever, especially not if they sold the house.
She focused again on the house, on the front porch where her own mother used to sit and play cards and chat with the other mothers. It seemed impossible to believe that she was once the girl who would run barefoot on this beachfront, and splash in the water, and not care if her shoulders got too much sun or if she got sand in her hair.
Now she was the mother who was brushing sand out of her children’s hair. The cycle of life had continued, just as she somehow always knew it would, that life would carry on for her as it always had, as it had been so carefully laid out for her.
Suddenly, the thought of going into the house, confined to the memories and the reminders of the past, and the horrible, sinking thought of what might have been, what path might have been chosen, became almost less appealing than the thought of two cranky girls who had missed their nap. She longed to walk through town, without the double-wide stroller that was another part of her routine the girls were quickly growing out of, sooner than she wished. Sure, it was hard to wrestle that thing through standard doors, but without it…She tried to picture walking hand in hand with the girls for any length of time and felt herself almost tear up. They’d resist. They’d get tired. She’d be even more housebound than she was now, with even less to talk about with her husband when he came home, with even less interaction with other people, and that was…unbearable.
It took ten minutes to pack up the beach toys and cross the street to the house, and another fifteen to rinse off in the tub because Victoria had so much sand in her hair that it had to be washed, and that always caused a howling fit.
From upstairs she heard Gemma say something she couldn’t make out and then close her door with more force than Hope felt was really necessary. Yes, she was writing a book, and yes, she had a deadline, but did she really need to show how much more important that was than what Hope was doing?
Hope stared at her two girls in the tub in dismay. She was rinsing sand out of a child’s hair, and Gemma was writing a book that would soon be shelved alongside her other, in bookstores across the nation. Who was she kidding?
With record speed, she drained the water, dried the girls with fluffy striped towels that she had also purchased (again, with a questioning frown from Ellie) and tucked them into their side-by-side beds and drew the curtains.
They fell asleep quickly, thanks to the fresh air and endless activity, and Hope walked up to the third floor and knocked quietly on the door. From behind it, she heard Gemma curse. A moment later, she opened the door. Her hair was pulled into a wild-looking bun and her mouth was pinched.
“Sorry, but I was going to head into for a bit. The girls are asleep. Would you mind just listening out for them? I should be back before they wake up.”
Gemma’s eyes bulged. “I’m trying to work.”
“And they’re asleep.”
“I don’t think you realize what kind of pressure I’m under here,” Gemma replied in a steely voice.
Now this was completely unfair! “I was the one who suggested you come up here, remember?” Hope pointed out.
“Yes, and then you came too, and what I thought was going to be a quiet place to write has turned into a raucous family vacation!”
Hope knew deep down that Gemma loved the twins, but she couldn’t deny the sting of her sister’s words. “I thought it would be nice for us to all spend some quality time together, as sisters.”
“It would be. But not until this book is finished,” Gemma said. “I don’t think you understand—”
“Oh, I understand,” Hope said, giving her sister a long look. “I did have a career too, once. And I understand when I’m not wanted.”
“I just wish you had mentioned that you wanted to come too—”
“Because then you wouldn’t have come? I do own a third of this house.” Hope tried to keep the hurt from creeping into her tone. “And I have been preparing the family meals, too.”
Now, she wondered why she bothered. It was a thankless job, no matter where she went. “Besides, when was the last time we were all together?” She shook her head. “Forget I asked. You’re right. I shouldn’t have come.”
She could leave. Take the ferry back on Monday. She could be back in time for Cindy’s daughter’s fifth birthday party next weekend. She realized with sudden panic that she hadn’t RSVP’d before she’d left and now she wouldn’t have to worry about canceling.
Still, she waited for Gemma to call after her, to say something, anything that would lessen the ache in her chest as she made her way back down to the second floor, the floorboards creaking underneath her. But instead, all Gemma did was close the door, reminding Hope that she was all alone when it came to this parenting thing, and that her dreams of a fun time with her sisters had been as much a pipe dream as her desire to have a career of her own.