The Guest Book (5 page)

M
acy lugged her mother’s unwieldy suitcase up the stairs, bumping it against each step as Emma hopped eagerly ahead of her and Max opened the door with a flourish, holding his hand out with a sweeping motion and a bow. “Ladies,” he said in a false bass voice.
“Entrez-vous.”
Below them on the driveway, Brenda hoisted luggage from the trunk like a woman half her age.

Emma giggled and sashayed past Max while Macy struggled up the last of the steps leading into the house. Just as she made it up the steps, Max took the handle of the suitcase from her.

“Allow me, Sis.”

With a smirk he pulled the suitcase into the house, leaving Macy to blink and sputter, “Oh, sure. Now!” before turning
back to get more supplies from the line of items Brenda had created in the driveway.

Emma was already running from room to room exclaiming, “I can’t believe we get to stay here for two whole weeks!”

Macy knew it sounded like a long time now, but she feared it would go by in a flash.

She grabbed Emma’s portable DVD player, pillow, and small suitcase from the trunk and started up the stairs again. Who needed an elliptical after this kind of workout? As she trudged up and down the stairs, Emma darted in and out of her path like a cat, hollering at anyone who would listen over this new discovery and that new thought:

“Uncle Max said we can go fishing on the pier!”

“Did you know there’s a roof deck and you can see for miles? When can we go up there, Mommy?”

“Grandma said we have to go to the grocery store today. Right away!”

“Can we get ice cream after dinner tonight?”

“Is it true you have to eat fish for dinner every night when you’re at the beach? Uncle Max said you do.” This exclamation was laced with fear and punctuated by a jutting lower lip.

“Max! Don’t get her all riled up!” Macy hollered in the direction of Max’s room before turning back to Emma. “No, honey, you can have all the regular foods you love, just like at home.”

Max poked his head out of his room. “What did I do?” He narrowed his eyes at Emma. “You selling me out, girl?
Don’t go busting on me to your mom, or I won’t tell you all my secrets.” He smirked at Macy. “Or your mom’s secrets either.”

Emma ran off to inspect Max’s room, and Macy rolled her eyes before turning back to the box of food staples she was unloading in the kitchen. She pulled out a half bag of something unrecognizable and squinted at it, wondering why on earth her mother had packed it and what it was.

“Mom?” she yelled over the noise of Emma’s laughter coming from Max’s room.

Her mother didn’t answer.

With the package in her hand, Macy went in search of Brenda, checking the master bedroom first. Her mother wasn’t there. She peeked out of the window at the car parked below, but her mother wasn’t unloading the last few items. She pursed her lips and squinted her eyes as she left the bedroom. As she passed the back door, she caught a glimpse of something white, the color of the knit polo Brenda was wearing. She stuck her head out the door and studied her mom, who was standing at the railing of the back porch, staring at the tiny strip of land that served as the backyard.

“Mom?” she ventured, slipping through the crack of sliding glass door and going to stand beside her mother. She inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of the air and wondering how anyone ever got used to the rich scent, the way even the air teemed with life here.

She placed one hand tentatively on her mother’s shoulder, the mystery food bag swinging from her other hand. When her
mother turned to look at Macy, there were tears in Brenda’s eyes. Brenda tried to smile despite them.

“I was just listening to you guys inside, teasing each other, thinking how much he would’ve loved this,” she said.

Macy’s own eyes filled with sudden tears. All these years and his presence was still just a thought away, filling up the space at a moment’s notice. “Yes,” she managed. “He would’ve for sure.”

“Do you think this was a good idea?” Brenda’s voice sounded as small and uncertain as Emma’s did when she’d had a bad dream. She turned to look out at the yard once more.

Macy could smell the ocean, teeming with life and depth, now so close to her. This is where life happens, her dad had once told her. So much life contained here, he’d said. Macy could use some life in her life.

She wrapped her arm tightly around Brenda’s thin shoulders. “No doubt about it. It was the perfect thing to do.”

“Do you really think that, or are you just trying to make me feel better?” Brenda asked, her blue eyes glassy from unshed tears.

Macy thought about the hope that had filled her in the car, the giddiness that kept welling up inside of her. No matter how fleeting it had been, it was there. “I really think that.” She held Brenda’s gaze and nodded. “I do.”

She took the moment they had and asked the question that had been bugging her since the day her mom had announced this trip. “Why are taking down the pictures of Dad?”

Brenda’s expression changed, and she turned around and went back inside. Macy followed her.

“I thought at first you were just cleaning in there,” Macy continued, as she slid the glass door shut behind them, the outside temperature remarkably different from the climate inside, “but you haven’t put them back up.”

Brenda started pulling things out of a box of food items in the kitchen, her back to Macy. For a moment she said nothing while Macy waited, the unidentified bag still clutched in her fist. Finally Brenda turned to face her daughter.

“To be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t ask sooner.” She fell silent, choosing her next words with care. “I guess I’m just taking small steps toward … changing some things. We’ve had the shrine for long enough.” She held up her hand when Macy started to argue over her mother’s use of her private joke with Max. “I’m not deaf, Mace. I’ve known for quite some time what you guys call it.” Her smile faded and her voice got quiet. “And it’s time to let it go. A little bit at a time.”

Macy’s eyes widened at her mother’s revelation. Coming back here. Taking down the shrine. Things were changing.

“Well,” she managed, “I think that’s good. A step in the right direction.”

She gave her mother her bravest smile. She wanted to say the right thing, to give Brenda the support she needed. But she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that the change scared her. She may not have liked the shrine or Brenda’s lasting grief, but it was what she knew. The familiarity of it gave her a sense
of security. She thought of Avis’s caution to not always go for what was comfortable, safe, known. It was true of Chase … and this. She had to give the people she loved the freedom to venture down their own paths, even if their path was unknown and uncomfortable for Macy.

But she couldn’t address any of that yet. With a smile she waved the strange food bag at Brenda. “Now, if you could just explain to me what this is.”

“They’re prunes,” Brenda said, and giggled. “You know how much Emma likes stewed prunes for breakfast. I just tossed them in the box.”

Macy started to laugh as she shook her head at her mother. “Only you, Mom. Only you would pack prunes for a beach trip.”

“Well, regularity is important no matter where you are,” Brenda quipped.

“TMI, Mom. TMI!” Macy said, as she left her mom in the kitchen with a smile on her face.

She found Emma sitting in the den, talking on Macy’s cell phone. And just like that, Macy’s smile faded.

“It’s Daddy!” Emma said, handing Macy the phone before she could argue or make an excuse not to talk to Chase. She thought of her mother’s words about how Emma was Chase’s access point to her heart. Her mom was right. She hadn’t planned to talk to Chase for the next two weeks.

She closed her eyes and uttered a hello.

“She sure sounds happy,” he said, his voice finding the raw part of Macy’s heart and settling there.

“Yes,” Macy managed. She didn’t say that she, too, had sounded happy just moments ago when she’d been laughing with her mom about the prunes.

“I was just making sure you made it down there safely,” Chase said. Max walked into the den and leaned against a wall with his arms crossed, studying her.

“She’s talking to Daddy,” Emma volunteered before racing to the kitchen.

Who said teaching children to talk was a good idea?
Macy vaguely wondered.
Especially this one, who talks like a miniature adult.

“Okay, well, we did,” she replied out loud. She looked at Max and Emma, who were both staring at her. “Can you hold on a minute?” she asked, looking pointedly at Max before fleeing the room and the unwelcome staring.

She headed to the bedroom she’d claimed as her own every year they stayed at Time in a Bottle, thinking that if someone would’ve told her a few years ago that she’d turn Chase down when he offered to join them at the beach, she would’ve never believed it. A few years ago she would’ve liked nothing better than for him to come to play on the beach with her and Emma, to take walks and eat seafood and find shells.

She sat down on the bed, the springs creaking in protest. She was willing to bet it was the same mattress she used to sleep on all those years ago.

“Look, Chase, I appreciate you checking up on us, but I just need time, like I said. To think … about all that’s happened.”

She thought about the way Chase used to corner her when
they were dating, pushing his body against hers and staring into her eyes for so long she had to look away first.

She thought about Max teasing her when they were kids. “You flinched,” he would say before jabbing her with his knuckle.

She never wanted to be the one who flinched. Those who flinched got hurt.

She inhaled deeply. It was so quiet on the other end she wondered if they had lost the connection. “Are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I just don’t know what to say. I feel like I’m losing you, and you’re just not telling me. I thought maybe if I called I’d … feel better or something.”

A slow burn of anger rose up in Macy. Chase always found a way to make everything about him. He always depended on her to make him feel better. “Look, I’ve got to finish unpacking. How about we just say good-bye for now. And use this time as a chance to think things through.”

“I’ve already thought things through, Mace. That’s why I came back.”

“Well, you had five years to come to that decision. I guess you can give me two weeks.” She ended the call and smiled at the thought of not flinching, of taking back the power she’d handed Chase so willingly in the past. She had to find her strength.

As she looked around the familiar room, she was comforted by the sight of it in all its retro glory. She was glad the owners hadn’t changed a thing. She needed the comfort of the past. She would find the good memories that lurked here and draw strength from them. And somehow, she’d stop flinching.

Macy tipped her head back as she stood against the roof-deck rail, trying not to think of how high up they were and how close to the edge Emma was standing. Max claimed to be a wild and crazy uncle, but Macy noticed how he stood protectively behind Emma. In spite of his wild ways, Max was a good uncle. When he was with Emma, it gave Macy a glimpse of the potential that lurked inside him, just under his party-boy exterior. Emma seemed to bring out the best in him and gave Macy hope about the man her brother could become.

Calmed by his watchful presence, she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the beach — the distant surf, the seagulls’ cries, cars driving slowly past, and the laughter of tourists peddling by on bicycles. She opened her eyes and took in the rosy sky as the sun let go of its hold on the day, slipping lower and lower on the horizon. As the name implied, Sunset Beach was known for its sunsets, but Macy had forgotten just how beautiful they were. She took a sip of cranberry spritzer, a drink her mother had made in honor of their first night back at Sunset Beach. Cold and refreshing, Macy hoped Brenda would make it again before the trip ended.

“I say we make this a … What do you call it when you do something the same way every year, Mommy?” Emma asked.

“A tradition,” Macy answered.

“Yeah, that’s it. I say we make this a tradition!” Emma clung to traditions like barnacles to pier pilings. It was as if the
child knew her family was fractured and sought ways to hold them together.

“I know another tradition I’d like to make,” Max said, ruffling his niece’s hair. He caught Macy’s eye and made a motion of raising a drink to his lips, reminding Macy that Max still had a ways to go. She thought of the recent bar fight he’d been in and hoped he’d exercise better judgment on this trip. But she knew he would probably slip away as soon as he could, seeking the comfort he always seemed to find in libations. She ventured dangerously close to judging him before she checked herself, remembering that she had her own habit to kick and his name was Chase.

“Want to go with me?” he asked. “Mom’ll stay with the munchkin here. She should be back soon.”

Brenda had volunteered to go the grocery store alone. She’d insisted it was so Macy could show Emma the beach, but Macy suspected Brenda was already craving some time alone by herself.

She shook her head. “It’s been a long day. I’m tired. Aren’t you?”

“Wimp.”

“I don’t want Mommy to leave,” Emma whined, her voice giving away her exhaustion.

Macy put her arms around Emma. “I’m not leaving. Don’t you worry, baby.”

She eyed Max, and he shook his head, knowing his cause was lost. She wished it were enough to keep him home but
knew it wouldn’t be. He would leave when it was dark, return when it was nearly light, and rise when the sun was high in the sky later tomorrow. If pressed, he would argue that he was on vacation and Macy had no right to question him. She closed her eyes again so she didn’t have to see him. She wanted to help her brother stop drinking, help her mom find happiness, help her daughter be okay with Chase’s uncertain presence, and help herself break free from Chase. A tall order for one beach trip.

She thought about what her dad had always said: “Why don’t we pray about it, Mace?”