The Lake Season (34 page)

Thirty-Seven

L
eah was sitting up in a chair working with the speech therapist when Iris arrived the next morning.

“How's she doing?” Iris asked when the therapist came out.

“Remarkable, considering.” She glanced at her notes. “I'm going to refer her for continued assistance at the rehabilitation center, but I think they'll discharge her shortly thereafter.” She smiled at Iris. “Like I said, she's doing great.”

At least one of us is
, Iris thought as she returned to Leah's room. She hadn't slept at all the night before, and her stomach felt queasy.

“Come here,” Leah said, patting the bed. “I want to talk to you.”

Iris waited as Leah tried to scoot over to make room for her. “Take your time,” she said, reaching to help.

But Leah waved her hand away. “I've got it.”

The therapist was right. Leah was doing remarkably well, and Iris had to stop fussing over her.

“So you're busting out of here, I hear?”

Leah smiled. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

Leah had been given the thumbs-up to be transferred to the rehabilitation center the next morning. She'd have access to all the help she needed, from the occupational therapy room to daily sessions with the in-house counselor. It was a relief to all of them.

“Mom and Dad are over at the center now, checking things out,” Iris told her.

Leah rolled her eyes. “Great, you know what that means.”

“Millie will have instilled the fear of God in the staff before you even arrive. And your roommate, if you have one, will have been displaced from the room. Which will have been completely rearranged and redecorated, of course.”

Leah laughed. “And they'll all hate me before I even arrive.”

“Nah, you'll win them over the second they meet you. Like you always do.” Iris squeezed her sister's hand. “Remember how Mom used to ‘visit' Girl Scout camp before our session each summer?”

“Oh, God. The gym schedule was totally revamped to make way for performing arts. And the junk food cereal was pulled from the mess-hall shelves.”

“Don't forget the time she suggested that the boys' camp be moved across the lake!”

Leah shook her head, giggling. “Remember we pretended not to know her on visiting weekend? We were so afraid the other kids would tease us.”

Iris grinned. “She always knew how to ruin stuff.”

“All for us!”

“But she meant well,” Leah added in their mother's defense.

“And she still does.” They sat for a minute, recalling their mother's interferences with fondness.

“Listen, I need to tell you something,” Leah said. She looked at Iris with an intensity that Iris could tell was hard to muster.

“Are you tired? Maybe I should go and let you rest.”

Leah shook her head. “It's about Stephen.”

“I already know, did he tell you we ‘bumped' into each other?”

“Yeah. That's what I want to talk to you about. I don't want you to be mad at him.”

“I'm not mad,” Iris reassured her, and Leah shot her a skeptical look. “Not anymore. We were just worried about you.”

“I know,” Leah said. “But I'm the one who made those choices.” She lowered her voice. “From keeping a secret to—”

Iris interjected. “You were hurting, Leah. I wish I'd known how much. I should've done more to help you.”

“No,” Leah interrupted. “Don't say that. You were there for me, just like Mom and Dad were. You were all just trying to protect me.” She shook her head ruefully. “From myself.”

Iris leaned against the pillows, allowing herself to think back over things she'd tried to forget. “Mom and I didn't agree. She wanted to let things go, and leave things up to you to handle. But I pushed you to tell Stephen about the pregnancy. On the eve of your wedding, no less. It wasn't my place.”

“You were trying to protect me from this.” She held her hands out, indicating the sterile hospital room around them. “Maybe if I'd listened, I wouldn't be here now.”

“So you're not upset with me?”

Leah sat up and wrapped her thin arms around her. “How could I be?”

“What do you want to happen next? What can I do to help?”

“Listen, Stephen and I have talked. A lot.” She paused. “We've made a decision.”

“About?” Iris asked warily.

“We want to work things out.” Leah beamed as she said it, but Iris couldn't help but be skeptical.

“Are you ready for that? I mean . . .”

“Yes. I am. Which is why I want you to tell Mom for me.”

Iris laughed out loud. “Excuse me? Were you not listening to everything we just said about summer camp?”

“Seriously, Iris. She has to know. He wants to stay, and I want her to let him.” She blinked. “I need him.”

“Okay. But why me?”

“Because she listens to you. You're the good one. The one with ‘her head on straight.' ”

“I wouldn't go that far.”

“No, it's true. She'll take it better coming from you. You're always so good at rationalizing things. If only you'd gone to law school, like she wanted.” She smiled ruefully. “Really, will you do this one thing for me?”

Iris hesitated. “Okay. But what do you want me to tell her exactly?”

“Tell her that we've decided to stay in Hampstead. Stephen thinks he can work from the East Coast. When I get better we'll find a place together near the farm.” She sank back against her pillows, stifling a yawn. “I'm not saying it's going to be easy. But somehow, I think we're all going to be okay.”

So, they were staying after all. It was the best news Iris could've hoped for her. Leah would get to stay at the farm, doing what she loved. And Stephen would be with her, doing what he loved, if from a distance. “I'm happy for you, Leah. You deserve this.”

Iris watched as Leah's eyelids began to flutter. It was still hard to see her vibrant sister worn out by a mere conversation. “I'll tell Mom.”

“You too, Iris. You're going to be okay, too.”

“I know.”

Leah opened her eyes. “No, you don't. I saw you this summer. I know how messed up I was with my own shit, but I saw you.” She yawned again, her words coming more slowly. “You were the old Iris.”

“Old?” Iris forced a laugh.

“The happy Iris. Like when we were kids.”

Iris looked out the window. “I don't think I was ever
that
happy as a kid. Not compared to you, at least.”

“Sure you were.”

“No, that would be you.” Iris let out a nervous laugh. “The popular one, the champion swimmer. No matter what I did, you always came along and did it better.”

Leah turned to her. “Why do you think I tried so hard? How do you think I won all those ribbons?”

Iris sighed, the old jealousies of it creeping back. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“I was just trying to keep up with you.”

Iris stared back at her sister, a blank look on her face.

“Come on, you must've known. You were the good one. I may have been the loud, exciting one, but that was your shadow I was always chasing.” Leah adjusted the blankets and closed her eyes again. “You deserve to be happy, Iris. Just let yourself.”

Iris stiffened slightly on the bed. “Listen, you'd better get some rest. Besides, I should probably head back to the farm. Paul's been with the kids all week. I think they're getting ready to go home soon.”

Leah gave a small nod against her pillow, eyes still closed. “What about you?” she murmured.

Iris wavered. Although she'd come to a decision at Cooper's, she was still not at peace with it. “I think maybe I should go home with them.”

Leah didn't answer at first, and Iris wondered if perhaps she'd fallen asleep. After a minute she got up and quietly fetched her purse. But as she paused at the bed, Leah's hand found her own.

Her voice was a mere whisper before she gave in to sleep. “You are home.”

Thirty-Eight

T
he next afternoon Iris stood by her own bed, in her childhood room. She gazed at the suitcase and bags strewn across its quilted surface and shook her head. How had she acquired so much stuff?

“This is pretty,” Trish said, handing her a coral silk scarf. It was the one she'd bought in town, in her fit of defiance. Along with the two pairs of heels, which she held up now. She examined the soles of the black pair, which Leah had scuffed up that crazy night in the bar. Even her shoes retained the scars of the summer.

“You take these,” Iris said, thrusting them at Trish.

“What do you mean? You rocked these heels.”

Iris frowned. “Where am I going to wear those back at home? Soccer? A Girl Scouts meeting?”

“Well, aside from the fact I couldn't jam my size-eleven feet into these to begin with, you are not tossing these out. You find a place to wear them. They're part of the new you!”

Trish was smiling, but Iris wasn't so sure that bringing the new her home was such a good idea. “They make me feel guilty.”

“That's crap.” Trish dangled the black heels between them. “How can a pair of shoes make you feel guilty?”

“I don't know. I bought them when I was mad. When I was trying to turn into someone else. They just feel illicit somehow, coming home with me.”

“Illicit my ass. You mean sexy. And there is nothing wrong with sexy, Iris. You could use a little more sexy. Now pack these in that suitcase before I rap you over the head with them.”

Iris gave in and tucked them under her mom jeans, which had so far escaped Trish's attention. Until now.

“These, however, should be burned!” Trish plucked out the pair of Iris's saggy old jeans. Before Iris could snatch them away, she tossed them over her shoulder to the garbage can in the corner.

“Stop, I can wear those in the garden,” Iris objected.

Trish narrowed her eyes. “Oh, I see. I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“You're going to go home and revert right back to your old ways. As if this summer never happened.”

Iris stared at her suitcase.

“Isn't that right?” Trish pressed.

“Well, how else do I go home? It's not like I'm gonna make a scrapbook on Shutterfly and tote it to Back to School Night. ‘Look, Ainsley Perry. Here's a photo of my sister causing a bar brawl! Here's a picture of the divorce papers I never went through with! And
here's
my summer boyfriend, the man I slept with while my no-longer-to-be-divorced-from husband was home watching my kids!'” Iris forced a small laugh, but inside she felt like she might throw up.

Trish did not laugh. Instead she sat down on the bed, studying Iris in a way that made her want to crawl in the suitcase. “Is that how you really feel about your summer?”

“No. I don't know. How should you feel about a summer that you love, but that never should have happened?”

Trish listened quietly. “Here's what I think. I think that this summer was forced on you. Paul started it. Hell, he sent you divorce papers. And you were simply reeling in his wake. You were brave to come up here on your own. If you ask me, I think you found beauty at the bottom of a toilet bowl. You survived it. And so what if you've got a pair of sexy shoes to show for it?”

Iris listened in disbelief. She'd been so busy worrying about the kids, about Leah, about Cooper. She'd forgotten that this summer had originally started out as a time when she needed to be worried about herself. And that it had been not only a forgivable indulgence but a necessary one.

“Don't you feel guilty for a second.” Trish pointed her finger right under Iris's nose, then pinched it.

“What am I going to do without you?” Iris leaned over and hugged her.

“You won't have to find out. You're coming back to visit me. Every month!”

“Trish, I don't know if that's such a good idea . . .”

Trish held up her hand. “Fine. Then I will visit you until the dust settles. But you'll be back.”

Iris smiled sadly; somehow, someday, of course she would.

Together they finished packing, tossing all her stuff into the suitcase. The faded red swimsuit. The designer denim, right on top of the mom jeans Iris confiscated from the trash can. As Iris contemplated the items before her, she realized that each piece told a part of the story. And she didn't have to choose between them. Yes, she was a mother, who fell behind on coloring her hair, and sometimes forgot to brush her teeth. But she was also still a desirable woman, who, as Trish insisted, could rock a pair of heels. And, more meaningfully, fall down in the tall grass under the stars with a man who had fallen in love with her. She would not be ashamed of any of it, each layer of her in all its complex glory.

Back downstairs, Trish hugged and kissed them all, reserving a cool handshake for Paul, whom Iris understood she would never really forgive. But that was the part of the landscape of friendship.

“I'll see you in New York in two weeks,” Iris promised.

Trish leaned out her car window before tearing off. “Wearing those heels!”

•    •    •

Back upstairs, Iris found the kids had packed themselves with more speed and efficiency than their mother had done. “I'm ready, Mom!” Lily announced, dragging her Hello Kitty duffel bag out into the hallway. Iris was almost disappointed to see how eager they were to go home.

Millie was down in the kitchen, feverishly packing turkey sandwiches and slicing up fruit, which she bundled into small bags for each of them. “I put extra mayonnaise on Sadie's, butter on Jack's, and nothing on Lily's,” she said breathlessly. “Just the way they like them.” She did not look up at Iris, who'd stopped beside her at the kitchen island.

“That's great, Mom. Thanks.”

“And I added a little of that basil cream cheese you like so much on yours.”

“Sounds delicious,” Iris said, watching her mother's deft hands, which had begun to shake.

“But I'm not sure about Paul. Does he like whole wheat or white?”

Iris reached with both hands across the expanse of countertop and very gently placed them over her mother's. For the first time Millie looked up, her eyes a watery gray.

“Mom, thank you. For everything.”

Millie nodded brusquely, returning her gaze purposefully to the food. “I just want to send you off full. Can't drive home on an empty stomach.”

Iris circled the island and opened her arms. And to her surprise Millie fell into them. “Oh, Iris. I just don't know.”

Iris held her, nodding in silent agreement. “She's doing great, Mom,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Leah's going to be fine.”

Millie stepped back to look at Iris. “Leah? Of course she is.” She reached for a piece of Iris's stray hair and tucked it behind her ear, an uncharacteristically tender gesture. “I was talking about you.”

“Oh.” It was Iris's turn to hold back tears. “Well, I'm still sort of working on that one.”

The mudroom door swung open and Bill poked his head in. “The kids are waiting, ready to go.”

Outside the afternoon light was the hue of an early peach, yellow and succulent. The late-August sun hung over the rocks on the other side of the lake, glazing the green edges of leaves and the tips of the grass in gold. It was Iris's favorite time of day, in her favorite season.

“You going to follow us, then?” Paul called to her. He stood awkwardly by the car, his door open. They'd not spoken about next steps yet. Paul and Iris had only discussed some of the practical travel details the night before, at the kitchen counter, long after everyone had gone to bed. The easy details. He'd told her that the kids were ready to go home, and she'd agreed.

He'd heard about her cookbook deal, of course. But this was the first time he'd mentioned it to her alone. “So, you're really going to do this book thing, huh?”

Iris had bristled a little. “Yes, of course I am. We worked hard at it.”

“I'm sure you did.”

She'd waited for the other shoe to drop, silent.

“But?”

Paul looked surprised. “No buts. I'm just wondering what you'll do next.”

“Next? You mean after it's published?” She hadn't thought past the glory of this book, but somewhere deep down she was pretty sure there would be another. Was certain, in fact.

“This was a nice little diversion for you this summer. But now you're coming back home, and you've got the kids and a house to run.” He looked at her. “Right?”

Diversion?
Iris was stunned. Not only at his lack of enthusiasm or pride in her accomplishment but at his complete lack of understanding about what this book represented for her. And about her!

“I hadn't thought that far ahead,” she allowed, trying to keep her disappointment at bay. She would not lose it this early on. Surely he hadn't meant to make her book sound so trivial. Paul was just being practical. Just inquiring.

But there was more. “I've been thinking. If you want to work that bad, you should approach the agency about getting your old job back,” he told her. “The firm's doing well, but we've got to buckle down. There's the home equity line. And the driveway needs repaving. Every dollar helps.”

And there it was. The dollars and sense that Paul coffered at every turn. Iris could've kicked herself; had one summer away really made her expect something different? Iris had walked out of the kitchen and gone to bed perplexed and angry.

Now, standing in the driveway, Paul waited uncertainly for her reply.

“Yes,” she said finally, around a giant lump in her throat. “I'll follow you home.” She gestured to the walkway, where her father was approaching with her bags. Paul lurched forward to assist.

“Thanks, Bill. Let me help.” Paul relieved Bill of the bags, but then halted, frowning. “Geez, Iris, what have you got in here?”

She shrugged. “Just the stuff I brought with me. And a few new things I bought in town this summer.”

He sighed. “New clothes. How much did you spend?”

“What it cost. I needed those things. And I
liked
them.”

Trish's face flashed in her mind as Iris watched Paul impatiently jam the bags into the trunk of the car, but she pushed it away.

She focused instead on the kids, who were hugging their grandmother good-bye.

“Don't worry, Grandma,” Jack said, peeking into his lunch bag. “We'll eat our sandwiches before we have dessert.”

Millie enveloped him in one last hug. “Oh, go ahead and eat the brownie first.” She looked at Iris, smiling. “Life is short.”

Iris watched as the kids settled themselves into the back of their father's car. “If Lily bugs me, I'm riding with you,” Sadie warned her mother.

“You keep your dad company,” Iris said, closing the door and leaning into the open window. She had chosen them. She would follow Paul home, but she needed this last ride to herself.

Before ducking into the car himself, Paul thanked her parents. For what, Iris wasn't sure. For not throwing him out? For giving him a second chance?

“I'll be behind you,” Iris told him. “After I make a few last good-byes.”

Whether he understood or not, Paul did not press. Instead he offered a short “Drive safe.”

And then they were gone.

Millie, who had never liked good-byes, pecked Iris quickly on the cheek and scurried back inside. Only Bill stood in the driveway, watching as Iris put the last of her things in the Jeep.

“You know you can always come back when you want to,” he told her.

“I know, Daddy.” And then she hugged him good-bye. “You're so good to me.”

Bill chuckled softly in her ear as they hugged, his voice warm and comforting. “Take your time,” he told her.

“I will.”

He held the car door as she stepped in. “Just remember one thing, for your old man, all right?”

“What's that?”

“There's more than one road leading home.”