The Summer Cottage (20 page)

Anna floated in and out of his thoughts over the years, even when he was dating other women. He knew their relationship had come too early. But that didn’t stop him from wondering if they could have worked things out. These musings, imaginings stopped, for the most part, when he met Barb.

When he and Barb were first married, they lived in her condominium on Front Street, not far from the Royal York and Union Station, on the tenth floor of a new building that afforded them a generous view of Lake Ontario. Barb, Thomas found out later, after they were involved and moving toward commitment, had enough personal wealth to purchase a small European country, had it been for sale and had she been inclined. She was grateful for the money she had, for what it had provided in her life, but she was also troubled by it. Savvy suitors had broken her heart in their pursuit of her riches. Aggressive charitable organizations and less fortunate relatives and friends hounded her. Once people knew she had money, came from money—a lot of it—their dispositions around her and their assumptions about her changed. Because Thomas had made his own fortune, he was respectful of hers. They discussed money with their financial advisors and rarely with one another.

When Sally was born, they decided to move out to the country, settling into an old, cold farmhouse in Kingsville, where Barb cheerfully traded suits and low heels for jeans and flats and ran the house as effectively and efficiently as she had the nonprofit in her family’s name based in the city. She stayed involved in the organization via telephone and laptop, but she left the day-to-day operations to her capable assistant. Thomas had an office in Toronto and traveled frequently, but when he was home, he made time for his family. He often drove in the driveway before dinner, and entertained the children while Barb, an accomplished cook, prepared their meal from organic ingredients grown in their garden in the summer. Somehow she’d manage to coax Sally and Peter into trying everything on their plates. Peter’s new favorite vegetable was sautéed kale.

“Do they like peanut butter and jelly?” Helen asked Barb, leading her out of the porch and though the living room.

“Better than anything else. Let me help you.”

In the kitchen, Helen got the peanut butter down from the shelf. “The children are adorable. Your pictures don’t do them justice.”

Barb smiled broadly. “They are so much fun,” she said. “We are able to do more and more with them as they are able to take in and understand more and more. The four of us went to the Ontario Science Centre last week, and Sally was able to tell us five fun facts about rain forests while we were standing in one. Peter almost caught a frog.”

“I remember when Todd and Ned were that age,” said Helen, retrieving the grape jelly from the fridge. “They were into everything—and not always in a good way.”

Barb laughed. “Oh yes,” she said. “Peter decided to make scrambled eggs like Mommy’s one day when I was in the shower, but had more fun standing on the kitchen table and dropping the dozen eggs he’d taken out of the fridge onto the floor. Frankly, I was relieved he hadn’t turned on the burners. The children do some cooking with me, but I don’t have them frying anything in hot oil just yet.” Helen laughed.

Seconds later, Sally and Peter ran into the kitchen, breathless. “Where have you two been?” Barb asked.

“With Aunt Pammy,” said Sally. “She showed us a card trick, and she said she’d show us how to float in the water just like a jellyfish.”

“Can we go to the beach now?” asked Peter.

“Let’s eat,” Barb said. “Then we’ll get our suits on.”

Helen took their sandwiches and glasses of milk out to the picnic table, where she and Barb sat and talked while the children ate. Afterward, they all got their bathing suits on and ran, holding hands, across the road to the beach.

 

Thomas unzipped his suitcase and took out a short stack of golf shirts. He laid them carefully in the large drawer at the bottom of the dresser. He changed into a pair of shorts and put the other pair next to the shirts. After hanging his traveling pants in the closet, he put away his boxers, socks, and the pajamas he wore around the children, and closed the drawer with his foot. He took his shaving kit into the bathroom and set it down next to the sink. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he wondered if strangers would know he was forty-eight. Not likely, he thought. He jogged six miles every morning and, with Barb preparing his meals, ate healthy foods. He had always been measured, disciplined in his habits, however, including eating and drinking. When he first met Barb, she thought he was several years closer to her age than he actually was. She was ten years younger than he, which never seemed to be a problem for them. Thomas sometimes wondered what they would be like, what their life would be like, when he was seventy and she was sixty. But he didn’t dwell on it long. While many in the business world were fond of discussing five-year plans, Thomas knew that a five-day plan was much more likely to meet with success.

Back in the town he hadn’t seen in three decades, Thomas’s thoughts returned to Anna. Where was she, and what was she was doing? And where was Amy, who would now be grown and living her own life? His buried memories of Anna shot to the surface. He said her name aloud, something he hadn’t done since his first year at Princeton. He indulged his thoughts of her now. Did she finish school? Did she go to law school? His heart came alive in his chest. Did she still live here?

He returned to the car to retrieve everyone else’s duffel bags, and then quickly unpacked them in the room. Back in the car, he drove through town, scanning the multitude of storefronts that had appeared since his childhood. By rote, he drove to the corner of Main Street and Summer Avenue and found Hudson and Lambert. He parked his car, walked across the street, and pulled open the glass door. Inside, he recognized the Oriental rug immediately, looking older but every bit as luxurious as it had before. He crossed the room to the large desk, where he had waited for Anna before taking her to lunch that day. A large mug of steaming coffee sat next to the computer, in the space previously occupied by Anna’s typewriter, as did a stack of memos and manila folders. An open nine-by-twelve mahogany box held Hudson and Lambert stationery. Thomas picked up a sheet; Anna’s name did not appear on the masthead. Disappointed, he set the paper back in the box. Had she finished college and law school on schedule, she would have made partner by now. Maybe she never finished.

“May I help you?”

Thomas looked up and saw a middle-aged, efficient-looking woman who was now standing next to the desk. “Yes,” said Thomas. “I was looking for someone who used to work here. Her name was Anna Santiago.”

“Oh, yes,” said the woman, settling into her desk chair. “She did work here. But she’s had her own practice for years.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Her office is just down the street. She and Erin Setta are tax attorneys.”

“Where’s their office? I know it’s Saturday, but I thought I might just drive by.”

“Attorney Santiago usually works on Saturdays. She might be there. It’s just down Main—one, two, three lights,” the woman said looking into the air as if at a map. “It’s on the corner of Main and Plumber.”

Walking back to the car, Thomas checked his watch and decided to drive back to the house. Barb would be wondering where he was. Plus, against odds, he was getting hungry; he wanted to swim to the raft with his children; and he needed to see his mother. “That’s that,” he said aloud. But when he drove his car out onto the road, he turned left instead of right and continued down Main Street. He would just drive past, he told himself. One, two, three lights. He slowed the car down and pulled over to the side of the road. Directly in front of him, maybe fifty feet away, hung Anna’s carved wood sign: S
ANTIAGO AND
S
ETTA
. A
TTORNEYS AT
L
AW.
He hesitated just a moment before parking the car in front of their office.

C
HAPTER
24

 

A
nna and Thomas lay on the couch together, kissing. Amy had gone to bed after Thomas read her three stories, and she was asleep. “Come into my bedroom,” said Anna. “I’ll shut the door.” She took his hand and led him down the short hallway into her pristine room, with its clean, off-white walls and pressed lace curtains. She pulled back the chenille bedspread, a formal invitation. Thomas lifted her into his arms, spun her around, and then sank back onto the bed, pulling her down with him. While he kissed her, he fumbled with her bra. After long seconds, he unhooked it, and then reached under her starched white shirt to feel her soft warm breasts. Anna whispered encouragement in his ear and pulled down the zipper of his pants. Within a minute, she had rolled a condom onto his hard-on, and he was inside her. Together, they gently, noiselessly, moved on the bed.

Thomas knew that he should have been carried away at this very moment, focused on nothing but sensation, but he wasn’t. He liked sex well enough, but he didn’t like having it with just anyone, with whoever was willing, even really cute girls. If he didn’t feel strongly about a girl, he wasn’t interested in getting into her pants. His friend, Eddie, thought he “had a fucking screw loose.” Eddie had introduced Thomas to a number of girls at the beach who were interested in having sex with a handsome guy, whether or not it led to anything lasting. Thomas just needed sex with the right girl, Eddie reasoned, or enough sex, or something, to get over this obstacle. It hadn’t worked. Thomas wanted to be in love with the girl. And, just as important, he wanted her to be in love with him, too. He opened his eyes to look at Anna. She was underneath him, attached to him, but they were not mentally connected. Watching her writhe and arch and grit her teeth disturbed Thomas. He came, but quickly pulled out of her, and then stopped and waited for Anna to open her eyes. When she did, she smiled at him. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why are you sorry, Thomas?”

“I’m sorry for doubting you.”

She half closed her eyes and looked at him, questioning. “What were you doubting?”

“I wasn’t sure if you loved me.”

Her eyes were wide now. “Or if I was just using you for sex,” she said, smiling again.

“Don’t kid me.” He pushed himself up on his hands, away from their lovemaking act, away from her.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him back down to her. “Thomas, you are wonderful,” said Anna. “Every eighteen-year-old male I’ve ever known cares about one thing: sex. They want to know if they can get it, when they can get it, and whether they can get it on a regular basis. And then there’s Thomas who wonders if I truly love him.”

“I do love you, Anna.”

“And I love you, Thomas.”

“Then marry me.”

“Thomas?”

“I want to marry you.”

“Oh, sweetheart . . .”

“Do you want to marry me?”

“If we were ten years older, yes.”

“Why not now?” Thomas backed off the bed and stood next to it. He raised his jeans to his waist, zipped them, and buckled his belt.

Anna left her clothes where they were and sat up, naked, on the bed. “Thomas, you know why. You’re about to go to one of the best schools in the country for a college education. The very last thing you want or need is a wife and a stepdaughter to think about and support. And I’m trying to finish my college education. The only way I can do that is by staying here and working for Hudson and Lambert, who pays my tuition. I want to go to law school, Thomas. I’ll be here for a long time.”

“I can help you pay for those things.”

“Thomas, you’ve got this incredible opportunity to go to school and work on your studies without the distractions of a full-time job or an instant family. You don’t want that obligation, to me or anyone else.”

“Maybe you just don’t want an obligation to me.”

“Oh, Thomas.” Anna stood and put her arms around his waist. She laid her head against his chest. “I want you more than you’ll ever realize.”

But Thomas didn’t believe her, not just then. He kissed the top of her head. “I’ve got to go.”

“Stay for a little while,” Anna said, rubbing his chest with her hand. “We can sit on the couch and talk.”

“Somehow I feel like I’m through talking.” He was close to crying.

“That’s okay, Thomas. It’s okay to go.” She released him and grabbed her jeans and cotton blouse from the floor. She quickly put them on and then followed him out of the bedroom and into the living room. She thought he would turn and look at her, say good-bye, but he simply walked out the front door, closing it quietly behind him. He started his car and drove off.

 

Thomas awoke early. His eyes, tired from holding back tears and occasionally releasing them, found the clock on the bureau. It was almost four thirty. He had a bakery run at six, so he didn’t have to dress until five thirty. He closed his eyes, to rest them and ease the ache, but he did not sleep. His head hurt from thinking about Anna, as he had all night. She didn’t love him. Amy didn’t love him.

On his way home from her house, he’d just missed hitting a pickup truck, when his car drifted across the centerline. So lost in thought, so caught up in his emotional response to her denial, he barely missed his mother’s car when he pulled into the driveway. Charlotte, who had come home earlier than normal because she’d grown tired of the guy she was using to make Steve Johanson jealous, heard the car and walked from the porch to the kitchen to talk to him. She popped the top off a can of Coke and sat down on the counter to wait. Thomas walked in, saw his sister, and lowered his eyes. “How’s Anna?” Charlotte asked.

“Super,” said Thomas, looking at the floor.

“What did you guys do tonight?”

“Well, for one thing,” said Thomas, looking at Charlotte, “we decided not to get married.”

Charlotte’s mouth opened involuntarily. “You asked her to marry you?”

“I asked her, and she said no.” Charlotte was silent. “She told me if we were ten years older she would marry me.”

“She sounds like a smart girl.”

“You have a messed-up idea of intelligence, Charlotte.”

“I had no idea you were going to do this, Thomas. I don’t know what you were thinking. You wanted them to share your dorm room at Princeton?”

“If you think I need a lecture right now, you’re seriously mistaken.”

“Okay, Thomas, you’re right,” said Charlotte. She had never seen her brother this way. He was always so sensible, always right. Because she was often just the opposite, they rarely talked. Yet, they had come together for her abortion, and that had brought them, if only temporarily, a bit closer. She sought his advice over that of their parents, especially their mother, who, as far as Charlotte was concerned, lived in a distant universe. She and Thomas were not yet ready, not responsible enough, to be real adults, but they were miles away from Pammy and Helen, who were still children, still believers.

Tired, Thomas sat down on the floor and covered his face with his hands, and the tears that he had battled to overcome all night refused to be damned up any longer. “It’s okay to cry, Thomas.” Charlotte got down from the counter. She sat down next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” said Thomas. “I’m having trouble thinking.”

“I’m sorry, Thomas. I’m sorry for what happened.”

“Thanks, Charlotte.” Thomas talked through his hands.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I don’t know.” Thomas lifted his head and looked at his sister. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone or anything in my life. I love Anna. We belong together. I can feel that, Charlotte. I felt it the first time I saw her.”

“Maybe you will be together.”

“I don’t think so. She just said no to me.”

“She said no to you
now.
Maybe she won’t say no later.”

“I can’t wait until later, Charlotte. I’m going away to school in the fall. I need her to come with me.”

“No, you don’t, Thomas. You’ll burn your way through Princeton all by yourself. After graduation, you can ask Anna again.”

“That’s a million years away.”

“No, it’s not.” Claire was always telling them how quickly time passed and that they should take advantage of every minute. This was one of only a handful of things about which Charlotte and her mother agreed.

“I need her, Charlotte.”

“You want her, Thomas. There’s a difference.”

Thomas looked at his sister, not quite believing her. “I need her and I want her.”

“Go to bed, Thomas,” said Charlotte. “You need some sleep now. You can look at all this again in the morning, okay?”

Thomas nodded his head. “I’ll come up in a few minutes.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

“No,” he said. “Go on up to bed, Charlotte.” He sat on the floor, listening to Charlotte walk up the stairs. Ten minutes later, he stood, grabbed a glass from the pantry, and poured himself some cold water from the refrigerator. He drank it quickly, even though swallowing was painful. After his second glass, Thomas felt better and decided his sister was right; he needed sleep. As he walked through the living room, heading for the stairs, the phone rang. Thomas picked it up on one ring; he knew who it was. “Thomas, I’m so sorry,” she said. Thomas said nothing. “Thomas?”

“I’m here,” he said.

“What do you want to do?”

“I think you’ve made it quite clear what you don’t want to do, so maybe you can tell me what
you
want to do,” said Thomas, feeling angry for the first time since their talk that evening.

“If you think about it, Thomas, you’ll know why I said what I did. I don’t want to hold you back any more than you want to keep me back.”

“Actually, Anna, holding you back was the last thing on my mind. I was thinking, foolishly I guess, that marrying might bring us both forward.”

“And it would in some ways, Thomas. But I’ve got to finish school. I’ve got to provide for my daughter, and I want to take care of myself. I want to do this for me.”

“That’s crystal clear to me, Anna.”

“Thomas, I have to be selfish here. I need to follow a plan that will make my life, Amy’s life, better. I don’t have a choice. I’ve made decisions, taken actions that have made my life what it is today. And I, alone now, am responsible for what comes next.”

“I offered to help you make those decisions, Anna.”

“Thomas, you’re not in a position right now to help. After college, maybe, yes, maybe you could help then.”

“You had me convinced that you loved me.” Thomas sank down onto the wooden side chair next to the telephone table.

“I do love you, Thomas. I love who you are, and I love who you are becoming.”

“And what did you want to do with that love? Where were we going with this, in your mind?”

“I don’t know, Thomas. I was not thinking about our relationship like you were or are. I was having fun. I love being with you, talking to you, laughing with you, kissing you. I have not had a man pay attention to me in a long time. I have been wrapped up in working, studying, and taking care of Amy; I thought I had no time for a relationship. And then you came along, and I was so happy to have you interested in me. I treasured every second I was with you. I didn’t think about the future. I was more immersed in the present, I think, than you were.”

“The here and now,” Thomas said. “If it feels good, do it.”

“In many ways, yes. And I’m not going to apologize for that. There’s nothing wrong with loving someone and having fun at the same time. You’re eighteen years old, Thomas. I didn’t think you were going to propose to me.”

“What did you think?”

“For the most part, I simply thought about when I was going to see you again.”

“You never thought about the fall?”

“Yes,” Anna said. “I admit, I thought about the fall—once. And what I thought was you would go away to Princeton and forget about me.”

“Well, you were dead wrong, weren’t you?”

“You’re too young to marry, Thomas. Believe me, I came very close to getting married.”

“You loved him, your boyfriend, Amy’s father.”

“I did love him, Thomas. But I was wrong to quit school. I was frustrated staying at home. If I had been older at the time, I would have thought to finish school before having a family.”

“You’re quite the thinker now, aren’t you, Anna?”

“Thomas . . .”

“But you know what you didn’t factor into your little equation? Me, Anna. You didn’t stop to think how I might feel. Do you know what it feels like to have your heart ripped apart? This is not a game, Anna. This is real life, and I’m a real person.”

“I know that, Thomas.”

“I’m not so sure,” he said.

“Come see me tomorrow.”

“Come see me,” said Thomas. He hung up the phone and, again, put his head in his hands. Helen tapped him on the shoulder. He wheeled around to face her.

“You two had a fight,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“We did have a fight, yes. What are you doing up?”

“I heard you talking on the phone and wondered who you were talking to.”

“Are Mom and Dad up?”

“Nope. What did you fight about?”

“Everything,” said Thomas. “The whole shooting match.”

“You broke up?”

“Absolutely and irrevocably.”

“Why?”

Thomas ran his fingers through his hair and scratched the back of his head. “She didn’t want to marry me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she said no when I asked her, Helen.”

“You asked her to marry you?”

“I did.”

Helen yawned. “Do Mom and Dad know that?”

“No, and it doesn’t matter much now since she said no.”