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Megan slurped the bottom of her plastic cup through a straw and searched the beach for a trash can, forgetting momentarily that most of the shoreline was semi-private land.
They’d walked four houses south of the house on the harbor. Kate’s so-called Inn. Megan quelled a little bit of envy at the thought. It wasn’t so much envy as it was pride, truly. She was proud of her big sister for finding a place in the world. And, Megan genuinely wanted to help. Then there was her little sister with security in her teaching position.
Sometimes, Megan felt like she and Amelia were a pair of middle-child misfits, roaming the earth with no direction. In comparison to Kate and Clara, they really were.
Of course, none of that was the reason Megan longed for a career. By and large, she had enjoyed being a homemaker and raising Sarah with Brian. Their life was good. It was only in the last couple years that a bit of cabin fever had set in. Restlessness. An urge to get the ball rolling on her own life. While Megan was far less of a dreamer than any of her three sisters, she just couldn’t shake the itch that there was a job out there with her name on it. Specifically, a boutique matchmaking service.
As they strolled the beach now, new ideas formed in her brain. Secret ideas. She had a running list of ways she would magically put together a little business (kind of like Kate was doing). Maybe she’d drop a flyer at various eateries in her hometown: Need a date? Call Megan!
That would send the wrong message.
Maybe she could get business cards made and fake it a little. Here, I have a little matchmaking business. Call me if you’re in the market. Or rather... on the market, she could say with a wink as she passed over an eggshell-white card.
In her reveries, Megan was making the rounds out in the suburbs, among housewives and professionals who were already paired off. It made no sense. Matchmaking in Suburbia would never bring in business.
Not that it was business that Megan wanted.
It was connections. Or, rather, connecting. That was her thing. No, she was not Amelia, flamboyant and bubbly. And, she wasn’t Kate, composed and professional but dutifully extroverted.
She was Megan. Enigmatic, hopefully. Interesting. Complicated and complex and surprisingly fascinated by human behavior and the concept of soul mates.
It dawned on her that maybe her quirkiness had to do with her own history of romance. High school boyfriends every week. Fly-by-night success with dating in the earliest days of college. Until she met studious Brian in her dorm. They’d bumped into each other (literally) one night in the halls. He was heading back to his room from a study session with friends. She had left a party early (parties weren’t exactly Megan’s style). It was curious that they hadn’t run into each other in the weeks before, since their rooms were just a few hallways apart.
But there they were, maimed and gobsmacked to face each other so viscerally. He’d apologized over and again, and she drank it all up. Just as they were about to go their separate ways, he turned and asked if he could have her dorm room number.
Without a second thought she gave it to him, and well, their love affair began. A slow, taunting affair in which Megan insisted on upholding her Catholic values. An affair of nonstop kissing until they made it to the altar not long thereafter. The kissing eventually slowed down, especially once Sarah was born. But the flame of their affection had only begun to weaken in the past year or so. Ever since Megan spoke about her desires to really get into the workforce. To strike out on her own.
What in the world was Brian afraid of? That he’d lose her?
No.
That wasn’t his style. Brian and Megan’s relationship was built on a solid foundation of mutual trust. Respect, too, or so she had thought.
All she could point to was his anxiety over money. For the entirety of their marriage and in the months and years before, Brian feared they’d be destitute. Megan couldn’t quite relate. Coming from a long line of people who worked their butts off and living in an ancestral home on the banks of Lake Huron, for all it wasn’t, ensured Megan had a strong sense of financial security. Worst case scenario? She could work.
But Brian’s background was markedly different. His parents weren’t the work-hard-play-hard types. His mother stayed at home, nervously cooking meals of Ramen and potatoes, while his father hopped around to different jobs, never satisfied with his boss or working conditions. Money was scarce for Brian and his siblings. They weren’t certain they’d pay the bills.
Brian wanted this certainty in life, Megan knew. Maybe he didn’t trust her to actually help in that regard.
Her nostrils flared at this realization now, as they came to a stop where the beach sand was cut off by a sharp outcropping of rocks.
Amelia walked ahead and stepped up onto a boulder, balancing gracefully. “Remember when we used to come here to look for tadpoles?” she asked, her arms spread out like she owned the town.
Megan grinned at the memory. Forever, she had been the youngest of three, scrambling after her two big sisters on various adventures along the beach, nearly drowning or cracking her head open on multiple occasions. Kate would always fret over whether to call an ambulance or, worst case, Mom. Amelia would always hush them both and convince Megan that A. she was fine! And B. it was her fault anyway!
“That’s the one thing Mom was good at,” Megan mused.
Amelia jumped down and kicked sand out to the water. “What do you mean?”
“She just let us be kids, you know? Not like parents today. Certainly not like Brian and me.”
“You never let Sarah go out and play?”
“We did, but you know how it is. Times are different. The world is a scarier place,” Megan replied, her low voice lost to the humid air.
“I think,” Amelia began, “that the world is the same. It’s no scarier now than it was before. It’s just us. We’re more scared. Less busy. More fearful.”
Megan just shrugged. She wasn’t going to argue with someone who didn’t have kids. Amelia couldn’t understand.
Amelia kicked another spray of sand into the lake then followed it, walking into the shallow water. Clara and Megan instinctively followed her, each testing the water first. Megan pressed her feet into the wet sand that spanned a couple feet to the waterline, digging her toes into it as deep as they would go. It was like a little beach-style massage, grinding her skin against the warm grains. The water was nice enough, for early summer, and she ventured after Clara, who now stood in the lake, the water lapping up against her shins by then.
Amelia stood farther out and deeper in, bending every few moments to dip her hands in the water and splash it out away from the shore.
Megan took a step closer to Clara, her long, gossamer sarong sticking to the skin beneath her knees where it had grown wet.
Amelia wore a tankini top and cut-off jean shorts that were short enough to belong on a teenager instead of a woman north of forty. But the girl could pull it off. Her legs were long and toned. Megan also had their father’s long legs, and she thought they were pretty defined. It was one of the perks of being at home, lots of opportunity for yoga and Pilates. Lots of long walks. Still, the difference between Amelia, the carefree dreamer with the body of a would-be actress, and Megan, the repressed homemaker with a teenage daughter and a looming divorce, was easy to spot. One had her whole life before her, still. The other had her whole life behind her.
Megan kicked at the water, sending a spray just to the right of Amelia, spritzing her.
“Hey!” Amelia shrieked. “What’s the big idea?” She feigned a Bronx accent and reared her leg back, threatening to splash Megan in revenge.
Megan squealed and high-kneed behind Clara just in time for Amelia to bend over and send two handfuls of lake water in their direction.
Clara screamed, too, and together she and Megan ran hand-in-hand to the shore, just a few feet away.
Laughter brought them to their knees in the sand, Megan’s sarong now drenched. Amelia joined them, falling to the beach in her wet jean shorts and slick swimsuit top.
“We should have brought a picnic,” Amelia declared.
“We can always grab lunch back at the Village,” Clara suggested. Megan saw that she had come to life a bit. If only Kate were there, too, and they’d be outright bonding.
“Do either of you have your phone?” Megan asked. She’d left hers behind, which was probably a bad idea, since she was expecting a phone call that afternoon. But they wouldn’t be out too long.
“I do.” Amelia tugged her device loose from her front pocket. “It’s after twelve already.”
“Call Kate and see if she wants to meet us for a burger or something.”
After no answer from their fearless leader, the trio decided to walk back to the harbor and get their own lunch. After all, it was clear Kate had other priorities, and who were her sisters to get in the way of that?
Once they’d been walking quietly for a few minutes, Clara spoke up. “What was Mom like before I came along?”
“What do you mean?” Megan asked, retying her sarong for the twentieth time.
“I feel like there is a huge divide,” Clara answered, her tone more somber.
“Of course there is,” Megan answered, clicking her tongue. “You’re a lot younger than us.”
“You were a toddler when I moved out,” Amelia added. “Despite the whole ‘adoption’ thing,” Amelia drew air quotes, “it was like we had a little baby girl, not a baby sister.”
Clara laughed without mirth. “I guess a four-year-old isn’t sister material to teenagers.”
Megan and Amelia exchanged a nervous glance over Clara’s floppy sun hat. Megan took the reins. “You were a little princess. You didn’t have to be our sister, you know? It was kind of better that you weren’t, probably. Otherwise Amelia might have talked you into something dangerous. You could have died if you were any older, actually.”
The three of them laughed at the joke, but it was clear Clara was asking something that neither Megan nor Amelia had the answer for.
Still, Megan made an effort. “What was Mom like before you were born? That’s the question?”
Amelia’s pace slowed as she added, “Or do you mean what was Mom like before Kate got pregnant?”
Silence took over as all three of them slowed to a stop. They were halfway between two shore-side houses now, in a public slice of the beach with a little walkway that ran up to the street.
Megan laughed at Amelia’s point, but Clara didn’t. She frowned and stared off at the water. “Was it that bad?” the youngest of the three asked, her voice trembling.
“No,” Amelia answered immediately, slinging an arm around Clara and making a pointed face at Megan, who jumped in.
“Actually,” Megan went on. “For you it was great. Weirdly great.”
“What do you mean?” Clara cocked her head.
“When they decided that Mom would adopt you, it sort of... it helped her refocus, I think.” Megan, too, was staring across the rippling water. The sun above them took on an oven effect, and Megan felt a line of sweat form along her spine.
“Refocus? You mean because Wendell left?” Clara was no stranger to the conversation, but it made sense if she still acted a little out of the loop. After all, she was.
“‘Left,’ yeah.” Megan answered, arching one eyebrow to Amelia who shook her head.
Clara shrugged Amelia’s arm off her shoulder. “Okay, out with it,” she demanded, anger reddening her face. “You two are always doing this. Making these little innuendos back and forth about some scandalous past that I used to be too young to know. Well, I’m not too young anymore.” Her blonde ponytail bounced as she shoved her arms across her chest, crossing them there with a purpose.
Megan’s jaw fell open a bit at the display of ire. Fair point to Clara. She deserved to know.
Even if all they had to share was mere speculation.