Jennifer wasn’t pleased about the Kristine arrangement. She hovered in the foyer, watching the driveway like a hawk, while Kim waited in the living room.
“She’s late,” Jennifer said ominously.
“She’s one minute late,” Kim shot back. “When you were twenty-three, you would have called right now to tell me you still needed thirty minutes to get ready.”
Jennifer turned, her face stony. “Exactly my point! Twenty-three-year-olds are not responsible. I swear, the minute things go sour here, you’d better call me. I can come back right away.”
Kim wheeled herself toward the foyer, recognizing there was more strength in her arms than there’d been a few days before. Progress.
“Jen, all you’ve done since I got out of the hospital is run around here, worrying yourself to death,” Kim said. “Frankly, it’s freaking me out.”
Jennifer smiled slightly and palmed the back of her neck. Before she could go on, Kim added, “We need to figure out a way for you to get back to your life. Since the accident, I know that you’ve spent more time at the hospital and here with me than anywhere else.”
Jennifer stuttered. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, Mom.”
“If that’s the truth, then I feel sorry for you,” Kim joked. “Haven’t you ever been to that swanky steakhouse owned by Evan Snow? Now, that’s a place I’d rather be. Why don’t you get yourself a date and go out?”
“Right. Like it’s so easy to get a date,” Jennifer quipped. She then eyed the clock on her phone and said, “She’s two minutes late now.”
“Jen…” Kim warned.
But there was no reason to stress. Just then, Kristine pulled Heather’s car into the driveway, stopped the engine, and stepped out, jangling the keys as she went. As usual, she wore her fashionable, sleek-cut winter coat, which probably suited her just fine in New York City but clearly wasn’t warm enough for Bar Harbor. She then skipped quickly up the driveway, up the porch steps, and prepared to knock on the door. Before she could, Jennifer opened the door.
“Oh! Hi!” Kristine smiled, embarrassed that both Kim and Jennifer looked at her from the foyer. “Am I late?”
“Not at all, honey,” Kim said. “Jennifer was just leaving.”
Jennifer eyed Kim sternly, then spoke to Kristine. “All of the doctors’ numbers are on the fridge. You have mine, and of course, if you need anything else…”
“She knows to call 9-1-1,” Kim quipped. “They teach you that in kindergarten.” She then winked at Kristine, hoping the young woman wasn’t too petrified of Kim’s declining health.
“I think we’ll be fine,” Kristine tried to assure Jennifer, her voice wavering.
“We’ll have fun,” Kim added.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Jennifer said, rolling her eyes as she set out. “I love you, Mom. See you in about five hours?”
Kristine and Kim waited in the foyer to watch as Jennifer eased out of the driveway and drove down the road. There was a strange silence, proof that Kristine didn’t feel very comfortable.
“Can I get you anything?” Kristine stuttered as her hands clasped together.
Kim waved her hand and turned her wheelchair back toward the living room. “I’m good! Really good.”
“Something to eat? A snack?” Kristine followed Kim into the living room like a nervous dog.
“Jennifer just forced me to eat. At least, I think she did.” Kim paused for a moment, thinking back over the previous few hours. Nearly every day, she found foggy parts of her mind, proof the medication the doctors had prescribed really did affect her short-term memory. “Anyway, I’m sure my body will tell me if I’m hungry again. We’re well-stocked around here. Jennifer acts like a prepper on shopping trips, terrified we’ll run out of things like pasta and cans of beans.”
Kristine laughed appreciatively, her face open. She dropped onto the couch next to Kim and eyed the television, where a talk show host interviewed a mid-grade actress.
“Tell you the truth, I’m so bored of watching television,” Kim said. “I don’t understand how people sit around the house all day doing this on purpose.”
“It’s fun for a little while,” Kristine said. “Like, when I feel particularly sad, sometimes it’s good to binge-watch a TV show.”
“Maybe the difference is you don’t have to do that while I’m actually stuck here,” Kim suggested.
Kristine’s face was shadowed. “Yes. I’m sorry. Of course.”
Kim felt guilty, as she hadn’t wanted to make Kristine feel bad. “When was the last TV binge you had?”
Kristine winced. “After Patrick and I broke up, I spent a lot of time eating snacks and watching television. The world seemed to go on without me. I guess that’s part of the reason why Bella dragged me here.”
Suddenly, Kim grabbed the remote control, turned off the television, and wheeled her chair to the window. A beautiful orange sunlight shimmered across the rolling hills that were covered in snow, and she was overcome with the feeling that they needed to get out in it. She turned to catch Kristine’s eye and tell her so, but Kristine was already slipping her arms into her coat sleeves.
“Oh, honey. That coat won’t do,” Kim insisted.
“What do you mean?”
“There has to be something thicker in the front closet. If you’re going to live in Maine, you have to dress the part,” Kim said.
Kristine laughed. “All right. I get the hint.” She rushed to the front closet, where she drew out a very thick winter coat, one Kim had worn during her particularly frigid snowmobile outings. “What about this one?” She showed it off, putting it on and twisting her body this way and that.
“It’s perfect. Better than haute couture,” Kim joked.
The temperature was in the teens, but the sunlight across their cheeks was invigorating and kept them upbeat and alive. Kristine wheeled Kim along the small, paved road near Frenchman Bay, where they could take in the glow of the painfully chilly turquoise waters beneath a strange, if brief, blue-sky afternoon.
Although Kim loved her daughter and Heather to bits, she was grateful to be away from their prying eyes. Here, she could enjoy the pleasant and easy company of Kristine, who didn’t pester her with questions about her short-term memory or how well she’d slept the previous night. Instead, Kristine seemed content to hear Kim’s stories from the past, especially those about the men in her life. As Kim’s short-term memory was currently blotchy, she had nothing but memories right now, and she poured them out easily, overwhelmed with the details she could share.
“You’ve really lived such a life,” Kristine said, her voice dreamy.
“You’re well on your way,” Kim told her. “For all my exciting stories, I have double the number of stories where things didn’t go quite my way.” She gestured toward the wheelchair and added, “Take this situation, for example.”
About a mile from the house, Kristine stopped the chair to grab the water bottles she’d stocked beneath the wheelchair. Kim drank greedily, watching Kristine’s expression as she studied the sky above. Truthfully, in the previous ten or so minutes, their blue sky had been defeated, and thick, bulbous gray and black clouds had emerged, pressing down upon them.
Kristine leafed through the pockets of her big winter coat and removed her phone. A second later, she showed Kim the screen, which advertised a WINTER SNOW WARNING for the area of Bar Harbor and the Acadia Mountains.
“Huh!” Kim laughed, her eyes toward the clouds. “I never would have expected that a half-hour ago.”
Kristine was clearly nervous. She stepped around to the back of Kim’s wheelchair and said, “We’d better get back.” Meanwhile, Kim scanned the weather report and said, “Looks like we’ll get anywhere between six inches to a foot.”
“You’re kidding!” Kristine was shocked.
“You’ve been out of Maine too long, my girl,” Kim said. “This is the weather I live for.”
Kristine tried to laugh, but she was clearly nervous, wanting to get Kim back to safety before the snow began to flutter down. About ten minutes before the front porch, the first of the snowflakes flattened across Kim’s nose, and Kim laughed, feeling euphoric.
“Isn’t it funny we’re so panicked about a little snow?” Kim said, her palms outstretched so that the snow melted across them. “Come on, Kristine. Look at it! It’s gorgeous.”
Kristine continued to push Kim’s wheelchair along Frenchman Bay and then rightward up the road that led to her driveway. When they approached the little house, Kim’s heart leaped into her throat. There, parked in the snow in her front yard, was a very familiar snowmobile. She hadn’t seen it in what seemed like years.
“Who’s here?” Kristine asked under her breath, clearly exhausted from racing the snow.
“Robbie?” Kim scanned the front yard before finding him on the front porch, all bundled up in his winter garb with a big plastic Tupperware container in his hands. He waved a sturdy hand and smiled through his thick New England beard, which he’d had since Kim had met him thirty-five years ago.
“Robbie?” Kristine muttered curiously as she wheeled Kim the rest of the way to the front porch, where Jennifer had installed a ramp for the chair.
A mix of pleasure and embarrassment warmed Kim’s cheeks. Overwhelmed, she raised both arms and gripped one of Robbie’s hands with both of hers. Just as ever, he was handsome, shy, and eager, with his eyes just as bright as they were in her memories.
“I just heard what happened,” Robbie stuttered.
“That’s right. You spent a few months out of town, didn’t you?” Kim asked.
“With my daughter in Florida,” Robbie replied. His eyes narrowed with concern. “Wow, Kim. What happened out on that road?”
Kim tried to laugh, although it didn’t sound happy. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“You were always the best rider I knew,” Robbie offered, referring to their long-ago trips— back when Robbie had been married, and so had Kim. They’d traveled in groups of eight, racing through the trails and stopping in small villages for hearty meals that cut out the chill.
“Kristine, this is Robbie,” Kim introduced, suddenly remembering Kristine was still behind her. “He’s an old friend and lives just about a half-mile away.”
“The closest thing you have to a neighbor over here,” Robbie reminded her, shaking Kristine’s hand.
“Kristine is my niece’s daughter,” Kim explained. “I think I mentioned I have a long-lost niece through my estranged sister?”
Robbie nodded in recognition. “That has got to be one of the crazier stories I’ve ever heard.” He then dropped Kristine’s handshake and lifted the Tupperware, in which he’d placed several helpings of homemade Shepherd’s Pie.
“Oh! I always adored Shepherd’s Pie!” Kim was momentarily overwhelmed with happiness.
“I remember,” he said, his smile widening.
For a moment, Kim wasn’t sure what to do. On the one hand, she felt totally foolish, there in her wheelchair as this handsome man towered over her. On the other hand, he looked at her with those beautiful, knowing eyes, as though she was the only woman in the world.
“Why don’t you come inside?” Kristine interjected, coming in to save the day. “We can heat up the Shepherd’s Pie and watch the snow.”
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude.” Robbie took a step back.
“Nonsense,” Kim said. “We’d love the company.” Her smile was so huge it made her face ache.