Caroline had spent a single long weekend with Keaton in Brevard, when they went for their face-to-face interviews at the college. In the year after graduation, they’d coordinated job applications out of town, targeting places they both found interesting—trendy cities, scenic regions—and so far in the responses, this was their only double hit: He was up for a coaching job, she for a position in alumni relations, and both had already passed multiple phone screens.
One of them—neither claimed responsibility—must have suggested taking the scenic route in, because they ended up pulled to the side of a narrow road in Pisgah National Forest, leaning over the guardrail where the Looking Glass Falls plunged into a shallow pool far below, sucking greedy gulps of cool air. Never had Caroline been so carsick: The roads weren’t merely curved but coiled, tight and steep and up and down and around in endless circles. But the journey was worth it. The forest around them was impossibly green, thickly carpeted with huge lush ferns that lent an exotic, Jurassic quality to the landscape.
They hiked out and back to another waterfall, a thinner, higher trickle from a limestone ridge they could climb behind, then watched a busload of students queue up to whoosh down a natural waterslide called, what else, Sliding Rock. By the time they reached Brevard proper, Caroline was newly stocked on ginger ale, peppermints, and daydreams. She’d always been partial to small college towns, but the surrounding natural beauty made her love this on sight.
Keaton was just as taken, though he’d known better what to expect. The right convergence of geographic features and trails through them made this an increasingly top spot in the country for cyclists to train. Brevard College was so small that back in Ohio its name was obscure, but its cycling team ranked as up-and-coming, and the athletic department was expanding, with sights set on Division I. Keaton had won a handful of collegiate championships before earning his master’s in sports science, and was a perfect candidate for the new assistant slot. He pounced on the opportunity like a kid who’d resigned himself to growing up but then found a loophole to keep playing with his favorite toys.
They checked into an inn in a walkable part of town, and she went exploring on her own, giving Keaton time to collect his thoughts for the selection committee. Her job was more straightforward, less competitive, and she’d been given the impression this interview was little more than a formality—to lay eyes on her before making the offer—so she’d come with more curiosity than anxiety. The streets put her in mind of a smaller, mountain-rimmed Athens, the Appalachian town where they’d met when Keaton was in grad school and she was finishing undergrad at Ohio University. To some of her friends who’d stayed in Cincinnati at UC or Xavier, OU’s campus was too much of an isolated bubble. But Caroline loved that bubble, from its bumpy brick streets to its iconic Burrito Buggy, and cried when she left as if bidding farewell to a friend who’d seen her through the best time of her life.
By the end of her self-guided Brevard tour—from the eclectic vintage shops to the coffee roaster selling stamped brown bags of whole bean, from the colorful boutiques to the gem and crystal “mine” filled with oddities and treasures—she was starting to feel about the prospects of this town the way Keaton did about the job. That it was something of a seasonal tourist stop for those going off the beaten path—walls of T-shirts boasting “The Land of Waterfalls” and postcards showing the mountains’ beauty in floral bloom, in brilliant fall hues, even in snow—only amplified its appeal. She and Keaton had both moved back to Cincinnati by default, but now seemed the time to explore, see what else was out there before settling. Keaton was living with his parents while he completed one last internship, and she’d moved into an apartment with Maureen, both of them having landed the kinds of entry-level jobs one could bide time in without getting attached.
She’d loved Maureen like a sister since childhood, but after going separate ways for college, they found cohabitation felt too much like a backward step. They hadn’t learned yet how to be more than their old juvenile selves together—selves they were ready to outgrow. Rather than dissolving into awkwardness, they agreed that one way or another Caroline would move out at the soonest opportunity. The truth was, she’d have followed Keaton anywhere if he asked her to. But for both of them to find opportunities here? One day was all it took to feel as though she’d won the lottery three times over.
Friday, they bounded out of their respective interviews with confident smiles and spent the rest of the weekend hiking to hidden lakes, eating their way through cafés, and speculating about becoming regulars in the spots they liked best. Which was all of them. They both felt it: They belonged here.
Sure as they belonged together.
On the day Keaton got the job offer, he arrived at Caroline’s apartment with champagne and a fistful of flowers. Maureen let him in. Caroline was curled on the couch, staring listlessly at a form letter. We’ve decided to go with another candidate.
She’d never thought of herself as prideful, but she’d never forget the way his face fell. Though it conveyed only a crestfallen fraction of her own disappointment, it should have spoken louder than the words he did say: “Come anyway.”
It was hard even now to piece together what came next. She’d agreed, right away, but in the coming days … well, they’d begun to argue. Silly stuff, mostly, but they couldn’t seem to stop. She started to worry: Was he sorry he’d asked? Had she not made her own feelings reassuringly clear? For reasons she couldn’t pinpoint, Come anyway morphed into Why don’t you put out some feelers, come later? The difference was subtle, akin to that between I’ll pick you up and I’ll save you a seat, but in her sensitive state, it mattered. Enough to spark their biggest fight yet.
They took a day to cool off, and in that day, Caroline put her emotions in check. Of course they were both on edge. This was a big step. But she’d work the register in one of those cute little stores, for all she cared. As long as they were together.
She asked him to meet her, to talk—not in her apartment, which still held the awkwardness of popping a cork on one-sided bubbly, but at her parents’ house, on a night they had other plans. She’d make him a real dinner, better than she could in her sparsely equipped kitchenette. Tell him how ready she was for this step together, how the possibilities made her buzz with pride in him and excitement for them both.
Keaton didn’t show.
Caroline wrapped up the pesto, the roasted vegetables, and the pasta with a note for Mom and Dad, as if leaving a surprise in their fridge had been her intention all along.
Saving face would soon become something of a default mode.
He never did convince her he’d rather go alone. He was not a sprinter but a man who’d spend months, years, training for a grand-scale race, riding the long game. Yet one day he was sending her links to rental properties, and the next she was moving the things she’d packed not to Brevard but back to her childhood bedroom. Their relationship ended so abruptly, she was left with the disoriented feeling that she’d imagined the entire thing. When she looked back on that visit to Brevard, it was through the heavy haze of this filter, rendering the memory indistinguishable from a delusion of what might have been.
She tried to picture Sela there—spending her whole life weaving through the spaces Caroline had once been so eager to claim. But the setting no longer seemed any more real than the pretenses that had brought her there. And the sister was still little more than a woman whose face, whose mind, she didn’t know. Dad was right that Rebecca had a wide imprint online, but all Caroline could find of Sela was evidence of deleted social media accounts—old post tags that no longer linked, search results behind privacy walls.
There’d been something painfully familiar in the way Dad spoke of Rebecca. As if she’d torn him into halves: one part aching for a glimpse into a parallel universe, the other knowing he couldn’t bear to look. Caroline and Keaton’s story differed in ways she might have been grateful for. They hadn’t met too late. They hadn’t betrayed anyone to be together. Hadn’t tormented each other—at least, not until the end. But their connection had always felt like something beyond her control. The only thing, in fact, beyond her control that she’d ever liked. Loved.
What did it say about her that her father’s confession of his least forgivable impulses had left her relating, contemplating an untaken path of her own?
And not just because that path might have collided with her sister’s.
Yet another reason it’s a very good thing you didn’t go, Mom had said.
There wasn’t much left to say to Dad. At the end of their strained lunch, Walt and the kids ran in, tiaras galore, and she’d done as Dad asked, putting a full stop on their conversation. That night, when Dad turned in early and Walt slipped out to his monthly poker night next door, she typed out the response she owed Sela before she could lose her nerve. She thought she’d feel better if she at least acknowledged their connection—regardless of what may or may not come with it.
But she didn’t. As the weekend came to a close, the kids bathed and tucked in down the hall and Walt shouting at the Sunday night football game downstairs, there was one person Caroline had yet to clear the air with.
Mom answered the old house phone on the first ring.
“Fred?”
“No, Mom. It’s me.”
The most uncomfortable residue of his visit was a flimsy film of disloyalty left on everything Caroline touched. It was the cloudy by-product of hearing him out while across town Mom was hurting, ears ringing. And of her brain’s perplexing response, that looping keyword search on memories of Brevard, of what might have been, even as Walt did his best to hold things steady on her behalf.
Disloyalty. It glommed on to her now at the sound of Mom’s voice saying Dad’s name with such obvious hope.
“Oh.” Mom sounded, unbelievably, disappointed. “Is he still with you?”
Their marriage really might survive this, exactly the way Dad had said. And yet—maybe it had already been surviving it. The fact that Mom might have opted him out of that database … Caroline wasn’t the only one who still needed processing time.
“He’s at Deer Creek by now.”
He’d surprised Caroline by heading not home but to a state park lodge with Walt’s fishing rod on loan, trying to joke that it was better if Hannah had a chance to miss him. She’d asked for space, and this was his chance at some, too—to make peace with the ultimatum that would shut out one daughter and leave the other grappling with questions he’d never answer.
“Right.” Mom’s sighs were so expressive, she could communicate via verbalized exhales the way other people did with emojis or GIFs. This one was ready for the ordeal to be over.
“I felt strange, not acknowledging that Dad filled me in—at least, on the basics.” She cringed at the thought of Mom guessing at his candor where Rebecca was concerned. Was it possible Caroline herself now knew more about Dad’s transgression than his own wife did? That was somehow worse. “I’m sorry this happened.”
“It’s not you who has anything to be sorry about.”
“I know you said you don’t want to talk about it, but—”
“I’m trying not to feel humiliated, sweetie. Talking about it is—well, humiliating.”
And here was Caroline, calling to confront her. Could she really do it? This wasn’t only about getting answers to things that were nagging at her, about wiping away that sticky film. There were things she needed to say, too.
“But Mom. Dad said you might have known all along, that something happened with him and Rebecca. And if that’s true, the timing of finding out you were pregnant with me…” Caroline faltered. “It hit me that you might have sacrificed some things. Not the least of which was enduring feeling humiliated. You might have felt trapped by me.”
It was equally possible, she supposed, that Mom had rushed her pregnancy to trap Dad, knowing he’d do the standup thing. But Caroline couldn’t, wouldn’t, go there, not even alone.
“Oh, Caroline.” The edge fell away from her voice. “Every parent makes sacrifices, but I don’t know a one who is trapped by a child. By their own choices, their own mistakes, maybe. A child? No. A child is the opposite of a trap. A child opens you in ways you didn’t even know you were closed. You know that—three times over now.”
Gracious words. But everyone knew parents and children alike were equally capable of not just opening doors but closing them.
Much like her father with Rebecca, as it turned out, Caroline had forbidden herself to seek out Keaton online or even ask a mutual acquaintance how he was. She knew next to nothing of what had become of Keaton, and that was the way she liked it.
Well, not exactly. It was the way she needed it. She’d struggled too hard to climb over that mountain of disappointment to risk a backslide. Once she finally accepted that she’d never understand what, or who, had changed Keaton’s mind—whether her own failure made him second-guess her abilities, or he got cold feet, or thought they’d moved too fast, or met someone else, or, or, or—she’d never wavered.
Until now.
“Thanks for that, Mom. But I also couldn’t help but think…” She cleared her throat. “It must have been a hard coincidence when Keaton and I set our sights on Brevard.” She debated adding the word College. Had Hannah known Rebecca was teaching there, at the very place Caroline interviewed?
Another patented, exasperated sigh. “Forgive me if I don’t see how Dad’s infidelity—which, I’ll remind you, is between me and him—reopens discussion of your ex-boyfriend. This is the second time you’ve brought him up. What would Walt think?”
“This has nothing to do with Walt.” Why wouldn’t Mom just admit, as Dad had in a roundabout way, Well, I didn’t love the idea and was sort of secretly glad when you didn’t go?
Unless she had some reason not to.
“Given my current position, you’ll understand why I beg to differ.”
“Walt is far from in your position, Mom.” Harsh, but true. She hadn’t been tempted by another man since meeting him. Walt was also well aware of how heartbroken she’d been over Keaton. He’d seen it firsthand. “And if Walt heard what you said last time it came up, he’d understand why I’m bringing it up again.”
“What on earth did I say?” A nervous laugh gave her away. Neither of them could forget the cold shock of that morning—every word of it. Caroline’s unease grew.
“That it’s a good thing I didn’t go.”
“I should think that’s obvious. Look at your life: Walt, the kids. You wouldn’t have any of that if you’d gone.”
“When you said it, I got the impression you’d felt that way all along without telling me.”
“Your impression was wrong.”
“Please. Be honest.”
For a moment, the line was so silent, Caroline wondered if they’d been disconnected.
“Fine. Yes, Keaton’s choice of cities was a coincidence I’d have rather avoided.”
“Did you do something to avoid it?” She kept her voice calm, even sympathetic.
“What could I do? I didn’t dissuade you.”
“It fell apart, though. And while I was devastated, you were relieved.”
“I hated seeing you hurting. Now that we have the benefit of hindsight, isn’t it nice to be able to say it was the right choice in the long run?”
“But it wasn’t a choice. Not for me. It was Keaton who decided I wouldn’t be going.” That silence again. So much louder than the things Mom did say.
“He must’ve known it was for the best.”
“In what way? No one could ever explain what made him change his mind.” His mom had actually called Caroline to apologize, which only added to her mortification. “No one seemed anything but sad and confused that he left without me. Except, apparently, you.”
“Well, if he was going to change his mind, I think it’s sensible to be glad he did before dragging you across state lines.”
“You’re dodging the question: Did you say or do something to change his mind, Mom?”
No response. This evasiveness was becoming terrifying, but Caroline had to push ahead. “You said you didn’t try to dissuade me. Maybe you couldn’t let me think you were interfering—but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t interfere?”
When Mom spoke again, her voice was faint. “It was so long ago.…”
No. No, no, nonono.
She hadn’t wanted it to be true.
It took all her resolve not to scream, What did you say to him? How could you? But she needed to know. “I understand it’s been hard dredging up the past, and you want to move on. But I’m not going along with that until you tell me this. I have a right to know.”
“I’m not having a twelve-year-old fight with my daughter, on top of a thirty-five-year-old split from my husband. I can’t take it.”
“It’s not a fight,” she lied. “Like you said, it was a long time ago.”
Mom cleared her throat. “He came by the house one night, looking for you. Sounded like you’d gotten your signals crossed, but I had that nice meal you’d left here the night before, and your father was out, so I invited Keaton to join me.”
Bile rose in her throat at the thought of Keaton eating that laborious dinner after all.
Without her.
The start of doing everything without her.
“Mom! How did this never come up?”
“Well, the boy seemed a little lost, to be honest. I thought maybe I could help.”
Caroline clenched her fists. “Lost about what?”
“It’s a lot of pressure, navigating a crossroads like that, even when you don’t have anyone but yourself to consider. But when you do…”
“It’s supposed to be a good thing, not having to take a leap of faith alone.”
“Yes and no. He seemed very concerned about leading you in a direction that might not be right for you. About you having regrets later.”
“Keaton was the direction I wanted. The rest would have worked itself out.”
“Look. All I did was try to reassure him. But I wasn’t a hundred percent convinced you following him to Brevard was your best move. Women in your generation have so many more options, and—” She caught herself. “Anyway, I didn’t sugarcoat things. When he left here, I thought he was reconsidering the move, maybe thinking about rescinding the job and finding something else where you both had opportunities. I never imagined he’d do—what he did.”
Caroline could scarcely breathe, so tightly was the betrayal squeezing at her lungs. Since when was Mom an outspoken or even self-aware feminist? “You expect me to believe the fact that you weren’t ‘convinced’ had nothing to do with Rebecca being there, on the same campus?”
“On the…” Was she surprised by this detail or only that Caroline knew it? She recovered quickly. “Again, I only meant for Keaton to reconsider the job, the town. Never to reconsider you. And I don’t know that I had anything to do with that! But I do wish I’d never invited him in.”
Caroline’s mouth dropped open, but nothing came out. The pain in her lungs grew tighter. She wanted to ask whom Hannah had been more afraid of her meeting—Rebecca or Sela? But she was starting to think Dad was right that it was better to stick to questions she was sure she wanted answers to.
“And when he did reconsider me? Did you do anything to stop it?”
“What could I do? I guess I’d underestimated how strongly he felt about that particular next step. I thought Brevard was one of many places the two of you would be willing to try on for size. Not the place he’d already decided was a perfect fit.”
“He wasn’t the only one who thought it was perfect.” Caroline couldn’t restrain the emotion from her voice. There was more to this, surely—her own pride or Keaton’s youth getting in their own way. But that Mom had played any role …
“All I can say is I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry now? What about then, when I was lying upstairs in my old room with my heart in pieces? It never occurred to you to tell me what happened? Even if you didn’t think you could fix it, maybe I could have!”
“What’s left to fix? You can be unhappy with me, but surely not with how things turned out. Probably I shouldn’t have said what I did. But everyone makes mistakes, and sometimes, they’re a blessing in disguise. You have no idea how relieved I am that’s the case here.”
“So because Walt is great, I’m not supposed to be upset that this pivotal moment of my life hinged on a lie? That I lost a year—more—grieving a relationship that didn’t need to die the way it did? I made big life decisions out of that terrible place. This isn’t just about losing Keaton.”
“I think we’ve had enough for one week.” Another heavy sigh: You promised this wasn’t a fight. “Let’s not blow this out of proportion. It’s not as if it changes anything.”
She was finally right, Caroline had to admit, about something. It didn’t change anything, not if you stepped back and looked at things objectively.
It changed everything.