Amelia gave up on trying to read. She’d been reading all day, and now she was reading in bed, and not a word was sinking in. She set the book on her nightstand, moving carefully so as not to disturb Kelly, who seemed to have drifted to sleep. Amelia checked the time: 8:00.
“Where you going, babe?” Kelly asked groggily.
“Oh! I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I’m awake,” Kelly said, sitting up and pulling her hair away from her face.
“I thought I’d get some fresh air. Want to come out back for a little bit?”
Kelly shook her head. “You go. I’m going to work for a few hours.”
Amelia nodded reluctantly, kissed her on the cheek. She had never felt so alone. Kelly, relatively communicative during the initial cancer diagnosis last year, was now shutting her out completely. She didn’t understand why.
Frantic, Amelia had confided in Bart. He had listened empathetically, but in the end told her, “Terminal illness is very personal. We want to be with them every step of the way, partners as we are in everything else. But ultimately, it’s impossible. The journey is theirs alone.”
Amelia’s stomach rumbled. When was the last time she’d eaten? She’d cooked dinner for Kelly but had barely eaten a bite. Amelia knew she had to take care of herself. It wouldn’t do Kelly any good if she got run-down and sick.
She headed down to the kitchen. The fridge was full. That dear Rachel had clearly gone above and beyond in the cooking department. She pulled out a dish covered in aluminum foil. Was that cheese? She cut off a piece and couldn’t help but smile at the fruits of her labor. All those years lamenting the lost opportunity to pass her recipes on to Nadine. If only she had known what life had in store for her!
A breeze blew off the bay through the open window. Amelia breathed deeply. She had to keep it together. She wouldn’t give up hope, despite Kelly doing her damnedest to convince her to.
Amelia stepped out into the backyard. In the distance, the foghorn sounded. Above, the clear night sky framed the glittering stars. Loneliness washed over her, but she refused to give in to it. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that Kelly was upstairs. She was there. And all around Amelia, even in that solitary moment, was so much that she held dear: the water, the salt air, the house where she had labored and loved for so many decades. And later that night, the rest of the family would make their way back into the house, filling the rooms.
She looked up and saw the light go on in Kelly’s studio.
Amelia sat at the picnic table, her back against it, staring at the stunningly visible stars. Next month would be September already. Where had the summer gone? She closed her eyes, thinking of that first September with Kelly. Oh, to be able to reset the clock, to live the past thirty years all over again. Of course, that was impossible. That was greedy, that was asking too much.
Okay, then, she bargained with the stars. How about just one more summer?
It was no use. Blythe had no business dating. With everything that was going on, she was barely able to keep her own head straight, let alone offer anything to a dear, sweet man like Warren Ames.
Oh, she tried. Their dinner conversation stayed light, both of them consciously avoiding talking about their marriages. It was as if, in the days since their last dinner, they had both consulted a midlife-dating handbook. Unfortunately, her present was so complicated, it made her past look like a cakewalk.
How could she enjoy dinner with Warren when she knew Kip was still in town?
Probably at dinner with Marin that very moment.
Still, she and Warren had managed to laugh a few times. But she was certain he knew, when he walked her back to the house, that the laughter had been between friends, not potential lovers.
The house was dark and quiet. Before she met Warren at the restaurant, she’d tried to find Marin, but she wasn’t at the house. Now Marin’s door was closed, without a crack of light underneath it.
Blythe, feeling ghostlike wandering the halls, headed down to the kitchen. She filled the teapot with water and set it on the stove. Only when rifling through Amelia’s tin filled with herbal teas did she finally remember: Marin’s sonogram appointment. She’d missed it!
She was just failing all around.
And then she noticed the light on out back. Through the kitchen window she could see someone sitting at the farthest end of the table, facing the water. Amelia.
It was not too late to redeem herself, to save the day from being a total loss. She turned off the stove and hurried up to her room, where she pulled the shoe box out from under her bed.
Amelia was startled by the back door creaking open. She turned around, hoping Kelly had changed her mind, abandoned her art in favor of a talk. When she realized it was only Blythe, the disappointment was so swift and heavy, it almost made her gasp.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” Blythe said.
She was, of course. But Amelia pushed away the ungenerous thought.
“Not at all,” she said. “I was just getting some fresh air. Did you have a nice night?”
Blythe sat across from her, nodding. “I did. Well, I tried to. I had dinner with Warren Ames.”
Amelia smiled with genuine joy. “Oh, Blythe. That’s wonderful. He’s such a nice man. A terrible shame about Catherine. We all liked her very much.”
“Well, I’m afraid I disappointed him. I’m not ready to date. I feel ridiculous even saying the word.”
“I think it’s our need to label everything. Puts too much pressure on ourselves. It’s the summer. You’re entitled to some fun.”
Blythe looked very serious, and Amelia sensed that whatever was weighing on her had little to do with Warren Ames. Well, if she wanted to talk, Amelia would listen. She glanced back at the house. She had the impulse to go inside, but then she would only be tempted to disturb Kelly. The truth was, Blythe’s intrusion was just what she needed.
“Shall I get a bottle of wine?” Amelia offered.
“Oh, no, thanks. At least, not for me. I’m going to bed. I really just came out here because there’s something I want to show you.” It was only then that Amelia noticed the envelope in her hand. Blythe, fumbling for a minute, pulled out a folded piece of paper. “This is a letter Nick sent to me from Italy.”
Amelia shook her head. “What?”
“This is the last I heard from Nick. I saved it all these years. I think I was hesitant to throw it away because of the drawing. I could never throw away his art. And now I’m so thankful I didn’t, because this letter tells a different story than the one you’re hearing from Nadine.”
She held out the paper and Amelia took it gingerly, as if it would dissolve at her touch. Blythe reached out and squeezed Amelia’s hand. “But you read it for yourself.”
Amelia couldn’t say anything. She waited until Blythe was gone, until she was probably already in bed, before looking down at the paper in her hand.
On one side, a drawing: high cliffs framing a stretch of beach and the wide, expansive sea. It was black-and-white, but so finely etched it hinted at color. The water, blue stillness. The pristine, ivory beach. She traced his lines with her finger, imagining him bent over this very sheet of paper, his brow furrowed in concentration, his hair—always too long—falling into his eyes.
She blinked back tears. Was Blythe right?
His words could speak for themselves. Finally. She read them eagerly, her breath in her throat, her pulse racing.
Dear Blythe:
Sorry to leave in a way that I guess seemed out of nowhere. But now that I’m back near the sea, reunited with my sister, there’s no question it was just what I needed. I’m drawing again, finally. This is where I belong. So I guess you were right: it was good-bye. But I do think of you. I imagine what this relentless sun would do to your pale beauty, burnishing it into something new and exotic. If we see each other again I hope it will be here. Though I suspect you are back in the arms of your husband, happily now, I hope.
He signed it Always, Nick. When she was finished, she read his words again. And again. How many times until she was satisfied? She didn’t know. How many times more would she drink in his words? Endlessly. But for now, she closed her eyes, pressing the letter to her chest.
He had been happy.
Amelia, overcome with a sense of urgency, rushed back inside the house. She had to tell Kelly. Kelly, who had been right all along about Nadine, the extent of how unfairly punishing she had always been toward them both. That Amelia did not have to bear the weight of Nick’s death so completely.
She made her way up the stairs, feeling light and energetic. She paused on the second-floor landing, catching her breath before ascending to the studio. Outside the door, she hesitated; she hated to disturb Kelly when she was working, but this was worth it.
“Kel?” she said, knocking. She looked down at the letter in her hand. She still couldn’t believe it! She knocked again. No response. “Kelly?” She tried turning the doorknob, but it was locked.
She knocked again, feeling the first prick of alarm. “Kelly, open up.” She banged on the door, open-palmed, so hard it hurt. She again tried to turn the doorknob, then stepped back. Her whole body had broken out in a sweat.
There was a key to the studio behind the front desk. She ran down the stairs, taking them nearly two at a time, ignoring the pain in her legs. In the dark, she bumped into the living room couch but didn’t miss a step. She reached the desk, breathless, and pulled open the drawers, rummaging through the messy contents, dumping rubber bands and pens and Beach Rose Inn notepads onto the floor. There were a few loose keys, and she grabbed them all.
When she looked up from the base of the stairs, the climb seemed like Everest. Cursing her age, cursing the body that was betraying her as she wanted to leap up to the third floor, she huffed and dragged herself as fast as she could. Hands shaking, she tried the first key in the door.
“Kelly, open up!” She dropped the useless key and moved on to the next one. Mercifully, the knob turned. She burst into the room, rushing blindly and knocking over a chair and a container of tiles, sending it clattering to the floor. “Kelly!”
Kelly, wearing her green cargo pants and NO ONE LIKES A SHADY BEACH T-shirt, was curled up on the small couch near the window. Amelia, less panicked now that she was inside the room, rushed over to her.
“Kelly?” She knelt beside her, shaking her gently. Kelly didn’t stir. It barely seemed like she was breathing. Amelia shook her harder. “Kelly, wake up.”
Amelia shifted position, knocking over a glass of water Kelly had set by the sofa. That’s when she noticed the prescription bottle. Feeling like she was moving in slow motion, she picked it up.
It was empty.
“What did you do?” Amelia shrieked. “Kelly, what did you do?”
Blythe and Marin rushed into the room. “What’s going on?” Blythe asked.
“Call 911!” Amelia yelled, holding Kelly against herself, cradling her like a child and sobbing. She pressed her head down, burying her face in Kelly’s hair, which had come loose from its ponytail. “I need you,” Amelia cried. “I love you. Please, please don’t go…”
Amelia didn’t know what she was saying, she just knew she had to keep talking. She had to keep Kelly with her, even as a man tried to pull her away. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’ve got to let us—”
Blythe was beside her, taking her by the arms, forcing her to let Kelly go.
Kelly, goddamn it. Don’t leave me!