“I’m so glad you came, Olivia,” I said again as I strapped myself into the passenger seat of her car. The back seat held a car seat and various other signs that a small child was often in residence—a few discarded toys, a stray shoe, a littering of Goldfish crackers that had fallen to the floor and been forgotten.
“I’m glad, too. I’ve been wanting to see you,” she replied, reaching into the glove box to take out a pair of sunglasses and slip them on before she buckled her own seat belt. “And I’m sorry I didn’t call you right when I found out you were coming up. I was absolutely swamped with finals at school, and then I had to make this ginormous wedding cake for a friend of mine who was getting married. I felt like I didn’t have a minute to breathe!” She sighed, sounding a little bit tired, now that I thought about it.
And how could she not be? She was taking care of so many things, all at once. I felt another sharp stab of guilt at not having done more to keep in contact with her, at having missed so many big things that were going on in her life. Not the least of which was the fact that she had discovered her own love for baking cakes—and the fact that she was extremely talented at it.
“I heard about that. I don’t know how you did it—but then again, I don’t seem to have inherited Grammie’s ability to spin sugar into magic, the way you did,” I replied, watching as she pulled out onto the main thoroughfare so that we could head downtown. This would be my second trip there in as many weeks, and I wondered if today’s beautiful weather would beckon another crowd of children to the carousel.
Oddly enough, I’d watched the horses run their course on my previous visit without actually getting on myself. When I’d come with Savannah, we’d merely viewed from the sidelines, talking and allowing the more appropriately aged riders to have their turn.
“Oh, it’s so much fun,” Olivia said, momentarily turning her head to look at me—at least, I was guessing she was looking at me. I couldn’t really tell, because her eyes were hidden behind the tinted lenses of her sunglasses. “Doing it has helped me in a lot of ways, too. It kind of gave me a creative way to work through things after I found out I was pregnant with Ethan and that I was going to have to raise him by myself,” she went on, giving me a glimpse into a part of the story that I’d never heard before.
“I came down here, took two weeks of vacation from work so that I could just get away and deal, let myself breathe for a little while and think. Grammie made me French toast every morning, just like she did when I was little. And she taught me how to bake cakes and decorate them, just like she did. Even showed me how to make the frosting roses. I got better at it, the more I practiced it, of course; but it wasn’t the easiest thing to learn. Now I can make them pretty quickly. She taught me the recipe for her frosting, too, and everybody swears you wouldn’t know the difference,” she continued with a blush of pride. “I wish I had more time to bake, but with school and work and taking care of Ethan—” she shook her head, turning her attention back to the road “—I just can’t. But when I do get to make cakes…” The corners of her mouth went up in a shy grin. “I can’t really describe how good it makes me feel, watching someone get a cake that I’ve made for them. It’s so rewarding. Does that make sense?” she asked, sounding surprisingly tentative.
“Definitely,” I said quietly, hating myself for the envy I felt at hearing about the time she’d gotten to spend with our grandmother and the ways that they had strengthened their bond when I’d never really gotten to do that—not to that level, at least. “That’s how I feel when I nail an article about someone. When they email me and tell me how special it was to them to be able to read their story. That’s one of the biggest reasons I love what I do.”
“And you’re so good at it, Dellie,” Olivia said.
“I hope so,” I sighed.
“You are,” she insisted. “We all think so, and it’s not just because you’re family. You really are, and I think it’s great that you’re doing it. Not everybody does that, you know?” There was a hint of wistfulness in her voice that left me wondering if her job truly made her feel fulfilled. Not that I’d heard anyone say anything about my cousin being unhappy at work—she’d been at her company almost since graduating high school, inching her way up as she worked her way through school, toiling toward a degree that was relevant to her continued climb up the corporate ladder.
But was she happy?
I wondered if she’d even had enough time to herself to think about it.
Was she doing what she loved, or had she fallen into the trap of doing what made sense, what paid the bills and supported her son?
Did I even have the right to ask that, after having been so far removed from her life for so long?
I decided to bring it up later, after we’d had a little more time to get acclimated to one another.
“Sometimes I feel like I was an absolute fool for leaving a secure job, but…I don’t know. I had to. I wish I could be that brave about more things in my life, but I seem to have limited that part of my adventurous spirit to my professional life,” I said, shaking my head regretfully.
I shifted in my seat to get a better view of my cousin. She was wearing a white three-quarter sleeve blouse with little blue swallows printed all over it, paired with navy blue chino shorts that perfectly coordinated with the color of the swallows. Her toenails were painted in a sparkly lavender, peeking happily from a pair of dark brown leather sandals. She wore no wedding ring, and I wondered if she ever would. Once upon a time, we had shared the fantasy of having a double wedding, with Grammie making our cakes and throngs of thrilled guests watching as we both floated down the aisle to the men of our dreams in poofy white dresses.
In reality, neither of us had had the best history with men. True, my relationship had resulted in a wedding while hers had resulted in a child; but neither of us had a Happily-Ever-After romance to show for it.
Yet.
I had to believe that it wasn’t too late for either one of us to have that.
“Is Ethan with your parents? You could have brought him,” I said, knowing I was getting off course in our conversation, but needing to make sure that she knew I wanted to meet the little treasure who had come from her own heartache. “I’ve been wanting to meet him.”
She nodded. “I know. And you will,” she said, her eyes searching for a parking spot now that we had made it to our destination. “But I kind of thought it would be better to have some time without distractions, so I asked Mom and Dad to watch him today. Not that they minded. They had big plans of taking him to the park and for some ice cream.” She grinned. “They spoil him, but I guess that’s their job, right? Lord knows Grammie and Grandpa always did with us.”
“Oh, yes, they definitely did; but you’re right, that’s their job.” I looked ahead as she slipped neatly into a slot, parallel parking by the sidewalk. “How did any of us get to be old enough to have kids? When did that happen?” I asked no one in particular.
“That’s a question I ask myself so often it’s insane. But we are. And now I’m a mommy, and I have Ethan.” Olivia cut the engine and released her seat belt, turning to look at me. “It didn’t happen the way I always hoped it would. You know—the great wedding, the fantasy honeymoon, starting a family after we’d had some time to just be married.” She sighed at the naivety, sliding her sunglasses up on her head so that I could see her eyes again. “It didn’t happen even remotely the way I always hoped it would. But I wouldn’t trade Ethan for anything; and I can’t imagine my life without him, even though his father and I aren’t together.”
I nodded. I may not have had children of my own, but I could certainly relate to the realization that things hadn’t exactly followed the path that I’d always envisioned. Even so, there were gifts that had come in the midst of it all that might never have been revealed without the presence of the trials that had ensued.
We climbed out of the car and walked the next few moments in silent contemplation, taking in the sights and smells and sounds of the day. It was glorious; and I could only hope that it would hold, at least while we were down here. The forecast had called for high chances of rain at some point, but so far I was seeing no signs that a shower was imminent.
We came to the carousel, its gate crowded with a stream of children and teenagers who were all waiting their turn at the horses. It was nice to see that the landmark was still so consistently such a hotbed of activity, and I wondered if Olivia had ever brought Ethan here.
“Ethan loves the carousel,” she said, as if in answer to my thoughts. “He’s even got a favorite horse all picked out.” She grinned and slid the sunglasses back down on her face to shield her eyes from the bright glare of the early afternoon sun.
“Have you brought him here a lot?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard above the childish squeals and the loud beat of the carousel’s music.
Olivia shook her head. “No, but we stayed with Grandpa for a week earlier this spring, and I think we came here almost every day. Ethan’s only just gotten to be old enough to really enjoy it, you know?”
I nodded. “So you never got to bring him to ride while Grammie was alive?”
Even though Olivia’s eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses, I could see the pain on her face. “No, he was still too little for that, and getting too close to it scared him. It can be pretty loud when it gets going. But we did get to bring him a couple of times to watch from his stroller.”
“Olivia—” I started, hoping that now really was a good time to bring up the topic. “What did you think, when you found out that Grammie was engaged before she met Grandpa?”
She shrugged. “I was surprised, I guess. You know, that’s the kind of thing that you’d think would have been talked about, way before now, with all the stories that bounce around when everybody gets together. It makes sense, though, in some ways, that it didn’t,” she allowed, still facing forward to watch the carousel from where we stood on the sidewalk. “It was a long time ago, and everybody involved had families of their own to think about, instead of dragging it up and making everybody think it was something that no one got over. Grammie and Grandpa loved each other. That’s what ended up counting, don’t you think?”
“It is. Definitely,” I agreed. “And I know they had a good life together, for a lot of years. But I think the whole situation blinded her to just how special she was. That’s not the kind of thing you get over so easily.” I wondered if she understood where I was going, if I made sense to anyone but myself.
“No, it’s not,” Olivia replied. “But it didn’t make her a weak woman, Dellie. She changed; and no, she wasn’t as self-confident as she might have been if that hadn’t happened. But she also wouldn’t have ended up where she was—who she was—if things had gone differently and she had married George.” She turned to look at me. “Believe me, I know what it’s like to have a guy fill you full of promises and then just run off. It doesn’t feel good. It feels like there must be something wrong with you, and that maybe you won’t ever be able to trust someone with your heart again. He’s still out there, walking around, free to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, confident as ever. Meanwhile, you’re the one who got left. For whatever reason—good or bad—you’re still the one who got left, not the one who did the leaving. It’s hard to get past that sometimes.” Olivia crossed her arms, almost defensively, and the emotion crept in at the edges of her voice as she spoke. “But you have to. There’s no other choice, Dellie. You have to, and she did. Just like I did.”
I wondered if she even realized how greatly her words were resonating with me. True, I’d heard the same thing from other people; but hearing them now…it felt different somehow.
Almost as if my ears were hearing them differently, as if my heart was hearing them differently.
“But do you think she ever realized that she was such a special person?” I asked.
Olivia shook her head. “No, I don’t. But I think—I know—that she didn’t let it break her, either. She fell in love with someone else and had a family and made a future for herself that was still very, very good. Who knows, maybe it was even better than it would have been if she’d married George the way she thought she was going to. We don’t know that, and we can’t know that. Not for sure, anyway.” She paused, looking at me as though she was trying to gauge whether I was truly listening. “The big thing—the most important thing—is always, always, what you do with the life you get, Dellie. She did a lot with her life. I don’t think she died feeling like she didn’t have love all around her. I don’t think she died feeling as though she missed out on the life she should have had. I think she died feeling thankful for the children she raised and the husband she loved and the friends who made her life so full. She may not have realized—really and truly—how much she meant to people, but she was still strong and happy. And that’s how I think she would want us to remember her.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “And I know that, when it comes down to it, she wouldn’t want us to focus on that part of her life. Maybe that’s really why she didn’t want us to know about it. Part of her was afraid that we would be ashamed of her or think that she hadn’t been good enough for George. But maybe another part of her didn’t want us to think that it mattered to her anymore. Maybe I’ve let it matter too much,” I said thoughtfully. “I let it get so big in my head, like maybe it was something that she never really got past. So I was looking for answers, for signs that she was able to become happy and whole again, even after all the damage it did in the beginning. I got so focused on finding them that I was pretty much blind to them, as stupid as that is.”
“It’s not stupid, Dellie. I think it’s normal. You’ve been through a lot, and I know that part of you coming here was to help you try to get past that. I hope it’s helped at least get you started. You’ve changed, Dellie. I see it; everybody sees it. What you’ve been through—what you’ve been going through—and what you’re still going through. None of it is easy. You have to work at it. But you can. You’re strong enough for that. You just have to let yourself believe it.” She reached out and took my hand in both of hers, pressing the warmth of them into mine.
“Grammie would want that for you, too, Dellie. She was so proud of you and your writing, do you know that?” she asked. A small, guilty smile played on her lips. “I hate to admit it, but I used to feel a little bit envious over how proud she was.”
“Really?” I laughed. “That’s nuts. She was always talking about how proud she was of you, too, going to college while you’re working full-time and being with your company for so long,” I said, watching her expression closely as I spoke. “And I happen to know for a fact that she thought you were incredibly talented at making cakes. The last time she and Grandpa came for a visit—when I got married, actually—she had this huge stack of pictures to show us of the cakes you’d been making. If that’s not proud, I don’t know what is!”
Olivia’s face flushed with pleasure. “Isn’t it funny how we always wonder if we’re making people proud of us, and if we’re living up to their expectations? When we were little, I used to think that you and Charlie were Grammie and Grandpa’s favorites, since your mom was their only daughter.”
“And I always thought you were the favorites, since you lived so close and got to spend so much time with them during the summer. I always felt like I was missing out on something!” I said, shaking my head at the silliness of it all.
“Now that I’m older—and so much wiser, I might add—I think that none of us were really their favorites. We’re all so different from each other, and I think that they appreciated those differences. So they loved as all equally, each in our own ways. Maybe being understanding of that comes from being a mother now and being able to see the ways that Ethan is just his own little person. He’s such a special boy, Dellie. And whether or not I ever find a man who loves me and loves Ethan, my life is rich.”
I smiled at her, feeling warm fingers of sunlight caress my shoulders as a light breeze ruffled at my hair. This is what happy feels like, I thought as I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it fill my lungs until it seemed as though the air itself could touch my soul. For some reason that I couldn’t explain, this very moment seemed different from all the other moments I’d had in my time here so far.
The sudden slap of a ball hitting my ankle as it skittered to a stop broke my reverie, and I opened my eyes to see a wide-eyed little girl staring up at me, looking startled and shy. She squatted down on chubby legs to pick up the bright pink ball, her palms splayed out to grip it, never once breaking her gaze as her mouth suddenly broke out into a grin. “Ball!” she squealed.
“Ball,” I agreed encouragingly, smiling back at her.
“Georgia, come back here!” a young woman shouted from a few feet away, her quick steps showing both frustration and panic. “I’m so sorry about that. She gets away so fast sometimes it scares me,” she said as she came closer. “I swear, she’s going to send me to an early grave. Come here, Doodlebug, let’s leave these two ladies alone and go ride the carousel, okay?” She scooped the tiny girl up in her arms, ensuring that the impish little redhead would be unable to escape again.
“Ride!” Georgia repeated with a shriek of glee, clapping her plump fingers together as she widened her blue eyes at me. “Ride, ride!”
“Hush, honey, we’re going. Let’s get your ball, and then we can go for a ride,” Georgia’s mother said, smoothing her daughter’s little yellow-and-white-checked gingham sundress.
I reached down and picked up the ball from where it rested on the sidewalk, then held out the pink plastic orb to the toddler. She lunged forward to take it from me, grinning widely as drool gathered just below her chin.
“How old is she?” Olivia asked the woman, the sound of her voice reminding me that she was there. She’d been so quiet until then that I’d almost thought she might have walked away for a minute.
“She’s eighteen months.”
“Ride!” Georgia squealed again, bouncing up and down with excitement in her mother’s arms.
“We’re not going to do anything if you don’t settle down, Georgia,” her mother scolded, trying to keep her hold on the squirming little body in her arms.
Georgia stilled at her mother’s words, seeming to understand the tone more than anything. But the excited grin remained in place, never once wavering as she looked first at her mother, then back at me.
“Ride?” she asked.
“Yes, ride. Now tell the nice ladies bye-bye,” the young mother instructed, waving her own hand to demonstrate. “Bye-bye,” she said again, turning to go.
Georgia waved her plump hand at us, jerkily opening and closing her fingers as she mimicked the words. “Bye-bye.”
“Bye-bye,” Olivia and I said back in unison.
“Wow, she’s cute,” Olivia murmured as the pair walked away, heading toward the carousel.
I nodded, wondering if my cousin was thinking of her son right now.
“She is—and she seemed so sweet, too. Were we ever that little?” I marveled.
“Once upon a time,” Olivia said. “A long, long time ago. It goes by so fast, doesn’t it? It’s amazing. I look at Ethan all the time and just have this overwhelming wish that I could freeze it all, keep him tiny and safe and happy, just the way he is now and never let him grow up. I wish that was possible. It’s sad how, when you get older, things seem to get so serious that you forget what it feels like to be so little and joyful, just because,” she went on, shaking her head contemplatively as we stood watching another stream of children scramble to lay claim to their horses before the carousel began another set of turns.
I slid a sidelong glance at her, feeling a smile creep up my face. “So then, Olivia,” I said holding my hand out to her, hoping she wouldn’t think I was being ridiculous. “Ride?”
The look on her face told me absolutely everything I needed to know.
“Ride!” she agreed, laughing as she took my hand.
And so we rode, each climbing onto a horse, hardly giving a thought to who might be watching as we rose and dipped in time to the band music, feeling as though we had been given—if only for those few moments—a chance to feel the unabashed joy of childhood.