Chapter Nineteen
“The trip is taking just as long as I remember, and that’s saying something because I remember it lasting forever,” Hayden joked, knowing she sounded as whiney as she had that first time to the cottage.
That first time, Brian had teased her mercilessly. Their second trip with Kathleen and Livie had been filled with family chatter.
Now Brian drove in silence, just casting her more of the odd looks he’d been shooting her for days, ever since she’d made her apology. She couldn’t figure out what those looks meant, but they were making her curious.
“I remember when we all came,” Livie said from the back. “Well, mainly I remember images, the lighthouse, this one piece of wood that washed up a few houses down from ours. I remember stringing a blanket over a branch and making it my tent. That’s really about it.”
“You were so little.” Hayden was struck by the thought of Livie at that age. She’d been all legs. Her hair, uncontainable, red tendrils going every which way. Missing front teeth. And freckles … oh, what a week on a beach will do to freckles. There were millions. She smiled at the memory. “It was such a lovely vacation. Every night we walked into town. There’s a little variety store, and we’d each pick a treat. I always got—”
“Cream soda,” Brian interjected. “And. Livie, you liked the rootbeer.”
Hayden smiled at him, pleased he’d joined in, then turned back to Livie. “You weren’t allowed to have sodas very often, so getting one every evening was quite the treat.”
“What did Nana like?” Livie leaned forward.
“Rootbeer. She’s the one who got you hooked on it.”
Before they rhapsodized any further about the wonders of root beer, Brian pointed. “There’s our exit off Route 21. That wasn’t too bad, now, was it?”
Livie and Hayden groaned in unison. “Dad, that was the longest eight hours of my life.”
“Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad.” Brian suddenly seemed cheery.
Hayden started to relax, but then he shot her another of those odd looks and punctuated it with a smile she couldn’t quite read.
“If I’d remembered the trip was this long, I’d have maybe made reservations somewhere closer to home,” Livie maintained.
“It wouldn’t have been the same,” Hayden assured her. “We’re so glad you thought of it. Thank you again, honey.”
Brian wended his way through the small town, taking a left at the end of the main street, driving past summer cottages that were mixed in with the year-long residences. Between the houses Hayden could catch a glimpse of the beach, the water or just the horizon.
She opened her window and the scent that said you’re here flooded the car. The lake smelled differently than an ocean, fresher, crisper.
Brian finally eased the car into a driveway by the small weathered cottage. The shingles had faded from the brown Hayden remembered to a faint tan. Rather than looking worn, the weathering added to the cottage’s charm. The building seemed to be part of the landscape, blending in perfectly.
“We’re here.” Livie already had her door open and was hurrying to the side door. “Mr. Durkie said he’d leave the key in the—” She didn’t finish the sentence because she’d already opened the mailbox and retrieved a solitary key on a chain.
Hayden and Brian were barely out of the car, and Livie already had the door opened and had sprinted into what Hayden remembered was the kitchen.
“She might be almost grown up, but there are times, like this, that she’s still our little girl.” He reached out, took Hayden’s hand and gave it a squeeze, then obviously realized what he’d done. His head snapped up and he studied her, looking as if he was trying to decide if she minded or not, if she was going to withdraw as she had so often lately.
She smiled what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and squeezed his hand back, not letting go. “Yes, she’ll always be our little girl.”
They walked into the kitchen and nothing had changed. The same butcher block table sat in the center of the room, with twice as many chairs as they needed. The counter was still a circa nineteen sixty Formica, the appliances white enamel with black showing through where they had been nicked over the years. The same wagon-wheel lighting fixture hung heavy over the table.
Hayden took it all in, standing in the doorway. There was a comfort in the fact that everything here stayed the same, as if time hadn’t touched it.
“Mom, Mom, look, it’s all the same.” Livie’s words echoed her thoughts. She couldn’t help remembering the last time they’d been here. Livie was just seven. The day before they left Southampton to go home, she’d come prancing into the room with Kathleen on her heels and said …
1997
“Mom, Mom.…” Livie was dancing from one foot to the other on the cottage’s linoleum floor, obviously excited about something. “Come on, Nana, tell her.”
Kathleen smiled indulgently at Livie and took her hand, which soothed her spastic hopping. “Hayden, Bri, if it’s all right with you, Livie and I are going on a day trip. We’ll be back sometime after dinner tonight.”
“It’s an all-about-me day.” Livie’s excitement was evident as she started bouncing again.
Kathleen had started all-about-me days years ago. A whole day where the “me” in question got to do whatever he or she wanted. Kathleen had gifted Hayden with more than one all-about-me day, although Hayden’s had become much quieter days than Livie’s.
“And then we’re going to the movies, and having ice cream for lunch and stopping at the store so I can say goodbye to Nanook of the North and Nana will tell me all his stories, then—”
“Do you think you can do all that in one day?” Brian asked. He messed Livie’s hair, which never needed any assistance looking wild.
Hayden smoothed the silky strands as Livie nodded.
Kathleen grinned. “Maybe we can’t get it all done, but we sure can try, right, Liv?”
“Yep. Me and Nana are interrupted.”
“Intrepid,” Kathleen supplied.
Hayden carefully schooled her expression. It wouldn’t do to let Livie see she was amused. She turned and saw Brian was valiantly trying to suppress a grin, as well.
Livie obviously decided permission had been granted and squealed, then kissed Hayden and Brian, and was out the door on the way to the car before any of the adults said anything.
“Well, I guess we said yes.” Hayden watched out the window. Livie climbed into the car and laid on the horn.
Kathleen started for the door, then turned back. “You two will be okay without the car?”
“We’ll be fine,” Brian assured her. “Hope you can say the same after what looks to be a very busy day.”
“We’ll be more than fine. I look forward to days like these with Livie. Soon she’ll be too old to want to spend a day bumming around with her doddering grandmother.”
Hayden laughed. “I can’t imagine you ever doddering.”
Kathleen grinned. “I’ll do my best to avoid it. Oh, and we absolutely won’t be back until after dinner. The cottage is all yours.” She winked, turned back toward the door and hurried out.
“Oh, she’s subtle.” Hayden laughed.
“Very.” Brian pulled her into his arms. “So, what should we do with a whole day to ourselves?”
“We still have the Sunday crossword puzzle to do.”
He kissed her neck.
“Or, we take a walk into town and check out that antique shop Livie never wants to let us stop in.” Her voice much higher, she mimicked their daughter. “I don’t wanna go, Mommy. It’s so boring and dusty. I think it might make me sick.” She coughed for emphasis.
His lips moved lower, caressing the curve between her neck and her shoulder.
“Or, I guess we could go out on the beach for a bit.” Teasing was getting harder as Brian kept up his gentle persuasion.
“Mmm,” he murmured, his lips now on her shoulder, tasting, reminding her how hard it sometimes was to find time for this with both their daughter and Kathleen in the house.
“Or maybe …” She paused as her fingers slid down his chest and rested on the waistband of his jeans. “Maybe the two of us should stay in the cottage. It’s cool today. Cool enough that we could probably use the fireplace and pull that quilt out in front of it.”
He looked up, grinning. “Do tell. So what would we do with that quilt in front of a small fire?”
“Well, let me see if I can outline a few possibilities.” She stood on tiptoe and whispered her ideas in his ear. His hands traced small circles on her back, distracting her from her planning.
She gave up the game and simply changed her attention from his ear to his lips and kissed him. They were married, and still, touching him like this, holding him, being with him sometimes struck her with a sense of wonder.
He was hers.
She was his.
And as the thought occurred to her now, it only intensified the feelings of longing.
When they finally broke off the kiss, he took her hand and silently led her toward the living room.
“A whole day to ourselves,” he said, a smile on his face.
“A whole day …”
Hayden stood in the doorway of the cottage a decade later, looking at the kitchen, the sweetness of the memory making her smile. But remembering how close they were then only reminded her how distant they were now. Things had been better since that night she’d apologized, but they were still nowhere close to where they’d been that day so long ago.
She wanted it all back, but wasn’t sure how to go about getting it.
“Mom, come on, let’s see what the rest of the place is like.” Livie sped out of the room.
Hayden followed after her, Brian, too.
The great room was the same, as well. Hardwood floor, clean, but not shiny new. They bore evidence of years of families vacationing here. To the left was the fireplace. For another moment, that afternoon they’d spent in front of it on the quilt flitted across her mind.
She forced herself to look away. There were couches and a huge stone coffee table. To the right, a bar, another couch and a couple overstuffed chairs. And straight ahead, a sliding-glass door that let out to a patio. Beyond the patio, the beach, the lake.
Hayden walked to the sliding-glass door and looked out, knowing what she’d see … the island with the lighthouse.
Livie came up beside her and hugged her. “It’s all the same, isn’t it, Mom?”
“Just the same, honey.” She slid the door open and stepped out onto the cement patio.
Livie shouted, “I’m going to go claim my bedroom.”
Hayden stood, looking out over the small beach to the lake. Lake Huron stretched in front of her, wide, deep and if she remembered correctly, cold. She loved the water, the sand … just loved it here.
Brian followed her and stood behind her. “Why didn’t we come up here more often?” His question was a whisper against her breath.
She realized how close he was standing, and took a step to give herself room to breathe, before she turned and shrugged. “We got busy. After my first trip, you were in college, me in high school, both too busy. And after that second trip with Livie, she got active in school activities and—” she shrugged again “—life just got in the way.”
“Life shouldn’t get in the way of the pleasures. We should have made time.”
“We did … now. Thanks to Livie.” Their daughter was a force to be reckoned with.
The force appeared in the doorway, just as Brian said, “She’s a stubborn little thing.”
Livie snuck up behind him. “Yoo hoo, Dad. The stubborn little thing is right here.”
He turned. “Busted.”
“Yep, you are. In all fairness, I’d like to point out that I wouldn’t have to be stubborn if my parents weren’t so stubborn themselves.”
“So, what you’re saying, Livie, my love,” Brian asked, “is this is a case of the apple not falling far from the tree?”
“The trees,” she corrected, pointing from one of them to the other. “This apple didn’t fall far from her trees.”
Hayden couldn’t help but laugh. It was strange. For months she’d mourned Kathleen, worried about her relationship with Brian, but coming here seemed to have given her some distance from all that. Maybe it wasn’t just this trip, maybe it was her apology, her finally admitting there was a problem and deciding she wanted to try to fix it.
It didn’t matter what the reason was. For the first time in a long time she felt she could breathe. “Listen, let’s get our suits and go down to the water.”
“You know it’ll be too cold for you.” Brian turned to Livie. “Both times we’ve been up here, your mother’s put on her suit every day and tried the water, and every single time, she’s declared it’s too cold for people, but just right for polar bears.”
“Hey” Hayden protested, “one of these times it might be warm enough.”
“Always the optimist.” He laughed. “Let’s go find our suits, then.”
Optimist? Hayden was pretty sure that wasn’t an apt description. She’d been a realist. And these last few months she’d been a pessimist. Maybe it was time to give optimism a try?
That first swim—and Brian had been right, the water was too cold—set the tone for the rest of the week. They played on the beach most of the day, and in the evening, after supper, they walked into town. The first night. Hayden reached for a cream soda and it felt as if the last ten years had never happened.
Livie reached for a rootbeer. “Nana would like to know I’ve kept the tradition.”
“She would at that,” Hayden agreed with her.
All three of them sipped at their sodas as they strolled along the waterfront back toward the cottage. Hayden felt that sense of optimism bloom. Maybe she and Brian could find their way through this.
She stole a glance at her husband—he was laughing at something Livie had said—and desperately hoped they could.