East Hope (47 page)

Will opened the back of his Jeep. “Go ahead and put your bag in there,” he said. “The roads are a mess. It might take a couple of hours to get to East Hope.”

“Thanks, Mr. Harmon,” Rob said coolly.

“Call me Will.”

Rob said nothing and heaved his duffel bag into the back of the car, slamming the tailgate. He wore a light jacket over a cotton shirt and sweater, not the kind of clothing for a snowstorm in Maine.

Will drove out of the parking garage into the dark night. The sky had a steely heaviness, as if weighted with more snow to come. The roads had been plowed, but they were still covered with several inches of hard-packed snow. Rob slumped down in the other seat and stared out his window. He remained silent, asking no questions about his mother.

Rob had lost his dad, Will thought. That was a terrible thing. Still, he was a young man with many privileges, a mother who adored him. He was getting a fine education, and he had a whole life ahead of him. Plenty to be thankful for.

They stopped at a light before turning onto the main road. Will sensed that this young man was hurt and confused. The frayed cuffs of Rob's shirt stuck out below the sleeves of his sweater; his nails were bitten to the quick. Will suddenly remembered what his own dad used to say when Rusty had gotten into some kind of trouble, usually another speeding ticket. “What that boy needs is a swift kick in the pants, knock some sense into him.” That was not the answer.

The heater began to warm the car, and Will slipped his gloves off and gripped the wheel more tightly. He had enough to think about now. The driving was treacherous. The wind had picked up and snow whirled in every direction. He switched on his high beams, but that did nothing more than further illuminate the snow. Will turned the heat to defrost and reduced his speed, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. Rob had eased farther down in his seat, leaning against the door. His eyes were shut; he was asleep or feigning sleep. That was fine with Will. The thought of making conversation with this unhappy young man for several hours appealed to him not at all.

When they reached the coast road, Will was lucky to get behind the plow. For a while the giant monsterlike machine with flashing lights and a roaring engine escorted them through the weather.

When the plow turned off, Will reduced his speed to a crawl. He thought back to the foggy night in the fall when Caroline had lost her nerve beside the road. He relaxed a little, the way he often did when he thought of her. It was strange how she had worked herself into his life. Since he'd been back in Maine he'd gone to see her every day. Will found himself drawn to her, wanting to be near her, like wanting to sit closer to a fire in the hearth.

At last they reached the final stretch on the causeway, Caroline's house only a few miles farther on. The roads were better here. There was less snow this close to the ocean. Rob began to stir. He opened his eyes and straightened in his seat.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to sleep,” he said.

“You haven't missed anything. The snow's not as bad now.”

Rob craned his neck to the front. “Is it like this all the time?” The wipers beat steadily. Large, wet flakes of snow continued to fall.

“This is the worst night we've had.”

Rob seemed to remember why he was here, and his face took on a moody pout.

“We'll be there soon,” Will said. He glanced quickly over at Rob. “Your mom is eager to see you.”

Rob looked out the side window, angling his back to Will. He didn't respond. He seemed to stew in an angry silence.

After hesitating for a moment Will spoke. “I know this has been a rough year for you.”

“What do you care?” Rob crossed his arms and threw Will a defiant look. “You don't know anything about me.”

“Only that your mother loves you. She's been miserable about what's happened between you.” Will slowed the car. They were climbing the hill to Lila's house. Caroline's house, he thought.

“I don't have to talk about that with you,” Rob said.

“No, you don't.”

Finally Will turned into the driveway. Light glowed from all the windows. He parked as close as he could to the house and turned off the engine. Rob reached for his door handle.

“Rob, wait.”

“What?” he said tightly.

“I know it was hard to lose your father,” Will said. “You're the only one your mother has. She needs to hear that you love her and that you support her having this baby.”

“You have no right to tell me that.”

“Maybe I don't, but I know your mother.”

T
he headlights of Will's car flooded the driveway. Caroline looked at her watch. It was nearly ten o'clock. She waited by the back door, peering out into the darkness. A moment later Rob and Will entered, enveloped in a cloud of cold air.

“Sweetie, you're here.” Caroline threw her arms around Rob. After the short walk from the car his hair was damp from snow. She stepped back and brushed a few flakes from his jacket.

“Hi, Mom,” he said quietly. He backed away from Caroline and slipped off his shoes, leaving them on the rug in the back hall.

Will remained by the door. “I'd better keep going.” He glanced quickly at Rob. “It's snowing pretty hard again.”

“I was worried about you on these roads. Really, I can't thank you enough.” She looked at Rob.

He stared down at the floor. “Yeah, thanks for picking me up,” he said flatly. She could feel the tension between them and wondered what they had talked about in the car. The journey to East Hope on this February night had been a long one.

Caroline went to Will and reached for his hand. “Thank you,” she said again. She felt the warmth of his grip, but let go quickly.

“Call me for anything,” Will said. Then he was gone.

“You probably don't remember this house,” she said. “You were only three the summer we were here.” She watched as Rob pulled off his jacket. His shirttail hung beneath the edge of his sweater. He wore wrinkled cotton pants that looked too big for him. The way he moved, hanging his coat on a hook, his narrow shoulders, his fine hands, made her think of Harry when she first knew him. Rob looked more and more like his father. He was Harry all over again.

Rob followed his mother into the kitchen. He looked tired and ill at ease.

“I've made a pot of chili,” she said, aware of the speed of her words, not wanting her nervousness to show. “And some corn bread. The kind you like. Remember the one with cheese?”

Rob looked dazed and uneasy. He appeared to be picking at a hangnail on his thumb. “I'm not really hungry, Mom.” He bit at the nail.

“You need to eat something.” She didn't want to force him. Here he was in her kitchen at last, the place where she thought of him so often. She had imagined this homecoming almost too many times. “Maybe just a little?”

“Yeah. Okay.” He went to the table and pulled back a chair. After sitting, he folded his arms on the table and rested his head, like children at school when told to put their heads down on their desks. His light hair was streaked from the Florida sun.

She went to the stove and ladled the chili into a bowl. Her hands shook. Some of the red sauce dribbled onto the stove. She cut a piece of corn bread and placed it on a small plate and carried these to the table.

“Here you are.”

Rob leaned back to make room for his dinner.

Caroline retreated to the counter, where she had put her cup of herbal tea earlier. Rob picked up his spoon and leaned over his bowl with his elbows on the table.

“Wait,” she said. “I forgot the grated cheese in the fridge.”

“It's fine like this.” He began to eat, still not looking at her, as if afraid of seeing her very pregnant belly.

She placed her tea opposite him and sat down. She took a sip. It had cooled completely.

“Do you remember anything from that summer?”

Rob shook his head and continued to eat. She could see that he liked the chili, judging from the speed with which he ate, or else he wanted to finish quickly to get to bed.

“You were very little,” she said. “Dad loved it here.”

Rob finished eating. His spoon clattered down onto his plate. “I don't want to talk about Dad.”

“Rob, please.”

He pushed back in his chair. “I'm here, aren't I? I'm going to bed.”

“Wait. You can't stalk out.” She raised her voice. “You're grown-up and you need to hear this.”

He said nothing, but remained seated.

“I love you very much. That will never change.” She took a deep breath, suddenly calmer. She had said what mattered most. “On Christmas night you said that our life as a family was over. I didn't want to believe that. Still, I made the decision to have this baby. It's what I want. You don't have to approve. But it doesn't mean that I don't love you. Our life in Chevy Chase is over; you're right. Our lives will never be the same, but I will always be your mother.”

Finally he looked up. His face looked tight, drawn in, as if he were working to keep his composure. “Why would you have his baby?” He looked like he might cry. “You've got me. You already have a child. Why would you have another? One that's not even Dad's?” His voice broke and he leaned his elbows on the table, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“You knew I lost a baby, your sister, Grace.”

Rob drew his hands across his chest and jutted his chin out, his lower lip coming to meet the upper in a fierce line.

“After Dad died, all those memories came back,” she said. “There had been so much death. Deciding to have this baby was like having a second chance.”

“Fine, Mom.” His voice grew hard. “Pete told me all that. Okay, have your baby. Now just let me live my own life.”

“You mean everything to me,” Caroline said, finding the words coming to her more and more easily. These were words she should have spoken months ago. “I was wrong to think I could just move here, a million miles from everything, and that that would be enough. It takes more than moving to a new place to start over.” She placed her hand on his sleeve, slowly fingering the texture of his sweater.

Rob sat very still. Caroline hoped he was beginning to come around. “Sweetie, you're young, and you're strong. This past year has been very hard, but you're making your way. It's like when you're rock climbing. You find one foothold, then a handhold, then the next. We each have to find a way to move on. I hope your knowing how much I love you will make it a little easier. That's all I can do.” She breathed out and the tension in her back eased away.

She stood and picked up his dishes to carry them to the sink.

“I'm going up to bed,” he said hoarsely, and started to rise.

“Wait,” she said. “Take this.” Caroline reached into her pocket and handed him Harry's letter, which she had read and reread so many times. She placed her hands on her son's shoulders and watched as he studied the envelope. “I found it in one of Aunt Lila's books. It's to her from Dad. He wrote it after Grace died.”

Caroline took off her apron and put it on the back of her chair. Rob sat still, his eyes on the page of his father's letter. “I'm going upstairs,” she said. “Your room is at the very end of the hall. I'll see you in the morning.” She bent and kissed Rob's cheek.

The next day the world sparkled a brilliant white. The bay was calm, deeply blue, and almost as smooth as a lake. Caroline awoke to the sun pouring into the bedroom. She looked at the clock. After nine. She never slept that late. She pulled the covers to her chin and placed her hands around her belly. The image of the doe and her fawn that she had seen in the woods by the town beach last summer came to mind. Where were the deer now? How did they survive these long Maine winters? How long did a mother deer look after her young? Was there a certain age, a season, a particular moment when a young deer separated from the mother? The animal world was governed by instinct and the forces of nature, so much simpler than the world of human hearts.