Under a Summer Sky (6 page)

N
oah lifted the calendar off the kitchen wall and looked at the many handwritten appointments and commitments that had been kept over the last thirty-one days—almost every square had something written on it. “Well, May flew by like nobody’s business,” he said, trying to decipher his wife’s scribble.

“It sure did,” Laney agreed, drying her hands on the dish towel, “and it’s about time someone changed the calendar. June started a week ago.”

“By the way, how was your physical?” Noah asked as he turned the page and rehung the calendar.

“Fine,” Laney replied vaguely.

“Was it fun?” he teased, knowing how much she loved her annual.

“It was. Sorry you missed it.”

He grinned and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry I missed it too.”

Just then, Seth wandered into the kitchen. “Geez! Get a room, wouldja?” he said, shielding his eyes in mock embarrassment as he opened the fridge and stood in front of it, gazing at its contents. “What’s for supper?”

“Believe it or not, that appliance is not an air conditioner,” Noah admonished, ignoring his question.

“Well, maybe if we had a
real
air conditioner, I’d know what one looked like,” Seth answered sarcastically. “This family really needs to join the twenty-first century. It’s primitive to live the way we do.”

“Primitive?” Noah retorted. “You don’t know what primitive is. Not to mention, we have a year-round ocean breeze, so we don’t need an air conditioner.”

“Yes, we do! Our room is so hot!”

Noah eyed his wife. “I think someone needs an attitude adjustment. I think there’s a bridge falling down somewhere.”

“Is it in London?” Laney asked with raised eyebrows.

“Oh no, it isn—” Seth started to protest, but before he could escape, his parents’ arms had dropped down on both sides of him.

Noah and Laney immediately broke into the old song about the fate of London Bridge, swaying their son back and forth. “I’m too old for this!” he shouted, trying not to laugh.

“You’re never too old,” Noah said, laughing.

Finally, as they sang “My Fair Lady” at the top of their lungs, they squeezed him and he started laughing so hard he had tears rolling down his cheeks.

Hearing the commotion, Asher came running with Halle at his heels. “I’m not too old,” he shouted. “Do me! Do me!”

Laney and Noah left their next to youngest son in a heap on the floor, still trying to catch his breath, and circled their arms around their youngest son, who was already giggling. They started to sing, and Halle jumped up on them, wanting to join in on the fun. As they reached the famous finale, Laney looked up and realized E was standing solemnly in the doorway, wearing his black dress pants and a white shirt and with his jacket draped over his arm. He smiled wistfully, remembering the simpler times when he was the one being swung in the safety of his parents’ arms.

“Hi, hon,” Laney said. “How did it go?”

Noah looked up too, and they gently laid Asher, still giggling, on the floor with Halle on top of him.

“It was nice,” he said with a sad smile. “Chloe’s a little better. I had no idea she had such a big family. Her grandfather was the second oldest of nine, and they all still live up near St. Johnsbury. Two of his brothers and one of his sisters spoke. I guess her grandfather was pretty mischievous when he was a kid. The stories were funny. They made everyone laugh, and it seemed . . . less sad. Even Chloe smiled when her great aunt told a story about him being chased by a Tom turkey when he was little.”

Laney smiled. “When people recall the good times and the light someone has brought to their lives, it definitely helps ease the sadness.”

E nodded. “It’s funny. I never met him, but after today, I feel like I did.”

Laney smiled. “Did Chloe come back with you?”

“No, she’s staying up there for a few days. She wanted me to stay too, but I told her I couldn’t miss work. I think she was glad I was there today though.”

“I’m sure she was,” Laney said.

Elijah pulled his tie free. “Well, I’m going for a run. Is Gabe around?”

“No, he’s not home yet,” Noah said, glancing at his watch. “In fact, I have to go pick him up, but I think he went running this morning anyway.”

“Supper will be ready soon,” Laney added.

“I’m not hungry,” E said, unbuttoning his shirt.

“I am,” piped Asher.

“Me too,” added Seth. “What are we having?”

“Spaghetti,” Laney said with a smile, knowing the menu would be well received.

“Yay!” they both cheered.

“How soon?” E asked, his interest peaking a little at the mention of his favorite dish.

“How soon can you be back?”

“An hour?”

“We can wait . . .
if
I can hold off the hungry masses,” she said, eyeing her two youngest sons.

“An hour?” Seth groaned. “I can’t wait that long. I’m hungry now. Can I have a Pop-Tart?”

“How about an apple?” Laney offered.

“I’ll have an apple,” Asher piped. “Can you cut it up, Mom?”

“I just want a Pop-Tart,” Seth mumbled, reaching for the knob of the cereal cabinet, hoping she wouldn’t say no, but his mom was busy talking to his brother again, so he took advantage of the opportunity to slip a silver foil package from the box with one strawberry Pop-Tart left in it.

Ten minutes later—after Noah had left to pick up Gabe, E had headed out for his run, Seth had stolen furtively up the stairs with his Pop-Tart, and Asher was contentedly sharing apple slices with the dogs and watching
Harry Potter
—Laney filled her big pasta pot with water. As she did, she looked out the kitchen window and noticed the same grayish brown birds she’d seen earlier flying from the scrub pine up to the back of the woodshed. She set down the half-filled pot, typed “small gray bird with flickering tail” into the search box of the family computer, and clicked enter. The first site that came up was the Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s allaboutbirds.org. She clicked on it, and several pictures of flickers came up. She frowned and tried again, this time deleting the word
flicker
and typing in “white breast.” New images popped up, and she slowly scrolled down through them: white-breasted nuthatch, tufted titmouse, white-crowned sparrow, mockingbird. Finally, at the bottom of the page, she saw a picture that resembled the birds in the backyard, and she clicked on it—that was it! Eastern phoebe. She scanned the page, reading more about the little bird, including its unique tail movement and the interesting fact that it likes to build its nest on a ledge under an overhang.

Curiously, she pushed open the screen door, and immediately, the two birds flew up to the roof and cocked their heads. She peered under the back of the shed overhang, and to her delight, discovered an intricately woven nest with five creamy speckled eggs in it. The nest was made of small twigs, strips of bark, and a single strand of white ribbon, and it was lined with soft, green moss. “Oh, my,” Laney said softly. She backed away slowly and looked up at the anxious parents. “Good job,” she said softly.

As she walked back through the porch, she noticed Lucky stretched out lazily on the swing and warned, “Don’t you dare bother them!” Lucky blinked innocently, and she knew she’d have to keep an eye on him. She went into the living room, excited to tell Asher, but he was sound asleep with a dog curled up on each side of him.

Laney watched through the kitchen window as the pair of phoebes flew back under the shed roof. Then she turned on the water to finish filling her pasta pot, and as she did, she remembered the phone call she’d gotten that afternoon and forgot all about the phoebe nest.

Dr. Jamison had called to tell her that her blood work revealed she was vitamin D deficient and slightly anemic—both of which could be easily remedied with supplements and diet. But then she’d gone on to say the ultrasound had been inconclusive and she wanted to get a biopsy.

“A biopsy . . .” Laney had repeated in quiet alarm, and Dr. Jamison had quickly reassured her it was just a precautionary measure. But the word had sounded surreal and now Laney wondered if maybe she’d dreamed it. At the time, there’d been so much commotion in the house, she hadn’t had time to absorb everything, but now—alone with her thoughts—she could feel the icy fingers of fear wrapping around her heart.
Biopsy
was one of those worrisome words—like
malignant, inoperable, metastasize,
and
mass
—that people always associate with cancer. She put the pot on one of the working burners, and as she chopped an onion, she pictured herself pulling a soft pink hat on her bare head. Is that what her future held? Was she going to be bald and have ominously dark circles under her eyes? Would she be bone thin—almost skeletal—and not have the strength to protect her bullied son?

Through the blur of tears, she scraped the onion into a puddle of hot olive oil. It sizzled, and she gave it a quick stir. Then she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and minced a clove of garlic into the oil too. Suddenly, she remembered something Noah had said when they’d first started dating: “Lane, I don’t want there to be any secrets between us. . . . I don’t want you to ever ask me why I didn’t tell you something.” Her heart ached from not telling him, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. It was almost as if saying them would give life to the specter of cancer.

Lane, I don’t want there to be any secrets between us. . . .
His words continued to echo through her mind. They’d never kept secrets. It was true. Noah sometimes forgot to tell her things—important things—but he never purposely withheld information. And how many times had they had this same conversation with the boys? Withholding information was just as bad as lying!

“All right all ready,” she mumbled, plopping a pound of ground sirloin into the hot pan. “I’ll tell him. . . .”

“Tell him what?”

Laney looked up, startled. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Noah smiled. He was holding a bottle of red wine.

“What’s that for?”

“Us,” he answered simply. He riffled around in the drawer, looking for the corkscrew.

“I think it’s over there,” Laney said, nodding to a drawer at the far end of the counter.

Noah found what he was looking for, took down two wineglasses from an upper cabinet, eyed them critically, blew on them, frowned, and ended up rinsing and drying them. While he poured the wine, Laney drained the fat from the pan and added crushed San Marzano tomatoes and fresh basil. She started to reach for the garlic bread, but Noah put his arm around her shoulder and handed her a glass. “There’s truth in wine,” he said softly.

“What?” she asked uncertainly, her heart skipping a beat.
Not now,
she pleaded silently.
Not now
—
I’m not ready!
She suddenly wondered if he already knew—if he’d heard her talking on the phone or if the doctor’s office had left a message on their machine.

He searched her eyes, and she tried to look away, but he gently turned her chin back to face him. “Lane, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He eyed her skeptically, and she shook her head. He knew her too well, and she was going to lose it if he kept looking at her that way.

“It’s nothing,” she insisted.

“Then why does it seem like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders?”

She leaned against the counter. “I just have a lot on my mind—the end of the school year, Asher being bullied, your dad not feeling well, Chloe and E. And now Chloe’s grandfather, which reminds me so much of what happened to Gramp. . . .” Her voice trailed off, her eyes glistening.

Noah didn’t say anything. He took a sip from his glass, set it down, and started to get out plates and silverware. Laney swallowed, realizing she’d sunk to an all-time low. She’d gone over the edge—from withholding information to outright lying—and she realized, by the nausea churning in her stomach, that speaking an untruth
was
worse than saying nothing.

“I didn’t want to—” She stopped, struggling to find the right words, and Noah looked up. “What I mean is I just need summer to be here.”

Noah pulled her into his arms, and Laney could feel hot tears stinging her eyes, but she laid her head against his shoulder and blinked them back.

Just then, Ben came in from mowing the lawn. “Good grief! Get a room, wouldja?” he said, pretending to cover his eyes. “When’s supper? I’m starving.” He pulled open the fridge door and stood there, enjoying the cool air that drifted out.

Noah looked over. “Believe it or not, that’s not an air conditioner.”

“It’s not?” Ben said with a hint of sarcasm. “It feels like one.”

A
s Laney buttoned her blouse, she glanced down at the area from which the biopsy had just been taken. “Maybe I should just have a double mastectomy like Angelina,” she mumbled, “then I won’t have to worry anymore.” She knew one thing: she was getting tired of buttoning her blouse after being prodded and examined. And she couldn’t wait until summer—when her attire would consist exclusively of T-shirts, tank tops, shorts, bathing suits, and an occasional sundress.

There was only one more week of school, but everyone considered it the longest week of the year—the time for learning had passed and the kids were ready for vacation. In fact, most were already mentally checked out, and Laney was ready to join them. She thought about the coming week’s schedule: Monday was Field Day, weather permitting; Tuesday was their class party; Wednesday was the all-school assembly with the ever-funny Bill Harley—an event her kids couldn’t wait for because they’d already memorized Bill’s silly song about the pea on his plate; and finally, Thursday would bring the always emotional and much anticipated Moving Up Day when all the kids brought in thank-you gifts and the sweet cards they’d made, hugged their old teachers good-bye, and then trooped down the hall, looking excitedly, and anxiously, for their new ones.

As Laney stepped out into the bright sunshine, she caught herself singing Asher’s favorite Bill Harley song, “You’re in Trouble,” and in spite of herself, she smiled—maybe she
was
taking life a little too seriously. She’d even woken up in the middle of the night, clenching her teeth, and now her jaw ached.

She climbed into her hot car, cranked the AC all the way up, and texted Noah to make sure all the boys were where they were supposed to be. She was on her way to the teachers’ party, and she’d only be able to relax if Noah had the home front under control. She was relieved when he wrote back almost immediately: ALL’S WELL—HAVE FUN!

Laney pulled open the door of The Lobster Claw Restaurant, humming the ringtone on Gabe’s phone. Somehow her creative son had figured out how to record the restaurant’s radio ad, and now, whenever his phone rang, the cheerful jingle filled the air. “The Cape in the summer is magic. The sun and the sea and the wind on the shore. These days were made for families. That’s what we’re here for.” She smiled. Gabe said he liked hearing the song when he was away at school because it reminded him of home, and besides, his classmates all thought it was a hoot.

“Are you with Eastham Elementary?” the hostess asked, looking up.

Laney nodded and then saw her best friend Mara—one of the other first-grade teachers—coming down the stairs. “Hey, Laney! I wasn’t sure if you were coming, but I saved you a seat. Dottie already has everyone rolling on the floor, and she’s only had one drink!”

Laney smiled as she followed Mara up the stairs to the Surfboat Room. “I’m going to miss Dottie so much.”

“Me too, but she deserves it.”

“I don’t know how she did it. I don’t think I’d last fifty years.”

All the teachers stood to give Laney a hug, and Dottie held her at arm’s length and searched her eyes. “How’d it go, dearie?” she asked gently.

Laney looked puzzled. “Fine?” she said uncertainly, looking over Dottie’s shoulder at Mara, who shrugged and tried to look equally puzzled.

As soon as Laney could break free from Dottie, she confronted Mara. “You’re the only one I told,” she said in a hushed voice.

“I’m sorry, Lane, but she asked me where you were,” Mara whispered remorsefully. “I didn’t realize it was a secret.”

“Mar, I haven’t even told Noah . . ..”

“Don’t worry, Lane, I’m sure Dottie won’t say anything.”

Just then, another first-grade teacher, Pam Travis, sat down across from them and smiled sympathetically at Laney. “Lane, I just want you to know, I’m keeping you in my prayers.”

Laney practically choked on her water. “Thanks, Pam,” she sputtered, “but there’s really nothing to pray about. Everything’s fine.” She gave Mara a wilting look.

“Well, that’s good,” Pam continued, “because one of my mom’s friends had to go for a biopsy, and she ended up with stage four. It was awful. She didn’t last six months.”

Laney blinked and wished she could go home.

Just then, a waitress came around, taking drink orders, and Mara ordered a Cape Codder. “Want one, Lane?”

But Laney shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m just going to have water.”

“Laney, I’m really sorry,” Mara said softly, her eyes glistening, which only made Laney feel worse.

“It’s okay, Mar, don’t worry about it.” Laney knew her friend meant well, and if she excused herself, Mara’s evening would be ruined too, so she stayed, but when her baked scallops came, she barely touched them.

Finally, it was time for Dottie to open her gifts—many of which had a retirement theme, including a whole stack of beach novels. “I love to read, but I’ve never had the time, so I’m looking forward to these. Especially this one!” She held up a paperback with a very muscular, very tan lifeguard on the cover, and all the ladies hooted.

“Oh, Dottie, you’re too much!” Shirley said, making everyone laugh all over again.

“They’re both too much,” Mara whispered, knowing Shirley, the other kindergarten teacher, would be retiring soon too.

Laney nodded and then sighed. “I think I’m going to head out. . . .”

“But we haven’t had dessert.”

“I’m not very hungry,” Laney said, giving her friend a hug and wishing everyone else a good night. As she left the room, their hushed voices followed her.

Laney looked up at the slate sky as she walked across the parking lot. Her heart felt just as heavy as those dark clouds looked, and she wished she hadn’t confided in her friend. Now she
had
to tell Noah—if he heard the news from someone else, he’d be crushed.

The air was ominously still as she got in her car, but by the time she pulled out onto Route 6, it had begun to stir, and as she turned onto Ocean View Drive, gusts of wind were thrashing the trees, sending leaves spiraling and spinning in front of her headlights. Finally, she pulled into their driveway, thankful that a tree limb hadn’t fallen on her car; almost immediately, she realized E’s car was gone, and she wondered where he was on this stormy night. She hurried toward the house, and lightning split the clouds; a second later, a huge clap of thunder exploded above her head. Almost tripping on the walkway, she saw a shadow of gray fly up under the shed roof, and she stopped to look. A glint of resolute and dutiful black eyes blinked at her; she looked in the nest and saw five tiny dark bundles of feathers. She backed away slowly, smiling, as the first fat drops of rain splashed her shoulders.

“I’m home,” she called, setting her things down. The house was oddly quiet, except for Mennie who struggled to his feet and padded over to greet her, his whole hind end wagging. “Hi there, old pie,” she whispered, kissing his snowy brow. “Where is everybody?” She looked down the hall and saw the light on in Noah’s study.

With Mennie at her heels, she walked quietly toward the light and leaned against the doorframe. “Hey,” she said softly.

Noah looked up in surprise. “Hey,” he said, taking off his glasses. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Probably ’cuz there’s a storm brewing.”

“I know. They said on the news we were going to get walloped, but hopefully it will cool things off a little.”

“I hope so.”

“How was the party?”

“Good.”

“What’d you have?”

“My usual,” she said with a smile.

“Scallops and Cape Codders?”

“Just scallops.”

Noah frowned. “No celebratory indulgences?”

“No.” She paused. “Where is everybody?”

“Asher and Halle are in bed.”

“Already?”

“Yup. He said he wasn’t hungry and then he went upstairs, and when I looked in on him, he was sound asleep.”

Laney frowned. “I hope he’s not coming down with something.”

“I hope not. And as for everyone else, Seth and Ben are on PlayStation, and Gabe is reading.”

“Where’s E?”

“Chloe came home, so he went to see her.”

“Did you ask him to try to be home at a decent time?”

“I did.”

Laney sat on the couch and picked up one of the pillows. “What happened here?” she asked, eyeing the stuffing coming out of the corner.

“I got hungry,” he said with a grin.

Laney rolled her eyes. “So do you think they’re getting too serious?”

“I don’t think they’re
getting
too serious. I think they
are
too serious.”

“They’re too young. . . .”

“And how old were we?”

Laney smiled. “We were too young too.”

“Well, he’s pretty smitten, just like I was. . . .”

“Was?” Laney asked.

Noah’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “And they’ve known each other forever. Besides, any girl who names a puppy Amen and is able to recite ‘Jabberwocky’ has something special going on.”

“I know. I’m just not ready for this. And I hope they’re being careful.”

“That’s all we can do,” he said, “hope and pray.” He sat down next to her. “So did Dottie like your gift?”

“She did,” Laney said, remembering Dottie’s happy surprise when she’d opened the gift cards from the first-grade teachers—it was for a spa weekend in Lenox. “I could use a gift like that,” she added wistfully.

Noah put his arm around her. “Well, maybe after you teach for fifty years, you’ll get one.”

“
If
I live that long . . .”

Noah frowned. “I’m just teasing.”

“I know,” she said, closing her eyes.

“Are you still stuck in worry mode?”

Laney nodded, and then shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. “I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure. . . .”

A shadow fell across Noah’s face as he watched her, and she took a deep breath. “Okay, so I had my mammogram last week, and then I had to go back for an ultrasound because the results were inconclusive because I have dense tissue,” she explained, purposely leaving out the word
breast
. “But that was inconclusive too . . . so today I had to go for a noninvasive proced—”

“A biopsy?” Noah asked in alarm.

Laney nodded, and Noah shook his head in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. I wanted to be sure.”

“Lane, we’re in this together. . . .”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she tried to brush them away but they just kept coming. “I’m sorry, Noah.... I just want it to go away.”

Noah didn’t say anything. He just put his fist against his chin and stared at the light on his desk. Finally, he wiped his eyes with his thumb and fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Laney said again softly. “I should’ve told you.”

Noah turned to look at her, and she could see the pain in his eyes. “I asked you outright the other night . . . and you told me nothing was wrong.” He shook his head. “Lane, I want so badly to take you in my arms and tell you everything’s going to be okay. But now . . . I feel like you purposely kept this from me.” He looked away, wiping his eyes again. “I’m probably overreacting, but you know how I feel about this kind of thing. How many times have we drilled it into the boys’ heads?”

“I know. You hate it. But this isn’t like that. I wanted to tell you. . . . I even tried to tell you . . . but the words just wouldn’t come out.”

Noah stood up and walked over to his desk. “So when do you get the results?” he asked, sounding like she was the only one who
would
be getting the results.

“Next week, I guess,” Laney said, her heart aching.

Noah saved the sermon he’d been working on and closed his laptop. Then he turned off his desk light and leaned on the back of his chair, looking out into the darkness. Finally, he turned to her, his eyes still glistening. “Lane, if anything were to happen to you, I don’t know how I’d go on. Don’t you see? Everything that happens to you . . . happens to me.”

Laney bit her lip. “Honestly, Noah, I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, thanks for looking out for me.”

“You know, if you think about it, you forget to tell me stuff all the time.”

“This is different, Lane
. You
didn’t forget. You purposely didn’t say anything.” He paused. “I’m heading up.”

“Okay,” Laney said sadly, feeling the sting of his words. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Laney listened to the thunder rumbling through the heavens and realized how much Noah was like her grandfather. A long-ago memory from her childhood slipped into her mind....

She must’ve been six or seven at the time, and she’d been standing on a chair, admiring her grandparents’ twenty-fifth anniversary plate. And then, because she couldn’t really see it that well, she decided to take it out of the china closet for a closer look . . . and just as she’d gotten it over her grandmother’s Hummel figurine of a little girl feeding chickens and ever so carefully through the door, it had somehow slipped from her hands, and Lyle, who was in the next room, ran in to see what happened. He found her sitting on the chair with her hands over her face, and the plate in a million pieces on the floor. In a worried, hushed voice, he told her to go hide in the barn and he would clean it up. An hour later, Gramp started looking for her; he called everyone—including Uncle Luke and all the neighbors—but Lyle never spoke up. Finally, Uncle Luke found her hiding in the loft of the barn, and somehow, later on, Gramp found out Lyle had known all along, and he ended up in more trouble than she was. She got a big hug from Gramp—even though the plate was broken—but Lyle had to sit on the porch the whole next day and think about what he’d done. She tried to tell Gramp it was all her fault—that Lyle had been protecting her—but Gramp wouldn’t hear it.