TWENTY-SIX
safe passage
ansley
I know I’ll never forget that day. I’ll never forget the way my mother smiled, with all the people who loved her most surrounding her. I will never forget the way Jack kissed me, how it was different from any other time I’d ever been kissed. I felt very clearly, in that moment, that the tables had turned in some way. He had the upper hand, and he was serious this time. This was my last chance, and though I wasn’t sure if it was the right decision, I knew it was a chance I needed to take.
The best part of the day was when a man on a paddleboard floated up to Starlite and, as I was about to ask Mom, “Who is that?” she practically yelled, “Scott!”
I let him hug her first, but I couldn’t wait to get my hands on my little brother. In true Scott fashion, he had perfectly chiseled abs and was shockingly tan for early June. But when you spend so much time south of the equator, that is bound to happen.
“Mom,” Scott said breathlessly, her face in his hands. “You look as beautiful as ever.”
I could tell he was lying. The tears in his eyes gave him away. He knew she was dying. It was written all over his face.
He squeezed me, lifted me up in the air, kissed my cheek, and said, “How you doing there, big sis?” Then he pulled away, squinted, and said, “Wait. Is that Jack? Like from high school?”
“It sure is,” Mom said. “He’s standing in for my sorry eldest son. I rather like him. I think I’ll keep him, actually.”
We all laughed, but Scott and I exchanged glances. I had spoken with John earlier that morning, and he promised he would get here to see Mom early next week. As I looked over at her, so happy but so small in the tall chair made of hammock material that Caroline had covered in flowers, I couldn’t help but wonder if early next week would be too late.
Scott squeezed Sloane next. “How are you?”
She shrugged. “Breathing.”
Scott nodded gravely. “Listen,” he said, turning toward all of us. “You know I’ve spent a decent amount of time reporting in Iraq over the past few years. I have a lot of contacts there. I know how to get deals done, and I think I can get the cash to do it.” He paused. “I’m going over there to look for him.”
Sloane cocked her head to the side. “Wait. I’m sorry. What?”
“Adam. I’m going to go look for him,” Scott repeated.
My heart thudded in my chest. We already had one family member missing in Iraq. Yes, I had to come to terms with the fact that Scott was always going to be on some adventure or another, and if I spent my whole life worrying about his safety, it wasn’t going to be much of a life. But going to Egypt when there’s a travel advisory is one thing. Going into a war zone as a hated American journalist was quite another.
“Scott!” I said, not sure what to say next.
Caroline and Emerson were wide-eyed. Mom said, “I’m proud of you, son. I really am.”
“How would you even begin to look for him?” Sloane asked.
Scott waved his hand as if this were a minor detail. “I think going over there and trying is better than sitting here waiting.” He paused. “I mean, not for you. You’ve got kids to take care of. Nobody’s counting on me.”
Me! I wanted to scream. I’m counting on you. But I stayed quiet.
This was a bridge to cross another day.
Mark interrupted, saying to Mom, “I got you a little something for your birthday.” Mom put her hand to her mouth in surprise and then ripped the wrapping paper with a frail and shaking hand to reveal a beautiful box of Easter egg–colored macarons from Ladurée. They were Mom’s favorite things in the world.
“How did you get these?” she gasped, motioning for him.
She kissed Mark on the cheek as he said, “It doesn’t matter how I got them. It only matters that you get to have them on your birthday.”
Mom pulled out her favorite green, pistachio macaron. She offered the box halfheartedly to us, but we all knew better than to accept. This was Mom’s treat. It was her day.
I could tell she was getting tired, so I leaned down to her. “Are you ready?” I asked.
It nearly broke me in half when the tears came to her eyes. “Good-bye, beautiful beach,” she said. “You have given us so much life here.” Then she swallowed and said, “Don’t take it for granted, Ansley. Come here whenever you get the chance. Feel the sand underneath your feet, run your fingers along the water. Don’t let this life pass you by.” Then she looked up at me and smiled and patted my hand. “I’m ready, darling.”
Holding Scott’s hand, Mom dozed in between Scott and me on the ride back to the dock.
As she drifted off and the girls were in the salon finishing the rest of the champagne with Jack, Kimmy, Kyle, Mark, and Hal, I practically hissed at Scott, “You are not going to Iraq!”
He shrugged. “Ansley, her husband is over there, probably trapped in some god-awful cave.”
“So what are you going to do about it?” I asked. “Write him to safety? Pen his journey to freedom?”
“Maybe,” Scott said. “Maybe I will. But all I’ve been able to do since I heard the news is think about that pitiful girl sitting over here worried to death and her poor husband. I know people.
