I smiled at him. I didn’t understand. I never would. But I tried and would continue to.
It wasn’t the perfectly choreographed moment I had planned, but it somehow felt right.
“Adam,” I said, “speaking of the meaning of life . . .” I paused, kissed him, and added, “What would you think about my going back to work, showing my art, and continuing to help Mom at the store?” He didn’t say anything, so I kept going. “I mean, I know I’m an Army wife and my role is to take care of my family—”
Adam cut me off. He pulled me closer. “Sloane. You’re not just an Army wife. You are my wife. You are the most perfect woman in the world. Your role is what makes you happy. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Yeah?” I asked, swallowing hard.
He looked at me almost sadly, as though I had underestimated him in some way. “Babe, yes. Of course. I miss your art. Nothing would make me happier than to see you go back to it.”
“Really?” I could feel the tears in my eyes, and it wasn’t until I felt them that I realized how much this truly meant to me.
Adam wiped my tears and laughed. “Sloane, are you serious?” He shifted. “I want you to be you. I fell in love with you and all your complexity. My favorite thing about you is how you keep surprising me.”
As the boys ran to the table, I thought my heart would burst. “Bacon!” AJ practically sang. The boys were beside themselves to have their daddy home. I stood up just in time for Taylor and AJ to crash into Adam, and there was no other way to describe it: life was as it should be. Life was perfect.
Well, perfect except we were still waiting for test results from Emerson’s New York doctor’s visit. We were still waiting to find out what exactly was wrong with her. The fact that Mom still didn’t know anything about her illness gnawed at me, perhaps more than it should have. But I couldn’t imagine something being wrong with one of my children and having everyone keep that from me.
Later that morning, Mom came to get the boys for a little Gransley time, and Adam’s physical therapist arrived. I was attempting to fold laundry and trying to ignore my husband’s pained groans and muffled screams.
Afterward, Adam lay down for a nap—he was still regaining his strength slowly, day by day. I sat down to open the mail and pay the bills, but the way the sun was glinting off the water inspired me so much that I couldn’t concentrate. I had to paint. It felt more satisfying than it had in some time. This was a piece that would make someone else happy. This was a painting I would sell.
Two hours later, I walked back into Mom’s house, which was buzzing with activity. Mom was in the kitchen making snacks, Vivi, who was home from camp, was helping AJ with a particularly intensive car-building project, and Taylor was napping upstairs in his old room. It was a calm yet electric time.
I hugged Caroline, who was flipping through product photos on her computer, shopping for Mom’s store. “It is beyond sweet of you to let us stay at your house. We can never repay you.”
Caroline and I both looked at Mom. She rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes,” she said. “What a gift that someone would just take you in off the street.” We all laughed.
Caroline put her arm around Mom. “I missed Mommy Dearest’s guesthouse. It’s quite fabulous. I’m happy to be living there again.” She paused and whispered, so Vivi couldn’t hear, “And you won’t believe it, but I kind of miss James.”
Mom whispered, “So do I.”
We all laughed.
Jack walked through the door and kissed Mom on the cheek. We all made gagging noises, but really, it was sweet. She was so starry-eyed over him that she could hardly put one foot in front of the other.
“I’m glad you’re here, Jack,” I said. “The painters finished, and Caroline and I volunteered to put your house back together for our darling mother.”
“You two are peaches,” she said, grinning. “Have I told you what they are making me pay them per hour?” she asked Jack, eyebrow raised.
“I’ll help you move the furniture,” Jack said.
I put my hand up to stop him. I needed Caroline to myself to talk about the thing that had been gnawing at me for almost two weeks. “No, no. It’s all on sliders.” I paused and said, “Plus, that hourly rate thing.”
As we closed the back door, Caroline said, “What’s going on?”
I bit my lip. “I’ve been thinking about some things, and I want your opinion.”
She nodded, and I realized she was wearing six-inch wedges. She might not have been the best choice for furniture moving. “You know the man on the beach that day? Who was fighting with Mom?” I asked.
“You mean when we were kids?”
I nodded.
“Yeah,” she said. “What about it?”
“It was Jack.”
Caroline stopped cold between the two houses. “Keep walking,” I scolded. “You’ll look suspicious.”
I opened the back door and Caroline said, “How do you know that?”
I shrugged. “I have such a clear memory of it. When Mom and Jack were on the plane, the light hit his hair a certain way. Then it dawned on me it was him.”
Caroline nodded. I was shocked that she didn’t argue with me, but she probably knew I wouldn’t bring this up unless I was sure. “OK. So what does that mean? What would Mom and Jack possibly have been fighting about on a beach when we were little girls?” She gasped. “You don’t think they were having an affair or something, do you?”
I shook my head. “Don’t be ridiculous. Mom would never do
