A sloop cruised north toward the lighthouse. The boat traveled into the wind, sails angled forward, appearing as its predecessor may have hundreds of years earlier, when, as a merchant vessel, it transported furs, or while serving in the War of 1812, before it had been captured by the British and later burned.
Oh, the things Boop remembered from grade-school social studies.
That day Friends Good Will curved around the pier, to the cheers of the crowd that had gathered, the sky aflame.
Without forgetting its past, the ship had been bestowed new life, new purpose, as a tourist and educational attraction. No one had erased or disregarded the calamitous past, like Boop had. Those stories were part of its legacy; they made the ship’s story whole.
The calamity of Boop’s life was what made her whole as well.
The cantaloupe-and-honey-colored sky deepened to cider near the surface of the lake. Boop glanced away and toward her friends. Doris was leaving in the morning. It was time to hurry things along.
The next morning, Boop shook Hannah’s foot through the lemonade-colored comforter. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead. It’s almost nine. Doris’s cab will be here soon to take her to the airport. Come say goodbye.”
Hannah’s eyes remained closed. “I’m awake. Just resting.” She sat up straight. “Doris deserves a proper goodbye. And then you, me, and Georgia will go out for brunch.”
Hannah’s slim build and thin cotton nightshirt revealed a curve—the “baby bump,” Boop had heard it called. Hannah had entered her second trimester, thank God. The changes would be rapid-fire from here on out. Boop wanted Hannah to revel in each experience, not have it serve as a reminder of anything other than the future.
Boop had once been forced to hide the shifts in her spirit and the burden of her symptoms, lest they confirm what everyone suspected: she was pregnant before she’d married Marvin. The fact that it was true was one thing. Admitting it would have been a shanda, a disgrace, and shame would have been unflattering to the South Haven Sterns’ reputation.
There would be no shame for Hannah. Not because of the baby, not because of any mistakes or Clark’s doubts. Boop would make sure of it.
She removed the only dress hanging in the closet and splayed it over the foot of the bed. The navy knit with bright-pink roses and green vines and leaves featured a familiar halter-style top. “Do you think this will fit?”
Hannah shrugged and glanced at her chest as she stood.
Boop tugged on the fabric. “It’s got some give. Go in the bathroom, wash up, and try it on.”
Soon Hannah would wear clothes designed to accentuate her figure and draw attention to her baby’s upcoming arrival instead of wearing tent dresses like expectant mothers in Boop’s day. Boop had set aside her love of color, prints, waistbands, and cleavage for the drab tent dresses, modesty, and big bows that maternity wear had demanded. Those dresses she’d worn when carrying Stuart had brought her both sadness in what she’d lost and joy in what was to come. She wanted only joy for Hannah.
Boop pushed her hair behind one ear, knowing the asymmetry flattered her face, which had droopier cheeks than she would have liked, and no amount of makeup could hide that fact.
Hannah plopped back onto the bed and scooted under the covers. “I don’t have much of an appetite, so you go without me.”
Boop usually avoided playing the old lady card but kept it in her back pocket for just such an occasion. “You know you might never see the bubbes again, right? You’ll be sorry if the next time you see them is at a funeral.”
“Don’t say that.”
“We know it’s likely the last time the three of us will be together, especially here.”
Hannah sat and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I get it, but I don’t . . .”
“Don’t ‘I don’t’ me, Hannah. The girls want to see you before they go, and not while you’re in bed. Today this isn’t really about you.”
Hannah flipped back the covers. “You’re right. I’ll try the dress. What restaurant are we going to?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Hannah slipped the dress off the hanger and carried it to the bathroom. When the door closed and the sound of water gushing through the pipes resounded in the walls, Boop peeked out the window. She drew the curtains even though they were sheer linen, wanting to focus only on what was going on inside that room. Boop fluffed the pillows, tucked in the sheets, and smoothed the comforter atop all of it. She precisely arranged three throw pillows and set a stuffed bunny in front of them. No chance of Hannah wiggling back into bed, or out of what was next.
The dress fit beautifully.
Hannah twirled. She and Boop laughed as the skirt spun out around her. When Hannah and Emma were little girls, they’d played dress up in Boop’s bedroom closets in Skokie and in South Haven, and twirl-tested all of the dresses. They’d emerged transformed, shuffling and stomping around in Boop’s high heels. They’d adorned themselves with costume necklaces, clip-on earrings, shawls, and hats. Boop and Marvin would watch the fashion shows as if they’d been flown to Paris for Fashion Week. Marvin had whistled through his fingers to the girls’ squeals of delight and their exaggerated and adorable curtsies.
Boop lifted a paddle brush from the dresser. “Can I brush your hair?”
“I’m not a little girl anymore. But yes.”
Boop brushed the ends of Hannah’s hair, then pressed the bristles at the top of Hannah’s head and dragged them all the way down. “I know, but it’s important to allow yourself to be pampered. And to pamper yourself. There are a few lipsticks on the tray over there.”
“I don’t really wear makeup, Boop.”
“A little lipstick never hurt anyone.” Today Boop’s
