The House On Hope Street
Chapter 5
The kids got out of school on the second week of June, and two weeks later, Liz and Carole were packing their bags for camp. The girls were genuinely excited and several of their friends were going too. It was nice to see them all looking so happy. The camp they were going to was near Monterey, Liz drove them down herself, and took Jamie with her for the trip.
There was a real holiday atmosphere in the car, on the way. They played a variety of CD’s, all of them loud, wild, and their kind of music, rather than their mother’s. But Liz didn’t mind. In the last month or two, she had really enjoyed being with her children. And she had promised Jamie she’d start training with him as soon as the girls left for camp. They had another five weeks before the Special Olympics, and his sisters would be back by then. The whole family always went to the Special Olympics to cheer for Jamie. It was a tradition Jack had started three years before, and one that was important to them. But Jamie was still worried that his mother wouldn’t know how to do it with him.
They dropped the girls off at camp between Monterey and Carmel, and Liz helped carry their sleeping bags, tennis rackets, one guitar, two trunks, and a mountain of duffel bags and tote bags to their cabins. It looked like enough gear for an invading army. And they scarcely remembered to kiss her and Jamie good-bye before they ran off to meet their counselors, and find their friends.
“Maybe you’ll go to camp one day,” Liz said to Jamie as they drove away.
“I don’t want to,” he said matter-of-factly. “I like being home with you.” He looked up at her as he said it, and she smiled at him as they got back on the freeway. It took them three hours to get back to Tiburon, and when they arrived, Peter had just come home from work. He had started the week before, and was loving it, despite the long hours. It was exactly what he wanted. And there were two other high school kids working there that summer too, one of them a very pretty girl from Mill Valley, and a young college intern, from the veterinary college at Davis.
“How was work today?” she asked her oldest son, as she and Jamie walked into the kitchen.
“Busy.” He smiled at his mother.
“How about some dinner?”
She was cooking for them again, as she had been for months. Carole had covered for her before that. But ever since Easter, she felt as though she had reconnected with her children. Her mother was still calling regularly to check on her, but even her predictions of doom didn’t seem quite as ominous. It was beginning to seem as though they were going to make it after all. She was managing at work, despite an enormous workload. She had finished all of Jack’s cases, and started some new ones on her own. The kids were in good shape. The summer was off to a reasonable start. And she still missed Jack, but she could get through the days, and even the nights now. She didn’t sleep as well as she once had, but she was asleep by two now instead of five, and most of the time, she was in fairly decent spirits. Though occasionally, she still had some real sinkers, and some intensely down days. But now at last there were plenty of good ones too, more than bad.
She made pasta and salad that night for the three of them, and ice cream sundaes, and Jamie helped her make them. He put the whipped cream on, and the nuts, and the maraschino cherries.
“Just like in a restaurant,” Jamie announced, proud of himself, as he served them.
“Have you and Mom started training for the Olympics yet?” Peter asked with interest as he demolished the sundae.
“We start tomorrow,” their mother answered.
“What events are you entering this year?” Peter talked to him now like a father, more than just an older brother. He had picked up the slack wherever possible, and had even finished the year with fairly respectable grades, in spite of everything that had happened. And in the fall, he’d be a senior. Liz was planning to visit colleges with him in September. Mostly up and down the West Coast. He didn’t want to go far from home now, although before his father had died he’d been talking about Princeton and Yale and Harvard. But now he was looking toward UCLA, and Berkeley, and Stanford.
“I’m going to do the running long jump, and the hundred yard dash … and the sack race,” Jamie said proudly. “I was going to do the egg toss again, but Mom says I’m too old now.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll bet you win another ribbon,” Peter said with a warm smile, as Liz watched them both with a look of pleasure. They were both good boys, and she was glad they were at home with her. She enjoyed their company, and she could concentrate on them with the girls gone.
“Mom thinks I’ll win first prize this time,” Jamie said, but he didn’t look convinced. He still wasn’t sure how adept his mother would be as a trainer. He was used to practicing with his father.
“I’ll bet you do too,” Peter said, helping himself to more ice cream, and giving some to his little brother.
“I don’t mind winning last place,” Jamie said matter-of-factly, “just so I get a ribbon.”
“Thanks for your faith in me as a trainer.” Liz smiled at her youngest son, and started clearing the dishes, and then she told him to get ready for bed. Jamie was starting day camp in the morning.
And the next day when she drove him there on the way to work, she looked at Jamie proudly and leaned over to give him a kiss. “I love you, kiddo. Have fun. I’ll be home at six, and we’ll start practicing for the Olympics.”
He nodded and blew her a kiss as he got out of the car, and she headed for the office. It was a warm, sunny day in Marin, though she could see fog stretched across the bridge, and she knew it was probably cool in San Francisco. It was a pretty summer day, and she thought of Jack suddenly, with a quick knife stab in the heart. She still had them sometimes, when she thought of him, or saw something they had both loved or done together. But she felt better again by the time she got to the office. But no matter what she did, or how busy she was, she still missed him.
“Any messages?” she asked Jean as she walked in, and Jean handed her seven little slips of paper. Two were from new clients she had just met the week before, two were from attorneys she had referred cases to, two were from people she didn’t know, and one was from her mother.
