Caroline asked.
“She was scared.” He folded his arms, looking remarkably and uncomfortably like his father. Peter’s parents had kept their children at the center of their lives, just like Caroline’s mother.
Caroline’s father left his children—Caroline and her two sisters—to his wife, but nobody complained. Whatever Dad provided, he’d provided well. When he taught them to swim, they learned the skill perfectly, breathing as evenly as Olympic athletes. When he cooked a Sunday breakfast, the French toast came out flawless: crisp and buttery, soft in the middle.
Her father’s love was never questioned. No one in the family resented that his deepest energies were saved for his work. They didn’t confuse his love and his energy. He earned enough that they lacked for nothing, and he instilled the morals that ensured they never asked for too much. They learned by example: work, family, and community all needed fealty, but the labor could be divided.
Caroline believed herself to be more like her father than her mother. She wished she could get away with the pattern of adequate yet simple paternal gestures: make a perfect Sunday breakfast, read a story each night, and devote the rest of her time to work.
“Any problem getting her to bed?” Caroline asked.
“She was really upset. I think she felt abandoned.”
“I didn’t abandon her.” Acid from the coffee burned in Caroline’s stomach. “I thought you were taking care of it.”
“Whoa! I didn’t say you abandoned her, I said she felt that way. And I never said I could come home. You virtually hung up on me!”
“Peter, I was in the middle of—”
“Jesus, Caro. You’re always in the middle of something lately.”
Peter’s frustration baffled her. What was she supposed to do? Should she not lean on him?
“Sometimes I think you forget our lives have changed,” he said. “Savannah has to take precedence.”
Caroline could scream, but wasn’t he right? She twisted her head from side to side, feeling everything inside her upper body cramp into an iron column. Peter put his hand on the back of her neck, and Caroline arched in, wanting comfort even as she hated his words.
“You have to learn to compromise.” Peter dug his thumbs into the spot on the side of her neck that always tensed first.
“Mmm . . . but sometimes I just can’t,” she said. “Really. Sometimes I simply can’t.”
Peter removed his hands from her neck and stepped into her line of vision. “What if she fell out of a tree, Caro? Honestly? What if a car hit her? Would you come then? Would that make you leave the hospital?”
• • •
The phone rang before six o’clock in the morning.
That couldn’t be good.
Peter leaned over her and grabbed the phone. Having grown up in a large family meant that he was always on call for disaster. Caroline listened to Peter’s side of the conversation, trying to fill in the missing sentences.
“Uh-huh. No, no, we’ll be fine.”
Nanny Rose.
“No, really, you don’t have to send her.”
Was Rose offering that twit of a niece?
“When my mother gets migraines, she steams with eucalyptus leaves. You should try it.”
Peter was the ultimate fix-it guy, as her mother often reminded her. “You have someone special there, Caroline. Don’t take him for granted.”
“No, it’s okay. No, don’t call her,” Peter said.
Caroline waved her arms, No, no, at Peter. After yesterday’s argument, she didn’t want him taking the day off. He held up a hand to stop her, turning away and covering his free ear.
“No. It’s fine.” He held the phone after disconnecting with Nanny Rose. “I better call Ellie and tell her to cancel my appointments.”
Caroline sat cross-legged on the bed. “Peter, you just told me how difficult it is to take off so much time.”
“What are our options? We’re not leaving Savannah with that Janine.” He rolled over and swung his legs off the bed.
Caroline put her hand on his
“She was scared.” He folded his arms, looking remarkably and uncomfortably like his father. Peter’s parents had kept their children at the center of their lives, just like Caroline’s mother.
Caroline’s father left his children—Caroline and her two sisters—to his wife, but nobody complained. Whatever Dad provided, he’d provided well. When he taught them to swim, they learned the skill perfectly, breathing as evenly as Olympic athletes. When he cooked a Sunday breakfast, the French toast came out flawless: crisp and buttery, soft in the middle.
Her father’s love was never questioned. No one in the family resented that his deepest energies were saved for his work. They didn’t confuse his love and his energy. He earned enough that they lacked for nothing, and he instilled the morals that ensured they never asked for too much. They learned by example: work, family, and community all needed fealty, but the labor could be divided.
Caroline believed herself to be more like her father than her mother. She wished she could get away with the pattern of adequate yet simple paternal gestures: make a perfect Sunday breakfast, read a story each night, and devote the rest of her time to work.
“Any problem getting her to bed?” Caroline asked.
“She was really upset. I think she felt abandoned.”
“I didn’t abandon her.” Acid from the coffee burned in Caroline’s stomach. “I thought you were taking care of it.”
“Whoa! I didn’t say you abandoned her, I said she felt that way. And I never said I could come home. You virtually hung up on me!”
“Peter, I was in the middle of—”
“Jesus, Caro. You’re always in the middle of something lately.”
Peter’s frustration baffled her. What was she supposed to do? Should she not lean on him?
“Sometimes I think you forget our lives have changed,” he said. “Savannah has to take precedence.”
Caroline could scream, but wasn’t he right? She twisted her head from side to side, feeling everything inside her upper body cramp into an iron column. Peter put his hand on the back of her neck, and Caroline arched in, wanting comfort even as she hated his words.
“You have to learn to compromise.” Peter dug his thumbs into the spot on the side of her neck that always tensed first.
“Mmm . . . but sometimes I just can’t,” she said. “Really. Sometimes I simply can’t.”
Peter removed his hands from her neck and stepped into her line of vision. “What if she fell out of a tree, Caro? Honestly? What if a car hit her? Would you come then? Would that make you leave the hospital?”
• • •
The phone rang before six o’clock in the morning.
That couldn’t be good.
Peter leaned over her and grabbed the phone. Having grown up in a large family meant that he was always on call for disaster. Caroline listened to Peter’s side of the conversation, trying to fill in the missing sentences.
“Uh-huh. No, no, we’ll be fine.”
Nanny Rose.
“No, really, you don’t have to send her.”
Was Rose offering that twit of a niece?
“When my mother gets migraines, she steams with eucalyptus leaves. You should try it.”
Peter was the ultimate fix-it guy, as her mother often reminded her. “You have someone special there, Caroline. Don’t take him for granted.”
“No, it’s okay. No, don’t call her,” Peter said.
Caroline waved her arms, No, no, at Peter. After yesterday’s argument, she didn’t want him taking the day off. He held up a hand to stop her, turning away and covering his free ear.
“No. It’s fine.” He held the phone after disconnecting with Nanny Rose. “I better call Ellie and tell her to cancel my appointments.”
Caroline sat cross-legged on the bed. “Peter, you just told me how difficult it is to take off so much time.”
“What are our options? We’re not leaving Savannah with that Janine.” He rolled over and swung his legs off the bed.
Caroline put her hand on his
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