Raising Hope (32 page)

“Oh, it’s nothing, Mama,” Sara Lynn tells her.

“Nothing, my right foot. Why is Hope screaming and crying and tearing around here like a madwoman?”

“She’s . . . upset.”

“Upset? How obtuse do you think I am, Sara Lynn? I could see that with my own eyes.”

Ruth breaks in. “She’s upset because she’s had a crush on her tennis teacher, who Sara Lynn just happens to be dating.”

My cheeks get hot, and something in me feels like I want to burst through the window screen. I hop up and race down the stairs and out onto the porch.

“It wasn’t a crush,” I say fiercely to Ruth. “You don’t know anything about it.”

Ruth turns to me. “Baby doll—”

“Good God,” Mamie interrupts, looking in disbelief at Sara Lynn. “You’re dating Hope’s tennis teacher?”

“He’s also twenty-nine,” Ruth tells Mamie.

“Whose side are you on?” Sara Lynn snaps. She walks away from Ruth and looks out to the backyard, her whole body trembling.

“Yours,” says Ruth, walking over to stand next to her. “Absolutely yours.” She turns back to Mamie and says firmly, “Listen, Mamie, Sara Lynn’s bringing him to my wedding. She’s happy. He makes her happy. And that’s all that matters. Isn’t it?”

Mamie turns up her nose and looks away from Ruth and Sara Lynn.

Ruth walks over to her and kneels to look her in the face. “Mamie, I know you love Sara Lynn. I know you love her more than anything.” She puts her hands on Mamie’s shoulders and says, “So you have just got to let her be. Let her be Sara Lynn! She’s not you. She’s not always going to do what you would do, or what would make you happy. She’s her own person.”

Uh-oh. Ruth might as well be jumping up and down and pointing at the wall, the one between Sara Lynn and Mamie that we all pretend isn’t there. The air seems still for a second, like we’ve all sucked in our breath and don’t know whether or not to let it out.

Mamie looks straight ahead and blinks her eyes real fast as she twists her hands in her lap. “I wasn’t aware I was making my own daughter so unhappy,” she says.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Sara Lynn says with a brittle laugh. “You’re being overly dramatic, Mama.”

Ruth holds up her hand. “No, Sara Lynn. No, she’s not. Just stop pretending you’re not . . . suffocating each other. You love each other to death, but you’re killing each other, too. Mamie, don’t let Sara Lynn lose the chance to be happy—”

“Is that what you think?” Mamie interrupts, looking up at Sara Lynn. “That I’m stopping you from finding happiness?”

Sara Lynn doesn’t speak for a long minute—she just lets the question float out there. Finally, she puts her head down and says quietly, “Sometimes. Yes, sometimes I do.”

Mamie stands up slowly and says, “Well.” Then she sets her mouth hard and walks across the porch floor into the house. “You’re free to think whatever you like.”

“Oh, Mama,” Sara Lynn cries, reaching out her arms toward Mamie. It’s like telling the truth knocked that wall between them right down, and instead of snarling at each other across it, Mamie’s walking away, leaving, just like my father did.

For a second, I want to go to Sara Lynn, so she won’t be standing there alone. But then I feel glad that she’s sobbing into her hands all by herself. Good! I think. Good!

Ruth pulls Sara Lynn into her and hugs her. It’s me she’s looking at as she pats Sara Lynn’s shoulder, saying, “No need to worry. Everything will be all right now. Everything will be just fine.”

Chapter 24

I
t’s raining today—hard—and the house is chillingly quiet. Ruth’s at work, and the other two—well, they’re not speaking to me. They’ve decided I’m the devil incarnate. And maybe I am. I won’t give up Sam even though I’m hurting Hope and Mama. They think I’m choosing him over them, but I’m not. I’m choosing me.

“You can’t make your choices based on what other people want, Sara Lynn.” That’s what Ruth told me that awful day last week after Mama huffed her way upstairs and Hope followed her, screaming, “I’m glad I wrecked your stupid garden!”

“What am I supposed to base them on, then?” I cried. Dear God, hadn’t I learned from Bobby? Hadn’t I learned that all I do is hurt the people I most love whenever a man is involved? Why, why hadn’t I just shaken Sam’s hand at the end of our date in Boston? I could have smiled and said, “Thank you for a lovely evening.” That’s what a sensible, mature woman would have done. God, I wanted to tear my hair out and bang my head against the wall to rid myself of my stupidity.

“You have to make your choices based on what you want,” Ruth said, grabbing my hands and squeezing tight. “On what’s good for Sara Lynn. Does Sam make you happy?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No. Right now he’s making me miserable.”

“The truth is, you’re making yourself miserable. How do you feel when you’re with Sam?”

I bit my lip hard just before I whispered, “Alive. He makes me feel alive.”

“Then listen here, missy,” Ruth said, and she was saying it roughly, as though I’d better pay attention. “You get your pretty little ass into your fancy car and you go see him right now. You tell him what’s going on. Because, trust me, if he makes you feel alive, that’s something. You don’t just throw that away because it makes things easier on everyone else.”

“I can’t leave here right now,” I practically shouted at her.

“Oh, yes, you can,” she said quietly. Then she looked at me in a hard way, like she was daring me. “Are you going to give him up, just like you gave up Bobby, because you still don’t have any guts?”

I shrugged off her hands and ran into the kitchen to grab my keys. Before I knew it, I was in my car on the way to Sam’s. Guts, I fumed; I’ll show her guts.

It wasn’t until I pulled up to the little cottage on the lake that all my bravado left me, and I got out of the car slowly, half thinking I should just get back in and go away for good. Oh, the monstrous selfishness in me! Who did I think I was to stamp on everybody’s feelings just because I might be in love? As I hesitated, standing there in my blush-colored bridesmaid dress and no shoes, the screen door squeaked open, and there was Sam, his eyes opening wide in surprise.

“Sara Lynn?”

I couldn’t answer. I could only look at him, my shoulders shaking and tears falling down my cheeks. He bounded down the steps and pulled me close, and I realized that what Ruth had said was the truth: When someone makes you feel alive, you walk toward him, not away.

I sigh and rub the back of my neck. I’m sitting at the kitchen table, trying to edit my piece on Langley’s Lovely Lavender Gardens, but my mind keeps wandering. Visiting other places in my mind . . . Oh, Bobby. What would have happened if I hadn’t broken things off, if I hadn’t let my fear drive him away? I don’t know. I shake my head just wondering about it. I don’t know.

My cell phone rings, and I jump, startled out of my thoughts. “Hello?”

“S.L.”

I smile. “Hi, Sam.” It’s his nickname for me—S.L. I’ve never had a nickname before.

“How are you?”

I sigh. “Pretty good.”

“Still no peace treaties?”

“Not yet. I’m starting to lose hope.”

“No, no. Don’t say that. She’ll come around.”

“Which one?” I laugh.

“Well, both of them. But I was thinking about Hope. Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to her?”

“I’m positive. She needs time to cool down. Time to hurt, really. She cared about you, Sam.”

“She’s a great kid. I care about her, too. I wish . . . I wish there was something I could do.”

“You could stop seeing me,” I say teasingly.

“Not an option,” he replies, and I rest my chin on my hand and smile.

“I’ll see you tonight, okay?” I say.

“I’m counting on it.”

“Yeah, me too.”

We don’t say anything for a minute, and then he says, “Well, I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”

“Me too.”

“You too what?” he asks.

I laugh. “I was thinking about you, too.”

His laugh echoes mine, and just before he hangs up, he says, “See you tonight, S.L. Don’t be late.”

Every night after Hope and Mama are in bed, I’ve been driving out to the lake to see Sam. It was Ruth who insisted.

“I’ll watch everyone here. You just go on. Don’t worry about anything at home.”

“But Ruth,” I protested, “what about Jack? You’ll want to see him at night now that you’re finally out in the open with everything.”

“I’ll be seeing his face plenty.” She laughed. “I’m marrying the guy, remember?”

I shiver a little as I pick up my pen and doodle on my manuscript. I think about my nights with Sam—the sweet shock of his lips as he kisses me tenderly, the slow way he takes off my clothes, and the warmth of his skin as I remove his. And then we’re in bed together, his body and mine becoming a beautiful jumble, and he’s whispering in my ear that I’m turning him on like crazy, and I moan as I come because there’s nobody around for miles and what do I care anyhow if anyone hears us?

Then it’s over, and we lie entwined as we talk, our voices meshing like our bodies. We talk about everything—our thoughts, our dreams, our fears, our memories. Last night, as Sam held me and we talked after making love, he said, “You know, S.L., your body feels absolutely right against mine. It’s like we belong together.”

“You think so, huh?” I teased.

“I do.” He turned me around to face him and kissed me hard. “I am the luckiest guy in the world right now,” he whispered, looking into my eyes.

“I’m feeling awfully lucky myself,” I said, my breath catching in my throat.

I catch my breath now as Hope comes into the kitchen, her eyes not so sullen and a smile poking at the corners of her mouth.

“Sara Lynn?” she says quietly. It’s the first time she’s said my name since she found out about Sam and me last week.

“Yes?” I ask, dropping my pen.

“I . . . I . . .” She puts her head down and blushes. “I just got my period.”

“Oh, Hope!” I push my chair back from the table and move to hug her. My eyes mist over as her arms slowly tighten around my neck. “Congratulations! When did it happen? Just now?”

She nods proudly. “I went to the bathroom and there it was.”

“Oh, gosh. You’ll need pads.”

“I had one in my backpack.” She ducks her head, letting her hair fall in her face. “I stole it from Ruth a long time ago just in case.”

“Well, you’ll need a whole package of them now. Come on; I’m sure I have extras stashed away upstairs.” I start up the stairs, and she follows me silently.

“Hmm . . .” I enter my bathroom and open my cabinet under the sink. “Aha! Here you go.” I hand her an unopened package of sanitary napkins. “For you.”

She looks at them, and then she starts to cry. “Oh, Sara Lynn.” She shakes her head, looking down. “I’m so sorry I wrecked your garden.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her, pulling her into me and kissing her wild hair. God, what do I care about my garden? “Everything will grow back.”

She sniffles and nods.

“Gardens are surprisingly resilient,” I say softly, and hug her even closer. “And I’m sorry, too, Hope. I had no idea you had feelings for Sam.”

“Ugh!” She pulls away from me and turns her head. “Don’t even talk about it! It’s too embarrassing!”

“No!” I take her shoulders and make her look at me. “No, it’s not embarrassing. It’s incredibly brave and, and . . . human. It’s human to open your heart to someone. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“He must think I’m the biggest dork.”

I shake my head. “No, not at all. He only wishes you weren’t hurting so much.”

“Do you . . . You see him every night, right?” She pulls back from me and sets her jaw, challenging me.

“What are you asking me?” I buy myself some time.

“I know you go out every night,” she says. Then she laughs a bit, her face softening. “That’s one thing about not talking to someone. It’s quiet enough that you can hear them coming and going.”

“Yes.” I’m not going to lie to her. Not to protect her from a hurt she’s already feeling. “I do see Sam. I’m just sorry it hurts you.”

She shrugs. “It doesn’t hurt so much anymore. At least, it’s getting so it doesn’t.” Her eyes tell me otherwise, and I want to hug her close again so I don’t have to look into them.

I pause, then tell her something I’ve been thinking about over the last several days, something I wish I’d done differently. “You know, Hope, sometimes, when you live with someone a long time, you see only what you want to see, or what you’re used to seeing. I should have noticed your feelings for Sam. You were right when you told me I was ‘fucking blind.’ I was, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she mutters. She averts her eyes and squeezes the package of pads to her chest.

I want to help her preserve her dignity, so I smile and focus on the good news of today. “Come on. Let’s go put those pads in your bathroom. Find a nice home for them now that you’ll be needing them every month.”

As we walk down the hall to her room, I ask, “Now that you’re officially a woman, is there anything you want to ask me? You know, about woman things?”

“Yeah,” she says, and takes a deep breath. “Actually there is.”

“Shoot,” I tell her, plopping on her bed.

“Hold on a sec—” She walks into her bathroom, carrying the pads in front of her like a precious parcel. “I’m just going to put these away.”

Oh, she’s so proud of herself! And she should be—this is the start of something, of lots of things.

When she comes back to the bedroom, she scrambles up on the bed beside me and begins to pick at her nails.

“You wanted to ask me something?” I prompt, brushing my fingers against the hair falling in her face.

She doesn’t look up, just says in a low voice, “You know . . . um, sex?”

“Ye-es,” I say cautiously.

Her words tumble out quickly as she continues to pick at her nails. “Well, Ruth said it’s something you enjoy with someone you love, and I was wondering if that was true.”

“Yes, that’s true.” Hmm. This isn’t so hard after all. I can handle this. “When you’re with someone you really care about, and you’re ready, it’s wonderful.”

“So . . . did you have sex with . . .” Or maybe I can’t handle this after all. My shoulders stiffen. I simply won’t tell her about my sex life with Sam. It’s absolutely off-limits. “With my father?”