Winter Garden
Mom said, “Thank you for my birthday,” so softly they almost couldn’t hear, and then she opened the door and went into her room.
Meredith unlocked their door and went inside.
“Dibs on the bathtub,” Nina said, grinning.
Meredith barely noticed. She grabbed a blanket from her bed and went out onto the small veranda. From here, even in the darkness, she could make out the coastline. Here and there lights shone, marking peoples’ lives.
She leaned back against the sliding door and wondered at the vistas she wasn’t seeing. It was all out there—the mystery, the beauty; beyond her ability to see now, but there just the same. It was simply a matter of timing and perspective, what one saw. Like with Mom. Perhaps everything had been there to be seen all along and Meredith had had the wrong perspective, or not enough light.
“I suppose that is you, Meredith. ”
She was startled by the sound of her mother’s voice, coming from the darkness of the veranda to her right. It was another jolt of reality: there were hundreds of tiny verandas stuck out from the side of this ship, and yet in the dark, each one seemed entirely separate. “Hey, Mom,” she said. She could only make out the merest shape of her mother, see only the white sheen of her hair.
They were alike in that way, she and her mom. When they were troubled, both wanted to be outside and alone.
“You are thinking about your marriage,” Mom said.
Meredith sighed. “I don’t suppose you have any advice for me. ”
“To lose love is a terrible thing,” Mom said softly. “But to turn away from it is unbearable. Will you spend the rest of your life replaying it in your head? Wondering if you walked away too soon or too easily? Or if you’ll ever love anyone that deeply again?”
Meredith heard the softening in her mother’s voice. It was like listening to melted pain, that voice. “You know about loss,” she said quietly.
“We all do. ”
“When I first fell in love with Jeff, it was like seeing sunlight for the first time. I couldn’t stand to be away from him. And then . . . I could. We got married so young. . . . ”
“Young has nothing to do with love. A woman can be a girl and still know her own heart. ”
“I stopped being happy. I don’t even know why or when. ”
“I remember when you were always smiling. Back when you opened the gift shop. Maybe you never should have taken over the business. ”
Meredith was too surprised to do more than nod. She hadn’t thought her mother ever noticed her one way or the other. “It meant so much to Dad. ”
“It did. ”
“I made the mistake of living for other people. For Dad and the orchard, and my kids. Mostly for them, and now they are so busy with their own lives they hardly ever call. I have to memorize their schedules and track them down like Hercule Poirot. I’m a bounty hunter with a phone. ”
“Jillian and Maddy flew away because you gave them wings and taught them to fly. ”
“I wish I had wings,” Meredith said quietly.
“This is my fault,” Mom said, standing up. The veranda creaked at the movement.
“Why?” Meredith said, moving closer to the rail that separated the two verandas. She felt her mother come toward her until suddenly they were standing face-to-face, a foot or less apart. Finally, she could see Mom’s eyes.
“I am telling my story to explain. ”
“When it’s over, will I know what I did that was so wrong?”
In the uncertain mix of light and shadow, her mother’s face seemed to crumple like old wax paper. “You will know, when it is all done, that you are not the one who did anything wrong. Now come inside. I will tell you about the Luga line tonight. ”
“Are you sure? It’s late. ”
“I am sure. ” She opened her sliding door and disappeared inside her cabin.
Meredith went back into the brightly lit stateroom and found Nina on her bed, drying her short black hair with a towel.