The Lake of Dreams - Kim Edwards [57]
“Evie. I say we save it.”
My mother looked steadily across the fire pit at Art.
“It’s my wine,” she said lightly, though the hardness in her voice was audible now. “I found it in my house, after all. And I want to know how it tastes.” She took a corkscrew from her skirt pocket and asked Blake to open it. After a second’s hesitation, he did. The cork, nearly a hundred years old, squeaked as it turned against the glass.
My mother took the bottle from him and poured us each an inch of the wine, such a dark red it looked like a piece of the night. I had a childhood memory of when the comet had returned in 1986, of staying up late in the cupola to search the dark sky, our disappointment when we finally located the comet, so faint and far away. That’s what I remembered, but maybe the disappointment came from other events at that time; it had been the turning point, the comet and the celebration, the day my father packed his things up at Dream Master and left for good.
“To the solstice,” my mother declared. We lifted our glasses, and drank.
The wine tasted dark and sweet. It was okay, rather sharp, edging toward vinegar, not magical. Once we finished people sat talking until Art stood up to leave.
“Evie,” he said, and paused. He seemed about to say something more, but then he waved his hand with a laugh. “You sure throw a good solstice party,” he said. “Come on, Joey. Let’s get going.”
Blake and Avery stayed a few minutes longer to help clean up. Then they walked across the lawn, hand in hand, and climbed back into the boat. The sail caught the moonlight like a wing.
“Great party, Mom,” I told her as we stacked the leftover trays of hummus and vegetables and dip in the refrigerator. “It was good to see everyone.”
“It was nice,” she agreed. She met my gaze as the door fell shut. “Lucy, I meant what I said out there. I haven’t made up my mind to sell this place, and even if I do, I haven’t decided to sell to Art, not by a long shot.”
“But you’re thinking about it,” I said, leaning against the counter. “I suppose that’s all right. It’s not like it’s got anything to do with me anymore.”
“Well, that’s been your choice, hasn’t it?”
“It’s been the way things have worked out, that’s all.”
“You didn’t have to go to school on the opposite coast, Lucy. You didn’t have to take jobs on the other side of the world. You made those choices.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “I went to the best programs,” I said, finally. “I took the best, most exciting jobs. You told me to go. That summer after Dad died. You gave me your blessing.”
My mother ran her hands over her face, down her neck, and sighed.
“Yes. Yes, I did. You’re right. I wanted you to live your life. I still want that. I worry about you, so far away, it’s true. It’s hard. You don’t realize it, Lucy, but after that tsunami, for instance, when I couldn’t reach you, it was terrible.”
“I wasn’t even in Indonesia then.”
“But you see, I didn’t know that. I didn’t know where you were. For all I knew, you were on one of those devastated beaches.”
I’d been in New Zealand when it happened, hiking with Yoshi and some friends, and we hadn’t heard about the tsunami for several days. When we got back to Jakarta, Yoshi and I volunteered at the orphanage where we’d worked the year before, where children who had lost their families were being sent. We did what we could, whatever they needed, though we still felt helpless in the face of all that loss.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do a better job being in touch.”
My mother shook her head. “You’re a grown-up, Lucy. I trust you to know what you want. But it goes both ways, don’t you see? I have a life, too. Maybe you’d feel happier if I rattled around in this old house forever, and spent every waking hour trying to keep it up, but I will not do that. I’m telling you. Will I sell this place to Art? I don’t know. I might. I might sell to someone else. Or I might wait another year, or two, before I do anything at all. I won’t be pressured, that is one thing I do know. Not by you, or Art, or anyone.”
The air was so charged.