Sloane trailed in behind her, Taylor on her hip. His head was resting on her shoulder, and I could almost feel his bliss at having his mother back. Sloane was so thin that her little shorts were hanging off her hips. Her light brown hair was ratty and pulled back into a slouchy ponytail. The circles under her doe eyes had circles. Usually Sloane had rosy cheeks, clear skin, and that sort of natural, effortless beauty reserved for Neutrogena commercials. Now, she was so pale and sallow, her normally full cheeks sunken in. I hardly recognized her. I wished I could hold her and make it better like she was doing for Taylor.
“I want some more of that chocolate milk,” Sloane said, exhausted.
“If you want chocolate milk, then you shall have chocolate milk.”
I could hear Vivi and AJ laughing and yelling out on the lawn.
“Is this dinner a family thing?” Emerson asked. She leaned casually against the wall, her leggings and tank accentuating her lithe body. She was eating well again, off that dreadful juice cleanse she had been on when she got to Peachtree Bluff, but her legs and arms still looked too thin to me. And she was a bit pale, too, which was odd, considering she was getting plenty of June sunshine.
I cocked my head to the side. “Well, no. I suppose not. Did you want to invite some friends?”
She took a sip out of the water bottle in her hand as she strode across the room and said, “No friends. I just thought I’d ask Mark.”
She was gone before we could ask her any questions, that smart girl.
“Well, that’s new,” I said.
“Not as new as you might think,” Caroline said. “You know, Mom, you should really get better control over your household.”
Mom laughed heartily. I looked at Sloane, hoping for a smile, but her face was as stone cold as ever.
“I’ve always liked Mark,” Mom said. “And it’s time for Emerson to settle down.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mom,” I said. “It’s just dinner.”
“Dinner with the entire family,” Sloane pointed out, sharing a look with her sister.
That was true. I liked Mark, and I loved the idea of Emerson settling down. I didn’t disapprove of her laser focus on her career, but I wanted her to have other things, too. I wanted her to have more.
“Mommy, I sirsty,” Taylor said.
“I can get him something to drink,” Caroline said, though she was still burping Preston.
“It’s OK,” Sloane said, walking toward the kitchen.
“See, coddling,” Mom said.
I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t do this with her. Not today.
“Hey, Mom,” Caroline said. “I’m going to put Preston down for his nap. Do you mind listening for him? I’m going to take Grammy out to lunch.” Caroline winked at Mom, and she winked back. Those two were always up to something. I wished Mom could be a tiny bit better at disguising the fact that Caroline was her favorite.
“That’s fine,” I said, my mind still on Sloane. “I’m going to go make some tea,” I said, getting up and heading to the kitchen. It was terribly transparent, but if I wanted to help my daughter, then that was my prerogative.
As I reached my arms out to take Taylor from Sloane—as exhausted as I had been, I missed the boys like crazy while I was at work—I glanced out the window at the house next door that once belonged to Mr. Solomon, my crazy neighbor whom I had fought with for years over the fence that separated our yards. Happily, we made up in the weeks before his death, thanks to Caroline, of all people. Now it sat empty and alone, almost sullen, as if it were reaching out to me.
It wasn’t as large or grand as this house, but it had a charm that had always drawn me in. I wondered for the millionth time who would scoop it up when it went on the market and how I would convince the buyers to let me decorate it. And, for a split second, Jack, the first boy I had ever told how much I loved that house, crossed my mind. But he was gone, I remembered. And so were those sunny, carefree summer days.
FIVE
enlisted
sloane
June 18, 2013
Dear Sloane,
I can’t express how painful it was to leave you and AJ today. There’s a huge hole in my heart, a piece of me missing without the two of you. I felt like I couldn’t breathe as I walked away from you, and now, as I sit here, awake in the middle of the night, writing to you, I feel that pain again. Thank you for being the mother and woman you are, for taking care of our son when I can’t, for loving both of us in the way you do. Already counting down the days until you are both in my arms again.
