“Sure, yeah. Nat—I don’t think it’s a big deal.”
“Bethany thinks it’s a big deal! She’s been tracking the responses online. People are backlashing hard. My follower number has dropped every day this week. The comments are awful.”
“Who’s Bethany?”
“The publicist I hired six months ago!” She definitely told Austin when she hired Bethany. “She says that one quote ruined the whole article. You must see that?”
“I’ve been busy here, Natalie. I haven’t really thought about it that much. One of the Ladies has a prolapsed uterus—”
She can’t reach him. It’s like they’re on opposite sides of a giant lake, whispering at each other. “But have you thought at all? Have you thought about what you said? Or why?”
Something metal clatters into her farmhouse sink (nothing, she hopes, that will scratch it). “I mean, when that reporter was here, I opened my mouth and that’s what came out.” She can picture him shrugging his infuriatingly strong shoulders. “It was a joke. I didn’t think it would be anything.”
“Well, it is something! It’sthe whole story!” Her voice is raised now, and they might be able to hear her on the patio, but she can’t stop. “People think I’m some kind of—childbearing machine.Andseriously, Austin,barefoot? What the hell?Our brand is about traditional families, and raising our children with care and consideration, and not, like, randomly spitting outbabies!” She’s so angry she could scream. Everything she’s cultivated, all of the care she’s taken, and he can’t see how it’s ruined. How he’s ruined it!
But then there is a pause, and in that pause a great uncertainty blooms. “Ourbrand?” says Austin. His voice sounds different now, not breezy, not carefree.
Natalie swallows hard. “Yes.”
“I thought we were a family, not a brand.”
“You know what I mean. Of course we’re a family.”
Austin sighs, and it’s a sigh that contains a little bit of everything: hurt and confusion and disappointment and maybe a little bit of fatigue. “Nat, I have to get ready for the 5 p.m. milking. Tell the girls it was great to talk to them. I love hearing their voices.”
“Wait!” she says. Her heart is in her throat. “Wait, Austin!”
But he’s gone.
Later that evening, after they’ve eaten the burgers Calvin grilled, after Natalie hasnotsaid out loud that two burgers in two days might be a lot for someone her dad’s age, after they’ve cleaned up, Natalie puts Mae in charge of Caspian and walks the girls down to the water to look for shells. She feels terrible about so many different things that she’s not even sure which one is taking the lead. She turns and sees her father standing next to her, his arms crossed, his chin lifted, his eyes closed. It’s the posture of a sun worshipper, but behind them the sun is going down, and the sky over the water is beginning to change color.
He’s appeared like a ghost, and maybe heisa ghost: the ghost of summers past.
“Dad?” She almost expects to see Theresa standing next to himin the navy-blue one-piece she had for at least ten years, and over it a long-sleeved gauzy white shirt, the sleeves rolled up. The girls are a little way down the beach; she can see the curve of their pale necks as they search the sand. They know when they get to the yellow house they must turn around, and she sees Evangeline look up to make sure they haven’t gone too far.
Calvin starts, as though surprised to find her there, to find himself there.
“Oh, hello. Listen, Natalie, I was thinking—”
“Dad, I can’t do this now.” It’s killing her to think that her daughters won’t be doing this walk into their teen years and beyond. It’s double killing her to think of the house itself not existing as they know it, replaced by some hulk of a thing that will strain against the property lines and have no character, no memory of the Shipman family, no association with the Beach Club or Theresa’s parents or any part of the past.
“No. No, it’s not about the house. I was just talking to Kara, and we were wondering if the three of you might want to go out on the town tonight.”
“The three of us...?” This is so unexpected for a few immediate reasons—she’s angry with Jordan, she can’t imagine her father watching her kids without Theresa, and also, she is no longer a person who “goes out on the town,” unless you count her weekly dinner dates with Austin—that she finds herself needing to make a joke instead of answering seriously. “Scarlett and Evangeline and me? I mean, I could ask, but I don’t think they brought their fake IDs.”
Calvin blinks at her, then, after a beat, he chuckles: when you dad-joke a dad, sometimes it’s confusing. “You and your sisters. Kara and I would be delighted to watch the kids.”
“Allof them? Even Caspian?”
“Yes, of course even Caspian. Especially Caspian. He gives me a much-needed dose of male energy.”
She snorts. “If that’s what you want to call it. But his diapers are something else. Are you sure you’re up for it? Should we check with Kara?”
“Kara sent me out here to ask you.”
This stymies Natalie. “Shedid? Does Kara know about the diapers?” Even as she says this she realizes that’s not the smartest thing she’s ever said. “Right,” she says. “Kara’s a nurse. I don’t think bodily functions are a thing of horror to her.”
“Exactly. And, it would make me happy to see you girls have some time together. If nothing else, do it for me.”
