Seeking Sara Summers (21 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

This was one of the most miserable Christmases of Sara’s life. Topped only by the Christmas after her mother had died. But she was determined to act like nothing was wrong; as much for her sake as everyone else. Making Christmas dinner gave her a break from thinking of Julia as she preoccupied herself with the details and the timing of the meal.

Sam, their youngest son, took a small piece of turkey Sara had just taken out of the oven and blew on it before putting the morsel in his mouth. Luke, reunited with his master, watched Sam’s every move, his tail beating a steady rhythm on the floor.

“Delicious,” he pronounced. “You’re the best, Mom.” He embraced her, and then leaned down to pet Luke. Sam didn’t need her anymore, a reality that made her a bit nostalgic on holidays.

“It’s nice to have you home, honey,” Sara said. She genuinely meant it, despite her holiday angst.

Sam was tall with sandy-colored hair that fell down into his blue eyes. A golden boy, some might call him. He had the body of an athlete, although he didn’t play any sports past junior high. And during college he was handsome enough to get a job modeling men’s fashions.

When Sara looked at Sam she saw not only the child she had raised who was now a young man, but also a part of herself. Unfortunately, it was a part that was insecure and overly sensitive despite his handsomeness.

“Have you had time to talk to John?” Sara asked. Since they were boys, Sam had adored his older brother. A fact that John was not always thrilled about.

“He’s preoccupied with Dad,” Sam said. “Plus Ashley is here so I don’t know if I’ll even get a chance.” We now shared John with Ashley’s family on holidays. They would spend Christmas morning with them before driving to her parents for the rest of Christmas day.

“How are you doing, Sam? I mean, really.”

“I’m fine, Mom.” He took another piece of turkey to give to Luke, and Sara playfully slapped his hand. “The new job is working out great. I don’t want to stay there forever, but it’s a good place to start. I can work my way up in the company if I want to, like Jess, or I can move on.”

Like his father, Sam had majored in business at the University of Massachusetts, and was working at the same investment firm in New York as Jessica. She had gotten him the job starting at the lowest rung in a company where she was a few steps higher on the ladder. She was as good at looking out for her younger brother as John was at ignoring him.

“Are you dating anyone?” Sara asked. This was the question she always worked into their conversations, sometimes not as gracefully as she would like. If Sam dated, he didn’t tell her about it.

“Don’t worry so much.” He kissed her on the cheek.

Sara didn’t like how much he sounded like her. Life could totally suck, to use his words, and he would insist everything was fine. A genetic disposition, she supposed. Denial on a DNA level.

They took their places on the family stage: Sam with Sara in the kitchen; John talking with Grady; Ashley, the newest member in the cast, staying close to John; with Jessica to arrive just before the end of the first act.

“Have you talked to your sister?” Sara asked Sam. Of all the siblings, Sam was the one most likely to know what was going on with the others.

“She dumped another guy.” He sampled the oyster stuffing. Jessica had brought a series of young men through their home over the years. Sara had learned early on not to get too attached to them.

“You mean the one she met at her gym?”

“Yeah, I think he’s the fourth one this year. I can’t even keep their names straight anymore.”

“Does she talk to you about it?”

“Not really,” Sam said.

Sara frowned and stirred the cranberries.

“Don’t worry, Mom. Jess is just being Jess,” Sam said. “She’ll find somebody some day, and if she doesn’t, she can just come back here to live.” He chuckled.

“That phase of my life is over, dear. I have no desire to go back and do it again.”

“Relax, Mom. That’s the way we want it, too.” Sam put his arm around her shoulder. He was easily the most affectionate of her children and the most tuned in to Sara. “So how are you, Mom? I mean, really.”

Sara paused, realizing Sam was referring to her health. Which version of the story had she told him? She had downplayed the whole cancer thing with her children. As far as they knew her last round of chemo was simply routine. She was now in waiting mode again to see if the chemicals had done their job. She adjusted her wig slightly. “I’m fine, honey. Good as new.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.

“I’m sure, honey. Honestly, I’m fine. Never been better.” Sara didn’t sound convincing, and he didn’t look convinced. “But you’re sweet to ask,” she added. She caressed the stubble of his light beard and remembered a four-year-old Sam standing beside Grady in the bathroom, pretending to shave like his father. “If anything changes, I’ll let you know,” she reassured him.

“You just don’t look that happy, Mom.”

“I’m always happy,” she said cheerfully.

“Come on, Mom.” Sam was frowning at her.

“It’s sweet of you to worry about me, honey, but I really am fine. Now go and pry John away from Dad and Ashley so you can talk to your favorite brother.”

Sam kissed her on the cheek before leaving and Luke devotedly followed.

Alone again, Sara breathed deeply. She was not about to burden her twenty-two year old son with her drama. She was doing her best to play the role of faithful wife and mother. Who am I kidding, she thought. Not that anyone had noticed, except maybe Sam.

Their adult children had created lives of their own. They were totally familiar, and like strangers, all at the same time. They paraded past Sara and Grady year after year with new stories, new lovers, and new friends. As far as she could tell, she and Grady were expected to watch their evolution without advice or judgment, while aging gracefully on the sofa.

When Sara looked up from her pie crust, Ashley had joined her in the kitchen. “How’s it going, Mrs. Stanton?”

“Fine, Ashley.” Sara forced her face into a smile. “Are you having a good time?”

“Yes, Mrs. Stanton. I love watching John with his dad.”

Sara’s fake smile hid a very real grimace. “Ashley, please don’t call me Mrs. Stanton. It makes me feel ancient.” It also made her think of Stella, her stereotypical mother-in-law. Did Ashley see Sara as that out of date?

Ashley smiled a perfect smile, perhaps the result of years of orthodontia, and her blue eyes were accentuated by her blue sweater. Even when dressed in jeans she looked formal, her perfect posture matching her perfect smile.

Sara glanced down to see what she had absentmindedly put on that morning. She was dressed entirely in black—black jeans and a black turtleneck. Molly Decker would be proud, she thought. In her old age she was going Goth.

Her only attempt to look festive was the green Christmas ball earrings Sara wore that Maggie had given her for Christmas. A peace offering, Sara supposed, for their disastrous get-together three weeks before.

“How’s law school going?” Sara asked. She used a fork to scallop the edges of the pie crust, and then placed the apple pie in the oven. Apple pies were the one dessert she knew how to make from scratch, thanks to her mother, who had made apple pies for the diner.

“The semester was rough,” Ashley said. “But John and I studied like crazy to get through exams. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” She beamed, as if proud to have a man support her.

When Grady and Sara were engaged, they had presented a perfect picture, too, even though they didn’t have a clue what marriage entailed in terms of commitment and sacrifice. But she had thought she was happy back then.

“Everything smells great, Mrs. Stanton. Can I help you with anything?”

“No, I think I’ve got everything under control,” she said, knowing this statement wasn’t the least bit true. The only thing even vaguely under control was the meal; the rest of her life was up for grabs.

“Then I guess I’ll go check on John,” Ashley said. 

When Ashley left Sara relaxed her face and glanced at the clock. Her mind jumped time zones, something it did with growing ease. It was after midnight in Florence.

“Merry Christmas, Julia,” she said softly. The words caught in her throat. Sara lowered her head and swallowed a lump of regret. She had no idea what Julia’s Christmas plans might be. She had not heard from her for over a week—a fact she was determined not to worry about. She forced herself to focus on another task.

“Hi, Mom,” John said.

She looked up, startled by her oldest son’s sudden appearance. She stretched to hug his 6 foot 2 inch frame. He had surpassed Grady by two inches, a fact he loved to bring up in front of his dad. John reminded Sara of Grady right after college. Tall, lean, a perfectly proportioned body, a charismatic smile. He even wore his thick brown hair the same way Grady had. Short on the sides and longer on the top with an addition of a mustache he had grown the last couple of years.

“How’s it going out there?” Sara asked.

“Ashley and Dad are talking about how the courts have been affected by the current administration.” 

“Well, I don’t see how you tore yourself away,” Sara said.

“Ash and I have already had that conversation a thousand times,” he said. “Besides, I wanted to check on my dear, old mom.”

“I like the ‘dear’ part, but I’m not too fond of the ‘old.’”

“You know what I mean.” John poured himself a tall glass of orange juice and drank half of it in the first gulp. His Adams apple was prominent like Grady’s but John wasn’t nearly as self-conscious as Grady had been at his age. For his entire sophomore year in high school Grady had worn turtlenecks. Nothing Sara or Julia had said to him would make him stop. 

“Ashley seems to be doing well,” she said.

“Yeah, she’s great. And I’m really happy, Mom.”

“I’m glad to hear it, honey.” Sara glimpsed the boy he used to be. Confident in the direction he was going, even if others weren’t.

“Have you had a chance to talk to Sam?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he said. John unloaded clean dishes from the dishwasher, his job while he was growing up.

“You know how he looks up to you.”

“I know, Mom. I will,” his tone softened. “You know he still hasn’t brought anybody home for Christmas.”

“He’s still young, honey, give him time. By the way, have we heard anything from your sister?”

“She called a little while ago. She’ll be here soon.

“Good,” Sara said. “Now go back and entertain the troops. I’ve got everything handled in here.” She turned him toward the door and gently pushed.

Sara’s oldest, most responsible child left the room, his head just below the top of the doorway. A few seconds later Grady laughed from the next room. He had settled into his role as patriarch with relish, currently holding court in the living room. Grady enjoyed being a father much more now that the children were grown. Sara supposed she enjoyed this phase more, too. Her job description had shortened considerably. Now she was to keep the family traditions going and be the person they returned to. A touchstone, of sorts, with no true needs of her own.

Sara thought of Julia and weighed the price of family traditions. But did it have to be either/or?

“Jess just drove up,” Sam called from the living room.

Sara joined the welcoming committee at the front door. Their vibrant, disorganized daughter arrived juggling a briefcase, flowers, duffle bag, and excuses. Her cheeks were red from the cold and her face was framed with large silver hoop earrings. Her gray bulky sweater dwarfed her.

“Better late than never,” Sam joked, getting in line for a hug.

It was only in the last few years that this tradition of embracing each other had begun. After they had ceased living together.

“Sis, you remember Ashley,” John said.

“Yes, hi.” Jessica shook Ashley’s hand. “How’s it going big brother?”

“No complaints,” he said, sounding like Grady. “How about you?”

“Don’t get me started,” she laughed.

Jess glanced at John with what could pass for admiration. During their childhood, they would have gladly exiled the other to the outer reaches of Antarctica if given the chance. Jessica was constantly taking his things and then losing them or breaking them, totally usurping John’s need for order.

“Sorry, Mom. Traffic was horrible.” Jess handed Sara a bouquet of yellow roses as if a peace offering for her lateness.

“No problem, honey. I’m just glad you made it here safely.”

Sara left everyone in the living room to put the roses in water and finish up dinner. At half past seven everyone gathered at their usual places around the dining room table.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” Grady patted Sara’s shoulder on the way to his chair.

By creating this moment, Sara had fulfilled Grady’s dream of what their life together should be. They would grow old together, gradually adding more chairs around the dining room table as their children gathered with spouses and their children. This extension of himself, like the extension needed for the dining room table, would confirm his legacy. But why wasn’t this enough for Sara?

Family gatherings always had a staged quality to her. Her father and brother had ignored the holidays after her mother died. It was a day to close the restaurant and not cook. Devoid of tradition, holidays became a day to watch sports on television and order Chinese from the one restaurant that stayed open. To this day, Sara preferred sweet and sour pork to turkey and dressing.

Any holiday traditions they observed had originated with Grady’s family including a large Christmas Eve dinner and presents opened early the next morning. These events had occurred at Grady’s parent’s house until a few years ago, with Stella being the master of ceremonies. To move these events to their house was a hard-won battle, and was yet another thing she doubted Stella had forgiven her for. They now went over to Grady’s parent’s house for an elaborate Christmas brunch meant to reduce Sara’s efforts to insignificance.