She thought about her studio apartment, with its single bed and its piano, of that version of her life. Maybe, if she’d kept at it, she could have been a star. Maybe, if she hadn’t felt like she’d never had her mother’s full attention, she would not have been so intent on giving her boys every scrap of her own. Maybe if she’d realized what her mother had sacrificed, maybe if she’d understood that her mother, too, had a road not taken, a version of herself that she hadn’t been, she would have seen the world differently.
Maybe, maybe, maybe, Sarah thought. And meanwhile, here was Ruby, staring at her with tear-filled eyes like Sarah was the font of all the wisdom in the world. Soon enough, life would teach Ruby those difficult lessons. Soon enough, she’d have to make hard choices. Sarah didn’t need to offer instruction when, right now, what Ruby needed was comfort.
“I don’t think walking away from something is ever easy,” she said, and touched Ruby’s hair. “Not even when it’s the right thing to do.” She thought of her mother’s confession and wondered how it had felt for her mother to leave her New York City man, even knowing that he was wrong for her; that she was wrong with him. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
“I never thanked you for giving me your mom. Or Cape Cod.” Ruby’s voice was raspy, her cheeks blotchy from crying. “I felt so lucky when I got to stay here. Like I was a princess and this was my kingdom.”
“I remember,” said Sarah. “I felt that way when I was a girl. I’m glad my mom had someone to share this with. You were one of the best gifts I could ever give her.”
Ruby raised her chin, her voice getting stronger, more resolute. “If I ever have kids, I’ll bring them here, every summer.”
Sarah felt her heart crack open, and her vision blur with sudden tears. This was all I ever wanted, she heard her mother say. Maybe it wasn’t too late, and Dexter and Miles and Connor could all have the kind of summer that Ruby had cherished; the summers she and her twin had once spent, with the bay and the ponds and the ocean. She’d talk to Sam; they’d talk to her mother, they’d call Paul Norman. Maybe there was still enough time.
* * *
“You did what?” Sarah asked her husband later that night. Sam was still at the hospital; Ruby had finally gone to bed.
“A long time ago, when Annette and I were still married, I slept with Gabe’s mother,” Eli repeated. He was dressed for bed in a white undershirt and plaid pajama bottoms, smelling of toothpaste, his hair damp from the shower and feet bare and flip-flop free, for once.
Sarah stared at her husband in horror. “You… what?”
“She was pregnant already, as it turns out. She needed money for an abortion, and she went out to find a guy who looked like he had some. And that guy was me.”
Sarah shook her head. “Wait. Back up. You slept with your daughter’s fiancé’s mother…”
“And when I saw Gabe, I thought that she’d changed her mind about having an abortion. When Gabe told me where he was from, and when he’d been born, I thought that Gabe was my son.” Eli made a noise of bitter amusement. “He looks just like her. Or, at least, just the way she did twenty-two years ago.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Sarah clasped her hands in her lap, and stared at her husband. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Eli shook his head. “I should have. I was just so ashamed. I thought that if you knew I’d been unfaithful to Annette, you’d think that I could do the same thing to you.”
She looked at him, thinking that the evidence of her own infidelity was probably still visible on her body, if Eli had cared to look. “Why didn’t you just ask Gabe’s mom to tell you the truth?”
“Couldn’t reach her,” Eli said. “It seems that she recognized me when she saw me on that FaceTime and was worried I’d be angry when I realized what she’d done.”
Sarah thought back to her husband’s behavior—all the conversations he’d ignored, all the dinners and movies and board games he’d sat through, preoccupied, his mind somewhere else. Now, at least, she knew where his mind had been, and what he’d been preoccupied with.
Eli reached for her hands. “When you and Sam were at the hospital, I had some time to think. I didn’t do a very good job of listening to Annette when we were together. I haven’t been listening to Ruby.” He made a face. “If I had been, maybe I would have figured out she didn’t want this wedding, and I could have helped her find a better exit strategy.” He looked into her eyes. “And the worst thing is that I haven’t been listening to you.”