The Truth About Forever(94)

Now, she stood in the doorway, biting her lip. I'd never thought I had that much in common with my sister, but now, watching her, I felt some sense of solidarity. Caroline, in the last few weeks, had engineered an amazing transformation, one she wanted more than anything to share with us, but especially my mother.

"Mom," Caroline said now, "you're going to love it. Just take twelve hours off and come and see. Please."

My mother sighed. "I'm sure I will. And I'll get there, okay? Just not today."

"Fine," Caroline said, in a voice that made it clear it really wasn't. She walked over and sat down in one of the chairs by the window, crossing one leg over the other. My mother was edging into her office, as if that red light was pulling her closer, when my sister said, "I guess it was kind of spur of the moment, thinking we could do this today. I mean, since we're going next Sunday anyway."

"Next Sunday," my mother repeated. She seemed confused. "What's happening then?"

Caroline was looking at her, and I had a bad feeling. Really bad. "We're going to the beach house for the week," I said quickly, looking from her to my mother, then back at Caroline. "On the eighth. Right?"

I was waiting for Caroline to agree. Instead, my mother said, "Next Sunday? The day after the party? That's impossible. The phase will have just opened. When did you decide this?"

"I didn't," Caroline said, finally speaking. Her voice was level, even. "We did. Weeks ago."

My mother looked at me. "But that's impossible," she said, running a hand through her hair. "I wouldn't have agreed to that, it's too soon. The sales will have just started, and we have a meeting that Monday on breaking ground for the next phase… I have to be here."

"I can't believe this," my sister said, shaking her head. "I can't believe you."

"Caroline, you have to understand," my mother told her. "This is important."

"No!" my sister screamed, the word suddenly just filling the room. "This is work, and for you, it's never done. You promised me we'd take this vacation, and I've killed myself getting ready on time so we could have this week together as a family. You said you'd be done, but you're never done. All this summer it's been about these stupid townhouses, and two days after they open, you're breaking ground for something else? God! You'll do anything to avoid it."

"Avoid what?" my mother said.

"The past," Caroline said. "Our past. I'm tired of acting like nothing ever happened, of pretending he was never here, of not seeing his pictures in the house, or his things. Just because you're not able to let yourself grieve."

"Don't," my mother said, her voice low, "talk to me about grief. You have no idea."

"I do, though." Caroline's voice caught, and she swallowed. "I'm not trying to hide that I'm sad. I'm not trying to forget. You hide here behind all these plans for houses and townhouses because they're new and perfect and don't remind you of anything."

"Stop it," my mother said.

"And look at Macy," Caroline continued, ignoring this. "Do you even know what you're doing to her?"

My mother looked at me, and I shrank back, trying to stay out of this. "Macy is fine," my mother said.

"No, she's not. God, you always say that, but she's not." Caroline looked at me, as if she wanted me to jump in, but I just sat there. "Have you even been paying the least bit of attention to what's going on with her? She's been miserable since Dad died, pushing herself so hard to please you. And then, this summer, she finally finds some friends and something she likes to do. But then one tiny slipup, and you take it all away from her."

"That has nothing to do with what we're talking about," my mother said.

"It has everything to do with it," Caroline shot back. "She was finally getting over what happened. Couldn't you see the change in her? I could, and I was barely here. She was different."

"Exactly," my mother said. "She was—"

"Happy," Caroline finished for her. "She was starting to live her life again, and it scared you. Just like me redoing the beach house scares you. You think you're so strong because you never talk about Dad. Anyone can hide. Facing up to things, working through them, that's what makes you strong."

"I've given everything I have to support this family," my mother replied, biting off the words. "And for you, it's still not enough."

"I'm not asking for everything you have." Caroline put her hands to her face, breathing in, then lowered them. "I'm asking you to allow me, and Macy, and especially yourself to remember Dad—"

My mother exhaled loudly, shaking her head.

"—and I'm asking you for one week of your time to begin doing it." Caroline looked at me, then back at my mother. "That's all."

The pause that followed this was long enough that I started to think maybe, just maybe, my mother was going to agree. She was just standing there, arms crossed over her chest, looking out the front window of the model home at the houses across the street.

"I have to be here," she said finally. "I can't just leave."