The temperature reached 104 degrees the day of the accident. Estie waited until late afternoon to water her window boxes, her Berner puppy, Beau, cooling himself on the flagstones. At nearly five o’clock it was still torrid, wickedly hot, freakish for Belle Mead, even at the height of summer. Estie watched Beau bound down to the creek that ran alongside the cul-de-sac on the east side of her home. He splashed around to cool off, then trotted up the steep rocky incline, shaking himself out, sprays of water sprinkling Estie too.
Her lawn was parched brown and yellow, dry as hay, bare in patches. The septic mound looked like Mount Everest, as she and Noah hadn’t bothered to camouflage or beautify it. Estie hoped to plant a meadow on the mound but hadn’t the will or energy to make a start.
Since Noah’s sudden death 19 months ago, grief still blindsided her, like a harsh wind that blasts in out of nowhere.
Since Noah’s sudden death 19 months ago, grief still blindsided her, like a harsh wind that blasts in out of nowhere. They’d been married for 50 years and he was the love of her life, l’amour de ma vie. You only find that once. Of course, he’d had his annoying habits: leaving half-drunk coffee mugs all around the house, talking to her from another room when he knew she couldn’t hear him, sneezing and yawning at deafening volume. She’d realized after his death that a lot of men had this histrionic habit: another iteration of man-spreading.
After taking care of her flowers, Estie and Beau sought shelter inside. She parked herself at the large picture window in the dining room, where she had a good view of the Hamilton house and front yard, as well as the creek. Glancing into the old, gilded mirror above her dining room table, she saw that the silver medallion she never took off, engraved with Blake’s tiger poem—and Noah’s first gift to her—was tarnished. She’d clean it later. Later, later; everything was “later” for her these days.
Estie called for Beau and spotted him hiding out in his favourite blue laundry basket, which she’d moved to his cave under the stairs. When she’d first taken Beau home from the shelter, he’d crawled instead of walking, cowering in corners.
Outside the window, Estie saw the Hamiltons’ lawn was deserted. Too hot for those kids to play outside, a let-down for Estie who took such joy in watching them: four-year-old twins, Sawyer and Cassie, and their older brother, Theo, six. Nostalgia for those years raising her and Noah’s four boys washed over her in a mix of pleasure and pain. Of course, being in the thick of mothering while working as a psychiatric nurse had been pretty overwhelming.
A sudden burst of movement jolted Estie back to the scene outside the window. Cassie tore out of the house followed by their rescue dog, Pepper, a lab and pitbull mix. The little girl had a thatch of pale blonde hair and wore a loose cotton dress, a harem-scarem kid with dirty elbows and scuffed knees, Estie’s favourite. She often wondered what her life would have been like if she’d had a daughter. She’d pined for one, but it was not beshert.
She often wondered what her life would have been like if she’d had a daughter. She’d pined for one, but it was not beshert.
Cassie and Pepper ran down the driveway toward the garage, and then the little girl was in the driver’s seat of that red electric car the kids had gotten for Christmas, Pepper her passenger. No sign of the nanny, Loulou, or Cassie’s brothers. Cassie drove stutteringly: stop and start, stop and start, all around the property, disappearing at times behind the house. Estie watched her for 20 minutes or so, then checked her phone for any messages or emails. Nothing much. The summer evening stretched out before her like a desert without a map.
Parched from her time in the garden, Estie went into the kitchen to make a pitcher of lemonade, musing about the Hamiltons, which had become a recent, lonely pastime. Such a beautiful family. Hamish stood six-foot-three, lanky, with thick sandy hair and blue eyes; Holly, about five-ten, had masses of wavy red hair that streamed over her shoulders and green eyes the colour of bottle glass. She was willowy and had been a dancer before returning to school to study social work. In fact, both possessed a physical grace Estie could never muster. Hamish was more hands-on with their kids than Holly, at least on weekends, playing with the three of them, making sure they didn’t drive their candy-apple-red electric car into the street.
Estie glanced at a fairly recent anniversary photo of her and Noah tacked onto the fridge door, snowshoeing on La Montagne in Montréal where they’d first met, and then remembered the winter of Noah’s heart attack, February 13th. Afterward, she hadn’t been able to get out of bed, could barely make herself a cup of coffee. The shock, the grief, had been paralyzing. She recalled a huge dumping of snow, eleven inches, a biting wind that blew the white into sculptural drifts. Outside her window, she’d spotted Hamish clearing off her car and shoveling her driveway. The season changed. That spring, he watered her lawn. In summer, Hamish mowed her grass, and when fall drew in, after the copious leaves dropped in all their flaming glory, he raked and sacked the huge piles from her trees. And the season changed again…
It had been awkward whenever she’d run into the Hamiltons after Noah’s death.
Though Hamish had been so helpful, had gone above and beyond, in truth, it had been awkward whenever she’d run into the Hamiltons after Noah’s death. No one knew what to say. Estie even found them rather cold; it hurt. While Noah was alive, they’d had long chats on their lawn or hers, even shared a glass of wine now and then on the deck, though they were at different life stage, a neighbourly ease and friendship which she missed now.
Estie drank a tall glass of cold lemonade, standing by the sink, then returned to the dining room window. Cassie approached the creek’s glittering diamond points of light and Pepper leapt out of the passenger seat, bounding down toward the water. Could you blame him, in this heat? Estie could see the pooch frolicking in the shallow water, taking long draughts, swimming and splashing. Such joy.
Beau left his cave and joined Estie by the window, barking to be let out. He wanted a swim too. She leaned down to pet him. “We’ll go out later. Promise.”
It was hard to wrap her mind around Noah’s death, even after all this time. He’d been healthy, supposedly, at least according to his doctor, who’d given him the all-clear on his last checkup. Perhaps if he’d been ill, a slow dying, she and the boys would have been prepared. Instead, she’d found him in the basement where he’d been building them a wooden bench so they could sit in the woods beside the creek and watch the wildlife. Collapsed. Cold. Unresponsive.
Estie watched Cassie make another loop around the house, and then she was driving the car closer to the edge of the steep, wooded incline that led precipitously down to the water. All at once, the car plummeted out of control, careening into the creek with a splash.
Racing out of her house barefoot, Estie ran across the road. She scrambled down the brambly incline, wading into the water, knee-deep. The electric car was overturned, partly on top of Cassie, who lay face down in the water, Pepper barking wildly.
Estie shoved the electric car off the little girl, groaning with effort. Despite arthritis and bad knees, she managed to push it aside. Gathering Cassie in her arms, she clambered up the steep hill, bushwacking through brambles, and laid the little girl down on her back on the lawn.
She pinched Cassie’s nose and sealed her lips over the child’s mouth. Estie gave two slow, full breaths, one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand. She waited for Cassie’s chest to rise and fall.
Placing two fingers on Cassie’s neck, Estie checked for a pulse. Thank God, the little girl had one. After a few more rescue breaths, Cassie was breathing on her own. Reaching into her shorts pocket, Estie pulled out her phone and dialed 911.
Cassie coughed and Estie gently raised the child’s head. She spat out water and silt and coughed harder; more creek water and dirt spewed from her mouth. Whimpering in pain, too injured to cry hard, she lay limply in Estie’s arms.
Just then, the kids’ nanny, Loulou, burst out of the house with the boys and ran across the lawn.
Loulou screamed. “My God, my God, what’s happened?”
“Call the parents,” Estie instructed. “Get them home at once. EMTs are on the way.”
Loulou punched numbers into her phone.
“Will Cassie die?” Theo was crying, lifting his t-shirt to rub his streaming eyes.
“No, darling. Help is coming,” Estie reassured him, keeping her eyes on Cassie, who was moaning loudly now, her right leg swelling up alarmingly, turning purple. “They will take care of your sister at the hospital.”
Sawyer stroked his twin sister’s wet and matted hair. Pepper hovered but knew not to come too close.
Estie could see that Cassie’s right leg was crushed, bent and twisted in several places but not at the joints. She had bleeding scrapes and cuts on her arms, face and neck.
Finally, they heard the sirens, saw the red flashing lights. Two EMTs brought a stretcher and carefully placed Cassie onto it, loading her into the back of the ambulance.
Loulou climbed in behind her. “I need to go with Cassie.”
“I’ll look after the boys,” Estie said.
She took their hands in hers as they watched the ambulance scream its way to Princeton Hospital.
She took their hands in hers as they watched the ambulance scream its way to Princeton Hospital. They stood around aimlessly for a few minutes, looking down at the creek where the bright red electric car was marooned on its side, the setting sun glinting off its chassis. Sweeping an arm around each of the boys, Estie herded them across the street to her house, Pepper bounding alongside them. The heat had barely broken with dusk, the sky more a brightness than a colour.
Estie went into the kitchen and settled the boys at the counter, Pepper at their feet. “Hungry?” she asked.
Sawyer nodded, but Theo was too shell-shocked to reply. As if sensing their anxiety, Beau trotted in and sat close to Theo who bent down to pet him.
Estie found a box of spaghetti in the cupboard, as well as a jar of tomato sauce. A baguette was in the black-lettered tin Pain box she and Noah had brought back from Montréal years ago, and she decided to make garlic bread. That had always been a hit with her boys. She took carrots and celery from the crisper and cut them into crudités, arranging them on a plate with a bowl of ranch dressing. The boys needed veggies. They were awfully quiet, watching her.
She set water to boil and poured the tomato sauce into a smaller pot to heat up. Brushing the sliced baguette with butter, she added garlic and slid it into the oven to brown. To break the silence, Estie turned on the radio and fiddled with the dial. She loved classical music, but maybe the boys would prefer pop? When Happy sung by Pharrell Williams came on, she quickly clicked off the radio. Wrong song.
Soon, dinner was ready and Estie ladled out big servings for each of the boys. Theo wanted tomato sauce, but Sawyer asked for butter and grated cheese. They settled down to eat.
“Cassie never listens,” said Sawyer. “She never do.”
“Does! You stupid!” Theo shoved his little brother so hard Sawyer fell off the stool, which clattered to the floor. Sawyer sprang up and slugged his older brother right back.
“Settle down, boys,” Estie said, righting the stool. “We’ve all had enough excitement for one day.”
Pepper hovered, begging for scraps, while Beau barked at him. Estie fixed them each a banquet of raw steak, cut into cubes, and filled an extra bowl with water for Pepper. He smiled a wolfish grin.
After supper, Estie said, “How about we watch a movie?”
Sawyer and Theo nodded, and they all went into the living room. The washing up could wait. Estie took the TV remote and scrolled through family-friendly and kids’ movies on PrimeVideo. The boys agreed on The Adventures of Tintin, which had been a favourite of Estie’s sons. They settled on the couch, Pepper cuddling with Sawyer.
As they watched, Estie prepared two tall glasses of milk and a plateful of homemade chocolate chip cookies. When she couldn’t sleep, she baked. She’d been doing way too much baking lately, and her cookie jar was full with no one to eat the treats.
Soon, the boys were engrossed in the movie, munching on cookies, slugging down milk. While they watched, Estie received a message from Hamish. We’re at Princeton Hospital with Cassie. That’s all he said; no more, no less.
Before the movie was finished, Sawyer was fast asleep, snoring lightly, his arm around Pepper. When the film ended, Theo’s eyes were heavy and he lay down, too. To her surprise, Beau snuggled in close to him. Estie found a couple of lightweight blankets and covered each of the brothers. She realized she’d have to take Beau and Pepper out later.
Exhausted, Estie changed into pjs and waited for news. Her legs and arms were badly scraped and her left shoulder throbbed in pain. She didn’t dare take a shower; she needed to keep an eye on the brothers. Later that night, Holly texted.
My sister Erin will pick up the boys. She didn’t specify when.
Estie was determined to stay awake, but sometime after midnight, there was a knock at the front door rousing her from a dream that slipped from her mind like silverfish. When she went to answer, a tall, heavyset woman was standing there.
“Hi, I’m Erin, Holly’s sister.”
“Oh yes, of course,” Estie said.
“Thank you so much for everything,” Erin said. “I’ll take the boys to ours.”
“They’re fast asleep,” Estie said.
She felt a knife blade of despair and immediately fell into a black and velvety sleep, like a swoon.
Erin turned around and motioned to someone in the jeep. Soon, a man came to the door who Estie assumed was Erin’s husband and each of them carried one of the boys to their truck; Pepper bounded in afterward. Estie didn’t have the energy to climb the stairs to bed, so she lay back down on the couch. She felt for her silver medallion and realized she’d lost it. Maybe it was at the bottom of the creek. Who knew? She felt a knife blade of despair and immediately fell into a black and velvety sleep, like a swoon.
Two days later, Estie was making coffee in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. There stood Hamish. His fair hair was disheveled, he was sweating, and his wrinkled shirt was buttoned up the wrong way and hung untucked and lopsided. He had deep purplish crescents beneath his fine blue eyes, which were narrowed with exhaustion and anxiety.
“Hamish, come in.”
He loped into the kitchen and slumped onto a stool.
“I’ve just made coffee,” she said. “Can I get you a cup?”
“Thanks. Black, please.”
Beau came in to see what was going on and Hamish bent to pet him. “Hey Beau. How’s it going, boy?”
Estie fixed Hamish a cup of coffee and set it before him on the counter. “How is Cassie?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Estie, I don’t know, words aren’t enough to say, if you hadn’t been here—”
His lower lip trembled and his shoulders shook, just like her baby Benjie’s used to do before a big meltdown or cry; he’d been her most tender-hearted child. She wrapped her arms around Hamish and patted his back, as she had once done to comfort her sons. Neither of them said anything for a while.
“Cassie’s right leg is broken in several places,” Hamish said, his face expressionless. “Her pelvis is fractured. She’s pretty bruised and battered.”
“I’m sorry,” Estie said. “She’s a feisty one, though.”
He looked worried, doubtful, but managed a thin smile for her, his features softening.
“She’ll fight her way back,” Estie reassured him, or tried to.
“It’ll be a long road.”
Estie nodded. “Can I get you some breakfast? Have you eaten?”
He shook his head. “We’re just muddling through.”
The Hamiltons? Muddling?
He sipped his coffee, his eyes far away.
Estie laid out a plate for Hamish and put a bagel in the toaster; she took cream cheese from the fridge.
She put the toasted bagel before Hamish. “Eat,” she said. “I never thanked you for all your help after Noah died.”
“Least we could do,” he said. “The kids were so fond of him.”
“Noah often said to me, ‘aren’t they something?’ About your kids.”
Hamish ate his bagel with ferocity, in a few bites. He probably hadn’t eaten anything for days. Watching him, Estie thought of how Noah would drive the Hamilton kids around in his golf cart and she could practically hear their squeals of delight. She felt dread and a contraction of guilt: had those carefree rides in Noah’s golf cart inspired the Christmas gift of the nefarious red electric car?
“How are you doing?” Hamish asked.
Her left shoulder hurt like hell; she’d probably torn her rotator cuff while shoving the electric car off of Cassie. She’d have to get that checked out. The scratches and cuts on her arms and legs were scabbing over and her neck felt stiff.
“I’ve been a bit low, lately,” she blurted out. The words just walked out of her mouth unbidden. Estie expected him to feel embarrassed, awkward, not know where to look, but he kept his eyes on hers.
“It must be so hard…” His voice drifted into silence.
“They say we should get over our grief in a year, like a light switch, turning on, turning off. But it doesn’t work like that.”
“They say we should get over our grief in a year, like a light switch, turning on, turning off. But it doesn’t work like that.”
Hamish nodded slowly; they were both quiet for a bit. “Oh, by the way…” He reached into his wrinkled shirt pocket and pulled out her silver medallion. “I found this on our lawn.”
She took it from him, her relief like the first breath after surfacing. When she tried to put it on, she realized the chain was broken.
“Thank you so much,” she said. “Do you know when Cassie will be released from the hospital?”
Hamish shook his head. “Things are going to change around here,” he said suddenly, his voice firm. “We fired Loulou. I’m going to cut back to part-time, so I can be with the kids more. My mom will be moving in with us for a while. Cassie is going to need a lot of help, constant care.”
“Of course,” Estie said. “If I can do anything, let me know. I’m here. I’m always here.”
“Thanks, Estie. And we’re trashing that bloody electric car!”
They both looked out the window to see it in the creek, sunlight dancing off its brilliant red chassis.
“Cassie’s excited about her cast. She wants you to sign it.”
Estie smiled. Maybe later today, she’d head off to that fancy stationer in Princeton to buy some markers and stickers and make a stop at the jeweler to repair the chain on her medallion. “How’s it out today?” she asked.
“Cooled down a bit.”
Opening a kitchen window, Estie felt a luscious breeze blow through, cooling their faces, shaking the leaves in the trees. A great blue heron alighted on a rock in the creek, spread its massive wings. What a gorgeous, majestic creature. Estie loved this place so much, the landscape, her neighborhood. Seeing herds of deer every dawn and evening—even though they were a nuisance—how could you not admire their grace? The wily foxes with their pert faces, every manner of bird she was learning to identify by name. Even a black bear now and then, lumbering up from the creek, quite close to the house. It made her heart beat faster, this wild and teeming life.
Estie thought she’d finally start on that meadow she and Noah had envisioned for the septic mound, planting native grasses and wildflowers that would be better for the environment than a silly, outdated lawn. She’d work around her injured shoulder; she could manage that. Looking out the open window at the creek, light glinted on its slow-moving surface. There were the white, black-billed geese and a large flock of ducks swimming calmly around the red electric car, diving underwater for their breakfast. As Hamish stood to leave, she called Beau and he ambled over for her to clip on his leash; they all headed out together.
