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then the cloud melted into
steamy sunshine, and a breeze moved at a perfect, steady clip
across the afternoon to blow in dry air and a soaring blue sky. It
would have been a nice day for a white wedding, all right!
    After
breakfast, Emma stacked the dishwasher, wiped down the bench tops
and the front of the refrigerator and asked bright little questions
about her aunt’s and uncle’s lives. Sarah heard her on the phone to
Amber. “I have stuff to think about. Obviously. No, you were great.
Amber, I’m not going to listen to this, okay? Just spend the time
with Curtis before you head back to the city tomorrow and we’ll
talk. Oh. You know. We’ll talk soon.”
    She didn’t
call Brooke-the-courtesy-bridesmaid. Her stiff shoulders didn’t
invite anyone’s hugs, but then they hadn’t for years. Mom cornered
Sarah in the kitchen and burst out, “I’ve tried, haven’t I? She’s
softer with other people.”
    “Not
really.”
    “She is.
Softer and just different. Just now, she was, on the phone with
Amber. She changes the moment I leave the room, or turn my
head.”
    “You’re not
saying she’s any better with me?”
    “Sometimes I
feel that if I whirl my head back around fast enough, I’ll catch
the real Emma, moving the way she really moves, laughing the way
she really laughs about the things she really finds funny, you
know?”
    “I know,”
Sarah conceded.
    “It’s my own
fault. Things are always the mother’s fault, right? The mother is
never forgiven. I try to solve it with little gestures but they’re
not enough. They backfire. And then I think, well, I’ll salvage
Sarah and Billy. It won’t happen with you two.”
    “You put me
and Billy in together?”
    Mom shrugged
defensively. “Sometimes. Is that wrong?”
    To this, Sarah
had no answer.
    “I’m going to
box everything up and head back to the city,” Emma announced at
one-thirty. She stood poised three steps up from the bottom of the
stairs, which always looked dark even in the middle of a sunny day.
Beneath the pine trees, the house never got enough light.
    She hadn’t
eaten any of the pizza that Dad had picked up for lunch, after he
and Sarah had taken Billy for a game of mini-golf in the morning,
and she was wearing the same clothes she’d worn yesterday morning,
a planned-in-advance outfit noted in her wedding binder as ‘Pre Day
Of – Morning’ that consisted of jeans and a virginal looking lacy
top. She hadn’t done much to her hair since yesterday, and it had
lost some of its bouncy straightness and gloss. She wore it messily
loose, strands tucked behind her ears so that they didn’t irritate
her face. All the perfect pre-wedding make-up was gone, too.
    “Will you
store everything at home?” Mom asked, peering up at her.
    “In Saddle
River? If that’s okay. I’ll leave it neat, I promise. In the
basement.”
    “It’ll be five
by the time you get back. Stay the night.”
    “Here?
No.”
    “Are you going
to use your vacation days?”
    Emma crunched
shut her stubborn jaw and announced decisions she’d apparently just
made on the spot. “I’m going to call Hackensack on Monday and ask
if they want me to cover for anyone. As for Park, there’s obviously
some other stuff to think about.” But not to talk about, don’t you
dare, said her voice and her face and her shoulders. Park Memorial
Hospital in Manhattan was where Charlie worked, and where she was
due to start a surgical residency herself in two weeks. How was
that going to work out now?
    Mom visibly
choked on all the possible lines of support she could give in
reply. They meant everything and nothing. Sarah thought about
saying them and choked, too.
    Hang in there.
It will get easier, you know that. You’ll handle it, because you’re
strong. And because you’ll suck as much strength as you need to out
of the rest of us, and we’ll let it happen. Park is a big
hospital.
    Sarah hung by
the kitchen door, hand on the jamb. Mom held herself at the bottom
of the