childhood, and I didn’t know the answer. “Why did you and Dad split up?”
She stared into her tea for a long moment before answering. “I could say it was your dad’s job and how often he was away. How I felt like he prioritized his career over his family and how much I hated the fire department for being more important than me. And those things were true—or at least, they felt true at the time. But if I’m being honest, that wasn’t what broke us. We could have worked through the growing pains of a young marriage and a young career. We were working through them.”
“Then what broke you?”
“When Charles and Helena Bailey died.”
“Gavin’s parents?”
Mom nodded slowly. “I didn’t see it at the time, but in hindsight, yes. Charlie and Lena were our best friends. Your dad and Charlie grew up together, of course. When I met your dad, Charlie and Lena were dating, and the four of us became best friends. Inseparable, really. We double dated, went camping, took road trips. We were in each other’s weddings. I threw all of Lena’s baby showers and she threw mine when I was expecting you. They were family.
“When they died, it was so shocking. Traumatic, even. Your dad and I lost the people we were closest to, besides each other. Everyone grieves in their own way, but looking back, I think we grieved our way apart. We stopped doing so many of the things we loved because it hurt too much without Charlie and Lena. Your dad turned to work and his crew to get through the pain. I coped by throwing myself into work and motherhood. We were grieving the same thing, but we didn’t grieve together.
“Eventually, we weren’t communicating at all, except to argue. Little frustrations grew into big resentments. And none of it felt like things we could work through. But how can you work through anything when you aren’t really talking? When every time things get hard, you both retreat into your own world, instead of finding common ground? Pretty soon there is no common ground. It’s just a battlefield.”
“So you left.”
“I did. At first we said it was just a separation, but time went on and it didn’t seem like anything was going to change. I filed for divorce, but that was after we’d agreed to it.”
“When you moved back here, did you think something would happen with Dad?”
She took a slow, deep breath. “I probably wouldn’t have admitted it the day I blew in here with a moving truck. But yes, I did. Or maybe I just hoped.”
“You still love him, don’t you?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but the front door flew open and Dad came in. “Caroline?”
“We’re in here,” she called.
Dad strode into the kitchen with purpose, his eyes on Mom. “Can you come outside? I have something to show you.”
She glanced down at her clothes—a silky long-sleeved shirt and floral lounge pants. Even in comfies, Mom was fashionable. “Sure, why not.”
“Skylar?” he asked.
“Okay.”
We followed Dad out the front door.
Parked in the driveway was a beautifully restored Cadillac convertible. It was bright cherry red with red and white interior, whitewall tires, and big fins on the back.
“Oh my god,” Mom said. “Is that a ’59 Cadillac?”
“Nineteen fifty-nine Cadillac series 62 convertible,” Dad said, pride in his voice. “Just like—”
“Just like the one we had when we got married.” She wandered closer to the car and lightly touched the fender with her fingertips. “Is this yours?”
“Sure is. I hired Evan Bailey to restore it for me. He texted this morning to say it was finished.”
“It’s beautiful.”
A flood of memories filled my mind. I remembered this car—or the one Dad used to have. We’d gone for drives on sunny days with the top down. Stopped for ice cream in town or driven the winding mountain highway between here and Echo Creek. I remembered the wind blowing in my face. My parents smiling at each other in the front seat.
Those were good memories. Happy memories.
Dad stood in front of my mom, his hand resting on the driver’s side door. “When I bought it, I said I wanted it so I could take Skylar out again. Maybe reconnect with her a little. But then you came home and I thought…”
“You thought what?” Mom asked.
“We had a lot of good memories in that old Caddy. I thought maybe we could make some more.”
“Norman—”
He stepped closer and took her hand. “Caroline, I know we went wrong all those