in her studio, which was behind the store, sometimes until quite late. In fact, she could get lost in some project—a woven throw, an oil painting, a sculpture—and forget time altogether, looking up only when her eyes burned with exhaustion, finding suddenly it was two or three in the morning. She was so focused when creating, the outside world seldom intruded.
That was before the accident, three weeks ago. Since then, Sarah had spent minimal time at the shop. She put a sign in the window: Illness In The Family: Call 555-2323 For Today’s Hours Of Operation. Most of her customers were regulars who knew the family and were aware of the accident. Most of the town had heard about the accident—it made the papers.
Sarah opened the shop for the sale of art supplies a few hours a day, spending the rest of her time with Clare at the hospital. Worry had clouded her usual single-minded drive to create.
But today, a beautiful and sunny April day, as she closed the shop before five, there was a special lift in her heart because after three weeks, Clare was finally coming home. Clare’s town house was out of the question, given the stairs to the bedrooms, so George was bringing her home to his house. His and Sarah’s house. And the relief Sarah was feeling was tremendous. The whole family would be at George’s to welcome her.
Of course, Clare wasn’t well yet. She was up walking, but still in pain, unable to sleep through the night without drugs. Sarah would gladly get up to make sure she was medicated and comfortable. The bed in her old bedroom at Dad’s was too soft and low, so George rented a hospital bed. It could be a long and difficult few months, most of the summer at least, through which Clare would struggle with pain, physical therapy, making slow but steady progress; Sarah would do anything to help.
But Clare would be home. After nearly losing her, this was paramount.
Of course Jason was coming to stay, as well. He’d been at Maggie’s for three weeks and Lindsey and Hillary were on his last nerve.
When Sarah got home she was so happy to see all the cars in the drive and on the street. It looked as though everyone was present and accounted for, including Clare. No one would ever know how much seeing Clare in that hospital bed had shaken her. Besides her art and her shop, all she had in her life was the family. She didn’t have girlfriends or boyfriends, and that was perfectly all right with her because her days and nights were busy with her little business and her creative projects. Her dad, sisters, nieces and nephew were everything to her! Her sisters were always trying to coax her into being more social, but she honestly didn’t know where she’d find the time. And she certainly wouldn’t take it from family.
Her sisters were her best friends.
When she walked in the house she met that wonderful noise of family making things happen in the kitchen. She spied Clare at the end of the long oak table in the large kitchen. She’d spent many an hour studying there, before and after what she’d come to refer to as the dark years. Clare was sitting on a pillow, a strained look on her face, as though she might be in pain. Sarah went straight to her, leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’m so happy you’re home. Are you okay?”
Clare grimaced. “My pain pill hasn’t quite kicked in yet. I’ll be okay.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you, honey.”
Sarah went to the stove, where Maggie, George’s housekeeper, Dotty, and Maggie’s thirteen-year-old, Hillary, were surrounding a big pot. “What’s happening over here?” she asked.
“Stew. Aunt Clare’s request.” She lifted a spoon. “Taste?”
“Hmm,” she said appreciatively. “Not enough salt.”
“Told you,” Hillary said to Dotty.
Maggie slipped an arm around Sarah’s waist and kissed her cheek. “How’s the shop, sweetie?”
“The same.” She shrugged. “Fine.”
“Are you losing weight?”
“You ask me that once a week.”
“Are you?”
“I don’t think so.” But she was, and she knew it. Thing was, she could get involved in some art project and forget to eat. She could be consumed by a bust or throw or painting. Her work didn’t bring in a lot of money, but she did have a following. And her major accomplishment of late was to have a tapestry of a towering brown bear on a snowy ledge hanging in a ski lodge in Lake Tahoe.
But it wasn’t art that had cost her a few pounds. It was the fear and worry Clare’s accident had brought on.
Jason came into the kitchen with a sweater for his mother, draping it around her shoulders. “Hi, Aunt Sarah,” he said.
She smiled her greeting.
Maggie got her girls setting the table for nine. This kind of gathering didn’t usually happen during the week, but it was a tradition to have Sunday dinner together whenever possible. While Maggie had the biggest house and Clare’s home with Roger had been larger than George’s, everyone still liked coming back here every week, cooking together, spending a few hours with family, sitting around that long oak table. A few years ago they had started having Dotty from time to time, as well; she was as much family as anyone.
Maggie’s husband, Bob, came into the kitchen carrying two drinks. He handed one to Maggie and dropped an arm around Sarah’s shoulders. “How’s my little artsy-fartsy?”
She merely leaned against him. Bob was so steady, dependable.
No one had to be called. As the plates began to land on the tabletop, George appeared from the living room with Lindsey, and people began to take their places. Maggie and Dotty brought the stew, salad and bread. Bob poured milk into the kids’ glasses; George fetched himself a beer. There was a little scuffle between Jason and Hillary for the seat next to Clare; Jason won. Sarah could’ve gotten up and yielded hers next to her sister, but no. She wouldn’t give it up.
Before the plates were full, someone’s cell phone chimed. Lindsey looked at her phone and said, “I have to get this,” and jumped up from the table.
“‘I have to get this,’” Bob repeated, humorously. “She’s fifteen.”
“There’s a guy,” Hillary said, clearly having no intention of protecting her sister’s secrets.
“What guy?” Maggie asked.
“He’s a junior,” she said meanly. “A football player.”
“Christopher Mattingly,” Jason said. “He’s gonna start next year.”
Sarah felt herself smile. Her nieces were so gorgeous and smart, there would be no shortage of young men. Hopefully they would handle these years better than she had. With the force of Maggie and Bob to watch over them, surely they would be safe.
There was passing and chatter, except that Clare, who was often talkative, was quieter than usual. That was okay, Sarah thought. Because she was getting better; things were getting back to normal. She folded her hands over her plate and let her eyes gently close for a moment, enjoying the sounds of her family around her.
“You okay, honey?” Clare asked.
“Yes. I’m just so relieved that everyone is back together again.”
“You don’t do so well with change, do you, kiddo?” Clare asked.
“Oh, I’m not as fragile as everyone thinks,” she said. But because of this close call in her family, she realized she had kept herself too isolated. Too safe. She vowed to take more chances. A little risk now and then. Maybe open up her life a little so that art and family wasn’t the totality of her existence.
However, she wasn’t sure how that was done.
Leaving the hospital was far more complicated than Clare imagined. First of all, when she left Roger months before, she found herself that cute little