immediately recognize the wine. It’s a La Scolca Gavi di Gavi, one of our favorites.
“I haven’t had that in a while,” I say. “In fact, the last time was probably with you.”
The words leave my mouth and are followed by an awkward silence. It’s as if we both remembered at exactly the same moment, which is probably true.
The last time we shared a bottle of La Scolca Gavi di Gavi was the last time we made love.
Chapter 19
JAKE CHANGES THE SUBJECT, or should I say ignores it. He hands me my glass, proposing a toast. “Here’s to smoother sailing ahead, and to a really good vacation. This is going to work out, Kat.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I say.
We clink glasses and sip, the wine tasting crisp and delicious as it rolls over my tongue. I’ve never been much of a wine aficionado and probably wouldn’t know a Bordeaux from a Burgundy, but I think I know good when I taste it. And this is good. Very, very good.
“Hey, do you hear that?” asks Jake.
I sit perfectly still and listen. “No, I don’t hear anything.”
He grins. “That’s just it. Not anything.
Nothing.
Just peace and quiet.”
He’s right and it’s wonderful. Only instead of enjoying it, all I can think about is how it won’t last. The minute the kids wake up tomorrow morning, it’s over. Or rather, it all starts again. The insanity that has taken over my family.
Mark’s serial pot-smoking is one thing. But a suicidal daughter?
“Jake, what am I going to do about Carrie? There were signs, but I didn’t believe she was this bad.”
He thinks for a moment before letting go with a slight shrug of his broad shoulders.
“One of two things,” he says. “We can turn the boat around and drag her to a psychiatric hospital, where they’ll observe her for a few days while making sure to keep her away from all sharp objects and any clothing that can be turned into a noose. After that, they’ll either dope her up and commit her or dope her up and send her home to you. Either way, you’ll never really know if she’ll try to kill herself again. Or if she would have gone all the way through with it. Remember, Carrie is a terrific swimmer.”
“Gee, you make it sound so appealing,” I say.
“That’s because it isn’t.”
“What’s the other option?” I ask. It can’t be any worse!
He leans toward me, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “We keep sailing for the summer and show her that her life is worth living.”
“Do you think we can do that?”
“Honestly, I can’t say for sure. The only thing I know is that if we don’t try—if you don’t give it everything you’ve got—you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. As for Carrie, I think she’ll come around. Right at the end out there, she stopped fighting me. She saved herself.”
Jake takes another sip of his Gavi di Gavi as his words settle into my head and take root there. It’s amazing, really. I know a lot of men who have more money, more possessions, certainly more prestigious jobs than Jake, but none who have more of his good old-fashioned common sense.
It’s a comfortable silence that ensures for the first time that I can truly appreciate the peace and quiet.
Of course
it won’t last. But maybe that’s what makes it so enjoyable—how fleeting it is. Like life itself.
It figures, what happens next. I can’t help it. I start thinking about Stuart’s death on this very boat. The complications of our marriage, the mistakes we both made. Turns out I’m not alone.
“You want to hear something crazy?” asks Jake.
“Crazier than the day we’ve had?”
“Yes, if you can believe it.” He pauses to refill our glasses. “About a half hour ago, when I was alone in the engine room, I thought I heard someone laughing. It was a guy’s voice, very familiar. I assumed it was Mark, maybe even Ernie. But when I poked my head up through the hatch to listen for them, I couldn’t hear anything. Then suddenly there it was again.”
I’m