In His Dreams

9780373874439

037387443X

"Change...just accept it, Marsha. The only thing permanent is death." Marsha Sullivan muttered her thoughts aloud. Her mind filled with equal parts nostalgia and frustration as she leaned against the chalet's deck railing and gazed beyond the Lake Michigan beach to the glistening water. The cottage brought back too many memories. She had feared this would happen. It had once before. She smacked her fist against the wooden rail and turned her back to the rolling waves. "Barb," she called to her sister inside the summer cottage, "let's go into town for a while and pick up groceries." Straining to hear her sister's response, she waited a moment before calling again. "Barb? Did you hear me?" "What?" Her sister's voice bounded through the screen. "Let's take a ride into town for groceries." The screen door slid open, and Barb stepped through the doorway with a frown darkening her face. "We just got here. We should have shopped when we got off the ferry." Marsha's shoulders tensed. "We came here first because I thought you'd like to put away your clothes and unpack the car." Barb's frame blocked the doorway, her cheeks flushing with color. "Don't think for me. Please. You're always doing that." You're always doing that.Marsha sank onto the picnictable bench and leaned against the rough wood. "I'm sorry, Barb. I'm not trying to control you." Tension tightened the muscles in her back. She'd heard the criticism before, even from her husband, Don, before Lou Gehrig's disease had taken his life four years earlier. "I thought we could go into town and look around a little. Enjoy ourselves." "I am enjoying myself. I'm in the middle of a novel." Barb swished a strand of hair from her forehead, her movement showing her irritation. She stepped back and slid the screen closed. "Sorry I asked," Marsha mumbled, then immediately regretted her tone. She pulled her back from the hard table edge and pressed her fingers against her forehead. Finally, she stood, paused to calm herself, then pushed the screen along the track and entered the living room. "Okay. I'm going into town for a while. Enjoy your novel." "Have a nice time," Barb said, her eyes glued to the paperback. Marsha grabbed her purse from the kitchenette counter and strode to the back porch, not stopping the screen from slamming. She stood a moment outside, longing to bridge the distance that separated her and her sister, but she couldn't. She should be used to her sister's detachment by now. Barb had been like that for years. Marsha wished she hadn't slammed the door. She knew her sister's ways and she understood. No, she didn't understand, but she wanted to. Her sister was only forty, two years younger than Marsha and her life had seemed to stall. Marsha had often pondered when Barb had changed so much and why. When she was younger, Barb had been thin and quite pretty, but in her teen years, she'd changed. She'd let her social life slide and sat around the house avoiding exercise. She seemed to let food become her friend. How could two people raised in the same home be so different? The question was moot. Barb seemed happy with her life. It was Marsha who guessed that, deep inside, she actually wasn't. Marsha never asked why Barb had changed, and she figured her sister would never discuss it with her, anyway. Marsha drew in a lengthy breath of clean island air and headed for her car parked on the gravel driveway. A pebble slipped into her sandal, and she stopped a moment, leaning her hip against the car, to remove a pea-sized stone. Amazing what tiny things could cause such irritation, she thought, then realized that seemed to be a truth for much of life. As she stepped from beneath the shade of a cedar tree, the warm sun fell on her arms. She opened the car door and slid onto the hot seat cushion, raising her legs and wishing she'd worn slacks instead of shorts. Back home, she'd never th