Preview of The Treehouse on Dog River Road by Catherine Drake
Preview of The Treehouse on Dog River Road by Catherine Drake
I’m against it, but I’m not above it. Hannah walked to her car, parked in a handicap spot at the crowded service area, and considered how often those words came to her. It was at little times, like this, or when she obsessively checked her likes on social media or threw apple cores out the car window. And more significant times. Calling in sick when she was hungover. One-night stands. Her career choice.
Clutching a chocolate croissant, she set her coffee on the car’s roof and rifled through her purse for her car keys. The car was jammed tight with boxes and bags, loose items wedged between them. She was unable to use her rearview mirror or see out the windows, and it was a miracle she had been able to navigate the crowded downtown streets. It was a beautiful morning, though, clear skies and crisp air.
Hannah entered her car, slammed the door shut, and put the key into the ignition. As she silently sipped her coffee, a tiny wave of anxiety prevented her from starting the vehicle. How could she leave Boston? This was her home. This was where she grew up, where her friends were, her life, her future opportunities. She took another bite of the croissant. Her going-away party at work had been fun—cake in the break room, followed by drinks at the bar in the lobby of their building, the small group of well-dressed, energetic, mostly under forty-five investment bankers and analysts toasting her. But it had also been a repeat of every farewell for every laid-off employee since the merger was announced. She drank way too much and said some things she regretted about the lack of humanity in their work. And why—why—did she make out with Daniel?
She took a deep breath and looked at the sticky note on the dashboard: If you will it, it is no dream. The wisdom of The Big Lebowski always calmed her down. And besides, now she had a plan. Okay, not so much a plan, but a plan to consolidate all her other plans. That was the plan. Realizing she was still parked illegally, she started the engine. I’ll be fine, and it’ll all work out. That’s what her momma always said.
A few minutes later, she was out of rush-hour traffic and settled onto the interstate, heading north and ready to commence her “car dreams.” Car dreams always made a long trip bearable. On long car trips, she and her older sister Molly would listen to their parents talk about things as if children were not in the back seat. Home improvements were debated, future vacations imagined, and new hobbies envisioned. “Alaska,” her mother, Elizabeth, said on one such drive. “We should go there before the girls get too old.” Most car dreams, such as the idea to build a wine cellar in their basement after a trip to wineries in Napa, never materialized. Thus, Hannah couldn’t believe it when she found herself squeezed into a helicopter, landing on a glacier in Alaska the following summer. Hannah told her family that she figured Alaska was just a “car dream,” and a family saying was coined.
However, on this car trip, Hannah’s dreams were not about fantasy vacations but of the unknown chasm that was her future. The past few weeks felt a little foggy at this point; it all happened so fast. How exactly had she ended up here?
It started with her sister Molly, of course, and Molly’s husband, Ted. Three weeks ago, Hannah had been with her best friend and roommate Sara watching The Bachelor when her sister called with the news. Molly and Ted lived in Waterbury, Vermont, and were both biologists who taught at different colleges. Ted, an evolutionary biologist, had received a long-desired grant to do research on invasive species in Patagonia. Ted would be going to South America for nearly the whole summer, living in remote locations, backpacking, ice-hiking, and doing challenging field research. It would be winter in South America, so there was also hope for some challenging skiing. Molly wanted to go with him and spend time working on her research—worldwide deforestation and climate change. As avid scientists and outdoors people, it would be a dream come true for both to go. As parents of two small children, it left them completely conflicted. There was no way the children could come along.
In a stunning display of impulsiveness, Hannah volunteered to take care of the kids for the summer. Following the announcement of a merger and buyout, layoffs at the Lyman Group, where she had worked for the last three years, had been rumored for weeks. She had no idea what she would do if she were to be let go. Taking care of the kids for the summer could offer her the chance to plot out her next step. She figured her expenses over the summer would be minimal and hoped that her six months of savings could tide her over until she got a job. Her biggest expense would be the payments on her student loan. Still, since making the decision, she regularly felt waves of apprehension crest over her. A change could be scary, but it also made her feel gutsy. I can do this. I don’t know exactly what this is, but I can do it.
Her most recent visit with Molly’s family was a ski trip in February. She had enjoyed every moment with Nora and Owen. Nora, at six, possessed an exceptional imagination and a flair for the dramatic. “Aunt Hannah. Your hair is so beautiful. You’re like a real princess, and you’ll find your prince, like Prince Eric, and you’ll get married and live in a castle, and I’ll be your princess friend, and we’ll eat feasts, and all the forest creatures will live in our castle rooms and help us with our fashions.” Hannah had to laugh; this, coming out of the mouth of Molly’s daughter! Molly was feminine enough but practical in her attire. Busy with a full-time career and two kids, she wasn’t modeling the princess of her daughter’s fantasies. It was shocking that a little girl raised by down to earth organic-if-at-all-possible-split-your-own-firewood kinda parents could spew forth such indictments as “Our house is ugly. Why isn’t it beautiful like Lady Lovely Locks’s castle? We need a kingdom!” Nora was particularly fascinated with the prospect of princesses getting married. Many of her princess dramatizations involved elaborate weddings, and she owned several bride costumes.
Owen, just-turned four, was eat-’em-up cute, with a charming personality and a penchant for silky things. Never a dull moment with him. It was as if he got wound up in the morning, activated at full tilt until his batteries slowly died and you found him, thumb in mouth, passed out on the couch holding a pair of Molly’s Victoria’s Secret undies. Attempting to take away the undies could produce a catastrophic result if executed at the wrong moment. Mental note for the summer.
The thought of being fully responsible for the lives of the children she loved more than anything was daunting. How hard can it be? It wasn’t like they were in diapers. It wasn’t like they were even going to be together twenty-four seven, as Molly had registered them for summer day camp. This arrangement would, theoretically, allow Hannah to enjoy the summer and get reenergized before the fall and the perfect career move. Maybe there would be time to do something creative. She had always wanted to make time for a creative pursuit. Not since high school had she painted, written poetry, or done any kind of crafty project. Or cooking. Maybe she would give that a go.
Hannah pulled into Molly and Ted’s by midafternoon and looked at the house with fresh eyes. The white clapboard house, set on a large lot a mile out of town, had stunning views of the mountains. She loved the quiet road with its mix of meadows and trees. My home for the summer. Another wave of apprehension. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Before Hannah could open the car door or fully engage in a panic attack, Nora burst out of the house dressed in a long pink tulle skirt, cowboy boots, and a golden crown, carrying a foam sword. “Your Majesty is here. Your Majesty is here,” she cried out. Hannah pulled out her phone. She had promised to text Sara, her now-former roommate, when she arrived safely in Vermont. I’m here. My kingdom awaits, she texted.
Molly and Owen followed Nora out the door, and Ted appeared from the back yard. Hugs and squeals all around.
“Let’s get you unpacked,” Ted said, pulling the suitcases out of the car. “Soon it’ll be time for the briefing in the Situation Room. Your sister has a three-ring binder.”
In the afternoon sun, the Green Mountains off in the distance and her niece and nephew holding her hands and chattering nonstop, Hannah’s erratic emotions receded, and she allowed the kids to lead her to the house.
Ted wasn’t exaggerating. After a delicious dinner of a Moroccan tagine, the kids settled in for their weekly screening of a Lady Lovely Locks episode. Ted, Molly, and Hannah positioned themselves at the kitchen table with the three-ring binder.
“Please humor me,” Molly began. “You have no idea how hard this is for me . . . for us.”
“Bring it on,” Hannah said. “I want to know everything.” Although they’d been talking about the details for weeks, she knew that enthusiasm for the three-ring binder and a detailed discussion was what Molly needed in order to surrender her children to Hannah’s care for the summer.
“First and foremost, I . . .we . . . we need you to keep them alive and uninjured,” said Molly. “Everything else is the icing on the cake, although, ideally, it’d be great if you could try to keep them on the path we’ve set in motion. Just for their sakes—so they’re not too confused. You know our values, Hannah. We want them to eat good food, play outside, not watch screens excessively, sleep in their own beds, be kind.”
They spent the next hour and a half reviewing emergency contacts, the kids’ schedules, Molly and Ted’s itineraries in both Chile and Argentina, household maintenance information, and a list of Nora’s and Owen’s idiosyncrasies, including but not limited to:
· Nora’s milk aversion (“which is a power play and not lactose intolerance”)
· Sleeping habits (“never let them sleep with you in your bed—they’re both thrashers”)
· Medication philosophy (“try not to give unnecessarily”)
· Owen’s thumb sucking (“get him to stop this summer and we’ll buy you a new pair of skis”)
· Nora’s desire to watch the 1980s classic Lady Lovely Locks and the Pixietails daily (“she can watch one episode on weekends”)
Hannah paid close attention but was secretly relieved that the information was all in the three-ring binder, well-organized for future reference as needed. And while she was thrilled that Ted had hired someone to mow the lawn, as it wasn’t something she enjoyed, they both were awfully intent on Hannah’s sole focus being on the kids. Did they think she was inept? As if on cue, Molly said, “We don’t think you’re inept. We just know this can be hard, and we don’t want you to be overwhelmed.”
“If I could handle working for Steven, I can handle this,” said Hannah. Hannah’s managing director Steven had been the subject of many family discussions. Although not her direct boss, he took micromanagement to a new level. She particularly loathed how he would summon her, and all the women analysts, to his office, sit behind his desk, and give them detailed feedback on their reports just to hear himself speak. There were few instances of any substantive changes in the reports required.
“Steven’s no match for Nora’s willpower, but you’ll be okay,” said Molly.
As soon as the credits on the movie began to roll, Nora and Owen appeared in the kitchen.
“Time for bed, you guys,” said Ted.
“Big day tomorrow,” Molly mumbled under her breath.
Preview of The Treehouse on Dog River Road by Catherine Drake
