Catching Air Read Free Page A

rising up from the boiling water, and the humid Florida air filtering in through the window. It seemed, suddenly, as if she’d been hot for her entire life, her thighs always sticking to the vinyl seats in her car, her hair forever matting against the back of her neck.
    Vermont, she thought, testing out the word, envisioning snowflakes drifting onto her cheeks and pine trees spreading open under an enormous blue sky.
    Peter was right; she hated her job. She worked so hard, arriving at her windowless office by seven every morning, writing long, excruciatingly detailed reports, gobbling a Cobb salad at her desk, poring over documents until her eyes felt gritty and her entire body ached. She lived in the Sunshine State, yet she sometimes went days without ever glimpsing the sun.
    And instead of being grateful, the firm had punished her. She’d been put on a kind of probation—her partnership delayed for a year—because she didn’t beef up her hours like the other associates, and had spoken the truth to a client and embarrassed the partner who’d overbilled him. She was still reeling from the injustice. Wasn’t the law supposed to be an honorable profession? When she entered law school, she’d envisioned taking on pro bono cases for persecuted immigrants and abused women. She’d thought she’d change lives—stand up in a courtroom, her voice ringing with passion as she fought for truth and justice. Instead, she was the one who’d been changed. At thirty years old, she felt as brittle and worn-out as an old cornhusk. And she had yet to help a single pro bono client.
    “You could hand in your notice and we could leave in a couple weeks. I’ll teach you to ski. We could spend some time together for a change,” Peter was saying. “If we don’t like it, we can always move back.”
    Her left-brained, sensible husband—so different from his spontaneous, irresponsible brother—had already made up his mind. How had that happened so quickly?
    “I don’t know,” she said. For some reason, tears filled her eyes. Peter was offering her the escape she’d been yearning for, and now that she was standing on its brink, it felt terrifying.
    “It’s such a big decision,” Kira said. And they saw Rand and Alyssa only once a year or so. Wouldn’t it feel strange to suddenly be with them constantly?
    “Sleep on it,” Peter said as he carried their plates to the little wooden table in their dining nook. “We can talk more tomorrow.”
    But as he came back into the kitchen and slid past her to get the salad, he whispered words that spilled into her mind like blue ink into clear water, clouding her thoughts. She knew their echo would keep her awake for the rest of the night.
    “We’d both be home all the time,” he’d whispered as she instinctively stiffened, somehow knowing what he’d say next. “Maybe we should have a baby.”
    • • •
    The rain had finally tapered off, and gauzy clouds hung low in the sky. Alyssa stepped out of the Jeep, stretched her back, and took her first look at the B-and-B. The A-frame house sat perched atop acres of sprawling land like a pioneer surveying uncharted territory and deciding that yes, this would be the perfect place to settle. Alyssa was a firm believer that houses had personalities, and she liked this one’s style; it looked strong and welcoming. She lifted the Nikon hanging on her neck, framed the shot, and snapped.
    In a few months, the panoramic vistas would be transformed when a white coating erased the vibrant summer colors. But the view would still be every bit as spectacular. Just imagining it made Alyssa’s lungs expand and her heart feel lighter. Back in D.C., where Rand had worked as a carpenter and part-time guitar teacher at a kids’ music school and she’d photographed weddings and babies and family reunions, she’d often felt as if everyone were trying to rush her along—brushing past her with an impatient exhalation on the sidewalk or honking when she