Far Harbor (11 page)

“Heard a lot worse,” Henry supplied gruffly.

“So they’re not the Grateful Dead or the Eagles. It’ll still be fun,” Lilith continued to coax.

There had been a time, in the not so distant past, when Savannah would have caved in to her mother’s coaxing. But that was in another lifetime—before she’d gotten her wings.

“It sounds like quite a show, but you’ll have to do it without me. As much as I’d like to help you out, Mother, I’ve too much work to do.”

“But, darling—”

“No.” Resisting Lilith was not for the fainthearted. Savannah managed, with an effort, to firm up her mild tone. “I’ll try to drop by the park for an hour or so. But I’m not playing rural Rockettes.”

“Well.” Lilith’s expressive eyes narrowed. An expectant silence fell over the dining room. As she submitted to her mother’s long, silent look, Savannah sensed she wasn’t the only one at the table holding her breath. Her nerves tangled like a ball of barbed wire in her stomach.

Finally, Lilith’s lips curled in a slow, pleased, almost feline smile. “Brava, dear.”

She was an adult, an adult who’d suffered, survived, and had gotten on with her life. She was no longer the child who slept with her nightlight on, who cowered in closets or had tea parties with an imaginary mother who wore cozy aprons and didn’t look or smell like a movie star. Her mother’s obvious approval shouldn’t mean so much.

It shouldn’t, but, damn it, it did.

Savannah thought back on all the missed dance recitals, birthdays, and holidays, and realized she’d been waiting to hear those words all her life.

The mood in the room lightened. There was laughter. The conversation continued, as if the little battle of feminine wills had never taken place.

Dan reached beneath the table and took hold of Savannah’s hand, his fingers squeezing hers in a friendly, encouraging way. Feeling immensely pleased with herself, she glanced up at him, intending to return his gesture with a smile.

But then she found herself getting lost in his quiet, confident blue eyes, just as she’d done when they’d been sitting together on the porch earlier today. The other voices faded into the distance; it was as if the rest of the family had suddenly vanished.

“I can’t wait to ride the merry-go-round,” Amy was announcing. “The big white horse with the gold saddle and the pretty flowers in its mane is my favorite. I like the happy music. Do you like to ride merry-go-rounds, Aunt Savannah?”

She forced her attention back to her niece, who, she belatedly realized, was looking across the table at her expectantly. Dan released her hand. The moment, which she guessed had lasted no longer than a few seconds but had seemed like an eternity, ended.

As she assured Amy that she did, indeed, love to ride merry-go-rounds, Savannah felt a growing unease building somewhere in the region of her heart.

“W
ell, Gram certainly seemed quite lucid tonight,” Savannah said as she slid pieces of apple cobbler onto plates.

“Didn’t she?” Raine’s face lit up with a hopeful optimism that made Savannah think how odd it was that in this case, she was turning out to be the more cautious sister.

A born lawyer, before her marriage to Jack, Raine had always been more logical, more likely to study all sides of a problem before making a decision. Savannah, on the other hand, had always followed her heart.
And look how that turned out
.

“That’s what’s been so troubling about this.” She went to the freezer and took out a half gallon of ice cream. “The memory lapses and confusion seem to come and go. Sometimes, like tonight, she’s as sharp as ever.” The scent of vanilla bean mingled with the rich aroma of baked apples, brown sugar, and cinnamon, reminding Savannah of when she’d been nine years old and had seen an old-fashioned ice cream churn in the window of Granny’s Attic. She’d brought it home, and she and Raine and Ida had spent that evening on the porch, taking turns cranking. The handle had broken the second time they’d used it, but she’d never regretted having spent a week’s allowance. Savannah had never tasted anything as sweet as that homemade ice cream they’d made together on that perfect summer day.

“But there are other times, like the incident at the market and when I bought the lighthouse, when she just seems to glitch out.”

Raine glanced over at Savannah with surprise. “You didn’t tell me anything about a problem when you bought the lighthouse.”

“It didn’t really register at the time. I was tired and excited, and I guess I wanted to overlook the fact that I don’t think she knew what I was talking about when I first came home. After all my reading today, it sort of clicked into place.”

She began scooping ice cream atop the cobbler. “I had a thought during dinner. What if we do an intervention, like families do when someone they love is an alcoholic or drug addicted?”

“It wouldn’t be easy, but it’d be for her own good.” Raine nodded, looking more like her Xena the Warrior-Princess self. Her jaw was set, her eyes clear and focused on her goal. “And that’s all that matters. Do you want to do it tonight?”

Balancing protecting Ida’s pride with possibly protecting her life was proving more than a little difficult. They were, Savannah thought sadly, caught between Ida and a hard place.

“Now that we’ve come up with a plan of action, we might as well get it over with while we’re all here together.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll put Amy to bed after dessert.” While Savannah returned the carton to the freezer, Raine picked up two of the plates.

Having decided on a plan of action, they returned to the dining room. As she picked at her cobbler, Savannah listened to Ida regale the family with a lively tale of another Sawdust Festival when she’d delivered Polly Lawson’s twins in the pie judging tent.

“Fool girl spent all day in labor, but didn’t tell anyone because she was waiting around to make sure she won the blue ribbon for her lemon meringue pie.”

“Did she?” Amy asked, wide-eyed.

“No. Gladys Quincy won it, like she always did in those days, for her blueberry buckle. But Polly won the red. She also took home the grand prize—two of the cutest red-haired babies you ever saw.”

Her grandmother’s memory appeared as clear as the special-occasion Waterford crystal adorning the table, her vivid detail and colorful description making the story come alive.

It was going to be all right, Savannah assured herself firmly. Her grandmother Ida would be all right. She could not—would not—allow herself to think otherwise.

After dinner they moved to the cozy living room. Savannah was, at first, relieved when Ida didn’t interrupt Raine, who, being the attorney in the family, had chosen to make the opening argument. Their grandmother didn’t so much as flinch as Raine listed all the incidents of memory loss and of apparent disorientation that the family had documented.

Savannah hoped Ida was listening. The way her grandmother was staring out the front window made it difficult to tell for certain.

Finally, having lost momentum when she didn’t get any feedback, Raine ran down. Savannah watched as Jack put a comforting arm around his wife and, despite her recent vow to become totally independent, envied Raine, just a little, for having someone who obviously loved and cared for her so very much in her life.

“Is that all you have to say?” Ida asked. Her small, wiry frame was practically swallowed up by the wing chair.

“For now,” Raine answered.

She continued to sit there for another long minute, still as stone. Then she turned to Savannah. “I suppose you agree with your sister?”

“You haven’t exactly been yourself the past few months,” Savannah said carefully.

“It’s called aging. I don’t like to admit it, but I’m not exactly a spring chicken anymore.” Her voice was as brittle as dried autumn leaves. “Besides, everyone suffers from memory lapses from time to time. You forgot to return the plumber’s call yesterday.”

“Savannah has a lot on her mind right now, Mother,” Lilith tried to help out.

“And I don’t?” Ida folded her arms across the front of her purple sweatshirt. “I never thought I’d live to see the day that my own family turned against me.”

“We’re not turning against you, Gram,” Savannah argued. “We’re trying to take care of you.”

“I’m not a child, Savannah. And I can damn well take care of myself, thank you very much.”

“You may not be a child,” Henry entered the family conversation uninvited. “But you’re a damn fool.”

“Just because you sit in front of the television and watch
Jeopardy!
every day doesn’t make you Alex Trebek,” Ida returned grumpily. “You don’t know everything, Henry Hyatt.”

“Got that right enough. But I spent enough time in Evergreen to know when someone’s not right in the head.” He met her glare with a hard, level look of his own. “And you’re not.”

Ida’s curse was one Savannah had never heard come out of her grandmother’s mouth. “I don’t have Alzheimer’s.”

“Then why don’t you put your money where your big mouth is and prove it? Or aren’t you a betting woman?”

Crimson flags of color waved high on Ida’s cheeks. Her mouth pulled into a tight line, and her eyes snapped with barely restrained temper.

Savannah felt torn. Part of her thought she shouldn’t let Henry talk to her grandmother that way. After all, he was only a boarder in Ida’s house; he had no business even being at this dinner tonight, let alone barging into family matters.

But another, stronger part realized that just perhaps he could reach Ida on a level none of the rest of them could. They were contemporaries who’d already learned that Bette Davis wasn’t kidding when she proclaimed that old age wasn’t for sissies.

“My husband was a gambler,” Ida said. “Being married to him taught me to bet only on myself.”

“Then do it,” Henry prodded. He reached into a pocket, pulled out a small wad of bills, and peeled a rumpled one from beneath the rubber band. “Here’s twenty bucks that says you’re too chicken to give up control long enough to let some other doc do the tests.” He slapped the money onto the coffee table.

The color in her grandmother’s face flared hotter and brighter. “You’re on.” Ida dug into her purse, retrieved a crisp bill of her own, tossed it next to his, then added another. “And ten more says I don’t have Alzheimer’s.” She speared a look toward Savannah. “You satisfied now?”

“It’s a start.” Savannah refused to let her grandmother’s practiced glare cower her. “I’ll be more satisfied once you actually make the appointment for the tests, and happier still after you’ve completed them.”

“Ha!” Ida dug into the black pocketbook she’d had for as long as Savannah could remember and pulled out a piece of paper that she placed with great ceremony next to the money. “I’m proud of the way you girls turned out. You’re both bright and courageous, and except for screwing up your marriage, which unfortunately is pretty much run-of-the-mill for us Lindstrom women, you’ve made yourselves a real good life….

“But you’re going to have to get up a lot earlier in the morning to stay ahead of your grandmother.”

Savannah leaned forward and picked up the piece of yellow paper. She skimmed the lines, then handed the paper to Raine, who arched a brow as she read it, then passed it on to Lilith.

“Mother!” Lilith shook her head, her expression filled with fondness touched with exasperation. “Why didn’t you tell us you’d arranged for tests next week?”

“A woman’s entitled to some secrets,” Ida huffed. “Besides, ever since you girls set up this dinner, I’ve been looking forward to seeing how you were planning to handle the intervention.”

“You knew all along,” Raine guessed resignedly.

“I’m not a fool, Raine. Nor do I tolerate fools. You’re both bright girls. I knew it was only a matter of time before you decided to try to lay down the law. After that little mistake in the mercantile, you really didn’t have much choice.

“The way I see it, if my family’s worried enough to resort to subterfuge, the least I can do is ease your minds. But not until after the Sawdust Festival,” she said firmly. “This is the first year I’m in charge, and my reputation’s at stake. If I’m not there to keep everyone on their toes, the whole weekend could just go to hell on a Harley.”

Savannah wouldn’t be able completely to put her concerns behind her until Ida’s doctors presented them with test results that revealed that they’d exaggerated their fears. However, the comforting familiarity of her grandmother’s malapropism and characteristically brisk, matter-of-fact attitude gave birth to a faint ray of light that brightened, ever so slightly, her dark and looming fear.

After they’d driven home, Ida went directly to bed, declaring herself exhausted from all the family intrigue. Henry looked inclined to make it a night, as well, when Savannah stopped him at the bottom of the stairs.

“Thank you.”

He looked down at her hand, resting atop his on the newel post, as if wondering how it had gotten there. “For what?”

“For helping us with Grandmother. That was a very nice thing to do.”

“Hasn’t it sunk in yet, girl?” he asked gruffly. “I’m never nice.”

“Liar.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek.

Henry flamed lobster red. “What the hell was that for?” he asked, unknowingly nearly echoing her words of this morning when Dan had kissed her.

“Because you’re a fraud, Henry Hyatt.” She’d seen through the gruffness to the man beneath, the man who’d lived the solitary life of a lighthouse keeper not so much because he didn’t want to have any interaction with neighbors, but because he loved the Far Harbor lighthouse and cared about others’ safety enough to make personal sacrifices.

She smiled. “Good night.”

He muttered something that could have been “good night” in return, then made his way upstairs. Watching him, Savannah thought she detected a bit of a spring in his step.

Savannah was back at the lighthouse, energetically sanding the floor of the keeper’s cottage, when Dan showed up with an electric sander of his own, rented from the same hardware store where she’d gotten hers. He was wearing a sleeveless sweatshirt, ragged shorts that looked as if he’d whacked away at a pair of jeans with a pocket knife, and work boots. His body looked as hard and dark as teak. She decided that it should be against the law for any man to look so seductively male—at least this early in the morning.

“Don’t you have to work?”

“It’s Saturday.” He didn’t mention that he’d dropped by the women’s shelter to take Kathi Montgomery some peanut butter fudge from Coldwater Cove Confectionery before coming here. It had always been her favorite. He’d been glad to discover it still was.

Kathi’s bruises were starting to turn an ugly purplish green, but as they’d sat out on the deck of the middle-class house, watching a pair of hummingbirds spin and whirl in a noisy battle over claim to a bright red glass feeder, she’d seemed a bit more relaxed. Neither Jack nor the state police had been able to locate her husband yet, but just knowing that she was no longer having to handle her domestic problems all alone had given her strength and taken some of the fear from her eyes. When he’d left, she was talking about returning to work. Dan had taken that as a very positive sign.

“I figured you could use some help.”

She looked around the enormous expanse of flooring left to sand. “I can’t deny an extra hand would be nice, but you don’t have to—”

“I know. But I want to, Savannah. Besides, the hardware store was having a special on sander rentals, and hey, I’ve never been one to overlook a good deal.”

Though it was a lousy joke, she laughed, which made him feel as if he’d just scaled Mount Olympus.

The work was hard, hot, and dusty. Savannah didn’t even try to tell herself that she was grateful for Dan’s presence because he was cutting the work and the time it took to do it in half. The truth was that they worked well together, passing each other with an easy rhythm, each choosing rooms without discussion. Even when they were working in different locations, there was an easy camaraderie that she’d only felt when working in a kitchen where the entire staff had slipped into a mind sync and performed as if in a ballet.