Luanne Rice (11 page)

“In the
future, and not so far in the future, the properties that will be worth the
most are cottages like this one. Lovely, small houses, built to nestle into the
land. People with money are ruining everything—cutting down all the old trees,
knocking down the small houses, and building their stupid showplaces.”

“They think
they’re increasing the value of their real estate.”

“Darling,
I’ve heard about what’s happened to the boatyard. I’m so sorry. But yes, it’s
the exact same phenomenon. After a while, when people tire of their big
air-conditioned, fancy-hot-tubbed houses, they’ll all yearn for places like
this. That fit the shoreline so beautifully. I think of Mara coming home and
not even recognizing the place, with all the ugly houses going up.”

“She’d
recognize the place,” he said. “She’d know it anywhere.”

“It was in
her heart,” Maeve said, opening the refrigerator, taking out the big pitcher of
iced tea. Sprigs of mint from the garden floated on top, and she strained the
tea into tall Kentucky Derby glasses. Then she poured a bowl of water for
Flora, and the dog slurped thirstily.

“Tell me
about her,” Patrick said.

“You know
everything there is to know about my granddaughter,” Maeve said.
“Probably as much as I do.”

“No one
knows as much as you, not when it comes to Mara,” Patrick said. “Come on—tell
me something I don’t know about her.”

Maeve
frowned. What could, or should, she
tell
him? Leading
him from the gray and yellow kitchen, past the old table with one end built
into the wall, with the bright flowers and figures painted on the wood by Maeve
herself long before such things were in decorating fashion—around the corner
into the living room, with its sweeping views of Long Island Sound, Maeve’s
mind was racing with thoughts and memories.

Mara as a
baby, as a three-year-old learning to swim, as a six-year-old constantly
reading, as a teenager resisting the boys who fell in love with her as often as
the east wind blew, as a successful needlework designer, as a young woman
married to Edward Hunter.

“Which
story should I tell you?” she asked.
“From which part of her
life?”

“Tell me the
one that will help me find her,” he said.

“Don’t you
think that if I could have, I already would have?” she asked, smiling sadly as
he admitted—without coming right out and saying it—that he didn’t really
believe she was dead. Or didn’t want to …

“I know I
ask you this every time. But have you ever gotten anything that might be a sign
from her?” he asked, trying a different tack.
“A phone call,
where the person hung up?
Or a postcard without a
signature?
Or …”

“No.”

“Anything
odd, out of the ordinary, that gave you pause?”

“They
undercharged me at the Shell station,” she said.

Patrick
rolled his eyes. Flora trotted over to lie panting at his feet.
“Anything else?
Along the lines of
mistaken identity?”

“Mistaken
identity?”

“Well,
where something really unexpected occurred, and you thought there had to be
some mistake.
As if maybe it was meant for someone else.”

“Well, last
fall,” Maeve said, her heart flipping as his words opened a door—an
opportunity. She spoke slowly, to not betray emotions. “Late fall, I think.
Just before the holidays.”

“What was
it?” Patrick asked.

“I got a
phone call from the membership department at the Mystic Aquarium. The woman was
so lovely and kind. She told me that she had been given my name by someone who
thought I might be interested in joining, and wanted to offer me a membership.”

From
Patrick’s expression, Maeve knew that this was not the sort of thing he’d been
hoping for. But Maeve’s pulse was racing—she felt a thread of electricity
running up her spine, as if a ghost or angel had just flown into the room.

“Well, they
know you live on the water,” Patrick said. “They probably thought you’d like to
go see the fish, or whatever they have there.”

“Maybe,”
Maeve said. “I asked the woman who had given her my name, and she said the
person wanted to be anonymous.”

“Maybe she
was just trying to sell you a membership.”

“No. It was
a gift. The person had bought it for me.”

Now she had
his attention. He raised his eyebrows, thinking.
“A gift?”

“I thought
it might have been Clara—she loves museums, and Mystic Seaport, and the
aquarium. But it wasn’t her. Then I thought it had to be one of my old
students. I was always making them observe nature.”

“Huh. Have
you enjoyed the membership?”

“I’ve never
gone,” Maeve said. “Why go to an aquarium, when I have all this right out my
window?” She gazed out at the blue Sound, waves pushing in from the east. The
two granite islands, North and South Brother, lay half a mile offshore; she
remembered the time Mara had wanted to swim to them, and Maeve had rowed
alongside, to keep her safe.

“Right,”
Patrick said. “Why would you?”

Maeve
stared at him.

They heard
the kitchen door open—the screen door needed oil. She knew that it was Clara.
She lived right next door, and she had probably spotted Patrick in the garden.
Maeve could almost smell the sugar cookies.

“It’s me,”
Clara called.

“We’re in
here,” Maeve called back.

“But hey,”
Patrick said. “Humor me, will you? Do you have that woman’s name?
The one who called?”

“Somewhere,
probably,” Maeve said, sliding over on the sofa to make room for Clara. Flora
stood at attention, tongue lolling out, and focused on the plate of cookies.
Everyone said hello; Patrick stood to shake Clara’s hand, and Maeve lifted her
face to kiss her best friend. Of course she remembered the woman’s name; she
knew exactly where she had put the paper where she’d written it down.

“I brought
some cookies, as this lovely dog can see,” Clara said.
“To go
with Maeve’s mint tea.”

“I’m a
lucky guy,” Patrick said. “You behave yourself, Flora.”

“It almost
feels like a party,” Clara said, slipping Flora a piece of cookie.

“A birthday
party,” Maeve said, feeling that electric shiver again as she went to get the
name—it was on the membership materials that she had shoved into a middle shelf
on her bookcase, right between
Islands in
the Stream
and
Yeats’s Collected
Poems.

Two of her favorite books.

Again,
electricity zinged up her spine. She almost wondered whether a thunderstorm was
on the way.

Chapter 10

T
he helicopter had so little room
inside,
Rose had to go without her mother. By the time the
boat reached the dock at Port Blaise, and the helicopter landed to pick her up,
Rose felt so much better. Not perfect, not even just okay, but no longer
fainting and blue. She was awake, and she could hear, and she didn’t like
hearing that she had to fly alone to the hospital in Melbourne.

“Mommy,”
she said, lifting the oxygen mask so she could talk. “Come with me.”

“There’s no
space, honey,” her mother said, crouching right beside the gurney, where Rose
lay flat, ready to be loaded onto the waiting helicopter. “But don’t worry—I’ll
get in a car right now and drive down to Melbourne. I’ll be there in an hour.
Two at the most.”

“Don’t
speed,” Rose warned her.

“No,” her
mother said, and Rose was so relieved to see her smile.

“We’ll take
good care of her,” the helicopter nurse said to her mother. They began to lift
Rose, but her mother wouldn’t let go of her hand. Jessica’s mother, who had
helped Rose on the boat, stood right there, waving at Rose. Rose’s mother still
clutched her hand. Finally, Dr. Neill stepped forward and gently put his good
hand on Rose’s mother’s, pulling it away from Rose’s.

“Let her
get going,” he said. “The sooner she does, the sooner you can see her in
Melbourne.” He was staring straight at Rose as he spoke; she saw the spark in
his eyes, and it made her smile, even though she was a little scared of the
roaring helicopter blades. Dr. Neill knew what Rose was thinking—she was
positive of it.

“Don’t be
worried, Rose,” her mother said. “These people will take care of you, and I’ll
be there as soon as I can.”

Rose nodded
and smiled wide. She held her lips in place, her teeth showing, so her mother
would remember the smile. Then she gave her mother the thumbs-up she always
gave when she was being wheeled into surgery. Her mother gave it back, with an
equally brave grin on her face.

“Bye,
Rosie! We love you, Rose!” called Jessica and her mother and all the Nanouk
Girls. The oxygen mask was back over Rose’s face, so she couldn’t shout back.
Dr. Neill was standing right by her mother, towering over her because he was so
tall, and Rose had one fleeting impression of him as a mountain.
Sturdy, steady, rock-fast.
She liked thinking of him that
way, and it brought the smile back to her face.

Things
began to happen fast.

The EMTs
made sure she was strapped in; the nurse hooked her up to the blood pressure
cuff and began listening with her stethoscope. The pilot was talking on the
radio. Now an EMT was on another radio, calling to the hospital. Rose had been
through it all before. The ground crew slammed the helicopter door, and when
she couldn’t see her mother anymore, Rose closed her eyes.

Her mother
had looked so worried, and Rose knew it was because she thought Rose was
scared. But Rose wasn’t. She had had a wonderful birthday, but now she was
tired.

The fear
her mother had seen in her eyes had actually been worry for her—her mother. Her
mother always did so much. She worked so hard at the shop, and she tried to
always make Rose happy and
more healthy
. As the
helicopter began to lift—straight up, making Rose’s heart drop, as if it could
stay on the ground forever, with her mother and Dr. Neill and all the people
she loved—Rose clenched her fists and thought of her mother.

She knew
that as much as her own heart wanted to stay on the ground, her mother’s heart
was rising like the helicopter, flying right here with Rose. Rose could feel
it, as if she held her mother’s heart in her own hands. She worried about her
mother’s worry. When Rose thought about her illness, it wasn’t herself that she
felt bad for—it was her mother.

Jessica’s
mother had a healthy daughter; why couldn’t Rose’s? Rose thought back a few
days, to when she had been teasing Jessica about the evil wizard that lived in
the hills. Just thinking of him made the splinter in her heart hurt. It was
ice, sharp as a needle.

She thought
of the fairy tales her mother had read when she was little. Evil wizards put
spells on people. But Rose didn’t think that was what had happened. She thought
that she must have done something bad.
When she was a baby,
or a very little girl.
Her mother had never told her, but something to
drive her father away forever. It left her with a broken heart, and an evil
wizard instead of a father.

Her
thoughts spun. She breathed in the oxygen, staring into the strange nurse’s
eyes. When she went through blue spells, she wasn’t always sure what was real
and what wasn’t, what was a dream and what was awake.

There was
no evil wizard—her mother had chided her for teasing Jessica. But, then, why
did Rose feel that there was?
Instead of a good father?

She forced
herself to breathe, and to think of her mother. She wished that she would get
well, so her mother wouldn’t have to worry. They could do normal things
together—running and playing, planning for next Christmas without wondering
whether she would have to go back into the hospital, might need more surgery.
Rose’s condition made everything so up-in-the-air.

Just like
flying in a helicopter.

This was
real. It wasn’t a dream. She wasn’t being flown on devil wings to the mountain
wizard’s demon cave. She wasn’t being kidnapped by anyone. Her father hadn’t
sent people to find her. No, no. She made herself stay awake and know where she
was. The beat of the helicopter engine felt strong and comforting.

Real, real,
she told
herself.
Going to the
hospital to get better.
But
still, up in the air.

One minute
she was at her birthday party, seeing Nanny, laughing with her friends, and the
next she was in a helicopter, with a stranger listening to her heart and trying
to smile, being flown to the hospital in Melbourne.

Up in the air.
Rose was up in the air, but her heart was down
on the ground, with her mother. It was all true, and all real.

Lily was
numb, moving by rote. Anne and Marlena gathered up Rose’s presents, boxed up
the cake—and the candles, not yet lit and blown out—and promised to get them to
Lily’s house. Lily had only the vaguest sense of hearing Anne say she’d keep
the cake in the inn’s freezer till Rose came home.

She knew
she should go home and pack a bag. From experience, she knew that trips to the
hospital were usually longer than not, and once there she would need her
toothbrush and the book she was reading and a few changes of clothes. But she
couldn’t take the time to drive all the way back home. She had to rent a car,
right here in Port Blaise, and drive straight to the hospital.

“Would you
like me to come with you?” Marisa asked.

“No, but
you were wonderful on the boat. Thank you so much,” Lily said.

They held
hands, looking into each other’s eyes. Lily saw something more awake than she
had previously—as if by helping Rose, Marisa had connected with the deepest
part of herself, long ignored in the heat of escape.

“I don’t
know much about Melbourne Hospital,” Marisa said, “being so new here. But the
chopper staff seemed really competent and attentive.”

“They are,
and the hospital’s good. For palliative care, anyway,” Lily said. “Rose has
been there often. Marisa—I saw you listening to her belly. What did you hear?”

“Fluid,”
Marisa said hesitantly. “And Lily, her liver and kidneys felt enlarged.”

Lily heard
the information and stored it instantly in the part of her brain that wouldn’t
touch or talk to her heart—not, at least, while
she
was making the long drive from here to Melbourne. She couldn’t let herself
start crying now, or she might drive off the road, and that wouldn’t do. Rose
needed her too much.

She and
Marisa hugged, and she felt surprised by how tight her new friend held on—as if
she didn’t want to let her go.

“What is
it?” Lily asked.

“Just—thank
you.
For getting it.”

“I get it
because I’ve been there myself,” Lily said softly. “The world is divided into
two kinds of people. Those who have loved men like your husband and mine, and
those who haven’t. Ending a relationship is one thing. But recovering from a
marriage to a sociopath is another. I’ll see you when we get back, okay? I want
to hear more of your story, and tell you mine.”

“Thank
you—give our love to Rose.”

“I will,”
Lily said.

Lily was
gearing up for the drive—she’d have to ask one of the Coast Guard guys for a
ride to the mall, a few miles away, where she was 90 percent sure she had seen
a car rental place—patting her pockets to make sure she had her house keys for
when she got back, and checking her shoulder bag, over and over, just
reassuring herself that she had it with her, hadn’t left it on the boat. She
knew she was in a familiar sort of shock—the one she entered every time Rose
went to the hospital.

The Nanouk
Girls had disembarked, trying to convince her to let them go with her. The
Tecumseh II
sat at the strange dock,
with Jude and his crew on deck, gravely gazing up at the sky, where the
helicopter was now no more than a dot.

“I have to
get a car,” Lily said to Anne.

“Liam’s on
it,” she said. “He knows the Coast Guard commander, from sharing technology or
some crap like that, and he’s arranging for someone to take you to Hertz. Want
me to drive with you?”

Lily shook
her head. “I’ll be fine.” She just wanted to get on the road now. Every second
was a second she wasn’t with Rose.

The Nanouks
huddled around her in one huge hug—as if they knew she didn’t have time for
individual goodbyes or kisses. But she felt the weight of her best friends and
their daughters crushing against her, as if they could carry her themselves, on
their shoulders, down to Melbourne.

“We love
you, Lil.”

“We’ll be
with you both.”

“Call us,
sweetheart.”

“We’ll send
you anything you need.”

“Let us
know the minute you hear anything.”

“I will,”
she promised, dry-eyed and resolute, fortified by their strength and love.
Pulling away, she walked to the top of the dock. The Coast Guard station, white
with its red roof, attached to the conical white brick lighthouse, stood
nestled in short, wind-scrubbed pines at the top of a small hill.

Lily felt
almost breathless, climbing the stairs. She had a long journey ahead of her—the
drive would be the easy part. There was Liam, talking to the commander, in his
white uniform. A younger Coast Guard member had been dispatched to get a car,
and he was pulling it round, into the semicircular gravel drive.

Now Lily
began to run—the car was here—all she had to do was jump in, and the young man
would drive her to Hertz. She passed Liam, knowing she owed him thanks, but not
able to take the time right now. Hand on the passenger door, she was dismayed
to see the young Coast Guard man turn off the ignition and get out of the
driver’s side.

“No,” she
said, the panic rising. “Please—we have to go
now
. Get in, drive me, please—”

The young
man looked sheepish, a little embarrassed. “Ma’am,” he began.

“Now, oh,
please—you’re kind to drive me, but I’m late, I have to get to my daughter!”

“Get in,
Lily,” Liam said, opening the door for her.

“Oh, thank
you, Liam,” she said, all in a rush. Wow, she’d really owe him some thanks.
“Tell them he has to take me right now, fast, okay?”

Liam didn’t
reply. He closed the door behind her. Now he was talking to the two Coast Guard
men, just standing there—taking up the driver’s time with who knows what. Lily
watched the three of them talking, keys being handed off, words exchanged—for
the love of
God
! She wanted to
scream.

When Liam
opened the driver’s door, the look in her eyes was daggers and solid ice. Tears
had formed—angry, furious, rageful tears—for the three men whose chatting meant
she’d be that much later to the Hertz office, and for the fact Rose’s birthday
had been ruined, and for the fact that Rose’s heart was giving out.