Luanne Rice (7 page)

“What
brings you up here? I can’t remember the last time I saw you out on a Friday
night
… .”

Liam
wheeled around, came face-to-face with Jude’s wife, Anne. While Jude oversaw
the boats and whale-watch part of the family business, Anne managed the inn.
She was equally excellent with people and with numbers, and she kept everything
running well in the black. Liam knew their parents and grandparents would be
proud. Camille had to grudgingly admit her talents. Camille had never been the
same since her husband’s death—on a trip to visit a shipbuilder in Ireland for
their whale-watch fleet.

“Good band,
Anne,” he said.

“I’ve
auditioned everyone from here to Quebec,” she said. “So many good musicians out
there, but there was something about these guys—I hear them play, and I want to
fall in love.”

Liam
laughed. “You and Jude are coming up on your—what is it—twentieth anniversary?”

“And what’s
wrong with falling in love with my own husband?” she asked. Then, gently
punching him in the arm, she added, “I understand that you are responsible for
making him work tomorrow—this will be his first Saturday at the helm in I don’t
know how many years!”

“Well, I
just thought someone really experienced should—”

“Captain
the birthday cruise?” Anne teased. “You think the nine-year-old girls will
mutiny? Or perhaps their mothers …”

Liam
pictured Rose sitting in the town square, her head down, trying to get a good
breath. His own heart squeezed as he remembered how cold her hand felt in his,
the pleading in her eyes. “It’s good for him to take the Saturday duty,” Liam
teased back.
“Instead of getting too important for his own
good.”

“Well, he’d
better find plenty of whales for the birthday girl,” Anne said. “Or he’ll have
to answer to me.”

“You?”

Anne
nodded. “I’ll be aboard. I’m a Nanouk Girl, you know.”

“Lily’s club, right?”

“Oh, we’re
just a bunch of friends. We all met through Lily and started a sewing circle.
But we’re all going aboard to celebrate Rose’s birthday.” At that, Anne’s
expression grew serious. “We’re all worried that it could be—”

“Anne,
no—it won’t be,” Liam said. He heard the echo of her unspoken words:
her last birthday.
Even with the
doctors’ optimism, laypeople were intimidated by Rose’s condition.

“Lily has
been so manic lately,” Anne said. “Planning the party, making Rose’s present,
getting Rose ready for the surgery. I’m so glad you thought to ask Jude to
captain. Honestly, if it weren’t Lily, I wouldn’t book the charter at all. The
potential for liability, but that’s not the main thing. It’s just,
well,
you’re a scientist, Liam. Not a doctor, a medical
doctor, anyway. But you’re a biologist—you must know—what are the chances Rose
will survive?
Not just this operation—but into adolescence,
adulthood?”

“Like you
said, I’m not a doctor,” he said, his stomach flipping. “But Lily tells me Rose
will be fine, so I believe her.”

“I know
it’s serious,” Anne said. “Lily tries to accent the positive, whenever
possible. She’s done such a good job of mainstreaming Rose. But even the name
of her condition …”

“Tetralogy
of Fallot,” Liam said.

“It scares
the heck out of me. Sounds like a monster.”

“In a way,
it is,” he said. “Rose was born with a heart with four defects.
From the Latin,
tetragonum
—quadrangle.
Four.”

“God,” Anne
said, shivering. “Lily is always so matter-of-fact about it. She talks about
Rose so openly. Rose’s illness is just a part of her life. She wants Rose to
have all the fun and opportunities of any other nine-year-old.”

“And she
should.”

“I worry
about her, Liam. What would happen if … well, if something happened to
Rose.
I always remember your mother, after Connor …

“It’s not
the same,” Liam said sharply.

“No, it’s
not. At least she still had your father, and you. Lily has no one.”

Liam just
stood there, listening to the band play. His arm began to tingle—
not his right arm, his good limb, but his left, the one that wasn’t
there anymore
. He felt the skin prickling—pins and needles, as if he had
just lain on it for too long, as if the feeling were just starting to come
back. The band slid into a sweet waltz, and people at the tables got up to
dance.

“Lily,”
Anne began, but Liam interrupted. He turned to face his cousin-in-law, ice in
his eyes.

“Lily won’t
have to face what my mother went through,” he said. “I let Connor die, but I
won’t let Rose.”

“Liam! It’s
not the same! You couldn’t have saved Connor—no one could have. That shark
really
was
a monster—and you were
just a boy, hardly older than your brother.”

“Sharks
aren’t monsters,” Liam said. “They’re just fish. My brother shouldn’t have been
in that water. None of us should
… .
Look—I have to go
now. Have a good cruise tomorrow. Watch out for Rose, will you?”

“We all
will,” Anne
said,
her blue eyes troubled.

Liam turned
to walk out. As he strode through the lobby—filled with weekenders in town to
enjoy the scenery, the peace, the band—he sensed people giving him a wide
berth. He was tall and dark, and he felt the scowl radiating out. People always
noticed his prosthesis. He was different,
other.

“Hook,” some
kids had called him in high school. “Scar,” others had whispered, those who’d
seen him with his shirt off in gym class, who’d seen the jagged tears.
Reconstructive surgery wasn’t what it was now, and the fourteen-inch bite
radius—the shark had been a juvenile great white, just like the one he’d read
about earlier that evening, attacking the surfer east of Halifax—looked like a
crater in his flesh. The bite had been so
deep,
the
serrated teeth had nicked three of his ribs.

The funny
thing was, as he exited the lobby of the Cape Hawk Hotel, he realized that
although he still felt different, it wasn’t for the same old reason. It wasn’t
so much his arm or his scars anymore. They were part of him. No, he felt
different because he was so alone. With all this family around him, all he
could see were couples, families, here in Cape Hawk for the weekend. Spending
time together …

When Anne
had said Lily had no one, Liam had felt a stab in his heart. He felt that way
himself.

And it was
worse than anything.

Chapter 6

T
he day was brilliant, clear and fine, perfect
for the cruise. Rose woke up with the sun. She lay in her bed, watching orange
rays come through the pines. They roused every bird in the forest, and suddenly
the air was alive with song. She lay still, listening, wondering whether Nanny
could hear the birds and know they were singing “Happy Birthday” to Rose. Would
Nanny show up for her party? Almost nothing mattered to Rose more. Except for
wishing that Dr. Neill would be allowed to join them …

As Rose
began to sit up, she felt a tug in her chest. It took her breath away. She lay
back down for a few minutes, on her side with knees drawn up, closing her eyes
tight. Outside, the birds grew louder, as if more were arriving by the minute.
They were migrating north after the long winter. Rose imagined how tired they
must be, how fast their tiny hearts were beating.

Once Dr.
Neill told her that pine siskins migrated all the way down to South
America—birds no bigger than a pinecone! And he said that whales and dolphins
migrated down to the Caribbean Sea. If they could do it—fly and swim all that
way—then Rose could do it too. All she had to do was stay well enough to have
her surgery. One more
surgery,
and she would be fine.

Sometimes
thinking made her feel better—dreams of birds, or of Nanny, or of her birthday.
Her best friend Jessica … she thought of Jess, joking that they had almost the
same birthday. Only why didn’t it feel like a joke? To Rose, it had seemed
true—and how wonderful that would be, if it was. Very slowly she sat up again,
swung her legs over the side of the bed. She looked down at her hand, gripping
the mattress. Her condition had left her with slightly clubbed fingers—another
way she was different. Today they didn’t bother her—it was her birthday, she
thought, getting out of bed. The spell had passed. Padding barefoot down the
hall, she smelled fresh orange juice.

“Good
morning, sweetheart,” her mother said. “Happy birthday …”

“Thank you.
I’m nine now,” Rose said, smiling.

Her mother smiled
back. She tried not to show that she was checking Rose for symptoms, and Rose,
for her part, tried hard not to exhibit any. She knew she should tell her
mother that she’d just had a blue spell, but she also knew that might make her
mother cancel the party.

But she
made it through the once-over, drank her orange juice and ate her cereal, took
her vitamin and antibiotic—counting down to the surgery, preventing any
possible heart infections that would delay things. Her mother was playing music
on the CD player: one of Rose’s favorites—“Aurora,” by Spirit. It made her
happy just to hear the song, and she knew her mother had put it on because she
loved it so much.

“Should we
save these for the boat?” her mother asked, standing there with several wrapped
packages.

Rose rubbed
her hands together and bounced in her seat. Her mother’s smile widened, as if
she were happy just to see Rose so excited. “Do we have to?” Rose asked.

Her mother
shook her head. “Not at all, honey. It’s your birthday—you can open them all
right now.”

So Rose
did. Her mother had wrapped every package differently—with beautiful papers of
pink roses and blue ribbons, of birds flying in formations shaped like hearts.
Rose undid the bows, pulled off the paper, and found four new books, a
telescope, a diary with a lock and key, and the new needlepoint square.

“Mama,” she
said, unrolling the canvas. It wasn’t framed yet, like the others. Rose felt
the square in her hands—the fine meshwork around the edges, the soft field of
yarn creating a picture straight from her mother’s heart—the latest in the
story of Rose’s life, to hang on her bedroom wall. “It’s beautiful.”

“Do you
like it?” her mother asked, leaning over, arm across Rose’s shoulders.

“I love
it,” Rose said, gazing at the images of Cape Hawk: the great sweeping bay
backed by the tall cliffs and pines, the grand white hotel … and in the
foreground, two girls—unmistakably Rose and Jessica—riding on the back of a
white whale. “Me and my best friend,” Rose said.

“Everyone
needs a best friend, sweetheart,” her mother said.

“Will she
come today?”

“Jessica?
Her mother said she would. Now, let’s get ready. The boat leaves at nine sharp,
and we don’t want it to leave without the birthday girl.”

Rose
nodded. While her mother quickly did the dishes, she walked down the hall to
her room, to change into her party clothes. She placed the canvas on her bed,
staring down at the smiling faces—Rose and her two best friends: one old, one
new. Closing her eyes, she stood by the window and wished, wished …

Her
birthday had always brought many different wishes, most of them secret. In past
years she had wished for her father to magically appear in her life, to love
her, to want her, to want to be part of their family. She had wished for a
grandmother to appear in the garden and make the flowers grow. She had wished
for a healthy heart … not just so she could run and play, but also so her
mother wouldn’t have to be so scared, so worried about losing her.

But this
year, Rose wished for just two things. They were so, so small—not so very much
to ask, considering all the gigantic wishes she had made over the years. Two
small, secret wishes …

At
eight-thirty, Marisa and Jessica drove past the sign NEILL FAMILY WHALE-WATCH
CRUISES and into the gravel parking lot. Marisa still hadn’t completely stopped
looking in her rearview mirror, checking to see that she wasn’t being followed.
She had chosen this location because it was so remote—the likelihood of Ted
stumbling upon them—if he was searching at all—was so very small. But at the
same time, she had a secret reason for coming here that would shock him if he
ever figured it out.

Her
husband’s great-grandfather had been a whaler from Canada. And in one of his
old photo albums, there had been a picture of the whaling ship—right here at
this same dock, in winter—with the snowy cliffs of the fjord rising
majestically behind the ice-coated spars. Marisa remembered staring at that
picture, thinking it looked like a port at the end of the world.
Beautiful, austere, and mysterious.

Now,
parking the car, she backed into the spot—so she could see what was coming. She
didn’t like anyone coming up from behind her.

She had
left a man so
brutal,
he had killed her daughter’s
puppy—just because she barked at night. Marisa had had to uproot her child, run
away from their home,
make
up pretend birthdays to
throw him off the track. She had learned to be careful, always.

Opening her
purse, she pulled out a small box.

“Honey, I
know we said we would stay completely true to our story, and our new lives, but
I couldn’t resist this. Happy birthday to you …”

“Mommy!”
Jessica said. “It’s for me? Can I open it?”

“Yes. Your
real birthday is in just a few days. I thought we would use Rose’s party for a
secret celebration of our own.”

Jessica
pulled off the ribbon, tore the paper, and opened the little velvet box. The
look in her eyes was worth every minute of trouble they’d been through: sheer
and total happiness.

“It’s
Grammie’s ring!”

“That’s
right, honey. Her nursing school ring …”

“She wore
it when she was a Navy nurse, and a pediatric nurse, and a private nurse,
right?”

“Yes. You
know all the stories. She loved helping people so much, and that’s what
inspired me to become a nurse too. Maybe it will inspire you.”

“So I can
help Rose?”

Marisa
nodded. She had been up late last night, reading as much as she could about
pediatric cardiac care. She didn’t know Rose’s diagnosis, but from the symptoms
she had exhibited and the fact she was scheduled for surgery, she knew that it
was serious. Maybe having Marisa’s mother’s ring would give Jessica a feeling
of some control, in the face of her friend’s serious illness.

“Mommy,
will we get seasick on the boat?”

“No. That’s
why I got you this bracelet,” Marisa said, slipping the elastic circlet over
Jess’s thin wrist. “The little bead rests against your pulse, and it keeps you
from feeling motion sick.”

“What about
you? Will you wear one?”

Marisa
didn’t reply, concentrating on getting the bracelet into position.

“Mom,
you’re coming, aren’t you?”

“Honey, I
have things to do at home.”

“Like what?
Sleeping?” The words snapped out before Jessica could call them back—Marisa saw
the regret in her eyes.

“Don’t say
that,” Marisa said, but Jess was right; since moving to Cape Hawk, Marisa had
spent most of her time lying down. Depression did that to a person: sapped her
strength, stole her hopes, made her feel like hiding in the darkness. And when
she thought about the causes of her depression—the same reasons that had driven
her to uproot herself and Jess, move hundreds of miles away—well, it made her
feel so exhausted and helpless, sleep seemed all the more alluring.

“If you’re
not going, I’m not going,” Jess said.

“Jess, it’s
not the same thing. Rose is your best friend, and she wants you at her party.
You’ve got a nice gift for her, and you made her a beautiful card. Her mother
has all her friends, and I don’t know anyone … besides, I need to clean. You
know I’ve let it get away from me
… .”

Just then
another car drove into the parking lot, horn tooting. It was Lily and Rose,
with huge, bright smiles on their faces, hands waving, Rose bouncing in her
seat with obvious joy. Marisa’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt herself
smile—a true smile, from inside. In that very same instant, tears popped into
her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone other than Jess had looked
genuinely happy to see her.

Lily and
Rose got out of their car and came over. Marisa rolled down her window.

“You don’t
have to wait in the car,” Rose said. “We can go on the boat right now!” She
grinned through the open window at Jess, who glanced at her mother.

“Please?”
Jess whispered.

“You’re
coming, right?” Rose asked, now looking at Marisa.

“Oh, you
have to,” Lily said. “We made party favors for everyone—one has your name on
it!”

“Mom?”
Jessica asked.

Marisa felt
the smile—not the one on her face, but the one inside—get bigger. Lily’s eyes
were bright and shining, staring into hers. Marisa had the strangest
feeling—that Lily understood the hesitation she was feeling. For an instant,
she wondered whether Lily could read her mind, know what was really going on;
she’d been feeling so raw and transparent for so long.

“I can’t,”
Marisa heard
herself
say, and suddenly tears began to
flow as if someone had turned on a water faucet.

Lily
reached into the open window and put her hand over Marisa’s. Marisa felt
electricity flowing right into her skin, and the look in Lily’s eyes was sharp
and understanding. At that moment, Jessica got out of the car and she and Rose
backed away, to look into the souvenir shop windows.

“I’m only
guessing,” Lily said. “But I think I know.”

“I never
tell anyone,” Marisa said.

“We need to
talk,” Lily said.
“Not now, because of the party.
But soon.
Look, come on the boat with us. It’s just women.
Come, for Jessica’s sake. She needs to see you strong, enjoying yourself.”

“I just
don’t feel like seeing people
… .”

Lily
smiled. “Is that why you chose this place at the end of the world?”

“How did
you guess?”

“I’ll tell
you another time … right now I have to get onboard the boat, for Rose. Will you
come with us?”

Marisa’s
palms were sweating, but she felt herself nod. Funny, her years of working as a
nurse had taught her plenty about dissociation—how people who’d been
traumatized could go through the motions of life and barely notice what they
were doing. As she gathered her purse, Jessica’s present for Rose, and her car
keys, she knew that she had been sleepwalking for most of the time they had
been in Cape Hawk.