The Things I Do For You (36 page)

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Authors: Mary Carter

BOOK: The Things I Do For You
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In between ignoring the occasional guest, Bailey and Brad threw themselves into setting up the museum. Bailey gathered articles about lighthouses, which she framed and mounted on the wall. She even became somewhat crafty, using shells, and bits of worn glass, and driftwood she’d plucked from the river to decorate the frames. Brad built a display case for the original Fresnel lens, and even set up a kerosene lamp with a silver bucket next to it that they labeled W
HALEO
IL
. During this time he held several board meetings through Skype, all of which Bailey refused to attend, although she did read the minutes afterward. The board was excited about the lens, of course, and was taking precautions to get it insured.
They stocked the little gift shop as well. They would sell miniature lighthouses, postcards, and candles for a start. Bailey wasn’t thinking about her future; rather she threw herself into the projects so she wouldn’t have to think. Winter would soon be upon them, and lately by early afternoon, the horizon would turn into an endless gray, an on-the-verge-of-a-storm gloom, and in the mornings the ground would be covered with frost, and besides Captain Jack taking off, all anyone in town could talk about was the winter, wondering how bad the river would freeze this year.
Bailey wished she could enjoy it more. They had holidays looming, Thanksgiving and Christmas. She wanted to be happy. She wanted a big turkey and a table full of guests, and a Christmas tree, and Christmas carols, and roaring fires. She even wanted Captain Jack back. She wanted to see his ferry decked in lights, she wanted to buy overpriced eggnog from Island Supplies. She probably would have forgiven the old captain if he stayed. Sure, he would have been brought up on trespassing charges—other than that, what else could they have charged him with? Impersonating a ghost? Jake had certainly destroyed quite a bit of their property while searching for the lens, and of course had charged them for his contracting work in the meantime, but Bailey still thought she and Brad would have gone pretty easy on them. Unfortunately, sometimes people just didn’t give you a chance to be the bigger person. The biggest wedge between Bailey and Brad was no longer the past, but the present. Bailey wanted Brad to find his son. He adamantly refused. So the two of them mirrored what the river was soon to become. Bailey was frozen, and Brad was immovable. Bailey even missed the days of Olivia. After Thomas almost destroyed the urn a second time, it had quietly disappeared from the Crow’s Nest. Brad didn’t tell her what he did with it, and Bailey didn’t ask.
Chapter 37
Keeper’s Log
Brad Jordan
 
You’re not supposed to meet the love of your life at ten years old. But if you do, like I did, you’re not supposed to sleep with other women. But if you do, like I did, you’re supposed to be a stand-up guy. I wasn’t. I gave up all parental rights to my son. Signed a document and everything. Then I kept it from the woman I love more than life itself. Sure, I was young, and stupid, and scared. And I was probably a little bit relieved at the time too. Relieved that someone else was taking the decision out of my hands, relieved that I could convince myself there was nothing else I could have done, relieved that I was just able to walk away, bury that one night of my life that would come to follow me the rest of my days.
 
If I had it to do over, I pray I would be a stand-up guy. Although Hargrave certainly had the money to hire the best attorneys. And if I had to do it all over, I still would’ve believed his lies that I was going to do serious jail time. I should’ve said, ‘Bring it on,’ but of course I didn’t. But I do know that if I could take it all back, I would have told Bailey. Right? I probably would have lost her. She would’ve walked away. Who would she be now? Would she be happier? Would she have children? Would she have lived all her life in one place that she could call home instead of being dragged all over the place?
 
I really did buy this lighthouse so that I could give her a home. I wanted her to have a safe port in the storm. Bailey is still in shock, I can tell by the way she moves, how she holds her body, how difficult it is for her to look me in the eye. But she’s still here, isn’t she? We’re working on the museum, and the gift shop, and she’s even trying out new recipes on the few guests we’ve had since the incident.
 
Bailey wants me to contact him. She says my son is a grown man and he has a right to decide whether or not he wants to meet me. And I could tell him how I thought about him every single day. On his birthday, holidays, every time I passed a kid that would be around his age. I know Bailey is right, but something holds me back. Is it fear? Or am I still the same old selfish son of a—
 
Oh God. Bailey’s right. This
is
a fucking diary.
 
Bailey woke up one morning to find a bedraggled, bloated blond woman in the kitchen. Bailey didn’t even have time to speak before the woman launched herself from her seat at the head of the dining table and reached out to her.
“Money means shit,” she said. “Fame means shit.” Bailey nodded slowly, backing up while trying to remember which drawer held the sharp knives. She should never have started watching that zombie series with Brad. “We bought the penthouse despite that dorky chocolate-chip-scented candle and slide show of the Frick museum!”
“Allissa?” Bailey said. It was her voice, but it definitely wasn’t her body. Wow, people really did let themselves go when they found true love.
“Like I don’t already have a million pictures of where I got married!”
“But didn’t the scent of chocolate chips make you feel warm and cozy?”
“No. I don’t eat chocolate chips.”
You didn’t then,
Bailey thought.
But it certainly looks like you do now
. She was mature enough not to say it. Besides, Allissa didn’t look fat by any means, she just wasn’t her previous skeletal state. She looked better, but between the weight gain and black mascara running down her face, Bailey wouldn’t have recognized her in a million years. It was then that Bailey noticed Allissa came with baggage. Four large Louis Vuittons, to be exact.
“How did you get here?” Bailey said. “The ferry is no longer in service.”
Allissa gestured out the window. “I came in one of our smaller yachts,” she said.
“Of course you did.” Bailey gestured for Allissa to sit while she shuffled over to the coffeemaker.
“All he does is work, work, work!” Allissa whined.
“Greg?”
“Of course, Greg. Who else? Our yacht captain?” And if she hadn’t already, Bailey would have recognized Allissa’s sarcasm anywhere.
“Bear with me,” Bailey said. “Just starting the coffee.”
“We have some made on the yacht if you’d like me to have someone bring it. Speaking of which, where should Manuel put my luggage?” Upon mention of the name, a short middle-aged man wearing a tux and white gloves entered the kitchen and stood at attention. Apparently, he’d been listening and waiting on the other side of the door. For some reason, he looked familiar.
“Allissa,” Bailey said. “You didn’t make a reservation.” Not that they had any other guests, but Bailey wasn’t really in the mood for any, especially someone as high maintenance as Allissa. Allissa gestured at Manuel, who immediately pulled a checkbook out of his breast pocket.
“I’m staying at least a month,” Allissa said. “Will fifty thousand do? Consider the extra a donation to your sad little gift shop museum thingy you have going on in there. You don’t even have blankets or chocolates, for God’s sakes.” Blankets and chocolates. They actually weren’t a bad idea.
“Upstairs, first room on the left, Manuel.” He smiled at her, and recognition dawned.
“Carlos?” Bailey said. “Is that you?”
“His name is Manuel now,” Allissa said.
“But you’re Carlos, right? With the shopping cart and the megaphone, and the end of the world?”
“Allissa offered me employment,” Carlos said.
“Don’t say I never give to the homeless!” Allissa said.
“What about the end of the world?” Bailey said.
“It’s easier to accept when you have a hot meal and a place to sleep,” Carlos said.
“Do you live in the penthouse?”
“My God,” Allissa said. “I’m not Mother Teresa.”
“Studio in Harlem,” Carlos said. “And I still have my shopping cart.”
“Can you please stop chatting up the help?” Allissa said.
“Would you like help with the suitcases?” Bailey asked. Carlos-Manuel looked stricken at the idea. He shook his head, hurried over to the four large suitcases, and lifted them with ease, proportioning two on each side.
“Inappropriate!” he whispered at her as he scurried by. Bailey was relieved to see some of the old Carlos was still in Manuel.
“Since you’ve already had coffee, would you like something else to drink?” Bailey asked.
“Fresh-squeezed orange juice, please,” Allissa said.
“We just have store-bought,” Bailey said. Allissa nodded, but it appeared to make her sad. Bailey bit back asking if Allissa wanted her to drop everything and grow the tree. “I could put some champagne in it and make it a mimosa,” Bailey said.
“I’m pregnant,” Allissa said.
“I’ll drink the champagne,” Bailey said.
 
Allissa lit up the minute she saw Brad. Color came flooding back to her pale cheeks, and when she smiled her eyes seemed to sparkle. This time, Bailey wasn’t jealous. It was good to see Allissa come back to life, and Bailey felt a familiar surge of pride that her husband had that effect on people, even if by “people” she meant women. The three of them had dinner together and allowed Allissa to hold court. Bailey was surprised to hear Allissa say that she didn’t want her child to be raised by a nanny. She must have read Bailey’s mind.
“I know I seem spoiled,” she said. “And I am. But I wasn’t always. I grew up with two parents, and no nanny, and so will my child. I’m not saying I’ll never have help. Or ‘me time’ or ‘spa time,’ but being a mom is a full-time job, and I intend to do that job.”
“I’m proud of you,” Bailey said. “That’s great.”
“But Greg is never home. I’m all alone in that humungous place all the time. I mean, so far I keep myself busy with television shoots and the like, but it’s all going to change when we have this baby.”
“A baby does change everything,” Bailey said. She didn’t dare glance at Brad.
“I’m so jealous of you two,” Allissa said. “You’d be the perfect parents. And look at this quaint, cozy little place. What kid wouldn’t want to grow up in a lighthouse!”
“Have you talked to Greg about this?” Bailey said. “He’s crazy about you. I’m sure he’d be willing to cut his hours when the baby comes along.”
“Being crazy about someone doesn’t necessarily mean you’re always going to do the right thing, you know?” Brad said.
“We’re talking about Greg here,” Bailey said.
“Right, right, but just so you know, you can be totally, madly, in love, crazy about someone and still not do the right thing,” Brad said. “Whatever that is.”
Allissa looked from Brad to Bailey and back.
“Whatever that is?” Bailey said. “Do you honestly think, where a child is concerned, that there’s any room for murk?”
“Murk?” Allissa said.
“You know—murky,” Bailey said.
“Oh. Murky,” Allissa said.
“Murky waters,” Brad said.
“Exactly,” Bailey said. “Where a child is concerned, there are no murky waters. Just murky, knuckleheaded men.”
“Tell me one seventeen-year-old who knows how to handle something like that? You have no idea of the kind of pressure that can be put on someone.”
“Greg’s a lot older than seventeen,” Allissa said. “But he’ll be flattered.”
“Being young is one thing,” Bailey said. “Pressure is another. But lying to the person you love—the person who’s done nothing but love you through coffees, and sweaters, and freaking surfboards—being by that person’s side for give or take twenty-six years, obviously give away the night you spent with that little tramp from next door—that’s a horse of a different color, buddy. That’s—that’s just unforgivable.” Bailey stood up from the table. She knew she was being unfair to Allissa, but it had all just bubbled out of her. She had honestly and quite naïvely thought she was over the shock of Brad having a son. She had rationalized it away—he was so young, it was so long ago. Intellectually, Bailey had maturely processed it, but inside, she was still raw, and terribly sad, and angry.
Allissa’s mouth was hanging open. Brad put his head down on the table. “Do you see me, Brad? I’m not even throwing things. But I can’t sit here and listen to poor little Allissa whine because she’s pregnant.”
“Hey!”
“Your husband will do the right thing. I hope. I don’t know how you make men appreciate babies. If I knew that I’d have one of my own by now. But at least you know you’ll be able to raise this child no matter what.”
“Am I missing something here?” Allissa said.
“I’m sorry,” Brad said. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“I’m sure you are. But I’m not even the one who matters now,” Bailey said.
“Thank you,” Allissa said.
“I don’t want to discuss this,” Brad said. “Not here and now.”
“Here and now is all we have, Brad. You should know that better than anyone. You have to find him. You have to find him and tell him everything and get this terrible, terrible weight off your chest.”
“I hear you,” Brad said. “And I’ve thought about it—I seriously have. But I can’t, I just can’t.”
“I am so sick of listening to your excuses,” Bailey said. “All these years, the millions of excuses you had not to have a baby. And now this. This is not like my husband. My husband is not a coward!”
“Greg?” Allissa said. “Are we still talking about Greg?”
“No,” Bailey said. “But if you want to talk to Greg, then call him.”
“I’d rather he suffer for a while,” Allissa said.
“That’s very mature,” Bailey said. “Both of you. Very mature.” She turned and walked in the direction of the tower.
“She’s become more aggressive since living on the water,” Allissa whispered to Brad.
 
Bailey stood in the tower, gazing out at the water. Something in her had cracked and split wide open. She wanted to cry, she wanted to rage, she wanted to leap off the tower. Yet she had no right, because there was a young man out there who was the innocent player in the drama. Brad had a son, and he wasn’t even going to make an attempt to see him? Just like him. Just like writing in those notebooks all those years, never sharing a word. Slamming doors. Starting over. Again and again. Keeping this secret from her. Denying her a child of their own. And not even coming out and denying it, but stringing her along, putting it off as if it were a project he didn’t want to face, as if it were August and he didn’t understand why she was bitching at him to take the Christmas lights down from the rim of the roof.
Was the universe testing their love? She felt as if she’d invested so much, given so much, opened herself up time and again. Was it too late to leave? Wouldn’t the time have been when she was in her twenties with all the optimism and angst those years bring? Bailey noticed a kayaker coming toward shore. She grabbed the binoculars and peered out. She could have sworn it was Jake. She wondered what the little ghost maker was up to now. She hurried out to catch him.

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