Breakwater Bay (8 page)

“This was supposed to be a family vacation, and she’s done everything she can think of to make life miserable for everyone.”

Do not engage,
he told himself. Argument never did any good. Their arguments had once led to great sex, but even that had paled after the first few months. Now, he just didn’t care.

In the background he heard Nora yell, “I’m going to Dad’s.”

“Fine, suit yourself. I’ve had it with you. We’ll drop her off on our way.”

“When are you—”

She hung up before he could ask when they would arrive. He got down a mug and poured coffee into it. He’d better get some work done. It looked like he was going to have a visit from his daughter.

T
herese was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, and deliberating about whether to ask Alden to drive her into town, when there was a knock at the back door. She smiled, knowing who it was, but she also felt a secondary moment of panic. Once the decision was made, there was no going back.

The door opened and Alden stuck his head inside.

“Come in. Pour yourself a cup of coffee.” Therese pulled her own mug closer and wrapped both hands around it. It was comfortably snug in the kitchen, but she couldn’t seem to get her hands warm.

She watched Alden shed his windbreaker and hang it over the back of the chair. Watched his back as he reached in the cabinet for a mug, poured out coffee. When he turned to come back to the table, he stopped, tilted his head in the way he had, then came over to sit opposite her.

“Therese, are you feeling okay?”

“Yes.” Physically, anyway. But for the rest of it . . . “I have something on my mind.”

Alden nodded.

“There is a box. Laura left it for Meri.” She looked up from her coffee to find Alden watching her. She could never tell what he was thinking. It was like his thoughts were so deep inside him that they had a hard time coming out. But she knew they were there.

When she was a girl, there had been a boy like that in her class at school. He sometimes came to help out at the farm when it was still a working farm. He pretty much kept to himself, even though he knew Therese from school.

She’d asked her father why he never said much.

“He’s a deep one,” her father said.

Alden was another deep one. God only knew what lived in his brain along with all those fanciful creatures he drew, sometimes beautiful and colorful; sometimes black and frightening, bringing a chill all the way up your spine.

He’d been such a loving boy and like a big brother to Meri, patient and kind even though he was twelve years her senior. Then he married that awful women. Therese thought she must have squeezed all the love right out of him. But he was loyal. And he loved his children. And the Calders. And especially Meri.

She swallowed. “I wanted to ask you if you would drive me to Newport to give it to her.”

His eyebrows dipped. “Mind if I ask what’s in it?”

Therese shook her head, took a breath. “Just some things Laura wanted Meri to have. Mementos. Letters from her father . . . that is, from Huey to Laura. A few papers.” She paused. “A diary.”

She hadn’t realized that she was no longer looking at Alden until she heard his intake of breath. Then she forced herself to look him in the eye—those dark gray eyes under black lashes that had made him such a beautiful boy. When had those eyes become so unfathomable?

But she knew the answer: the night they had placed a grown man’s burden on his young shoulders, the night he’d sworn to keep their secret.

A sound escaped from somewhere deep inside her. Alden was on his feet and coming to her. “Gran,” he said, just like he was still a boy.

She held up her hand warding him off; she didn’t deserve his sympathy, his concern. He’d lost his innocence of the world that night, and it was partially her fault.

He ignored her, dragging a chair over and sitting down; he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. “It’s all right. It will be all right.”

“So you will take me?”

“No.”

She pulled away. “Then I’ll take the bus.”

“Gran, listen to me. Wait. Don’t make her assimilate this all by herself away from us.”

“Alden, I know you want to protect her, you always have. But it might be easier if she doesn’t have us looking over her shoulder, pressuring her. I may be selfish, but now that it’s started, I want it done. Not for myself. I would rather have taken this to the grave with me. But I didn’t, and now that she knows, it has to finish, if any of us, especially Meri”—
Or you
—“are going to get on with our lives. Whether she accepts us or rejects us, we can’t keep her bound by this secret any longer.”

“It might be easier on her, but what if she—” He stopped abruptly, but she knew what he would have said.

“If she doesn’t want us?”

He looked bleak. Alden, maybe more than either Laura or her, was tied firmly to Meri, whether he realized it or not. Once this was done, he would be free, too.

Alden straightened in his chair as if resolved. “I have to go to the city tomorrow to turn in some pages and talk to my editor. I’ll stop by her work on my way. I was going to anyway.”

“You’re a good boy.”

He lifted an eyebrow and she realized her mistake. For a minute she’d been somewhere else, sometime long ago. “A good man.”

“I was coming over to tell you. Nora is coming for spring break. She’ll be here on Saturday. I was going to ask Meri if she had some time to maybe show her around, or do something with her. I have a lot of work to do next week, and she gets bored quickly.

“I’ll ask Meri if she can come this weekend. That way she can read everything here, and if she has questions, you’ll be here to answer them.”

Therese shook her head. “I thought about this all night. It’s better for everyone if it isn’t dragged out. She has a right to know it all. Am I being selfish to want this finished?”

“No. Of course not; you’ve never been selfish, ever since I’ve known you. Am I?”

“You? Why would you say such a thing?”

He bit his lip, then asked quietly, “Am I in the diary?”

Therese patted his hand, understanding dawning. “Perhaps.”

He pulled his hand away, braced his elbows on the table, and lowered his head to his hands.

“What is it? You only did good things.”

“I didn’t tell her. All these years I never told her. I never told anyone.”

Therese rubbed his back, just like she had the night Meri was born as they waited for Wilton to pick him up and take him home—a boy with an awful burden thrust upon him.

She’d known even then Alden would never break a promise, but she drew the line at making a boy lie to his father. So she told Wilton the whole story. How Alden had saved the girl and the baby. How the girl had made him promise not to tell anyone about her or Merielle.

They didn’t know then how desperate the girl was. They thought it was just exposure to being out in the rain, that she would come around. She’d see her baby and feel better. The night Meri was born, they’d let Alden in to see the baby, and she asked to speak to him alone. Therese shouldn’t have allowed it. But she didn’t have the heart to deny the girl’s request.

So she and Laura had retreated to the hallway and stood listening behind the closed door. He’d promised to take care of her baby. And he had—for thirty years. “It won’t make a difference to her.”

“Won’t it?”

“Well, perhaps she’ll be a little miffed at first. But when she thinks about it, she’ll be grateful.”

“Which is just what I’m afraid of. But if you want me to take the box, I will.” He stood up. “Where is it?”

Therese pushed herself up from the table. She felt weak and old and guilty. New guilt heaped on the old. Once again she was asking Alden to do something she had hoped they would never have to do.

“It’s in here,” she said and walked out of the kitchen.

M
eri and Carlyn stuffed themselves with Belgian waffles, covered in fruit and whipped cream, and drank two cappuccinos apiece as they carefully avoided more talk about the past. But Meri could feel the bond between them had grown stronger. And she trusted Carlyn with her life.

She just hoped that she was as good a friend to Carlyn as Carlyn was to her.

They parted on the sidewalk outside of Barney’s, Carlyn off to the lab and office to catch up on paperwork, and Meri to do laundry.

Life goes on,
Meri thought as she carried work clothes, sheets, and pillowcases down to the basement. As she shoved clothes into the washer, she was hit with an image of the past weekend: her dad clasping the locket around her neck, a picture of him and her mother. She knew it was his way of telling her that nothing had changed, that he claimed her for his own. And she had to believe him.

She did believe him and that grounded her more than anything else. Alden was right, as he often was, damn him. Indiscretion in the backseat of a Chevy did not make a mother or a father.

And Meri realized, not for the first time, just how lucky she was.

Her cell rang as she was folding pillowcases. Will, the youngest Hollis. Guess the word was out.

“Yo, sis. Whatcha doing?”

“Laundry. How about you? Studying by any chance?”

“I’m watching a
Star Wars
marathon. For my film class.”

“Uh-huh.”

Heavy sigh across the connection. “And then I’m going to the library to study for my biology final.”

“Finals already?”

“Yep, then I’m headed south for some fun in the sun. Uh, unless you need me to do anything.”

God, she loved her brothers.
Her brothers.
“I need you just to be you. Go have fun, but first try acing your exams.”

“Will do. Gotta go. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” They hung up. Meri wiped away a tear. Awkward and obvious. She couldn’t remember the last time her youngest brother had said he loved her.

She finished folding the laundry and carried it upstairs to wait for the other two to call.

She didn’t have long to wait. She’d barely gotten her underwear back in the drawer when her dad called to let her know he’d told everyone. Matt’s call followed almost immediately. Gabe and Penny called together, then Penny called back on her own to offer girl time. Another call from her father to see how she was. They’d all obviously been communicating. The last one was from Gran, sounding so tired and frail that Meri was tempted to drive back and take Monday off.

They were all filled with love, reassuring, and insisting that nothing was any different than it had always been. They were wonderful and it was exhausting.

She went to bed and the calls played over and over in her mind. They loved her, she had no doubt of that. But it was still a lot to take in.

M
eri awoke Monday morning, dragged out and not ready to face the world. She contemplated calling in sick, but that was crazy. She needed to get some distance on this, and work would get her back on an even keel. Work was the one thing she could lose herself in, where she wouldn’t have to think about anything that was happening in her life.

So what if cleaning away layers of paint with a solution of vinegar and water was on the tedious side. Today she was thankful to be studying someone else’s past rather than her own. She was heartily sick of thinking about herself.

Fortunately her ceiling had been pronounced lead free, unlike the walls she had taken samples from wearing toxin-resistant overalls, latex gloves, and a respirator. By now most everything on the first floor was close to being documented. She’d started alternating between sampling and cleaning. With most of the sampling finished, she could concentrate solely on her ceiling.

If they passed the next lead and asbestos test, they would be home free. At least with the ceiling declared lead free, she wouldn’t have to suit up; and it meant that there wouldn’t be that many layers of paint to clean away before getting to the original pattern.

Last Friday had been the first day she’d begun to have an idea of what it might look like. She’d started at one edge of the circular area last week and was working a grid toward the center in order to reveal more of the full pattern.

This was hindered because the ceiling was embellished by ornamental plaster decorations, their intricate designs made more difficult to discern by the sloppy overpainting, and the cleaning had to be executed gently to avoid breaking off delicate details.

The morning passed quickly; she was back in the zone as more and more of the pattern revealed itself. She hardly thought about anything but what the ceiling would look like when she was finished. And then she’d knock on the wooden scaffolding that they would get the rest of the funds needed to bring the house back to its former glory.

She lost track of time until Carlyn yelled, “Hey, you,” from below her. “It’s almost two. Come have lunch with me.”

Meri had been ignoring the rumblings in her stomach for the last hour. She’d had a carton of yogurt at six that morning while she read the latest issue of
Preservation
magazine. That was hours ago. She hadn’t brought lunch.

“Can you order—”

“Already did. Now come down.”

Meri secured her tools and climbed down. The woodworkers were already back at work after their lunch break. The paint had been stripped under the careful eyes of the EPA several weeks ago. Beneath it, golden oak window and door frames were being repaired or replaced with the help of several interns.

She cleaned up and joined Carlyn at the kitchen table. Doug’s desk, which occupied the far corner, was piled high with papers, but it was missing their director.

Meri and Carlyn had the kitchen to themselves.

“So what’s new?” Carlyn asked.

Meri gave her a look. “What’s for lunch?”

“Turkey and Swiss on a croissant, and roast beef and brie with mustard on an egg roll.” She slid the roast beef toward Meri. “And spring mix salad to get in our green quota.” She pushed a Styrofoam bowl across the table, then reached in the fridge for two bottles of water.

Meri unwrapped her sandwich and glanced at Carlyn. “You look tired.”

“Probably from spending most of yesterday looking for ways to squeeze more than a hundred pennies out of every dollar.”