East Hope (31 page)

Will's brake lights flared and he slowed further. Suddenly Caroline heard the crunch of gravel and watched as Will's car swerved abruptly to the left. Somehow she followed. She thought she could hear the roar of water, but that was impossible, as they were nowhere near the ocean itself. Through her window, opened only a crack, came the wet smell of the tide. They must be on the causeway now. She held the wheel tighter and breathed in gulps of air, trying to remain as alert as possible. A few moments later he picked up speed. She thought she felt a different surface beneath the wheels and tried to remember where the newer road began. They must be getting closer to the village.

Caroline pictured Will again standing beside his wife when she had gone to see him at the store the week before. They were obviously no longer separated. That dark-haired woman, his lovely young wife, was clearly back in his life. They were a couple again. In only those few minutes in front of Taunton's, even Caroline could see that. The fact that he was married shouldn't make any difference to her. She fought back a proprietary urge to have him all to herself. Probably her hormonal changes were causing these silly thoughts.

Soon the road began to climb and Will's car came more clearly into view. Lila's house was less than a mile away, and Caroline knew they would make it. When he turned into her driveway she found herself smiling, almost giddy with the realization that she was safe. Lila's house was at a higher elevation and the fog was no longer as heavy. She turned off the engine and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. Thank heavens for this dear, dear man. What if he hadn't come along?

Will tapped on her window. “You going to spend the night in there?”

She smiled and opened her door. “Oh, God. How can I ever thank you? I'm not sure what came over me.”

“You were right to be scared,” he said. “As they say around here, it was wicked awful. I nearly went in the water once.” He followed Caroline to the back door. “You okay now?”

“Yes. I never could have done it without you.”

“I'm happy I came along,” he said affably, and then more seriously, “It's probably not a good idea for you to be out alone in this weather. I was pretty nervous myself.”

Caroline explained about being held up at the doctor's office in Ellsworth. “Can I get you anything?” she asked. She reached into her bag for her keys. “I could put together some dinner.” She forgot for a moment that he might need to hurry home to his wife.

“Thanks—but I should probably keep going. I don't think this is going to let up for a while. I'd better get around the harbor while the road is still passable.”

“Of course,” she said. The back door yielded to her push and she flipped on the lights. “Thanks again, Will.” She stepped inside and let out a small cry.

Will spun around. “You sure you're okay?” He hurried up the steps and followed Caroline into the hall.

She stood very still, a hand on her belly. “Wait.” She looked down and then up at him. “I felt the baby. Oh, my. It's just a flutter, but yes, I'm sure.”

“Is that good?” His forehead wrinkled and his expression grew worried.

“Yes,” she said. “Very good.”

“It can already move?” He glanced at her belly and drew his eyebrows together in concern.

Caroline bobbed her head up and down, smiling foolishly, her hand across her abdomen.

“You're truly okay?”

“Truly, Will.”

“I'll be off then.” He looked at her as if he didn't quite believe her, then backed down the steps before turning to go to his car. Caroline stood at the door and gave a final wave as the green Jeep eased out into the night.

The following week Will showed up for his first tutoring session at the East Hope Library. He had become a good friend of Edna, the head librarian, who had called him on numerous occasions when patrons brought in boxes of books that they no longer wanted. The East Hope Library, a square stone building in the center of the village, had limited shelf space, and Edna and Mr. Taunton had exchanged extra books over the years. She had been happy to continue this arrangement with Will. She liked talking about literature with Will and had stopped in at the bookstore numerous times over the summer.

“Penny said you'd help us out for a while,” she said. “These poor teachers are so overworked. It's usually the troublemakers who take up all their time.” Edna had short graying hair and wore old-fashioned-looking blouses with cardigan sweaters.

Will had already gone to the high school to fill out the forms necessary to become a volunteer and had met with the guidance counselor, a frazzled-looking woman called Janet Wiseman. She had explained that he would be working with a senior girl, Crystal Thomas, who needed help with writing.

“Edna said you used to be a teacher,” Janet had said, sizing him up with dark eyes set deeply in a doughy face.

“Yes. I taught at a small women's college in Pennsylvania.”

“Where was that?”

Will told her that the school was west of Philadelphia, but that he gave up teaching to follow a lifelong dream to live on the water, that he'd always loved bookstores, and that he'd found Taunton's Used Books in an ad in
Down East,
thus not responding completely to her question.

“As you can imagine, we need more volunteers in our schools.” She had seemed to be sizing him up and looked cautious, as if his story weren't believable. “I must say, it's surprising to have someone like you show up.”

After a few more cursory questions she had sent him on his way. The unpleasant business at Habliston stirred in his mind, but it seemed a long time ago.

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows onto the one wooden table in the main reading room. Edna's desk was set in front of the side window and was filled with pots of geraniums hungry for the last of the day's light. This library, like every library he had ever known, had the warm, weighty smell of books, and reminded him again of his childhood library and the Saturday-morning trips there with his mother. He and Rusty picked out two books every week.

Edna directed Will to the reference room, where his student was waiting. He found her hunched over a notebook, drawing, her hair hiding most of her face.

“You must be Crystal,” he said.

She put down her pencil and looked up. “Hi,” she said, and tucked her hair behind her ears. She pushed back her chair as if to rise.

“Please don't get up,” he said, and sat quickly in the chair opposite her. “I'm Will Harmon. Miss Raymond said you could use some help with your writing.”

Crystal was pale, with hair the color of harvested wheat. She wore a cream-colored T-shirt, and, Will guessed, faded jeans, though he couldn't see from where he sat. A navy jacket lay crumpled on the table beside her.

“I need to do an essay,” she said. “It's for a scholarship. Ms. Wiseman says I've got a good chance at it.” Her eyes, a deep blue, surged with life. “I've got to win this.”

“Ms. Wiseman says you've had high honors every year.”

She looked away as if embarrassed by this fact.

“Do you like to read?”

“I love to.” Some color started to warm her face.

“What do you like reading?”

Crystal told him that her favorite book was
Jane Eyre
and that this past summer she had read
Middlemarch,
all 680 pages.

“If you're reading books like that, you're not going to have any problems,” he said.

“Yeah, right. But reading English stuff doesn't help me write about Maine.” Crystal explained, “I have to write about a pivotal event that shaped my life growing up here.”

Will groaned inwardly. He'd like to see some of the judges tackle a topic like that.

“Probably the hardest part of an essay,” he said, “is before you even start to put words down on paper. It's the thinking part, coming up with the ideas. After that it's simply a matter of ordering the ideas, clarifying them, and putting in specific examples.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It's not exactly easy, but I bet you'll like the work once you get started.”

She leaned back and sighed. Her blue eyes darkened and appeared to challenge him. “It's getting started that's my problem. And it's got to be at least a thousand words.” She picked up the pencil and began doodling in her notebook.

“Look at it this way: Just your being here and asking for help is already a start.”

Crystal gave Will a level gaze, as if to tell him not to kid around. This was a chance at college. Without the scholarship she'd be right here in East Hope commuting to the community college and working part-time, a much longer and more tedious road.

“I'm serious.” He pointed across at her notebook. “You're just sketching—doodling, right?”

She nodded and stopped moving the pencil.

“Before you write, you've got to have some ideas. The best way to sort out ideas is by writing them down.”

Crystal looked at Will more intently. “What's that supposed to mean?” Her doubting expression returned.

“Don't start with sentences. Let's just sketch with words.”

Will launched into a series of questions, asking Crystal who were the important people in her life, how she knew them, what she did with them, how she felt about them. He encouraged her to jot down only words, phrases, in no certain order. After a while he told her to keep jotting, doodling with the words. They agreed to meet again the following day after school.

When Will returned to Taunton's late that afternoon, it was almost dark. He hurried up the stairs to the apartment. He wanted to find some good examples of essays for Crystal to study, nothing too literary or erudite, just good, accessible writing. Helping her think through and construct an essay was going to be a challenge, but he had a good feeling about it. It was a feeling he'd been missing.

Lights were on at Caroline's house across the bay. He thought of her all alone in that big house with a baby coming. Talk about a challenge.

The light on his answering machine blinked. He pressed the replay button and Penny Taunton's voice filled the room. “Give a call, Will. Dad's had an offer from a developer over at Bangor. He wants to buy the property, tear down the store, and build some fancy new house. We'd rather have you buy and keep the business. We need an answer right away.”

S
everal weeks later, on a perfectly clear night, Will drove to Caroline's house. The village of East Hope was quiet, with only a few cars parked on the street. Most of the residents had already eaten supper, and the aqueous blue light of televisions glowed steadily from windows along the way. People had started to prepare for Halloween. The neighboring yards and porches were already decorated with pumpkins and corn husks.

Will was oblivious to the decorations marking the upcoming holiday. He and Mary Beth had had a terrible argument. Their peaceful reunion at the beginning of September was long forgotten. After Penny's message, Will had tried to reach Mary Beth. He found out that she was on a business trip in Phoenix, and by the time he had tracked her down on her cell phone he had already put a bid in on Taunton's to meet Penny's deadline.

“You did this without telling me?”

“I tried to reach you in time.”

“Not hard enough.”

“Mary Beth, you can't believe how reasonable this place is. I couldn't let it go. Besides, some guy was going to tear the building down. Penny and her dad didn't want to sell to him.”

“That's charitable of you.”

She was furious. He knew she had a right to be. “Mary Beth, you're a businesswoman. We can't lose on this.”

“Are you still coming to New York?”

“Of course. Nothing's changed.”

“You said you'd be here after Columbus Day.”

“Buying the place has tied me up. It will take a few more weeks. Definitely by Thanksgiving.”

“I'm starting to wonder, Will.” Her voice had taken on a lifeless quality.

Will had started to wonder too. He couldn't get Mary Beth out of his head. After her angry reaction, all of the arrangements for buying Taunton's made him feel uneasy, instead of filling him with happy anticipation. He couldn't bear to let go of this piece of East Hope, yet his decision had become another stumbling block in their marriage. He tried to convince himself that once he got to New York he and Mary Beth could smooth things out.

Caroline had called Will to invite him to dinner, as a thank-you, she explained, for rescuing her in the fog. He had looked forward to this evening all week. Along with his doubts about Mary Beth, an unexpected loneliness had come over him. The days were growing shorter and the dark came early this far east. He found the evenings especially difficult. The darkness itself fostered an inward brooding.