Life Happens (12 page)

“I hope to God I match.”

“So do I.”

He started toward a car parked in front of the house next door.

“Dean?”

He looked at her over the roof of his car.

“Use the back door next time,” she said. “The front door is for company.”

His expression took her back.

And then he drove away.

It had been a long, draining, exhausting day.

Mya used to insist she could never work in a hospital, but as Elle went through test after test, discomfort after discomfort, indignity after indignity, Mya noticed that the doctors, nurses and technicians inflicting the pain and discomfort often had tears in their eyes, too. Mya wanted to make them stop. At the same time, she wanted to grasp each of their hands and thank them for the part they were playing in Elle’s treatment and cure.

The worst was the bone marrow biopsy. Mya couldn’t watch the procedure during which the doctor inserted a long needle into the back of Elle’s hip, extracting marrow from deep inside the center of her bone. It was horrible to watch Elle’s face contort in pain. That hurt far more than Elle’s crushing grip on her hand. But Elle endured the in
vasion, the indignity, the discomfort and the pain with a quiet constraint that humbled Mya.

By the end of the afternoon, Elle had been poked, injected, tested and nearly drained of her blood. It made twenty-six hours of body-splitting labor seem like a stroll in the park.

Beyond exhausted, Elle huddled in a chair with her eyes closed. And Mya wondered if she and Dean were doing the right thing by forcing her to go through this. But the alternative was unthinkable.

Helplessness, worry and the smell of the hospital churned in the pit of her stomach. What else must they face?

Thankfully, Dr. Andrews didn’t keep them waiting long.

He entered his private office and quietly closed the door. Mya dreaded what he was going to say. He glanced at the checklist of tests that had been run, riffled through Elle’s file, then closed it, setting it aside.

“There,” he said, looking at Elle.

“Easy for you to say,” Elle said, opening her eyes. “What’s next?”

“You have a little wait ahead of you while the lab technicians do their jobs. Meanwhile, I’m prescribing vitamins, exercise and weight gain. The next time I see you, I want there to be more of you. Eat. I’d like to see some
color on your cheeks, too. More than anything, I want you to have some fun.”

“What?” Elle and Mya said together.

He took off his glasses. That nurse that first day was right. Bryce Andrews was gorgeous.

“Fun,” he said. “You remember that, don’t you? Go shopping or dancing, or better yet, go lie on a white beach somewhere.”

“I hear the weather in Maine in famously harsh until July,” Elle said.

He smiled. “I hear that, too. As much as everybody complains about it, why do you suppose so many people stay here?”

“Bullheadedness,” Elle answered.

“Watch it,” Mya said. She couldn’t believe it. They were joking.

The dread lessened.

Dr. Andrews was prescribing a reprieve. Later there would be talk of IVs and a port surgically placed, treatment options and plans, drugs, pills, possible side effects and realistic expectations. But today, Bryce Andrews spoke of different possibilities and pleasant expectations.

“Laugh. Play. Raise some hell if you want to. In fact, I recommend it. It’s good for the soul. Any questions?”

“Did you ever raise any hell?” Elle asked.

“I should give you my mother’s number.”

Mya hadn’t planned to like the good doctor. She didn’t
ask how long this reprieve would last. Right now she wanted to pretend it might last forever.

Evidently, Elle felt the same, because she stood. Dr. Andrews shook both their hands.

Out in the hall afterward, Elle said, “That man is hot.”

“Apollo reincarnate?” Mya asked, making her way toward the elevator. “Or Brad Pitt’s identical twin?”

“Both.”

Mya pushed the down button. Waiting for the elevator to arrive, she said, “Do you feel like taking a vacation? We could go to Greece or Rome or to the south of France. Doctor’s orders.”

“I know where I want to go.”

“You do?”

They crowded into the elevator. As the door slid closed and they began their descent, Mya feared Elle was going to say she wanted to return to Pennsylvania. Nothing could have prepared her for her whispered reply.

“I’d like to spend the next few weeks raising some hell on Keepers Island.”

“On the island? The kids who live there think it’s the most boring place on the planet.”

“All the better. We’ll sneak up on them. Turnabout is fair play.”

Elle stared straight ahead, her nose a few inches from the door. When the elevator reached the bottom floor, she and Mya were the first out.

“You want to go to the island.”

“Yes.”

“When?” Mya asked.

“This weekend.”

“That gives me two days to make arrangements for someone to help out at Brynn’s.”

“You’re coming, too?”

The large hospital exit door opened automatically with a quiet swish. Out in the May sunshine, Mya’s answer was a firm nod.

“Grandma Millie says you never go back to the island.”

Mya thought about that. The island was where Elle had been conceived and where Dean still lived. For a long time, memories of both were off-limits. “Never is a long time.”

“Tell me about it.” Elle retreated into her own thoughts.

And Mya made a mental list of everything she had to do to prepare for the weeks ahead. First, they would need a place to stay. Perhaps they could rent one of the summer cottages. It wouldn’t be easy to make arrangements without the islanders’ notice.

It was ironic that Elle hadn’t gotten over the way Dean’s family had barged in on her the day before yesterday. Holding grudges ran in this family. On both sides.

Perhaps even more ironic, they were going to the island, where it all began.

O
ther than a few rustic hunting cabins in wooded areas and the old hotel downtown, the only places for rent on Keepers Island were the McCaffrey Summer Cottages. Six in all, they overlooked McCaffrey’s Cove, named seventy-odd years ago by a lobsterman who’d decided there had to be a better way to make a living, and had proceeded to build these stone island houses for tourists. The tourists hadn’t come, and Keepers Island had remained a tree-and mist-shrouded recluse in the Atlantic. Mya could still picture the old fisherman scratching his white beard and shaking his head, grumbling because in his lifetime he’d discovered two surefire ways to go broke.

So many old stories. So many old memories.

They’d bombarded Mya as she’d driven past the brick school, the long-deserted lighthouse, and the cliffs overlooking Eagle’s Landing, where for years a pair of bald eagles nested every spring. She wondered if the eagles still lived here.

For the most part, the island looked the same. The summer cottages certainly hadn’t changed. They were
made of stone, had steeply pitched roofs and symmetrical windows and formed a gentle curve between the road and the shore. Mya didn’t know who owned them now, but the realty office in town had handled the details when she’d called to make arrangements for their stay.

The cottage had been cleaned and aired before their arrival. The window glass was wavy, the doorknobs and hardware original, as were the painted wood floors throughout the small story-and-a-half structure. The upstairs consisted of two bedrooms with sloped ceilings. On the main floor was the only bathroom, a small eat-in kitchen and a large, square living room. Elle had chosen the sleeping porch facing the ocean for her and Kaylie.

Pausing in the doorway, Mya said, “Are you hungry?”

Kaylie stopped drinking her bottle long enough to grin at Mya from the center of the double bed. Elle didn’t look up at all. “Maybe a little.” She started to remove several photographs from the bottom of her bag. As if thinking better of it, she slipped them back inside.

“Are those pictures of you?” Mya asked.

“I guess.”

“May I see them?”

Elle hesitated.

And Mya was nearly overcome with yearning to know everything about every stage of Elle’s life. “I promise not to laugh.”

At least Elle finally looked at her.

Entering the room, Mya didn’t apologize for staring. Thin as a waif, Elle was beautiful beyond description. Mya couldn’t help smoothing a lock of hair nearly as wispy as Kaylie’s away from Elle’s forehead.

“How did you wear your hair, before—” She caught herself, for Elle had named one condition before coming to the island. She didn’t want to talk about her cancer.

“Before it all fell out? You can say it. I call that my BC era.”

Before cancer.

“I wore it short until my mom died, but then Brunhilde wanted it long. How did you wear yours?”

It was the first time they’d broached the subject of their pasts since Elle’s initial questions after her surprise arrival last month. “I liked to wear mine short, too. Your grandma Millicent claims she decided it would be best to keep my hair short after I took the scissors to it myself when I was three. I kept it that way until I was seventeen.”

Elle regarded Mya’s short tresses.

“I let it grow after I left the island. It was shoulder-length until the day you knocked on my door.”

“No sh—kidding?” She glanced at Kaylie, who was intent upon drinking her bottle. “Why did you get it cut that day?”

It was Mya’s turn to shrug. “Some cosmic force?”

It seemed as though a cosmic force had been at the helm ever since.

They’d pulled into the driveway in front of the old cottage about an hour ago. Although Mya hadn’t told anybody they were coming, she knew that if her inquiries into this rental hadn’t alerted the islanders, the sight of Millicent, Mya, Elle and Kaylie leaving the ferry in a car obviously loaded for an extended stay would have.

Now Millicent was banging pots and pans together in the kitchen, her new purpose in life to fatten Elle up. God help them, they would probably all starve.

Motioning to the photographs, Mya said, “May I?”

Elle’s expression stilled and grew even more serious. “Why not?”

The first photo had been taken at a booth at the mall. It was a black-and-white snapshot of Elle and newborn Kaylie. In this photo, Elle’s hair was chin-length and thicker than it was now, her face fuller. But her eyes were as old as time itself.

“It was right after the diagnosis. I wanted Kaylie to know what I looked like.”

Staring at the image, Mya was filled with such tenderness. As always, it was mixed with a nagging dread. “It’s beautiful.
You’re
beautiful.”

Elle shrugged one shoulder, and Mya wondered if she’d always been shy. The next photograph depicted Elle as a baby. Not even two years old, she was dressed in red velvet and sat on a tall woman’s lap, a distinguished-looking
man holding her tiny hand. This had been Elle’s family, and this woman was the mother Elle missed.

“Was Renee her first name or her middle name?”

“Her first.”

There was nothing more Mya could say about a woman she’d never known. Elle acted as if it was enough.

They wound up sitting at the foot of the bed as she brought out four more photographs. The first was a school picture in which she was missing her front teeth. In the next picture, she looked about eight years old. Her short blond hair was mussed. Laughing with her friends, she wore a blue soccer uniform. In the next one, Elle stood behind the same distinguished-looking man, a different woman and a much younger girl and boy. Both girls’ hair was long. Elle looked twelve or thirteen, and so lost.

Elle stared at that photo for a long time before putting it away. Only one remained. It was a picture of Elle and a boy, and had also been taken at a booth at the mall.

“Kaylie’s father?”

“I almost threw it away, but then I decided she should have one picture of him.”

Since it seemed important to Elle, Mya looked closely at the boy. Although his eyes were blue, they weren’t the same blue as Kaylie’s. He looked like a thousand other teenagers, unshaven, a little cocky and so, so young. His smile looked genuine, his face pressed close to Elle’s. “I can see what you saw in him.”

Elle studied the photo. “Are you saying you think he’s cute?”

“Don’t you?”

Again with that shy shrug. “For an asshole.”

They both glanced behind them to see if Kaylie had heard. The baby was sound asleep, her bottle still in one chubby hand.

There were so many things Mya wanted to tell Elle, but the words formed too big a lump in her throat. By the time she swallowed it, Elle had drawn away, and the moment was lost.

Elle returned to her unpacking, a pretty strong hint, all things considered. Reminding herself there would be time to talk later, Mya quietly left the room.

She hadn’t gone far when a knock sounded on the side door. Millicent and Elle entered the living room from opposite directions.

“Are you expecting company?” Elle asked.

Mya shook her head.

Millie said, “Care to place a bet as to who our first visitor is?”

Mya opened the door to find Dean standing on the stoop, sawdust on his jeans and a carpenter’s pencil in his pocket. He assumed his usual stance, work boots planted, hands on his hips.

Behind them, Millicent said, “Shoot. I would have won that bet, too.”

“I take it word’s out,” Mya said.

His smile caught her in the little hollow at the base of her neck. “You were spotted en route, but that was secondary. Evidently there’s a leak in security over at the realty office that rented you this place.”

Mya had surmised as much.

“I’m here on a mission. I have strict orders to invite all of you to a party.”

“Strict orders from who?” Elle asked.

“What kind of party?” Millicent said.

“When?” Mya said at the same time.

Dean looked at Mya last. There was warmth in his eyes and a lazily seductive gleam that reminded her of how he’d looked at sixteen. Twenty years later, his face was made up of interesting planes and hard angles. His teeth were white and just crowded enough to keep him from looking too pretty. His lashes were long and dark—women never had lashes like that—his chin firm, his skin tan.

“My orders came from Sylvia and Gretchen. They’ve planned a small gathering to celebrate your arrival.” He smiled at Elle. “If that isn’t cause for celebration, I don’t know what is.”

“Where?” Millicent asked.

“On the beach in front of the Harbor House. They’re having a clambake.”

“More seafood,” Elle said drolly.

“When in Rome,” her grandmother quipped.

Dean said, “I have to get back to work, but I stopped over to welcome you to the island. Tonight’s gathering is come as you are. Mom is cooking up enough linguine to feed the entire island.”

He smiled and left without saying goodbye.

Closing the door behind him, Millicent said, “Did he say linguine?”

Mya sniffed the air. “Is something burning, Mom?”

“Oh, my God. Lunch.”

The street in front of the Harbor House was lined with cars. Hawaiian music greeted them through the double doors, and Grady handed out leis just inside them. “Aloha,” he said.

Mya smelled gardenias. Since the leis were artificial, it must have been the candles burning on every table. There were at least a hundred people in the room.

In a low voice, Millie said, “And to think I almost fell for that ‘come as you are’ nonsense.”

Sylvia crossed the large room the moment she saw them. Catching Elle peering all around, she said, “Looking for something?”

“The fatted calf.”

Sylvia had a marvelous laugh that made her red curls bounce. “Not bad for two days’ notice, is it? We were going to have a real luau, but that ocean wind is just too cool tonight, so we had to move all but the clambake inside. I
hope you’re hungry, Elle, because you’re in for a treat.” She hunkered down and smiled at Kaylie.

“Sylvia.”

Mya recognized Dean’s deep voice behind her. From the corner of her eye, she saw him motion with his right hand as he said, “Gretchen is either guiding an airplane in for an emergency landing or she needs you for something.”

Laughing again, Sylvia said, “There are grass skirts on the table in the corner. They’re giving hula lessons later. You’re in for some fun, Elle. Doctor’s orders.”

As Sylvia hurried away, Elle turned to Mya. “What did she mean, doctor’s orders? How did she know that?”

Mya turned to Millicent. “Yes, how did she know that, Mom?”

“Oh, look,” Millie said, reaching for Kaylie. “There’s Pattie and Sonia. If you don’t mind, I’d like to show off this beautiful baby girl.”

Kaylie went readily into her arms, and the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

Shaking her head, Mya said, “And she wonders why I keep secrets.”

She could feel Dean looking at her. Not that he was the only one. Mya recognized all but a few of the people present tonight. Most smiled if she caught them staring, and yet she felt as if she were wearing a scarlet letter on her chest.

“I have to say one thing for Sylvia and Gretchen,” Elle
said over the Hawaiian music. “They know how to throw a little party.”

Dean smiled at Elle. “In case I forget later, I’m glad you could make it. That goes for both of you.”

Everything inside Mya started to swirl together. That was all it took for all her regrets to melt into her good intentions. Being back on the island was dangerous. It was as if all the years she’d denied herself access to the corner of her heart she’d closed hadn’t happened. It scared her. Even her fear was dredged from a place beyond logic or reason, a place where there were only shimmering emotions and yearnings better off buried.

Reed and his three boys motioned them to their table, where several places had been saved. The moment Mya and Elle and Dean took their seats, they were absorbed into the guffaws and easy camaraderie of this family.

Mya talked. She ate. She even laughed. But it was all surface. She’d been back on the island one day. Already, her defenses were a shambles.

By ten o’clock many of the guests had gone home.

The hula lesson had been a hilarious success, as had the contest that followed. A tie had been declared between Elle and Millie.

Mya had seen Dean go outdoors with Grady a while ago. They stood with other men just outside the glass
doors. Although he’d kept his distance after dinner, she’d noticed him watching her.

He felt it, too.

Every so often Millie’s laughter carried to Mya’s ears. Elle seemed to be having a good time on the dance floor with some of the local teenagers. Mya sat with Sylvia and Ruth. Sylvia’s youngest was asleep on her lap; Kaylie was asleep on Mya’s. The candles burned low, and Mya took a deep breath.

“Something on your mind, Mya?” In the dim light, it was impossible to tell Ruth Laker was blind.

Actually, there was a lot on Mya’s mind. Most of it wasn’t the sort of thing she could tell Dean’s mother. “Whose idea was this party?”

Sylvia glanced at her mother-in-law and then said, “We’ve been sworn to secrecy.” But she looked through the window where Dean stood.

So. It had been Dean’s idea. The knowledge changed something inside Mya. A need was building. She’d gone to great lengths to be independent and strong, and had always denied that she was a needy person. But need was a funny thing. It could hide for years, until one day a woman noticed it squeezing into her thoughts, into her life.

Mya said, “It was a good idea to introduce them to Elle all at once. It probably saved her a lot of awkwardness in the coming weeks.”

It was Ruth who said, “Who says he did it for Elle?”

Mya was more apt to say something she would regret than crumble into tears, and yet she had to blink moisture from her eyes. Perhaps that was why she didn’t see Reed until he’d lifted his youngest from his wife’s arms.

“Are you sure you want to keep this tyrant overnight, Mom?” he asked.

“I’m sure. And he’s not a tyrant. But if he were, he’d have come by it naturally.” Ruth stood. Patting Mya’s shoulder on the way by, she said, “It’s good to have you back on the island, Mya.”