Night Tide

by Anna Burke

  “I’m worried about Dr. Holden.”

  Dammit, Shawna.

  “Why’s that?” Morgan zeroed in on the comment with a sharpness that instantly aroused Lillian’s suspicions. She had told her friends she’d had a fight with Ivy but had left out a few key details.

  “She just seems off.”

  “We all have off weeks,” said Georgia.

  “More off than an off week.”

  “How?”

  Shawna hesitated before speaking. “She’s been . . . clumsy.”

  Morgan frowned. “Did she put you at risk?”

  “Not at all. She’s very careful, and I like working with her. Forget I said anything.”

  “Didn’t you say you saw her fall a while ago at her barn?” said Stevie.

  Morgan shot Stevie a look, suggesting Stevie hadn’t been supposed to share that information.

  “Anyone hungry?” Lillian hadn’t realized she’d stood up until her wine slopped down her wrist. Ignoring it, she put on her brightest smile. “There’s way too much food, and Ivy isn’t here to help us, which means more responsibility for the rest of you.”

  “Careful. She’s fattening us up to eat us,” said Angie.

  “I knew she was a witch. Look at all the shit she grows in her greenhouse.” Stevie narrowed her eyes. “And her familiar is clearly Hermione.”

  “Don’t insult her, or she’ll put a bag of live wasps in your pillow,” said Angie in a stage whisper.

  Lillian cracked a smile. “Morgan, please take these two with you on vacation and drown them in the East Australian current.”

  Stormy pulled her back down to her seat on the couch, ignoring Stevie and Angie. “No more food. You’ve stuffed us already. Give us time to digest.”

  The conversation shifted back to Morgan’s upcoming vacation. Stormy put her hand on Lillian’s arm, drawing her attention.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I thought she’d changed. She hasn’t.”

  If only it were that simple.

  • • •

  Christmas was a comparatively relaxed affair. Unlike Thanksgiving, where they gathered with the rest of the clan, Christmas had always been reserved for immediate family and grandparents, back when the senior members of the family were still alive. Now it was just the four of them. She didn’t miss going to midnight Mass.

  “Sometimes I wonder if I should have moved to Cali,” said Madison from her beach chair. “This is so nice.”

  “I like the cold.” Ivy lay on the sand, only a towel between her and the hot earth. She liked the way it felt against her back, and she could ignore the tickling feet of insects if she pretended they were simply symptoms of neuropathy. The ocean beat the shore a few yards off, and the cries of seagulls drowned out the voices of the other beachgoers. They could have chosen to lounge by the pool, but this was nicer.

  “We should sail back to Boston. Spend the winter here, hit the water in the spring, and you can take the boat from Boston to Maine.”

  “Mmm,” she said. Sun warmed her eyelids and an ocean breeze stirred the fine hairs on her stomach. It reminded her of Lillian with a sharp pang. “I should have moved to Boston.”

  “I know. I told you that.”

  “There’s still time. If this job doesn’t work out, I’ll think about it.”

  She heard the creak of Madison’s chair and opened her eyes to find her sister staring at her.

  “What?”

  “Are you okay? I’m not talking about your body. I mean you.” She tapped Ivy gently on the forehead.

  “I will be.”

  And she would be. She’d return the piano, focus on work and reducing stress, and forget about Lillian Lee. Just because she hadn’t managed to forget about her in the years that had elapsed between vet school and now didn’t mean she couldn’t persevere. Success would come eventually.

  Or she could swim out into the ocean and let the current take her where it wished.

  They’d been so close. To what, she didn’t know, but she wanted it with a fierceness that bit into the heart of her. She closed her eyes again. Behind her lids, she replayed the scene in the study, feeling Lillian’s rage pour over her again and again and again.

  “When are you telling mom and dad?”

  Still thinking of Lillian, she started. “Telling them what?”

  “About your MS.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  Fearing her parents’ disappointment seemed pointless, now. “Tonight.”

  “Wow. Okay. Can I help?”

  She took her sister’s hand and squeezed it. “Just be there for me if Mom freaks out?”

  “Always.”

  They gathered as a family to watch the sunset, Darwin periodically rising to chase gulls and sandpipers and small lizards. Madison kept shooting meaningful glances in her direction, which made it difficult to enjoy the colors streaking the horizon. She wished, absurdly, that Lillian was beside her, and flinched anew with rejection. At least her parents wouldn’t react like that. What was pity compared with the loathing in Lillian’s voice? What was anything?

  “Mom? Dad?”

  Her parents turned to look at her. Prudence’s expression sharpened immediately at her tone, and she reached for Richard’s hand.

  “What’s up, buttercup?” said her father.

  Breathing deeply, she looked at her parents’ faces, memorizing them in this last moment before everything changed. Then she spoke.

  “I have MS.”

  She stroked Darwin in the wake of her announcement. Her mother stared at her. Shock bleached her tanned features and brought out the fine wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Ivy saw her swallow several times before she finally managed to speak.

  “Oh my God,” she said at last. Richard remained silent.

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” said Madison.

  “How can it not be as bad as it sounds?” Her mother’s voice was hoarse.

  “My doctor doesn’t think I have primary-progressive MS. I could be basically fine for years.”

  “This is why you moved. I should—how—no one in the family—Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

  “I didn’t want you to overreact.”

  Her mother’s short laugh had a hysterical edge to it. “I think I am reacting appropriately to finding out my daughter has a debilitating condition.”

  “It doesn’t have to be debilitating.”

  “Are you sure you have it? We can get you a second opinion. Rick, say something.”

  Her father’s expression was distant, and his lips did not move.

  “I’ve already had one. The MRI results are in line with the disease progression, and my symptoms align with the diagnosis.”

  “Your symptoms?” Prudence’s voice cracked.

  “Yeah.”

  She didn’t want to talk about this. She didn’t want to have this discussion at all. Seeing her mother’s reaction had always been going to make this more real, which was the reason she’d put off telling her. The panic she’d been keeping tamped down for months writhed in her stomach. This was not the end. She would not let this be the end.

  “Are you . . .” Prudence broke off, and Ivy knew she was trying to remember everything she’d ever heard about multiple sclerosis. “Do you have trouble . . . you know. With the bathroom?”

  “No, mom.” This really was the last thing she wanted to discuss. “I just have pain sometimes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am sure I have pain.”

  “Are you sure it’s MS?” Her mother chafed her hands along her slacks, rubbing the material and pressing her palms into her thighs. It didn’t stop her body from shaking.

  “I’m sure.” She used her gentlest voice: the one she reserved for telling clients their animal had a terminal condition.

  Prudence began to cry.

  “Mom, I’m okay.”

  “You’re not. You’re not okay.”
Her sobs intensified. Ivy sat where she was, unable to give her mother any comfort as her dreams for her daughter’s perfect future shattered around them both. Madison picked at the label on the wine bottle.

  “Prudy, stop.” Her father spoke at last, gathering himself and focusing his eyes on Ivy. “What do you need from us?”

  “Nothing, right now.”

  He nodded. “You’ve got the family behind you.”

  The family, and all that entailed: money, resources, love. She thought of Lillian’s accusations and felt a jolt of hate. How dare she undermine this support with her judgment? What did she want Ivy to do, suffer alone on principle? These were her people, and they loved her and she loved them—fiercely; unconditionally. In that, they were no different from any other family. Even Lil’s.

  “Thank you,” she said to her father, and the protective set of his mouth almost managed to warm her.

  • • •

  Daiyu’s eyes felt as sticky as the rice balls Lillian had stuffed her face with on her arrival.

  “What?”

  “You look sad.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Don’t try that with me. That might work on your other mother, but I,” said Daiyu, throwing a loving glance at June across the table, “am not a fool.”

  “Really?” said June.

  “Things aren’t going well at work.”

  “Is it that Ivy girl?”

  Daiyu’s guess was too close to home. She dropped her eyes to her plate. “No.”

  “Is she giving you a hard time?”

  Trust her mother to see through the lie.

  “She bought me a piano.”

  Daiyu and June exchanged confused glances, but their confusion couldn’t possibly outweigh her own. Why had she said that? What the hell was she thinking? Her moms never needed to know about what had happened, and there was absolutely no reason, short of her own idiocy, for them to find out.

  “Why did she buy you a piano?” asked June.

  She looked around the dining room for an escape route. Nothing came to her rescue.

  “Lillian?”

  To her profound horror, her lower lip began quivering. Not enough sleep. She willed herself to regain composure.

  June studied her. “I thought you two didn’t get along?”

  “We don’t.”

  Daiyu and June exchanged another glance.

  “It seems to me,” Daiyu began, “there are one or two things missing from this story.”

  “She’s trying to buy me.”

  “What did you do to make her think you might be for sale?” asked June.

  “I didn’t do anything!”

  “Your mother didn’t mean to imply this was your fault,” said Daiyu with a glare for June. “We’re just curious about why a woman you’ve hated since school is buying you expensive gifts.”

  “And why that has you so upset you haven’t touched your food—”

  “Except for rice balls,” Daiyu added.

  “—or talked about anything except her since she arrived, even Brian.”

  “Who has a fiancée,” Lillian said, hoping that would change the subject.

  “Oh sweetie,” said Daiyu. “He never deserved you.”

  “Was it a nice piano?” asked June.

  “A Steinway.”

  “Is that a nice piano?” June addressed the question to Daiyu, who shrugged.

  “You’ve always wanted a piano.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Of course it isn’t.” Daiyu reached across the table, her elbow dimpling the tablecloth, and took Lillian’s hand. “What happened between you?”

  She did not want to tell her mothers about the tenuous thing that had blossomed briefly and then died. She did not want to remember with this knifing acuity how Ivy’s face looked lit by firelight, or how it felt to hold her, or how her heart constricted when she thought of Ivy—graceful, confident, haughty Ivy, falling in a barn or struggling in front of Shawna.

  “I made a mistake,” she said.

  “That is nothing to be ashamed of.” Daiyu’s hand was warm and firm around her own.

  “I’m still confused about the piano,” said June.

  “Lillian is in love with Ivy,” said Daiyu.

  “What? No, I’m not—”

  “How did you get that from a piano?”

  “And Ivy cares for Lillian, but our daughter is stubborn, like you.”

  “She’s a spoiled rich girl who thinks money can solve all her problems,” said Lillian, panic tinging her words.

  “Is that why she talked about her all the time in school?” June asked Daiyu, ignoring Lillian.

  “Yes.”

  “Stop.” She yanked her hand out of her mother’s, and stood, shaking, her breath coming in sharp gasps. “I am not in love with her. She doesn’t understand the first thing about me, or us, or what it’s like to have to work for something. She’s always trying to use her money to show how much better than me she is. She orders me drinks and buys a fucking Steinway just so that she can hear me play Rachmaninoff after I took her to the symphony, and she thinks that’s okay? She thinks that can make up for the fact that—”

  She broke off, aware she was shouting and that both her mothers were staring at her with wide eyes.

  “When you were little, before your mother got a job working at the Ironworks and when I was just a veterinary assistant,” Daiyu said in a quiet voice, “we lived out of our car in the summer and rented a motel room in the winter. I did housekeeping after my vet shift. We scrounged and scraped and eventually we built a life so you could have something better.”

  “I know.”

  “We did not raise you to believe poverty was a virtue.”

  This sounded too close to Ivy’s words. She shook her head, preparing to argue, but Daiyu steamrolled on in quiet, measured tones.

  “If the only reason you hate this girl is because she has what you do not, and you are afraid to accept generosity, then we failed.”

  “That isn’t it. She didn’t earn her money; her family—”

  “The rich in this country rarely earn their money. When I came here as a girl, that was the first thing I realized. You are a doctor, Lillian. We couldn’t have even dreamed you’d make it this far.”

  Shame sat heavily on her tongue. June had run away from home at sixteen after coming out to her parents, who had threatened to send her to conversion camp. Daiyu was an immigrant and the daughter of immigrants who had spent years waiting for their green cards. Her parents had met and fallen in love when June was eighteen and pregnant. They’d sacrificed so much.

  “Has she hurt you?” June asked.

  Mute, she shook her head.

  “Been cruel?” asked Daiyu.

  “Not . . . not since school.”

  “And in school, were you cruel to her, too?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

  “I have watched you put your happiness aside for too many years,” said Daiyu. “Your drive is wonderful, but you’ve always put work first.”

  “Because—”

  “Don’t interrupt your mother,” said June.

  “When you started seeing Brian, we were worried. Not because he was a bad man. We liked him. But because he was so far away. It was like you did not want to risk yourself. You’ve always played things safe, and I wondered about Ivy. When you talk about her, even though you are angry, you come alive.”

  “And,” said June, shooting Lillian a reproving look, “you are allowed to have nice things. If a rich girl wants to buy you a piano, you let her.”

  “But she doesn’t appreciate—”

  “Then make her appreciate it. You care about this woman, don’t you?”

  She didn’t answer Daiyu.

  “Invite her here for dinner.”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Are you sure—” June asked Daiyu, and Lillian felt a surge of hope June, at least, would see reason.

&nbs
p; “We will decide if she is worthy of you.”

  “This isn’t the fourteenth century,” said June.

  “Be quiet. I know how to judge white people’s intentions. Invite her here. Don’t throw something away just because you’re scared of losing it.”

  “Don’t throw something away because you feel you don’t deserve it, either,” June added.

  Lillian stared at her mothers, looking back and forth between them as if sense might arise from the absolute madness of their suggestion the longer she waited. Invite Ivy Holden into their home? She shook her head. They didn’t understand. Ivy wasn’t just a woman from a different background. She was cruel, mercurial, and even if she hadn’t shown those qualities in the last few months, Lillian knew they were there. She couldn’t forget.

  She couldn’t forgive.

  Ivy, inside her, breathing her name in wonder as they lay in her bed in her house in Cornell. Ivy, stroking her hair, whispering “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” That same Ivy, only hours later, kicking her out. That was the Ivy she’d seen in the study.

  “I can’t.” She hated how her voice cracked on the word. Pushing away from the table and her mothers’ anxious expressions, she stumbled out of the kitchen and toward the backyard, where a blast of winter air froze the tears on her cheeks.

  • • •

  She’d never been so grateful to be airborne. Darwin curled up on her lap in their seat in first class as Florida dropped away from the plane’s windows. The man beside her had his head buried in his laptop, and she rubbed Darwin’s soft ears between her fingers. Aloft, she could pretend she was free, bound neither to Maine nor to her family. She could be flying anywhere.

  I don’t have to go back. There were other jobs. Other clinics. Even some in Maine if she wanted to stay close to Rabbit like she’d planned. There was always Europe, too. France could be nice. She could brush up on her French and stay in the family apartment in Paris. Or she could move to Boston to be near Madison. Taking advantage of the in-air Wi-Fi, she opened the veterinary job portal she’d used to find the Seal Cove opening and scanned the listings. Several practices near Boston were looking for equine veterinarians, and one or two in Maine.

  Fuck Maine. She’d leave the state. It was called Vacationland for a reason. Nothing tied her there, and the health care in Boston was better anyway. Lillian could have Seal Cove. While she didn’t love the idea of leaving the clinic in the lurch, that wasn’t her problem. Morgan could go fuck herself, too. Freddie would be happier in a new stable, maybe with a herd who didn’t beat him up. She could start over. Again.