August Isle

by Ali Standish

  Mom took a deep breath. “When you love someone,” she said, “it’s like giving away a piece of your heart to them. And if something happens to that person, it’s like that piece of your heart gets smashed to little bits.”

  “Is that why you didn’t tell me about Matty?” I asked. “And Ben? And my grandfather?”

  She ran her fingers through her knotted hair. “Partly. I’m not very good at being hurt, Miranda. Some people, when their heart gets broken, they try to pick up the pieces. They stitch them back together as best they can. But me—I just tried to sweep the pieces under the rug. Where they couldn’t cut me up anymore.”

  She winced, and I wanted to throw back my covers and wrap my arms around her. But I made myself stay put.

  “You said partly?” I asked.

  “Partly it was to protect me from getting hurt. And partly it was to protect you.”

  “Me?” I could feel my eyebrows knitting together. “From what?”

  Mom stared at the lifeless sea picture. “Like I said, you remind me of your grandmother. When you love someone, you love them with your whole heart. You don’t hold back and you don’t give up. That’s how she was, too.

  “Taylor said you remember what happened to Ben and Matty now, but after it happened, all you knew was that your uncle had pulled you from the water and that he and Matty had gone for a swim. You didn’t understand. So when you asked me where they had gone, I told you they went on a trip. I didn’t want you to blame yourself.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. Mom didn’t want me to blame myself, but she blamed me.

  “My heart was broken, worse than I ever thought it could be. Everyone’s was. And I thought if I could just spare yours, maybe that would make us all feel a little better. Like not everything was broken. I thought maybe that’s what Matty would want me to do.”

  “But didn’t I want to know why they didn’t come back?”

  “At first, you asked every day,” Mom said. “But then we left the Isle, and you only asked every other day. Then every week. Then eventually, they faded away, along with Taylor, the Isle, all of it.”

  “Except I didn’t forget Matty,” I said. “Not totally.”

  “No,” she agreed. “A few months after you turned five, I came into the yard and saw you talking to someone who wasn’t there. When I asked you who it was, you told me it was Batty.”

  “I always just thought I made him up,” I said. “Like a regular imaginary friend.”

  “You didn’t know you were remembering,” Mom said. “I should have told you then. Your father begged me to tell you. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. And the more time went on, the more impossible it seemed to do. And then suddenly ten years had gone by.”

  She took a small sip of coffee. Her hand was trembling.

  “I remember how you looked at me that day,” I said. “Like you were in pain.”

  A little smile tiptoed across her lips, but it didn’t make her look any happier. “I told you,” she said, “I’m not good at being hurt.”

  “That’s why it’s hard for you to be around me,” I said quietly. “That’s why you’re always going away. I thought it was because I wasn’t a good enough daughter. But it’s because it hurts you to be with me, isn’t it? Because you blame me.”

  Finally Mom turned and raised her fingers to my cheek, and I noticed for the first time how delicate they seemed. How fragile. They, too, seemed made of porcelain. When I met her eyes, they were swirling with shadows.

  “No, sweetheart,” she said, her voice firm now. “I’m sorry I ever let you think that. I don’t blame you for anything. I wouldn’t change you for the world. And it doesn’t hurt me to be with you. The reason I—the reason I stay away is because I know how much you could hurt me.”

  The room went blurry as my tears spilled over. “I would never do that,” I sniffled.

  “No,” she said. “Not on purpose. But I was the one who got the call that night.” Her voice became thick and shaky. “The call about Matty and Ben. I was with Matty’s mom. We were shopping for Ben’s birthday—that’s why we weren’t with you on the island. And I was the one who had to tell her that her husband and her son were gone, and hold her while she cried. It was the worst moment of my life. Then I came and sat in this very same hospital next to you, watching you while you slept. And I knew that if anything ever happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to go on.”

  A sob escaped my lips. I hadn’t even thought about Matty having a mother, but of course he would have. What had happened to her?

  “After that, I started keeping you as close as I could. I barely let you out of my sight. Sometimes I even slept in your room, because if I didn’t, I would just lie there, worrying about you.”

  “I remember,” I mumbled. “But then you stopped. You went away.”

  “It started when you went to kindergarten,” she said. “And I realized that I couldn’t protect you every moment of every day. And if I couldn’t protect you, I couldn’t let myself be close to you. So I started working more. I gave up on painting and decided to try my hand at photography. I felt so much safer with the camera between me and the world. But it wasn’t enough. I had to put something between me and you. So when I came home, I would try to pretend I was still gone. Then I would miss you and see I was hurting you, and I would try to make it up to you.”

  “Like our trip to Disneyland,” I said.

  She nodded. “Then I would get scared again and find another commission. I thought I was keeping my heart safe. But—”

  Mom stopped, and her hand rose to her chest, which swelled in a sudden wave. “Then Clare called and said you were missing,” she continued. I could see how every word was like a dagger twisting deeper in her chest, but I didn’t tell her to stop.

  “I had already decided after our talk the other day that I had to cut my trip short,” Mom said. “I knew the second I heard you say Ben’s name that I was going to have to tell you everything. When Clare called me in the airport, I felt this pain worse than anything I’ve ever known. All that time trying to protect myself from it, and I felt it anyway. And it was worse, because I knew if I lost you, I would never forgive myself for not being the kind of mother you deserved.”

  She bit her lip to stop it from trembling.

  “I was wrong, Miranda,” she said, her face screwed up with something like determination. “None of this is your fault. It’s mine, and I’m sorry. I love you.”

  I didn’t say anything for a long minute. The words “I forgive you” were waiting on the tip of my tongue, but for some reason, I couldn’t say them.

  “Will you say the last part again?” I asked.

  “It’s not your fault,” Mom said. “I love you.”

  I closed my eyes and heard the words over and over again.

  It’s not your fault. I love you.

  It’s not your fault. I love you.

  It’s not your fault.

  I love you.

  I repeated them to myself until they were carved into my brain, like Mom’s and Clare’s and Ben’s names carved into the sidewalk. Until I knew that I could go back and read them whenever I needed to remind myself.

  “You talked to Mr. Taylor?” I asked. “I mean, my grandfather?”

  “Yes,” Mom replied. “He told me you’ve been getting to know each other.”

  “Don’t be mad at him,” I said. “I found him. And he didn’t tell me who he was until I already knew.”

  Mom shook her head. “I’m not mad. At least, not about that.”

  “He’s changed, Mom,” I said. “He told me that what makes a family great is how they overcome their problems together.”

  “That sounds like good advice,” she said.

  “I guess—” I started. “What I mean is that I want us to be a great family.”

  “Me too,” Mom whispered.

  For so long, I had thought everything was my fault because I wasn’t perfect. But Mom wasn’t perfect either. And I realized then that
maybe that’s just what family was. People who loved each other even though they weren’t perfect.

  “Then I think I do forgive you,” I said.

  “Thank you,” said Mom stiffly. Then she leaned down and planted a kiss in my hair like a seed.

  49

  Later that day, my doctor came in and examined me, then told me I could go home. Mom and Dad drove me back to the Grovers’ house, where everyone else had finally returned that morning.

  Sammy burst out the door and almost pounced on me before remembering my arm. She hugged me tight around my waist, squeezing a laugh out of me, before pulling away.

  Caleb was behind her, and to my surprise, he hugged me, too. My stomach bobbed like I was still on the little sailboat as he wrapped his arms lightly over my shoulders. “You kind of had us worried,” he said. “Pretty cool what you did, though. Guess this means I can’t call you Sand Queen anymore, huh?”

  I laughed again as he stepped away, then saw Aunt Clare standing by the door, her arms wrapped around Mom. When she turned around again and caught sight of me, her eyes were glistening, and my laughter fell away.

  “I’m really sorry, Aunt Clare,” I said. “I’m sorry we lied to you and Uncle Amar, and I’m sorry—”

  “Miranda,” she interrupted, her voice firm, “I accept your apology on one condition. No more apologizing, okay? I think you’ve done enough of that for a while.”

  “What about thanks?” I asked. “Can I say that? Because I’m really, really thankful for everything you’ve done for me this summer. I know you and Uncle Amar weren’t sure about having me at first, but—”

  “What do you mean?” Aunt Clare asked, cocking her head.

  My cheeks flushed. “Well, um, I kind of overheard you guys talking,” I said. “About how I was a burden.”

  Her eyes went wide as she looked from Mom and Dad to me. “Miranda, I would never say—” She stopped. “Oh,” she breathed. “You mean the night after your first sailing lesson?”

  I nodded.

  “Miranda, the burden we were talking about wasn’t you. It was having to hide the truth.” She shot an apologetic glance at Mom. “We didn’t like being dishonest with you, and when I saw that Taylor’s ship had docked in the harbor that morning, I was worried it could complicate things. I should have called you, Beth.”

  “See?” Sammy whispered. “I told you they would never say that about you.”

  “I shouldn’t have asked you to lie,” Mom said. “It was a burden, and I’m sorry.”

  Then she and Aunt Clare embraced in another teary hug and disappeared inside, Dad trailing behind with his and Mom’s suitcases. Sammy gestured for me to sit down in the hammock. Caleb took the rocking chair next to it.

  “So . . . ,” Sammy said, staring at me, “how are you?”

  I could tell that, like a true journalist, she was bursting to know all the details of what had happened since I had last seen them. But, like a true friend, she wanted to make sure I was okay even more.

  I told them everything. About the picture in the book, and the measurements on Mr. Taylor’s wall. Their eyes went wide when I told them about sailing to Keeper’s Island and Safira bursting from the trees, and they shook their heads as I told them Mr. Taylor’s story, but they didn’t seem all that surprised about any of it.

  “You guys already know all this, don’t you?” I asked.

  “It was kind of a long night,” Caleb said sheepishly. “There was lots of time to talk.”

  “Who told you everything?”

  “Actually,” Sammy said, “it was Jai who told us about Matty.”

  “Jai?” I asked. “Jai knew?”

  “I guess he knew Matty before he, um, died,” Sammy said.

  “Oh.” For the first time since yesterday, I felt a twinge of anger. Exactly how many people had helped Mom hide the truth from me all this time? “Are you in trouble with your parents?” I asked Sammy. “They aren’t going to ground you from the newspaper, are they?”

  “They’re definitely grounding me,” she said. “But only until the summer’s over. And they’re taking Jai’s phone and computer for a week because he didn’t tell them earlier about our plan.”

  “Sammy’s mom called my parents, too,” Caleb said.

  My chin sank into my palms. “I’m so sorry, you guys.”

  Sammy shook her head. “Remember what Mom just said? No more apologizing. Besides, it was totally worth it.”

  “I think it actually made my parents realize that they haven’t really been, you know, paying very much attention to me lately,” Caleb said. “So you shouldn’t feel bad.”

  The screen door creaked open, and Mom appeared. “Kids?” she said uncertainly. “It’s probably time to come in now and get ready.”

  “Ready?” I asked. “For what?”

  “To go to Mr. Taylor’s, of course,” Sammy said. “Don’t you remember? He promised us a party. Only it’s a dinner party now, and there’s going to be a lot more guests.”

  50

  Even though Aunt Clare told me not to, I had to make one last apology.

  Before we left for Mr. Taylor’s—I knew I couldn’t keep calling him that forever, but I still wasn’t sure what I should call him—I slipped from Sammy’s room. I stopped outside Jai’s door, listening. I could hear him talking to someone inside, so Aunt Clare must not have confiscated his phone yet. I didn’t really want to interrupt, but who knew if I would get another chance? So I knocked. The room went silent, and after a second, the door cracked open.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I know you’re on the phone.”

  “No I wasn’t,” Jai replied, giving me a funny look. “Who talks on the phone anymore?”

  “But . . . we always hear you talking through the wall,” I said. “We thought you were talking to one of your, um, girlfriends.”

  Jai rolled his eyes and opened the door wider. “I’m practicing.”

  He nodded to his desk, where a bunch of flash cards sat around an open comic book. There was writing on the cards in an alphabet I’d never see before.

  “I want to go back to India next summer,” he said. “But this time I want to be able to speak Punjabi. Fit in with my family and not feel like so much of a tourist, you know? I can almost read some of these comics now.”

  “That’s really cool,” I said. I didn’t know what it felt like to need to learn another language so bad, but I did know what it was like to want to belong in your own family. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

  He shrugged. “If I tell Dad, he’ll get all excited about it. I guess I just wanted to make sure I could really do it before I told them.”

  “Told them what?”

  We both turned to see Sammy and Caleb standing in the doorway.

  “None of your business,” said Jai at the same time as I said, “Jai’s learning Punjabi.”

  “You are?” Sammy asked.

  “Sure,” he said. “It’s a pretty cool language once you learn the basics.”

  “Dadi will be really happy,” Sammy said. She hesitated, and then her eyes brightened. “Maybe we could, like, learn together? Dad would help us. We could have nights where we speak only Punjabi and stuff!”

  Jai stared at her for a long second. Then he smiled. “Sure, little sis,” he said. “We can work something out. But you’ll be cleaning my room for a year.”

  She scowled, and Jai laughed. “I’m just kidding,” he said. “Lighten up.”

  Sammy punched him in the shoulder.

  “Anyway, what did you want, Miranda?” Jai asked.

  “Just to say that I’m sorry for breaking my promise,” I said. “I really wasn’t planning to go to the island when I made it.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I probably would have done the same thing.”

  “Sammy said you knew Matty?”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “We were the same age. We used to play together sometimes. He knew the name for everything, you know? Dinosaurs, rocks, stars. I was really sad w
hen he died. It’s kind of the reason I became a lifeguard.”

  “Oh, wow,” I breathed.

  “But I didn’t realize you were Matty’s cousin. I was pretty young then, and the details are all fuzzy. I put it together after I heard you were looking for someone named Ben. I remembered that was Matty’s dad’s name. And then I heard you talking about Keeper’s Island, and I started figuring it out. I’m really sorry for, you know, everything.”

  At least Jai had only been lying to me for a couple of days. Somehow that made me feel a little better.

  “Hey, Miranda?” he called, once I had turned to go.

  “Yeah?”

  “You remind me of him, you know. Matty. He always liked you. I bet he’d be proud to have you as his little cousin.”

  51

  When we got to Mr. Taylor’s house that evening, Mom hovered for a minute at the gates. Her eyes misted over as she stared up at the house, like she was under some kind of spell. Her fists clenched together like mine did when I was nervous.

  Maybe we were more alike than I thought.

  “It reminds you of them, huh?” I asked. “Grandma and Ben and Matty.”

  “It does,” she said. “But that’s okay. Not all reminders need to be bad ones, right?”

  Just then, Betsy flung open the door and stepped out onto the porch.

  “Beth!” Betsy cried, trotting down the stairs. She was wearing a knee-length dress that poufed out at the bottom, and her hair was swept up in a knot. “Oh my, you’re so—so beautiful! You look so different, but so much the same.”

  “Hi, Betsy,” Mom said, as Betsy wrapped her in a hug.

  “You guys know each other?” Caleb asked.

  “I’ve been the housekeeper here for a long time,” Betsy replied.

  “That explains how Betsy’s mom knew our moms,” Sammy murmured.

  Betsy went around hugging each of us until she reached me. As she pulled me close to her, careful not to crush my pie, she whispered in my ear. “I’m so sorry about the other day, Miranda. I wanted to tell you the truth, but Taylor swore me to secrecy.”

  “It’s okay.” I said. “I understand.”