A Vineyard Christmas

by Jean Stone

  She looked down at the pad, at her notes filled with maybes. Such a frustrating word. Still, she thought it made the most sense to see Winnie first. Once she learned the girl’s name, it would make it easier for the police to track her down, too.

  The police. Right. She had meant to go there that day.

  But now, with the sleet and all, it would have to wait until the morning.

  After she’d seen Winnie.

  Because Annie could not give up yet, not when she now knew that Bella’s mother was most likely right next door. And that she’d trusted Annie to take care of her baby. Please, she had written in the note.

  * * *

  Annie stayed awake until the sky was awash in orange morning light. The next thing she knew, Bella was crying; it was past ten o’clock. The young mother had not stopped by during the night—or if she had, she’d left no evidence.

  Quickly reviewing her notes, Annie knew that before she trekked to Vineyard Haven, she should call the Grey Lady terminal in Hyannis. She would say that one of their passengers had left some baby items on the wharf in Edgartown, and that Annie was trying to locate her. If they said they’d put out a lost and found notice, or if they asked for Annie’s name and address, she’d have to hang up. Still, it was worth a try. And it would be a simple enough thing to check off her list if she struck out.

  She looked up the number and, while feeding Bella with one hand, dialed her phone with the other. She warned herself not to view this multitasking as proof that she was now skilled at being a competent mother.

  The phone rang six times, then voice mail kicked in. “You’ve reached the phone line for Grey Lady service from Hyannis to Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket. Our regularly scheduled boats run between Memorial Day weekend and Columbus Day weekend. Please check our website for the upcoming schedule.” Click. Annie hung up without making a note of the web address.

  When Bella was done with her breakfast, Annie called the Patriot. “Sorry,” a nice man said. “We can’t give out passenger information.”

  So she focused on Option 3, starting with calling the place that rented car seats. No sense annoying John if she ran into him while she was en route to Vineyard Haven.

  Somehow, she managed to have both Bella and herself presentable by noon. Shortly after that, she wheeled the Lexus off the On Time and onto Memorial Wharf, where a yellow van waited. It was buttercup yellow and sported a huge, multicolored logo that read BABY RENTS. A cheerful young man jumped out. He was helpful and friendly, even to Bella, and in only a few minutes, Annie was headed toward the Steamship Authority with Bella safely ensconced in the back in a rear-facing car seat. At first, the baby fussed and cried, but once they reached the smooth straightaway of Edgartown-Vineyard Haven Road, she fell asleep.

  Fifteen minutes later, Annie reached the terminal. The noon boat from Woods Hole had arrived after its forty-five-minute journey: it belched out cars and SUVs, and trailer trucks from Stop & Shop, Cape Cod Express, and Cottle’s Lumber. Several dozen people toddled down the boat ramp and walked straight into the crowd that was going to board. Between vehicles waiting to pick up walk-on passengers and those dropping them off, Annie did not see a place to park. She drove to the end of the street, where she spotted Winnie’s van in a reserved employee space. So Winnie was there. At least the trip would not be completely in vain.

  Once the incoming traffic had cleared and the outgoing had filed into the ferry’s gaping mouth, Annie circled back to the public lot and quickly found a space. She got out, happily freed Bella from the car seat, and went into the terminal in search of her friend.

  “She’s not here,” the man behind a glass window said, then turned back to his computer screen.

  Annie gazed around at the maps on the walls, the hand-painted decorations, and the racks of brochures that were nearly empty, not yet replenished from last season’s onslaught. She looked back at the man. “Her van is.”

  Removing his bifocals, he eyed her with suspicion. “She’s on a break. Try the Black Dog.”

  With a cordial smile, Annie left the terminal and threaded her way through the queue of cars awaiting the signal to board. She then walked toward a cluster of buildings where the Black Dog Tavern and its web of retail shops were headquartered. She decided to aim for the bakery, mostly because it was the closest, and because carrying ten pounds of baby on the crook of her arm wasn’t terribly comfortable.

  Winnie was not in the bakery, because, Annie huffed, that would have been too easy. She walked around back to the clamshell-covered ground and climbed the stairs to the clothing shop. She wasn’t there, either.

  Passing the gear shop, she went directly to the gray-shingled tavern that sat by the water and offered a great view of the comings and goings of the boats. Winnie was walking out, chatting to a woman Annie didn’t know.

  “Annie!” Winnie said as soon as she saw her. “Are you here for lunch?” She introduced her to her companion, whose name Annie promptly forgot.

  “Actually, I was looking for you, Winnie. I hoped you might have a minute to talk.”

  Winnie said goodbye to her friend and suggested they sit on a bench by the front door. It wasn’t August, but the sun was out, and for once, it wasn’t windy.

  Annie wasted no time asking for help. “If the girl paid with a credit card, you must have her name. If not, is there a way to trace someone who paid cash? Especially if that someone had a baby with her?”

  Winnie patted her hand. “I’d do a lot of things for you, my friend, but I’m afraid I can’t prowl through our files. That information is confidential; I can’t jeopardize my job. I can, however, tell you that children under four years old don’t need a ticket, so she must have purchased only one. Beyond that, well, I could get fired for sharing anything else. I hope you understand.” She looked down at Bella and made small clucking sounds, at which the baby laughed.

  “Oh,” Annie said. “I’m so sorry, Winnie. I should have thought about that. I must really be desperate.” She told her she’d learned that the girl had been living right next door, and that apparently she’d sought Annie out intentionally. “She knew where I lived: I’d blurted that out at the fair. She also heard—from me and my big mouth—that I was adopted. She stole my book from the library and learned the gory details about that. I think she picked me because she guessed I’d be sensitive to her situation. It looks like she guessed right.” She saw no reason to mention that the girl might also have thought Annie was rich.

  Winnie let Bella grab onto two of her fingers. Then she asked, “What about the taxis? Have you thought about asking the drivers? Or the bus driver? This time of year, most of them are the same. Maybe someone remembers them.” She stood up and hoisted Bella’s basket. “I’ll walk you over to where they park. Then I have to get back to work.”

  They wove their way around the waiting vehicles, then to the far side of the terminal, where a bus and three taxi vans sat.

  “Good luck,” Winnie said and gave her a hug. “Let me know how it goes.” She leaned down, kissed Bella’s forehead, and handed Annie the basket. Then she disappeared into the terminal.

  Annie raised her chin, squared her shoulders, and approached the first taxi.

  No, the driver had not taken a young woman with a baby in a basket anywhere.

  The second driver, a woman, claimed she did not understand what Annie meant.

  The third one was asleep.

  She decided not to bother him and, instead, went to the bus.

  The driver smiled and opened his eyes wide. “She had beguiling eyes,” he said. He had a light Jamaican accent and shining white teeth.

  Annie’s heart began to race. “Really? You remember her?”

  He nodded. “And the baby. Is that the same baby?”

  “It is,” she replied. “But I’ve lost track of her mother, my niece. I let her take one of our cars, but I think she got lost. She left her cell phone at the house.” Annie had no idea where the lies had come from or where they were he
aded, but decided she didn’t care. “I know she has a friend here, but for the life of me, I can’t remember her name. Is it possible you know where my niece got off the bus?” She held her breath, fully expecting him to say, No.

  “Sure,” he said. “She asked if I knew the Thurmans in Edgartown. I had a neighbor named Thurman, which is probably why I remember. Anyway, they weren’t the ones she wanted. ’Cuz I live in Oak Bluffs.”

  Annie tried to conceal her excitement. “She asked for the Thurmans in Edgartown?”

  “Yup.”

  “You probably don’t remember what day that was, do you?”

  “Sure. It was the Saturday of Christmas in Edgartown. I remember because I hated driving into town when it was so crowded. I knew it would be as bad as it is in July. And it was. Oh, yeah, it sure was. Anyway, I asked her why she hadn’t come over on that special ferry they ran this year. I told her she could have gone right into Edgartown and not wasted her time with a bus ride. But she said she hadn’t heard about it. Only that someone on the Cape told her to get the boat out of Woods Hole.”

  Annie’s cheeks flushed. “Thank you. Thank you.” She’d left her purse in the car or she would have offered him money. Or soap, if she had any with her. But her head was spinning, so she simply said “thank you” again and ran back to the car, with Bella swinging back and forth on her arm.

  * * *

  She planned to go to the library and check the Island Book for the name and address of the Thurmans in Edgartown. Then she’d be able to find their house and maybe find them before heading back over to Chappy.

  Then, Bella started to scream. Annie knew it was not from the car seat; it was because she was hungry. In her haste to get to Vineyard Haven, she’d never thought to warm up some formula and pour it into the thermos instead of using it for coffee for herself. She was, indeed, a long way from being a competent mother.

  Changing course, she headed toward the On Time. If she went home now, she could get Bella fed and changed, look up the Thurmans in her own Island Book, and save a trip to the library. All she needed was a little patience. Which she could practice first by releasing her white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

  But when she turned from Simpsons Lane onto North Water, then down Daggett Drive to the On Time slip, she slammed on her brakes. In addition to several vehicles waiting in line, two police cruisers sat, their blue lights flashing. Behind them, a number of people had gathered and were facing the water, watching. The On Time arrived, and the Edgartown Fire Department ambulance disembarked, its red beams arcing over the wharf, the crowd, and the channel. As soon as it turned onto Dock Street, its siren began to blare.

  Annie bit her lip and surveyed the scene. She spotted John Lyons standing by the slip, talking with a couple of men.

  The ferry wasn’t loading. Instead, someone was putting the canvas strap back into place, blocking the loading space. Something had happened. Something bad.

  She got out of the car and walked down toward John. She hoped she would not get a ticket for leaving Bella in the back seat alone.

  Not wanting to interrupt, she waited for him to notice her.

  His face was drawn, his expression somber. “Annie,” he said after a minute. “There’s been a strange accident.”

  If there really were such a thing as her gut instinct, a wave of it washed over her then. “What?”

  “A young woman. She got on the ferry on the Chappy side, then, in mid-channel, she climbed over the restraining strap and jumped off the back.”

  Annie couldn’t speak.

  “She went right into the water.The freaking, freezing cold water. She damn near drowned.”

  “She’s . . . she’s okay?”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘okay.’ She went under. She wasn’t conscious when they pulled her out. But she was alive. Hopefully they can keep her breathing from here to the hospital. Then the docs can take over.”

  It wasn’t the time to ask what the young woman looked like—if she had dark hair and sad, soulful eyes. It wasn’t the time for Annie to vomit, either. But in spite of herself, she did.

  Chapter 19

  “You okay?” John was beside Annie in a flash. She was still bent over, holding her stomach, wishing she could curl up in a corner of a dark room. And maybe die. The last time she remembered feeling so sick was the day she’d realized that Mark was not coming back.

  “I’m okay.” Her words quivered. “It must be something I ate.” Her body rocked back and forth. “Will you please check on Bella? She’s in the car . . .”

  He left Annie leaning against the shrubbery that separated the narrow lane from the elegant North Water Street houses.

  If only she could remember what Bella’s mother had worn. Or how tall she was. Or something significant, like if she had a scar. Or a tattoo. Or a dimple on her chin, the way Bella did. But all Annie recalled were those two words: How much? Had the girl intended to buy the soap for someone named Thurman? Someone who might be her grandmother?

  Resting one hand on her stomach, Annie straightened up with tedious caution. She felt as if she’d been smacked to the pavement, run over by one of the pickup trucks that still waited in the On Time line. She inhaled, exhaled; her belly started to relax.

  Then she saw John striding toward her. He was holding Bella tenderly, comfortably, as if she were one of his own.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She nodded. “A little.” She touched Bella’s cheek.The baby giggled.

  “Once this mess clears, I can drive you home. I’ll have a car follow us so I can get back.”

  “Thanks, John. But there’s no need to go to any trouble. We’ll be fine.” She wasn’t, however, sure she believed that.

  “It’s no trouble, Annie.” His smile was genuine. If her stomach weren’t roiling, she might have thought it was sexy.

  “But I expect you have enough to do right now.” She looked back to the water and to the small ferry. “Does this kind of thing happen often?”

  “Not at all. A few years ago a truck drove off the end when the ferry was boarding. That’s happened more than once over the years. And we’ve had a few people go overboard. But that’s been in summer, and alcohol was always a factor. Don’t think we’ve ever had a jumper.”

  Though her thinking was hazy, she remembered Earl’s stories of summer carousing. “Do you know who the girl was? Like, was she someone local?”

  “Sorry. But the incident is under investigation.”

  Annie smiled back. “Right. You can’t release any information yet. I know how that goes.” The police had said that about Mark’s disappearance in the beginning.

  John cocked his head as if he were going to ask how she knew that. “That’s true,” he said. “But the fact is, we don’t know anything yet.”

  She quickly reached over and took Bella. “All this aside, I am disappointed about something. I thought you’d commend me for having the car seat.” It was a weak attempt to shift the conversation.

  His grin turned smug but was endearing. “I fully expected you’d do as I recommended. You don’t seem the type to ignore the law.”

  One of the trucks in the line began to move forward. The canvas strap had been dropped; ferry service to Chappy appeared to be resuming.

  “I’d better get back to the car,” she replied.The timing, she knew, could not have been better. The last thing she wanted was to engage in speculation about whether or not Annie Sutton was a law-abiding citizen.

  “Wait,” John said. He reached inside his jacket, pulled out a small card. “My cell number. In case you need anything. Someone to watch the baby if you don’t feel up to it but my mother is asleep or at her garden club meeting. Call me. Or text me. Anytime. Okay?” He seemed sincere, and for that Annie was grateful.

  She slipped the card into her pocket without looking at it. “Okay. Thanks again.” She went back to the car, got Bella situated, then sat behind the wheel. She wished she could go to the hospital and see if she could
learn anything. She wished she could have asked John if he knew the Thurmans. She might have done either, except she genuinely didn’t feel well. Home first, she thought. Rest. Maybe after a while she’d be able to think straight. After all, she had absolutely no concrete reason to believe that the young woman who’d jumped off the ferry was Bella’s mother. No reason at all, not even a clue from Murphy. Annie only had her god-awful gut instinct. But, reliable or not, she knew that her gut was not in the greatest shape at the moment.

  * * *

  When Annie was, at last, back at the cottage, she turned off the engine, but stayed in the car. She wasn’t ready to go inside, make lunch for Bella, make tea for herself. She wasn’t ready to move.

  From the way she’d pulled into the driveway, she had a clear view of the thicket of naked scrub oaks where she and Earl had crept through the path that led to the house next door. With no visible foliage, she was able to see a blur of the house, its gray shingles muted against the pewter sky.

  How she wished she could see inside. How she wished she could look to an upstairs window and see the blinds waver again, see some sign of life. How she wished she had climbed the butterfly staircase and looked for Earl, had searched and searched until she’d found Bella’s mother, had let her know she would help.

  She would have offered to do anything. Take the baby. Keep her until the girl was on her feet. Raise her, if that was what was needed. Yes, Annie would have done anything to help solve the problem. Anything to have helped avoid something like . . . this. If it really had been Bella’s mother who’d jumped off the On Time. And now lay in a hospital bed. Or worse.

  The longer Annie studied the house, the more of a blur it became. Then Bella started to fuss.

  With painful resignation, Annie got out of the car, retrieved the baby, and headed into the cottage. But when she went up the three steps onto the porch, she noticed that the door wasn’t latched. Again. She supposed there was no point now in telling Earl it needed fixing. Not if she’d no longer have a visitor skulking around in the night.