by Jean Stone
Tucking a lock of Bella’s silky hair under the soft hat Claire had crocheted, Annie pushed the purse back under the bed. “Let’s leave this for your Uncle John,” she said.
* * *
As either luck—or Annie’s guardian angels—would have it, she’d barely gotten back inside her cottage and unwrapped Bella from her toasty covering when streaks of red and blue broke through the darkness, illuminating the scrub oaks and the pines. From her kitchen window, she saw a parade of law enforcement driving down North Neck Road: three police cruisers—two from Edgartown; the other, state police—and the Edgartown ambulance. The disco-like reflections paused, then turned into the Littlefield’s driveway. Within a minute, floodlights bathed the house’s exterior. Through her closed windows, Annie heard the officers shout to one another, though their words were muffled and unintelligible.
Then the inside of the house lit up, too. Annie hadn’t known the power was on. From what Earl had told her, the Littlefields weren’t concerned about caretakers or housekeepers.
But apparently, she mused, the police had decided not to wait until morning to start their investigation. Now that she’d told John where Bella’s mother had been living, it was his duty to learn everything possible about her. After all, he’d made a commitment to uphold the law. And there was a baby who needed protecting.
Chapter 22
Earl didn’t stop by in the morning for coffee and a cinnamon roll. Annie was disappointed but not surprised: she knew he must feel trapped between his wife and her, and maybe between his son and her as well. His allegiance would be, should be, to his family. And though John had been nice to her, for all Annie knew, it had only been part of his role as a police officer. A public servant. A steward of the island community.
She’d stood at the window until well past midnight, watching the scene play out next door, trying, unsuccessfully, to figure out what was happening. When she’d finally gone to bed, she’d stayed awake another hour or more, her thoughts about paying a visit to the Thurmans flip-flopping like a bad politician.
Should she?
Shouldn’t she?
As hard as she tried to tell herself otherwise, Annie’s heart kept saying: Yes. Although she hadn’t met the girl who now lay in the hospital, she felt she owed it to her to carry on with her mission. There was a chance, of course, that the girl had found the Thurmans and been turned away. Maybe they—not Annie— had been the real trigger for the suicide attempt. Annie wondered how they’d react if she, a reasonable adult—or one who used to be reasonable—went to them instead. She could start by asking if they’d heard about the girl who’d tried to end her life.
From her kitchen window, she could tell that the police were gone; she couldn’t see if they had circled the Littlefields’ house in yellow DO NOT CROSS tape. No matter what they had or hadn’t found, she had to meet the Thurmans. If John didn’t like it, she’d deal with him later. After all, she was only following through on a hunch based on the memory of a bus driver. Unlike the purse, it wasn’t tangible evidence. Or . . . she didn’t think that it was.
Less than an hour later, Annie boarded the On Time with Bella safely in the car seat in the back. The captain—it wasn’t Martin, but a woman—gestured up to the low clouds and said, “Better not be out too long. Looks like another storm is on the way.” She said “another” as if it ended in an A, the way folks said it in Boston, the way Annie’s mom and dad had talked, and she had worked hard to avoid doing.
Annie smiled, but thought: Oh, great. I wonder what this batch of snow will bring.
Once off the boat, she headed toward the Scallop Cove Road property, because it was the closest, in the Katama section of Edgartown, out by South Beach. She turned left at the fork, where the only signs of life were three llamas and a donkey that roamed the massive, manicured lawn of the harborside property that she’d heard belonged to a Boston car dealer. Otherwise, there was no sign of life; it was as if now that Christmas had passed, Edgartown had settled in for its long winter’s nap.
In less than a minute, her GPS announced: “Turn left,” followed by: “Your destination is on the right.” Annie stopped the car.
Number twelve Scallop Cove Road was an oversized Cape Cod–style home that looked like several of its neighbors. It was gray-shingled with pale yellow trim and sat on an average-sized, treed lot; there was no garage, which was not unusual, due to, as Annie recalled with a half smile, the rare “plowable” snow events. Two vehicles were in the driveway: an old white Toyota and a black panel truck with white lettering on the side that read: THURMAN’S HOUSE PAINTING, EDGARTOWN. A phone number was listed below that. The only sign of life on the street was an elderly woman who was walking a yellow lab.
Then, as Annie deliberated bringing Bella with her, a young man bounded from the house, leapt into the Toyota, and backed down the driveway. He spotted Annie, gave her a quick wave, then drove off before she got a good look at his face.
“Is that your daddy?” she asked Bella. He seemed to be in his late teens—the perfect age.
That question, however, made her realize she had no idea what to say once she was at the door. If Bella were on her arm, Annie could say, “Hello, I’m looking for the father of this baby,” which, of course, would sound bizarre, not to mention confrontational. Then she remembered the grandmother. Bella’s mother hadn’t specified which grandmother she’d been named after; maybe that would be a safe introduction. But, “Excuse me, does an older woman named Bella live here?” also sounded lame.
At least it looked as if the Thurmans lived there year-round. And now Annie knew they had a boy who might also be a baby daddy—whether any of them knew it yet or not.
She decided to check the other Edgartown address before making any accusations. But as she left Katama and headed west, Annie had another thought: the boy in the Toyota looked about the same age as Winnie’s nephew, Lucas. Maybe they knew each other. Maybe Lucas knew if one of his friends had recently become a teenage father.
Deep Forest Road was easy to find, too, though pinpointing which house was number seven proved difficult. Of the few cottages, none had visible street numbers. And all looked as if they’d seen better days, none of which were recent. They were small and boxy, no more than one or two bedrooms, and had unkempt yards filled with treasures that looked to have spilled over from the transfer station that abutted the road. A couple of rusted cars seemed to have legitimate state license plates, but otherwise, the street looked vacant and forlorn and gave Annie the creeps.
She quickly went back to the main road, where she knew if she turned left it would bring her up island to Winnie’s.
So she did.
* * *
“She’s in Vineyard Haven today,” the woman who Annie remembered was Winnie’s sister-in-law said when she opened the door. She was dressed in cotton scrub pants and a colorful top: Annie remembered that she was a nurse and worked at the hospital.
“Of course she is,” Annie said, feeling foolish. “It’s a weekday, isn’t it? Most normal people are working.”
“Which does not imply that all people who work are ‘normal.’ But you drove up from Chappy? Can I help you with anything? Do you want to come in? I’m Barbara, by the way.”
Annie laughed. “Right.” Except for Lucas, she’d forgotten the names of Winnie’s clan, remembering only their occupations. “I’m so sorry to bother you. But, yes, I wondered if I might have another look at Lucas’s high school yearbook. You’re his mother, right?”
Barbara stepped out of the way so Annie could angle Bella’s basket through the doorway. “I am. As it happens, it was only yesterday I asked him to put the yearbook away. It’s been sitting in the living room since you were here. Odds are, it still is.” She shook her head as if to say, Boys. “Come in. Sit. I’ll get it.”
Annie went into the kitchen and sat at the big table that held the soul of the family deep within its wood. She set the basket on top, adjusted Bella’s hat, and put the pacifier into her t
iny mouth.
“How’s the book coming along?” Barbara’s voice called from the other room.
It took a few seconds for Annie to remember she’d claimed she needed to see the yearbook for research. “Oh. Great. Finding bits and pieces can be time-consuming, though.”
“Well,” Barbara said as she returned to the kitchen, “I hope this helps.” She set the book in front of Annie. “Would you like tea?”
Annie politely declined, saying she’d only be there a minute. She opened the book, searched for the seniors, and quickly found Thurman. She’d been right; they’d been in Lucas’s class—“they” referring to two. Twins. Like Murphy’s boys, though not identical. And these were named Caleb and Michael. She couldn’t tell if either boy was the one who’d waved from the Toyota. However, Caleb had a dimple in his chin that looked exactly like Bella’s.
Trying to hide her excitement, Annie glanced through a few more pages until she landed on the section that showed a teacher speaking in front of a class that gave a good view of the room, which was what she’d claimed she needed. Then she said, “Perfect. A little behind the scenes color—what it looks like in a classroom, the corridors, that sort of thing.”
“Right. I guess it would be pointless to go and ask for a tour. What with them being closed for Christmas vacation and all.”
Annie felt the color in her cheeks flare. She hadn’t considered that, to an outsider, visiting the school would have made more sense. Or that not visiting might seem questionable. She quickly stood and picked up the basket.
“Has the baby been with you through Christmas?” Barbara asked.
“Yes. Her mother’s away.” Then she had another idea. “You work at the hospital, don’t you?”
Barbara pushed back her long dark hair. “Midnight to eight last night.”
“Wow. That must be tough.”
“Sometimes.”
Annie paused. “I was at the ferry slip when that young woman jumped off the On Time. Did you hear about that? She was my neighbor. It was horrible.”
Barbara nodded. “It’s so hard to know what goes on in these kids’ minds today. It’s not like she was on drugs or anything.”
“That’s good to know. Have you seen her at the hospital? Is she doing okay?”
“I think she’s still in ICU. I’m in maternity. But from what I’ve heard, she’s in and out of a coma.”
“What a shame.”
The two women were quiet a moment, then Barbara said, “You asked that for another reason, didn’t you?”
Annie blinked. “What?”
“I have a feeling that the girl who jumped off the boat is more than your neighbor. The way Winnie was so concerned about you and the baby, well . . .” She softly smiled and said, “Sometimes I hear more than words that are spoken. The girl in the hospital supposedly has a baby, too. I wonder what happened to it.”
Annie sat back down at the table. “You know what? I might have tea after all.”
* * *
She told Barbara the truth because she trusted Winnie, and so she trusted Barbara, too. Besides, the police already knew, so Annie supposed she could stop trying to cover up the real story, in case there was a chance to get some answers.
“I’d really like to find whoever might be connected with Bella before the police take her away.” She took a long drink of savory tea; it was a mixture of up island herbs, like the ones Winnie gave her for Christmas. “At Winnie’s suggestion, I talked to a bus driver. He remembered Bella’s mother and that she asked him about a family named Thurman. In Edgartown.”
“Which Thurman?” Barbara asked.
“Before I came here, I didn’t know. But Bella looks a lot like Caleb Thurman. Her dimple is like the one in his picture.” She reopened the yearbook to the section on seniors and showed Barbara the photo.
“It sure is,” she said. “I suppose dimples can lie, but . . .”
“Do you know him? Or the family?”
“No. Sorry. I only know Laureen. Clark’s ex-wife.”
“She lives in Vineyard Haven? He lives on Deep Forest Road?”
“Yup. He’s near the dump.” Her facial expression was neutral, but the tone of her voice suggested that the location was a real shame.
“I went by his house before I came here,” Annie said. “I’ll admit I’d hoped Bella didn’t belong to whoever lived there. But I don’t think she does. Not after seeing this.”
Barbara shrugged. “Clark’s had a tough life. Damn near killed him when Laureen up and left.”
It was not a scenario Annie had expected. “How old are they?”
“Midthirties, maybe. Laureen’s an aide at the hospital.”
“What does Clark do?”
“He’s a fisherman. Longline. Gone most of the time. That’s what got to Laureen. She’s young. She wanted more of a home life than a fisherman could give her.” She thought for a moment. “Oh, I almost forgot, Clark is Stephen’s kid brother.”
“Stephen? Caleb’s father?”
“The same. I think Clark’s about ten years younger, though.”
Young enough to attract a teenage girl? “May I ask how well you know Clark? Like, do you know if he has a dimple, too?”
She frowned. “I only met him once. At the hospital cookout a couple of years ago. I might have seen him around after that, but I never paid much attention. I guess he’s sort of average. Dark hair. Kind of tall. That’s all. Sorry.”
Annie stood up again. “Don’t be sorry. You’ve been a huge help. Please tell Winnie I stopped by.” She had turned toward the door when she had another thought. “Barbara? I know I shouldn’t ask, and I will completely understand if you can’t tell me.” She took a deep breath again. “You said you work in the maternity department?”
“I do. I have. For twelve years.”
“I have no idea how many babies are born there every year, but I assume it’s not a lot?”
“You’d be surprised. We’ve become an obstetrical go-to place.”
“I think Bella is around three or four months old.”
Barbara nodded. “I’d agree.”
“I don’t think she was born on the island, but her name might be memorable. Can you remember if a baby was born at the hospital in August or September who was named Bella?” She knew she might be putting her in a terrible position, but . . .
“You’re right,” Barbara replied. “You shouldn’t have asked, because I can’t tell you. Privacy laws, you know? But I think it’s safe to say I don’t remember a baby with that name. Not that I could tell you if I did, of course.” She winked, then gave Annie a hug, wished her good luck, and said she was welcome to stop by anytime.
* * *
On the drive back to Edgartown, Annie mulled over the possibilities. She knew she still had no clear answers, but she now felt certain that Bella’s mother was not an island girl. And she felt as if she was getting close to the truth about the rest. Very, very close.
She wanted to stop at the Deep Forest Road address and find out if Clark Thurman was at home or off fishing somewhere.
She wanted to return to the Scallop Cove Road address. Maybe she could talk to someone. Ask if they knew anything about Bella. Or about the young woman who now was “in and out of” a coma.
She wanted to learn as much as she could before calling John. Once he had all the facts, he might not be as inclined to take Bella away if there was someone who wanted her. If someone could prove that they were her family. Her birth family. Annie knew the term well.
But as soon as she reached Beetlebung Corner and turned onto South Road, it started to snow. The drive back would take more than thirty minutes; by then the roads would no doubt be slippery. If it became a full-blown storm, John might be inclined to wait to take Bella away. As long as he knew that she was safe and warm and being taken care of.
So Annie decided to wait another day.
Chapter 23
By daybreak, the snow had stopped. Only a few inches had accumulated on
Chappy, most of which had been blown helter-skelter, leaving barren patches in some places, deep drifts in others. A cold wind was still whirling.
Annie decided that rather than calling or texting Earl, she would try and find him at one of the properties where he was the caretaker. She didn’t know all the places he watched over, but he’d pointed several out when they’d been on their meanderings. Still, it meant bundling up, packing up, loading Bella—again—and driving around, but Annie wanted to tell him face-to-face about the Thurmans and ask if he’d go with her to meet them. For all Annie knew, Earl was a friend of the Thurmans or of their fathers and their fathers before them. Maybe his presence could help buffer the news that Caleb was a father—if they didn’t already know.
But when she pulled out of her long driveway, the Lexus nearly crashed into a pickup truck that was barreling up the road. She slammed on the brakes; Bella let out a screech. The pickup swerved and wound up in a gully of scrubs on the right side of the road.
Annie snapped off her seat belt, jumped out, and ripped open the back door. Thanks to the car seat, the baby was fine. Like Annie, she merely seemed startled. Still, Annie undid the restraint, picked her up, and cuddled her closely. She walked a bit, her back against the wind, rubbing the baby’s cheeks and whispering, “Shhh, little one. It’s okay, it’s okay.”
Then she looked over and saw the driver of the pickup walking toward them. It was Taylor—one of several people Annie could have done nicely without seeing right then. Or ever again.
“Well, damn, I am so sorry,” Taylor said. Her apology might have been believable if it didn’t look as if she was smirking. “This time of year, I forget that other people are on Chappy. I was listening to my music and . . . well, I was going lickety-split when I should have been paying attention. You okay? What about the baby?”
Small island. Annie heard her father’s voice that time, not Murphy’s. Must try to get along with everyone. “We’re fine,” she said and smiled through her teeth. “A little surprised, that’s all.”