Maine

by J. Courtney Sullivan

  “How long has it been here?” Linda asked, still looking at the lighthouse through the camera’s viewfinder.

  Ann Marie shrugged, but Patrick said, “It was built in 1879.”

  Now how on earth did he know that? She had married such a smart and capable man. She reached for Pat’s hand and said, “Where shall we take these two for lunch, hon?”

  They ended up at a new lobster shack on the beach in Kittery, where Alice and Maggie had gone with that schemer priest a few weeks back. Ann Marie felt uneasy just thinking about it, but once they started eating, she calmed down a bit.

  After lunch, Pat went to get them a couple of milkshakes for dessert, and Linda headed to the ladies’ room. Ann Marie was alone with Steve for the first time.

  “Thanks again for inviting us,” he said. “We’re having a blast so far.”

  She smiled, but wished he wouldn’t speak for them both.

  “We’re happy you came,” she said.

  “Pat told me his mother and sister have been giving you a tough time,” he said. “How anyone could be mean to a sweetheart like you, I have no idea.”

  He reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

  Ann Marie’s entire body tingled in a way it hadn’t in God knows how long. She would do anything right now to have an hour alone with him. But she could already see Linda coming out from inside.

  • • •

  The next two days passed uneventfully enough, though Ann Marie felt tense. She could tell that Pat felt the same way. As they went to the Cove Café for breakfast; as they pointed out the house that looked like a wedding cake, and the Bush compound with its Secret Service agents stationed out front; as she brought Linda to her favorite antiques shop and snagged an armoire that perfectly matched the desk in Patty’s old room, there was a constant undertone of waiting—waiting for the Brewers to leave, waiting to see what Alice would do once Pat spoke to her about the property. And waiting for Kathleen to pull something.

  But on the Fourth, Ann Marie tried to put all of that from her head because, other than Christmas, it was her favorite day of the year. From the time she and Pat were dating, they hadn’t missed a single Independence Day fireworks display in Portsmouth. When her children were small, she dressed them in red, white, and blue and gave them American flags to wave. She always prepared a great big picnic, and they made a point of arriving early so they could stake out the best possible spot. By seven o’clock, the entire field behind the high school would be full of blankets, their edges pressed up against one another so that it looked like an enormous quilt.

  Ann Marie, Pat, Steve, and Linda spent the first part of the day sunning themselves and taking quick dips in the ocean when they got hot enough, though the water was too frigid to stay in for long. Around four, Ann Marie left the others on the beach and went up to the house to prepare. She felt almost drunk from the sunlight, calm and sleepy and a bit light-headed. In the cottage kitchen, she poured herself a tall glass of water and drank it down as she looked out the window.

  She fixed a shortcake with strawberries, blueberries, and homemade whipped cream on top, arranged to resemble the Stars and Stripes. She had bought fried chicken drumsticks at the market, and made potato salad, pasta salad, and hummus early that morning. She placed it all in a picnic basket, along with bug spray, binoculars, utensils, and a big bag of potato chips.

  She wanted to look nice for Steve. Beach attire was clearly not her strong suit, but now she had the chance to shine. She put on a new red shirtwaist and the blue sandals she had chosen to go along with it. And then she dabbed on a bit of makeup, though not enough to make her husband ask why she’d gone to the trouble.

  After a while, the rest of them trickled inside to get ready.

  “Should we bring two bottles of champagne, or three?” she asked Pat before they left.

  “Bring four,” he said. “My mother’s coming.”

  “Oh? How did that happen?”

  “I went over and invited her.” He paused, looking guilty. “She comes every year.”

  His tone said that he was trying to explain himself, which made Ann Marie feel like a terrible wife. Alice was his mother. Of course he had to invite her.

  “It’s fine,” she said. “I was just surprised she accepted, since she’s sort of been hiding from us.”

  “I think she figures we’ll be less likely to off her in a really crowded public place,” Pat said, a comment Ann Marie would have expected from one of his sisters, maybe, but not from him. It made her sad that it had come to this.

  “We’ll make the best of it,” she said.

  After he left the room, she removed an open bottle of chardonnay from the fridge and filled a big glass, drinking it down quickly before anyone could see.

  The five of them took one car, since they knew it would be tough to find parking. Alice, Linda, and Ann Marie sat shoulder to shoulder in the backseat of Pat’s Mercedes.

  “I told Maggie and Kathleen to meet us there after dinner,” Alice said. “I’ll bet they don’t have fireworks like this in California.”

  Oh, so now she was using Kathleen for backup? That was rich.

  But Ann Marie just answered, “Great.” She was already feeling the effects of the wine, which, mixed with a long day in the sun, had gone straight to her head. She rolled the window down a bit to try to get some air. She lost herself in the sound of cars whizzing past, not paying attention to the conversation.

  When they arrived, they moved slowly through Market Square with the crowd all around, and Ann Marie tried to feel happy. She reminded herself that nothing terrible had happened yet, and who knew—maybe Alice would change her mind after all. But she felt weighted down all the same, like this might be the last time they would ever come here. Everything seemed temporary now.

  As if intuiting her thoughts, Alice whispered, “Perk up, darling! You’re acting like a real party pooper.”

  She was in one of her moods, which usually scared Ann Marie into being sweet and obedient, but now, for the very first time, she couldn’t care less.

  “No one likes a droopy hostess,” Alice continued, clearly looking for a fight.

  Ann Marie ignored her. They reached the edge of the field and she said in her most upbeat voice, “This spot looks perfect.” They spread the blanket out and she wondered if Alice was right—was it clear to the Brewers that her family was a mess, that she herself was floundering? Perhaps, but then again Steve had told her she looked great, and they had both been complimenting her cooking since they walked in the door.

  She popped open a bottle of champagne as they got settled.

  “Bubbly?” she said to Linda and Steve.

  Ann Marie could hardly pour fast enough, she wanted a drink so badly. After she had filled everyone else’s glasses, she filled one for herself, drinking it down in under a minute and refilling it right away. She had meant to place a raspberry and a blackberry in each glass, but it had slipped her mind. Rats.

  By the time darkness fell an hour later and the band in the gazebo began to play, three bottles were empty. Ann Marie hoped she was the only one keeping track, because she herself had had a bottle and a half. She closed her eyes, feeling faint, but in an almost pleasant way. She opened up the Tupperware that contained her homemade hummus and dipped a big hunk of pita bread right in, hardly even caring when a dollop of it fell onto the blanket.

  Her eyes met Steve’s as she looked up from the spot.

  “Whoops,” he said. He gave her a bright smile. “Hey, everything tastes great.”

  Pat was typing away on his cell phone’s keyboard, either frantically tying up loose ends on a business deal or just trying to avoid his mother. Alice was droning on about some local newscaster who had taken up with the married head of the station, and Linda was trapped, listening and nodding along as if it were the most fascinating story in the world. Maybe she even was fascinated. Alice had a way of captivating people. She had captivated Ann Marie once too.

  Ann Marie
thought back to a time before the Kellehers. She had been a different girl completely. What would her life have been if she had married someone else? Of all possible paths, she had taken this one, and now she wondered how she had ever been brave or stupid or something enough to choose.

  The fire station bell rang to signal there were only thirty more minutes before the fireworks began.

  Steve got to his feet. “Excuse me a minute,” he said, looking straight at Ann Marie, giving her a wink. No one else was paying attention. “Save my spot?”

  He walked off into the crowd and she was seized with a realization. That wink. He wanted her to follow him.

  “I’d better run to the ladies’ before the festivities get going,” she said to no one in particular. She felt giddy beyond belief, like a high school girl before a big date.

  She stood up on wobbly legs, only now noticing just how drunk she was. She pushed past families and young couples and old ones, unsteady on her feet. Ann Marie anchored herself on the shoulders of strangers as they passed by.

  She found Steve in the long Porta-Potty line in the parking lot, standing behind a group of teenagers who were cramming glow sticks into their mouths, their cheeks lighting up in a sickly green hue.

  He saw her and grinned. “Ah, thank God. Some adult company.”

  Her heart was actually thumping. She needed to calm her nerves. She wished she had brought the champagne. She noticed a flag pin on his lapel and raised a finger to touch it.

  “I like this,” she said, taking a step closer so that when he spoke she could feel his breath on her cheek.

  “Thanks. I got it when we took the kids to D.C. Gotta show your American pride, right? But look who I’m talking to.” He gestured toward her outfit. “You’re basically Miss America tonight.”

  That was her cue. Ann Marie placed her hands on his face. She leaned forward and kissed him, feeling the warmth of his lips, gently pushing her tongue between them. For a moment, it was everything she had imagined. But then he pulled back hard.

  “Ann Marie,” he said. “What are you doing?”

  He turned his head quickly to the left and the right, as if looking for an escape.

  “I thought—” she said. And suddenly, it all crashed down around her. The house was gone and her children were disappointments. She would never be rid of her mother-in-law, or of Kathleen. There was only one person in her life who brought her any excitement anymore, and now she had ruined that too. She wanted to be able to wake up and discover that it was all a bad dream; she wanted not to exist.

  “Please,” she said softly, not even sure what she was asking him for.

  “You’ve had too much to drink,” he said, his face turning hard in an instant. “I’m going back to the others, okay? Will you be all right here on your own?”

  She nodded, her belly filling up with dread as he rushed off. And then, at the moment when it seemed like her life could not sink any lower, she looked up and saw Kathleen standing maybe fifteen feet away, staring at her. It was clear that she had seen the kiss. Her mouth was actually hanging open.

  Ann Marie wanted to run. Had she ruined her marriage in an instant? Would she live out the rest of her days in some sad one-bedroom apartment, or would she get to keep the house?

  She walked toward Kathleen. She spoke quickly, almost unable to breathe. “Oh God, please, Kathleen, don’t tell Patrick what you just saw.”

  Kathleen straightened up. Her expression changed, and she looked genuinely warm for perhaps the first time Ann Marie could remember. She said slowly, purposefully, “I didn’t see anything. I’m just waiting for Maggie to get out of that disgusting bathroom. She’s been in there for ages.”

  Ann Marie wasn’t sure whether to believe her.

  “Please,” she said again. “I can explain what that was.”

  “Here she comes,” Kathleen said, waving to her daughter. “Now, where are you guys sitting and what did you bring for dessert?”

  The next morning, Ann Marie awoke with a terrible headache. Watching as she popped a couple of aspirin with her coffee, Steve said charitably, “I think we all had way too much to drink last night. The whole evening is a bit of a blur to me.”

  His generous behavior only made her feel worse. She wanted the Brewers gone. She started cracking eggs for a quiche.

  Ann Marie knew it was pointless, but she kept going over the events of the evening in her head: Why had she drunk so much champagne? How could she have misread all the signs? Or maybe she hadn’t misread them. Maybe it was just that the moment was wrong, but now she had ruined it for good.

  Kathleen had been bizarrely kind all night, chatting like a normal adult with Linda and Steve, hardly picking any fights with Alice, and declaring that the Portsmouth fireworks display was among the best she had ever witnessed. She seemed to be going to great lengths to tell Ann Marie that her secret was safe. But Ann Marie knew her sister-in-law well. There were years ahead of them, and now Kathleen had this on her. Would she ever be able to exhale, knowing the havoc Kathleen could wreak now, anytime she liked?

  After breakfast, though everyone was full and she herself was painfully hungover, Ann Marie decided to bake a three-berry pie. At least shopping for the filling would get her away for a bit. On her way out to the farm stand, she found Alice in her garden.

  “Kathleen and Maggie left,” Alice said.

  “What? When?” Ann Marie asked.

  “Early this morning. Kathleen took Maggie home to New York. I don’t get the impression Gabe’s coming back around, the pig.”

  Ann Marie nodded solemnly. It was comforting to consider someone else’s bad decisions for a moment.

  “Kathleen said to tell you she was sick of the ocean and finally ready to get out of your hair,” Alice told Ann Marie. She rolled her eyes. “That one.”

  Ann Marie hoped that Steve would create some work-related emergency and escape, but he did not. Nor did he avoid her, as she assumed he might. For the remaining three days of his stay, he went along as if nothing had happened. Each time he stroked his wife’s hair or took her hand, Ann Marie relived the entire mortifying episode all over again.

  And each passing day meant they were closer to confronting Alice. She and Pat whispered about it in bed at night, both eager to have it over with, both agreeing that their choice of words could mean everything. They should not put Alice on the defensive or make her feel attacked. Rather, they should highlight the generous spirit that her donation conveyed, while gently pointing out that she would break their hearts if she went through with it.

  The Brewers finally left on the seventh. They probably hadn’t even made it to the highway before Pat and Ann Marie went next door to deal with his mother.

  They found her sitting at the kitchen table, smoking and reading a mystery novel that Ann Marie had gotten from her own mother and passed along.

  “Mom, can we talk to you for a minute?” Pat asked. He sounded like a terrified child.

  Alice was in charming mode. “Of course, darlings. Sit down! Do you want a beer, Pat?”

  “No thanks,” he said.

  She held up the book. “This is a good one.”

  “I thought so too,” Ann Marie said.

  “Listen,” Pat said. “We wanted to talk about this whole issue of your giving the property away.”

  Alice rolled her eyes. “Not this again.”

  “We think it was a wonderful gesture on your part, Mom,” Ann Marie said. “We know how much the church means to you. But the house means so much to us.”

  “I know,” Alice said. “It’s not like I’m giving it to them this second. If the women in my family are any indication, I’ll probably live another ten years.”

  You’ll probably live another thirty the way my luck is going, Ann Marie thought.

  Alice went on, “Ten years! You’ll both be sick of this old place by then.”

  Pat piped up. “Think of the position that puts us in, Mom. None of us want to think about the number of years you h
ave left in relation to a house. We want you here forever.”

  He seemed genuinely choked up. Mothers were the oddest creatures, Ann Marie thought. Their children tended to love them even when it made no earthly sense to do so.

  “The decision was made six months ago,” Alice said. “I can’t go back on it because of some sentimental attachment. Believe me, this is hard for me too.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Pat asked. “And what if that priest hadn’t—”

  “He has a name,” Alice said.

  “What if Father Donnelly hadn’t accidentally told Ann Marie? Were you ever going to tell us this had happened?”

  “Of course I would have,” Alice said.

  “When?”

  “When the time was right.” She sighed. “I didn’t just rush into this. I hope you know that. I gave it plenty of thought. But the fact is that this place isn’t what it used to be. You and your sisters can’t even stand to be here at the same time as one another.”

  “That’s not true,” Patrick said. “Mom, we love this place. Our kids love it. Our grandkids love it. Please don’t take it away.” He was begging now, but Alice was unmoved.

  “I refuse to be bullied,” she said. “And anyway, there is absolutely no way I could go to Father Donnelly and tell him I’m backing out. The church is depending on this.”

  “What if we just gave St. Michael’s an acre?” Pat said.

  “Let’s stop,” Ann Marie said. “She’s not going to change her mind.”

  “That’s right,” Alice said triumphantly, as if they were talking politics and she had just won the debate. “Now let’s change the subject. What time will Patty and Josh be here tomorrow?”

  That night Ann Marie and her husband drove to the big public beach in Ogunquit to get away from her. They sat in the massive parking lot near the building that housed the showers, not even bothering to get out of the car. Ann Marie thought of how spoiled they had always been to have their own beach, a few steps from the front door.