Delphine rubbed her temples. What has become of my life? she asked herself. How have I wound up here, in this place of isolation, so confused and so alone?
The answers to those questions were not going to be found at the kitchen table. In spite of the throbbing in her head, Delphine went out to her truck and headed back to the farm.
53
1984
Patrice and Charlie did not drive down to Boston for Delphine’s graduation. Delphine was not surprised or upset by this. They had never visited her in Boston; she couldn’t see why they would start now, on the eve of her homecoming. Jackie alone represented the Crandall family. She presented Delphine with a Cross pen she had spent months saving up for. Joey had sent a card.
That evening, after the ceremony, Maggie’s parents threw a big party in the rooftop bar of a sophisticated downtown hotel. Delphine and Jackie were there. Maggie’s brother, Peter, now in law school, was also there, as were several of Maggie’s classmates and a large group of the Weldons’ friends and business colleagues. When Robert Evans showed up shortly before ten o’clock, bouquet in hand for Maggie, Delphine grabbed Jackie’s arm and together they slipped out the far door of the room.
“It must have been a pretty bad breakup,” Jackie had whispered to Delphine as they rode the elevator to the lobby. “You aren’t even talking to each other?”
Delphine had only nodded. No one in her family, not even Jackie, had known of the engagement. She had asked Maggie not to mention Robert at all to her sister. Maggie had complied.
Early the next morning Jackie had driven back to Maine with most of Delphine’s belongings. Delphine was staying on in Boston for another two days to say good-bye to a few people with whom she had worked for the past school year. She was sleeping on the couch of a fellow graduate who had rented a small apartment in Allston. Robert had offered to see her off at the bus station when she was ready to leave. She still wasn’t sure she would let him.
She met Maggie for lunch at a diner they liked, close to their dorm. Today, neither young woman had much of an appetite. Delphine’s tuna salad sandwich sat largely untouched. Maggie picked at her Greek salad.
“Thanks again for inviting Jackie and me to the party,” Delphine said after a long silence.
“Of course. I looked around for you when the party was over, but I guess you’d already gone.”
Delphine looked down at her plate. “Yeah, well . . .”
“Right.”
“Good luck in graduate school,” Delphine said, after another long pause.
Maggie smiled a bit. “Thanks. I’m going to need more than luck, though. Business school’s going to be pretty tough.”
“You can handle it.” She will, Delphine thought. Maggie can handle anything.
“Did I tell you I’m going to be living at home and commuting to school?”
“Oh.” Delphine took a sip of her now lukewarm coffee.
“Yeah,” Maggie said. “I just couldn’t imagine being roommates with anyone other than you.”
Delphine felt a prick of conscience. “Well, that’s probably the economical thing to do,” she said. “Save the money you’d have to spend on room and board.”
“Yeah. So, when do you think you can get back to Boston to visit?”
Delphine looked a bit over Maggie’s shoulder when she answered. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll have so many responsibilities when I get home, especially now that it’s summer. It’s our busiest season at the farm and at the diner.”
“Yeah. Okay. Well, let me know. I’ll be busy, too. My internship starts next week.”
“Okay. So, I guess we should get the check. I have to get going.”
“Oh.” Maggie fiddled with her fork. “You’re sure you don’t have time to catch a movie or something? Amadeus is playing downtown. Or maybe we could just—”
“No,” Delphine said, reaching for her wallet. “I really have to go. I have a bus to catch this afternoon.” That was a lie. She wasn’t leaving Boston for two more days.
Maggie reached across the table to touch Delphine’s arm but then withdrew her hand. “Delphine,” she said, lowering her voice, “look. I . . . I know I promised not to bring this up again, but I can’t help it. I just don’t understand why you’re doing this. Please tell me it’s temporary; tell me you’re coming back to Boston for good or that you’re getting back with Robert. Please tell me you just need a bit of a break before you get back to your real life.”
Delphine felt her hands begin to shake and put them in her lap, out of view. She fought hard against the feelings that might break her determination to live the life that was meant to be hers. Not Robert’s life. Not Maggie’s idea of what her life should be. “My real life is back home,” she said firmly. “In Ogunquit, with my family.”
Maggie shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe that.”
“I can’t help what you believe,” Delphine said evenly.
“I feel miles apart from you right now.” Maggie’s eyes were misting over. “I feel like I’m talking to a stranger.”
Delphine sighed. “Maggie,” she said, “I really have to go. Take care of yourself.”
She put a five-dollar bill on the table and hurriedly walked to the door of the diner. When she was on the sidewalk, she let the tears come, let them stream down her cheeks unchecked. It was the last time she would cry for many, many years.
54
“How long until dinner?”
“About half an hour,” Delphine called.
It was Monday evening and Harry was seated in his favorite armchair, reading the paper, watched by Melchior. Delphine was in the kitchen, halfheartedly cooking their meal. The headache was still there, in spite of more ibuprofen.
While she stirred a pot of brown rice she was thinking about the time she had lived with the Weldons, the summers before her junior and senior years of college. Paying room and board to Maggie’s parents had been cheaper than renting an apartment, and their house was clean and spacious and comfortable. Back then, Delphine hadn’t felt in the least bit beholden or embarrassed, but now, in the wake of Maggie’s offer of money—not even a loan but a gift—the memory of that arrangement, a memory so long buried, maybe even forgotten, rankled. Maggie had said that money itself was amoral, that it was good or bad only in the way in which it was used. In Delphine’s opinion, money was mostly bad; it tempted people to make stupid decisions and to create arbitrary divisions between themselves and others.
When dinner was ready, Harry came into the kitchen, washed the newsprint from his hands, and joined her at the table. He had nothing to say. Delphine was glad to be left alone with her thoughts, unhappy though they were. It was only when she brought coffee and a slice of blueberry pie to the table that a conversation began.
“I’ll be visiting Ellen tomorrow when I get off my shift,” Harry said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“Fine. Did you pick up my winter coat from the dry cleaner’s?” Delphine rarely bothered with a dry cleaner, but she didn’t have the capacity at home to clean certain items like comforters or wool coats. Harry had offered to fetch the coat. She hadn’t asked for his help.
“No,” he said, loading his fork with another bite of pie, “I forgot. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
“You said you would pick it up today.”
Harry swallowed. “Look, Delphine, I forgot. You don’t need it right away anyway. Winter is months away. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal,” she said, slowly and emphatically, as if talking to a naughty child, “is that you promised. The least you could do is say you’re sorry.”
Harry sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, Harry.”
Harry put his napkin on the table next to his half-eaten dessert. “Look,” he said. “Maybe I’d better just go, spend the night at home.”
Delphine stared down at her plate. She fought the urge to ask him to stay, at least to finish his meal.
She fought the urge to offer to pack up the uneaten pie, send it home with him. “Yeah,” she said. “That’s probably a good idea. Sorry, Harry. I’m just—”
Harry got up from his chair and came across to her. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “You’re just exhausted. Try to get some sleep, Del. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
She sat at the table while he let himself out. When he had gone she cleared the plates and glasses and silverware off the table. She left them in the sink for morning, which was not her habit. She took a bottle of Jack Daniel’s from under the sink. It had been there, untouched, for over a year. She poured herself a shot. She sat back down at the table. She wished Harry wouldn’t call her Del.
55
Jackie pulled into the gas station across from the post office. She was surprised to find Harry’s truck there. She thought Delphine had told her he’d be spending the night at her house. Maybe she’d misunderstood. She hadn’t been thinking all that clearly since Kitty’s diagnosis.
She got out of her car and called, “Harry, hey.”
Harry, who was standing at one of the pumps, looked over his shoulder. She thought he looked tired, maybe a bit sad, but it was hard to tell for sure in the uncertain late evening light. “Oh, hi, Jackie,” he said. “Any more word on Kitty?”
“The same. We won’t know anything more for a few days. There are more tests to be run.” Jackie sighed. “Good thing Delphine hadn’t left for Boston already. We need her here.”
“What?” Harry asked. His expression was puzzled.
Jackie smiled. “What do you mean, ‘What?’ ”
“What did you say about Boston?”
“Boston. You know, the overnight she and Maggie—” Jackie stopped talking as the truth hit her. “You didn’t know?” she asked unnecessarily.
Harry’s lips were tight. He shook his head, one brief time.
“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sure she . . . Damn. I’m not sure of anything. Look, I’ve got to get home. . . .”
“Me too. Drive safe, Jackie.”
Jackie touched his arm. “Yeah. You too, Harry.”
Harry got into his truck and drove off. Jackie filled her gas tank, got back into her car, and called Delphine on her cell. Delphine didn’t answer. Jackie tried again and then called the home phone. There was no answer to either attempt. Fine. Delphine was avoiding her. Since when, she wondered, had her sister become a liar? Jackie tossed her phone into the passenger seat and sighed. That was harsh. Delphine was in trouble. Clearly, she needed help of some sort, but Jackie had no idea what sort. That crisis I felt looming, she thought as she pulled out of the gas station. Looks like there might be a part two.
56
It was Tuesday morning, the day and the time they were supposed to have left for Boston. Instead, they were standing in an almost-deserted section of the Hannaford parking lot in York. Delphine wanted privacy when she talked to Maggie, but she hadn’t wanted to ask her to her home.
“Why did you want to see me?” Maggie asked, her tone wary. The idea of meeting in a parking lot had struck her as a little bit insane. Either Delphine was crazy or she was selling drugs on the side.
“I wanted to ask if you had already booked us a room in Boston,” she said. “If there was a cancellation fee, I’ll pay it.”
“What? No, no, there was no cancellation fee. Is that why you asked me to meet you here? You could have just called me.”
Delphine took a deep breath. “I also wanted,” she said, “to tell you that you don’t have to worry about us.” What she didn’t feel brave enough to do was apologize for having treated Maggie so harshly the last time they had met.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you don’t have to worry about our needing money. We’ve decided to sell a bit of our land. The parcel is worth a lot. The money should pay for . . . a lot.”
“What parcel?” Maggie asked.
Delphine hesitated, anticipating Maggie’s reaction. “The one I told you about. The one where the original Crandall house stood.”
“The one that’s been in your family since the eighteenth century?” Maggie shook her head. “But that means so much to you, to everyone in your family!”
“It’s fine,” Delphine said steadily. “A child’s life is worth more than a piece of land.”
“Of course, but . . .” And then Maggie had an inspiration. Why not? she thought. She didn’t need to talk to Gregory about it first. They had each maintained a separate bank account since their wedding, in addition to their joint holdings. She might need to get a small mortgage, but that was fine. She made money. She helped other people to make money. She knew how to handle it. “Look,” she said. “Why don’t I buy the land? I can afford to let it alone. Your family can farm on it, build on it, or just keep it as is, whatever you want.”
Delphine was thoroughly taken aback. In spite of Maggie’s earlier offers of help, she really hadn’t expected this third attempt. “No,” she said firmly after a moment. “Thank you. My father has already made a deal with the Burton brothers. They’ve been wanting to build a new house.... The parcel is perfect for them.”
“But . . . wouldn’t you rather sell it to a friend? Wouldn’t you rather sell it to someone who will let you use the land in any way you want to so it won’t feel like such a loss?”
“We’ll be fine,” Delphine insisted. “We’ll pull together. We always have and we always will.”
Maggie felt hurt, left out, angry. She felt stupid for having cared. Again. Maybe she had no right to feel all those things, but she did. “You’ll regret having sold away the land,” she said. “I know it.”
“You don’t know anything of the sort!” Delphine cried, suddenly unable to keep her falsely calm façade in place.
“I know stubbornness for the sake of—for the sake of stubbornness when I see it,” Maggie shot back. “I know false pride.”
Delphine fought the urge to shove Maggie, to slap her face, to lash out. “What gives you the right to judge my life and my actions?” she yelled. “Why do you presume to think you know what’s best for me? You know nothing about me, Maggie; you think you do, but you never really have.”
“That’s not fair!” Maggie protested loudly. She didn’t care if anyone else in the stupid parking lot could hear. “I’ve known you since we were little. I probably know you better than anyone else outside your family. I certainly know you better than Harry knows you!”
“Leave him out of it.”
“Better than your parents, then. You never even told them you were engaged to Robert!”
“How did you know that?” Delphine felt shocked, exposed, her anger tinged with fear.
“He told me,” Maggie said. “When he was calling me for a while just after you went back to Ogunquit. He was really hurt by that, not that you cared. Not that you cared about anyone but yourself.”
Poor Robert, Delphine thought. Everyone is so concerned about poor Robert’s feelings. What about my feelings? Who was there to help me when I came back to Ogunquit with a broken heart?
Maggie. That’s who had been there. Rather, that’s who had tried to be there for her. And routinely, deliberately, Delphine had pushed her away.
“I’m sorry for him,” she mumbled. She felt deflated, suddenly devoid of all purpose or intent. “I’m sure he’s over it by now. I’m sure he’s forgotten all about me.”
“Well, I never did,” Maggie said. Her voice was low and tight. “I never forgot about you.” But maybe I should have, she thought. Without another word, she turned, walked over to her car, and left Delphine standing by her dirty old truck.
57
Delphine had gotten to Cybel and Joey’s house around ten that Wednesday morning. She had volunteered to stay with Kitty while her parents met with another specialist down in Portsmouth.
Shortly after Joey and Cybel left, Jemima arrived, bearing a tuna casserole and a large deep dish of lasagna.
“Cybel and Joey need to be eating,�
�� she said. “This way they don’t have to worry about cooking for a while. I’ll roast a chicken for them later in the week.”
Delphine thanked her and put the casseroles into the freezer.
“What does your friend Maggie have to say these days?” Jemima asked, not at all casually.
“About what?”
“About Kitty, of course. After you turned down her money. I mean, her ‘help.’ ”
Delphine sighed. She really didn’t want to talk about Maggie with anyone, let alone with Jemima, especially not after what had happened in the parking lot. She felt terribly embarrassed about that encounter. She wondered if she was losing her mind. “She said that she was sorry for Kitty, and for us.”
“She hasn’t tried to interfere again, has she?”
“No,” Delphine lied. “And please don’t say anything to anyone in my family about her offer of help.”
Jemima shrugged. “Fine. I’d better be going. I’m on the lunch shift today.”
“Be careful,” Delphine said, which was what she always said when Jemima was going off to work.
“Always am.”
When she had gone, Delphine joined Kitty in her bedroom. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed surrounded by stuffed animals. Delphine had given her most of them. They each had a name and a story. The room itself was a riot of pinks and purples—everything from the bedspread, to the curtains, to the walls. Cybel kept the room as tidy as she could, but Kitty wasn’t very neat by nature. There were piles of books from the library on top of a small bookcase filled with her own books, many also gifts from Delphine. A poster of fairies was taped to one wall. Art supplies—crayons, watercolors, brushes, and pads of paper—were stashed in a milk crate Joey had spray painted purple. A pile of string in a variety of colors sat on Kitty’s desk. Next to it were a few friendship bracelets she had already completed.
“Hey,” Delphine said. She sat next to Kitty on the bed and picked up one of the stuffed animals, a beige puppy. His name was Puppy. There was a Doggie and a Kitty—of course—and several Bearies. A lamb was called BaaBaa. A rabbit was called Bunny.
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