The Guest Cottage

by Nancy Thayer

  “Good for you, Sophie,” Zack said, sounding genuinely glad for her. “I hope he finds the way to break into that vault you call a heart.”

  Sophie gasped again. “You kind of hate me, don’t you, Zack? I’m so sorry that we spent so many years together when you thought I didn’t love you. Do you think a marriage counselor would have helped?”

  “Honey, love is either there or it’s not. No kind of counseling can change that.” More gentle female murmurs wafted through the background air. “I need to get off the phone. Anyway, I think we’re pretty well done, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Zack,” Sophie agreed, “we are pretty well done.”

  After switching off the phone, Sophie waited a moment for the tears to come. Her reflection in the mirror surprised her. She looked younger, less strained.

  Dutifully, she went down to the dining room to check on the kids. She found the whole group gathered around the dining room table, Leo on Trevor’s lap, all of them playing Monopoly. From the kitchen came the soothing shushing noise of the dishwasher.

  Trevor glanced up. “Hey. I left some casserole for you to heat up in the microwave if you’re hungry.” His smile was warm and reassuring, clearly signaling: Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered this time.

  “I…I think I’d like to have another glass of wine,” Sophie told him. “To help me process. If you don’t mind…”

  “Your move, Trevor,” Lacey said.

  Trevor drew a card. “Not again!” he groaned. Glancing at Sophie, he said, “I’ve got to pass Go without getting any money. Dang.” Casually, he added, “Sure, Sophie. Take all the time you need. We’re just fine here.”

  Sophie’s smile at Trevor was brilliant with gratitude. “Thanks, Trevor.”

  Sophie slipped into the kitchen, poured more wine, then hurried back upstairs. How nice it was to have someone to lean on when things got tough. Two parents? Amazing. She had never really had that with Zack.

  She shut the door to her bedroom and sat down a moment, sipping the wine, letting her thoughts settle. She waited for anxiety to sift in, for worry to crowd her brain. She was going to be divorced.

  Instead, the Pharrell Williams song “Happy” began playing in her head. Humming, she slipped off her bed and began dancing quietly around her bedroom. No one could see her, she was all alone, and music filled her. She smiled at herself, then laughed softly. Anyone who saw her would think she’d gone mad. But she wasn’t mad; she was herself. She was Sophie, full of music.

  Trevor moved the iron five spaces and paid Jonah three hundred Monopoly dollars. Sophie’s smile was still inside him, filling him with light. Tallulah had never thanked him for anything he did with Leo; she simply expected it. And all he was doing was having fun with some kids he genuinely enjoyed being around. Awesome.

  “How did you like the yacht?” he asked, glancing first at Jonah and then at Lacey.

  Jonah didn’t speak, but his sister politely replied, “It was cool.”

  “Did you leave the harbor?” Trevor asked.

  “Yes, we went out to Great Point, and I went swimming there, without a life jacket!” For a moment, Lacey’s voice showed enthusiasm.

  “Good for you, Lacey.” More silence. “Did you swim, Jonah?”

  The teenage boy responded with a grunt that could have meant yes, no, or stop hassling me.

  “Leo and I had a lazy day,” Trevor offered. “We made this gourmet meal for everyone. And we took a long bike ride around the neighborhood. We saw some amazing houses.”

  Dead silence. Lacey and Jonah did not seem to want to hear about those amazing houses. These were not Trevor’s kids but they were good kids; Trevor had come to know that much in the few weeks they had spent together. They were in a difficult spot right now and so was their mother.

  After the Monopoly game, darkness fell, and Lacey, yawning, said she was really tired and went upstairs to bed. Jonah remained on the sofa, relentlessly clicking through channels with the remote control like someone standing in front of the refrigerator dully looking for something to eat that would satisfy him. Where was this boy’s father? Jonah seemed like such a good guy. How could his father keep away from him for so long?

  When the phone rang at exactly that moment, Trevor jumped. He had the oddest notion that this was Jonah’s father calling, that somehow Trevor’s thoughts had prompted the call.

  But it was Connor down at the apartment. “I know it’s pretty late for you guys,” he said, “but tonight the moon is dark and all the constellations are out in dazzling form. Back in Iowa, my wife and I used to lie on a blanket and look up at the stars for hours. I’m going to do that now and I thought the kids might enjoy it, too. It’s the best show on earth.” He chuckled. “Let me revise that. Best show in the universe.”

  “Sounds like a great idea. We’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  Trevor explained Connor’s invitation to Leo and Jonah. Leo was excited—probably because this meant he got to stay up past his normal bedtime—but Jonah only shrugged. Still, he trudged along after Trevor and his son out the back door, over the patio, and down the lawn to the far end where Connor had spread a soft old cotton quilt.

  “Welcome, welcome,” Connor said. “Lie down and make yourselves at home. Once you’re settled, I’m going to turn off all the lights in my apartment and on the patio so we don’t have any ambient light getting in the way. This island is an unusual place, so far away from cities, far away from interfering human lights.”

  The guys lay down, Trevor with Leo next to him in the middle and Jonah at the far edge of the quilt, as if he were certain the other two had cooties. Connor turned off the lights and with a few muttered reactions to his old joints, folded himself down next to Trevor and stretched out.

  “Just take a moment to let your eyes get accustomed to the night,” he advised.

  Trevor took hold of Leo’s hand in case the darkness was scaring the little boy. This was a new experience for city dwellers. Beneath the quilt, the ground was slightly uneven, with small bumps and hollows. As they lay there, Connor’s apartment and the hedges around the property blurred into looming gray masses. The evening air was warm and humid, without a breeze, yet mysteriously drifting with the perfume of an invisible flower. Occasionally from the trees a bird cried or something rustled in the bushes. The foursome didn’t speak but lay concentrating on the heavens above them. Suddenly, Trevor felt as if something enormous had shifted, as if the earth they were lying on was sinking down while the skies above were expanding.

  “Whoa, dude.” Jonah must have been experiencing the same sensation.

  “Okay, now,” said Connor quietly. “First of all, easiest of all, see those four stars that make a box, and these stars making a handle?”

  “I see it!” Leo cried with excitement.

  “Good. That’s the Big Dipper.”

  “What’s a dipper?” asked Leo.

  At his end of the blanket, Connor chuckled. “People don’t use dippers much anymore. It’s a kind of cup with a handle you can dip into a barrel of water or apple cider and drink from.” He pointed out the parts of the dipper.

  “Now see that group of stars over there, beneath the Big Dipper? That’s Virgo—the, um, it means ‘I serve’—my wife taught me that it’s my astrological sign. That ties in with when I was born, and it means earth is my element, five is my lucky number, and I’m sympathetic and faithful. It means I’ve got a weakness, too, at least one of them. I can be moody.”

  “What’s my lucky number?” Leo was so excited he sat up to ask Connor the question.

  “When’s your birthday?”

  “December twelfth!” Leo shouted.

  “Ah, you’ve got a good sign. Sagittarius. That was my wife’s sign. Your lucky number is six. You’re a fire sign. You’re brave and smart and cheerful.”

  “And I’m almost six,” Leo exclaimed. “I’m four and a half, and then I’ll be five and then I’ll be six.”

  “Lots of important people have been S
agittarians,” Connor told him. “Mark Twain. Beethoven. Can’t remember the others.”

  Leo lay back down, snuggling close to his father. “My lucky number is six.”

  “Good to know,” Trevor said, wrapping an arm around his son.

  For a while the four males gazed at the sky in silence. Then, sounding slightly grudging and embarrassed, Jonah admitted, “My birthday is October twenty-sixth.”

  “You might be a Scorpio,” Connor said. “The scorpion. They say Scorpios are mysterious.”

  “A scorpion.” Jonah’s tone expressed satisfaction and even a kind of respect. After a moment, he added, “Of course it doesn’t mean anything. It’s all made up.”

  “Everything is all made up in one way or the other,” Connor said. “People like to make sense out of stuff. Now what we are looking at, the constellations, are formed by connecting the brightest stars with imaginary lines. But you know some people in different countries imagine figures and creatures and symbols out of the dark mass between stars.”

  “Awesome,” Jonah said.

  Again, they lay in silence, and this time Trevor tried to formulate some kind of image out of the darkness surrounded by a group of stars. Next to him, Leo relaxed into sleep, his breathing like a soft purr, his warm breath barely fluttering Trevor’s shirt.

  “I’ve heard that some people can tell the future from looking at the stars,” Jonah said hesitantly.

  “That’s true, some people say they can.” Connor shifted around, finding a more comfortable position. “Astrologers say they can look at your birth chart and tell you all sorts of things. Personally, I don’t think they know any more about the future than doctors do. No one can predict the future.” Roughness edged his voice.

  “But astrologers can tell if some people are meant to be together, right?” Jonah persisted.

  “You mean like love signs. Like whether or not a Taurus and a Capricorn are a good match.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Jonah said. “Or like a Leo and a Scorpio.”

  “Have you got a crush on a Leo?” Connor asked, and Trevor could hear him smiling.

  Jonah remained quiet for a minute. “No, that’s my dad and mom’s signs.”

  “Oh, well, son, I wouldn’t want to weigh in on anything as specific as that.”

  Jonah didn’t respond. Again they lay in silence, gazing up into the heavens. Trevor was not completely surprised when he heard rumbling snores coming from Connor.

  Turning his head toward Jonah, Trevor whispered, “Connor’s asleep.”

  Jonah was quiet. Then he blurted, all in a rush, “I shouldn’t have called Grandma. Now Mom’s mad at me. But somebody had to do something.”

  Trevor’s mind spun like a GPS recalculating. “You mean because your mother kissed Hristo?”

  “I guess so.” Jonah was obviously struggling with his own thoughts.

  “It’s not such a terrible thing,” Trevor said slowly, feeling his way along. “Nantucket is a romantic place. I’m sure it’s fun for your mother to have such an unusual man paying attention to her.” He’d gotten himself into a snarl. “I mean, I’m sure lots of men would pay attention to your mother if she weren’t married—”

  Jonah interrupted. “Dad’s having an affair.”

  “Whoa. What makes you say that?”

  “I saw them a few months ago. I decided to drop in on Dad at the office and ride home with him—it was the end of the day—and Dad and Lila were alone in the front office making out. They didn’t see me. I got out of there fast.”

  “That doesn’t mean—” Trevor began, wondering why he was trying to plead the case of a man he didn’t know and wouldn’t like.

  Again Jonah interrupted, the words spilling out. “So I followed them. Not that night, but every chance I could after school and on weekends. When Dad said on Saturdays he had to go inspect the site he was working on, I’d bike there and he was never there. So I found Lila’s address and checked out her car—a red convertible—and went to her apartment. Dad’s car would always be parked behind hers and sometimes I saw him go into her apartment, and twice I even saw them kissing through the window. I’m not dense. Besides, Dad’s been so happy in the past year. I don’t want Mom to be hurt, but I’ve thought a lot about this and I think they would both be happier if they got divorced.”

  “Jonah, I hardly know what to say. This is a lot of heavy-duty stuff for a fifteen-year-old to deal with. I mean, you should be thinking about baseball and girls.”

  “I think about girls. I think about one special girl. But thinking about her gets me all flustered. I stopped going to practice because sometimes she’s there and when she is there, my hands sweat and I can’t ever hit the ball.”

  Trevor wanted to take the boy in his arms and hug him or at least, in the way of men, slug him gently on the shoulder. He didn’t so much as move his head but lay still, gazing upward, not wanting to spook the kid. “Man, ain’t it the devil? I remember feeling that way about a girl when I was in high school. If I saw her when we were walking down the hall in school, I’d become a complete spaz and drop my papers all over the floor.”

  Jonah made a sound like laughter. “I’ve done that, too.”

  “Do you think she likes you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. She smiles at me. I was going to try to be her partner on a field trip, but I got sick and couldn’t go.” Jonah shifted on the blanket. “That’s a lie. I didn’t get sick; I used that day when I didn’t have to be in school to shadow my dad.” Another laugh, this one like a moan. “Listen to me, shadow my dad, like I think I’m a private dick. I’m the dick.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve got a lot on your plate. Have you tried to talk to your dad about this?”

  “Dad doesn’t talk much to us kids. He never has. He’s always been so busy, and I get it—he’s working his ass off to keep us in our nice house, going to a nice school, and having vacations like this one. He’s not what you would call a hands-on dad. He never has been. He’s an important architect with a reputation to maintain, and that puts a lot of stress on him. Lacey and I aren’t supposed to bother him with our kid stuff.”

  Trevor was overcome with sadness for this boy. Yet he understood the delicacy of the situation and he knew better than to say anything insulting about Jonah’s father. “You could talk to your mom about stuff, couldn’t you?”

  “I used to be able to. But I’m fifteen now. I’ve got to grow up. Plus, what am I going to say? ‘Hi, Mom, I got a C on my algebra test and Dad’s having an affair.’ ” Jonah tried to sound sophisticated but his voice cracked.

  “Still, why don’t you try talking to your mom?” Trevor suggested. “She’s a pretty cool lady.”

  “She’s cool, all right.” Jonah’s voice was bitter. “She’s so cool she never played piano for us. We never knew she could play like that. I mean what the fuck, man? Why would she hide something like that from us? I mean that’s demented.”

  Trevor thought Jonah was on the verge of tears. Without turning his head to face the boy, he said in a neutral tone, “All parents have secrets from their early lives. Parents were young once, too, you know.”

  “Okay, but playing piano? And she’s so good! Why keep that a secret? If I were Dad, I’d feel shut out. Hell, I’m me, her kid, her first child, she’s changed my diaper, and when I heard her play the piano I thought: I don’t even know who this woman is. It’s freaking me out, if you want to know the truth. I can’t wait to see what happens when Grandma comes. She likes my mother, but I bet she’s never heard her play the piano. I mean, come on, man, this is total science fiction.” With that, Jonah jumped up from the blanket. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m going to bed.” He ran toward the house and a few seconds later, Trevor heard the slam of a door.

  The sound of the door woke Connor. The older man made a few transitional snorts as he came into wakefulness. “I guess it’s time for bed. Thanks for not leaving me out here to get all covered with morning dew.” Knees cracking, h
e slowly got himself to a standing position.

  “Connor, this was a great experience,” Trevor told the old man as he got to his own feet. “Thank you for calling us. I hope we can do it again sometime.”

  Connor swept his arm through the open air. “Any time. Free admission.” Bent forward, his hand on his back, Connor limped toward his apartment.

  Trevor lifted his son in his arms. Leo murmured and snuggled his head into Trevor’s chest. He stayed asleep as Trevor went up to the house and didn’t wake up even when Trevor deposited him on his bed and removed his summer clogs.

  After seeing his son safely tucked in, Trevor went through the house, turning off the lights and double-checking that the doors were locked—although what he could keep out of this emotionally chaotic household, he couldn’t imagine.

  —

  Once again, he was awakened by the same four notes from the piano. As he stumbled, half asleep, out into the hallway, he saw Sophie standing at the top of the stairs, listening.

  She held up her hand in a “stop” sign to Trevor. “Listen a minute.”

  Trevor listened. DAH dum dum dum.

  “They’re always the same notes,” she whispered. “C-G-G-G.”

  “What, you think Leo’s playing a code? He’s working for the CIA?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I do think it means something.”

  “I think it means he’s waking us all up,” Trevor grumbled, and hurried down the stairs to interrupt his troubled child and carry him back up to bed.

  Leo’s Lego world had taken over the small front room called the library. Both Lacey and Jonah had bought kits for Leo—trucks, planes, and boats that could be painstakingly built to exist inside one of Leo’s great walls. Many times during the day as Sophie cooked or read, she would hear gentle murmurs as one of her children gently demonstrated to Leo how certain structures were put together. She knew that Jonah was having a wonderful time—he had always loved Legos.

  But today she could not seclude her family in the library for her private talk. After asking Trevor if he would mind doing without the TV for an hour or so, she told her children at breakfast that she needed to speak to them and asked them to join her in the family room.