by Unknown
Hannah sighed and said, “There are lots of versions of my mom.”
Daniel clapped his hands together and clasped them in front of him. “Okay, time to get cracking. We’ve got some Mean Greens to drink. Let the good times roll.” He put the items back in the box quickly and lifted it up, looking at her expectantly.
They grabbed his bag out of his rental’s trunk and were in the process of loading everything into the boat, when she spotted Mr. McGrath in his small motorboat with a dark-haired woman at his side approaching the community dock where they stood. As she covered her eyes with her tented hand in order to get a better look at the woman, the boat suddenly changed course, heading back toward the island. She could hear the woman’s raised shrill voice above his boat’s motor and it sounded like she was angry. What was going on? Was Mr. McGrath avoiding her? Was that his wife?
“Who was that? There are other people out here?” Daniel, also tenting his hand above his eyes, peered at the swiftly retreating boat.
“Yeah, a couple. I met the man the first day, when I arrived. He wasn’t very welcoming. Practically told me to go away.”
Daniel turned to look at her. “Really? That doesn’t sound right. I thought everyone was buddy-buddy around here?”
The boat was a miniature now in the distance. She turned back to him, shaking her head. “No, not really, not everyone. The down-islanders are like that, super social, but the up-islanders tend to keep to themselves. They’re up-islanders and I’m pretty certain they wanted to be alone this month. He said as much.”
“Huh,” he said. She looked at him and saw his eyes on her left hand, where it had been exposed thoughtlessly tenting her eyes, following it as it dropped to her side.
Chapter 29
Daniel looked at Hannah’s bare left hand and felt a dizzy dropping sensation that went from his head right down through the pit of his stomach. It was gone again, the ring he had spent every last penny of his savings on. The ring whose selection he had agonized over for weeks. The ring he had placed on her finger one perfect June evening and felt everything in his life slip into place.
He had made peace with what had happened that horrible night at her house when everything that was right went wrong and he had his first doubts about their future, the ring sitting in her palm. But he had renewed faith in her, no matter how frustrating these weeks apart had been. Part of his faith was the true love he felt for this fascinating spectacular woman, something so powerful he knew he’d never felt it before, didn’t even know he was capable of it. Part of it was the reinforcement his friend Brian had unknowingly given him.
Brian, seeing his best bud begging off and staying home almost every night, started forcefully enlisting Daniel for wing-man duties whenever he was home, no matter how tired he was from his last scheduled run. They went out to all of their usual haunts as well as some of the new hot clubs, went to every party Brian had heard of, prowling the city like the old days. Except it wasn’t; everything was different. No matter how many beautiful women Brian threw at him, Daniel couldn’t muster the interest. He wanted Hannah. And, by juxtaposing the vapid socialites and idiotic teenage models against his brilliant bride-to-be, Brian had managed to make Daniel even more lovesick and desperate to see Hannah.
It had been on one of their nights out on the town, having a quick late dinner at Rosa Mexicana before heading over to a nearby party, when Daniel had picked up his margarita and a light bulb had flickered on in his head. He’d been trying to figure out how to see her; how he could distract her from the fact that he was crashing her retreat if he showed up at Captain’s. The ideas he’d had were good, but not good enough. Holding up his salt-rimmed glass he saw Hannah’s mother and aunts laughing and holding glasses filled with their own special margarita-like concoction up for a toast. The mighty Mean-Green, which he had tasted and loved, was legend on that island where they spent every summer, the closely-kept secret recipe unknown to anyone but the four women.
He slowly put down his drink on the table. What if he could get the recipe? If he was able to whip up a Mean Green and have a cocktail hour on the island with her, Hannah would love it. She would be amazed, too. He wanted to amaze her. But how would he get the recipe? He spent the rest of the night distracted, going through the motions of socializing as he tried to work out a solution. Brian noticed but, tired of trying to jolly Daniel along, ignored his friend’s mental absence.
The next morning, Daniel made the call after looking up Pam’s PR firm online. Pam had practically squealed with delight when she heard his voice. She told him all about the big news regarding Hannah’s book, something that had happened only recently. His confidence bolstered by her ebullient mood, he dived in and made his request. There was silence on the other end of the line. He waited, seconds ticking by. Oh, no. Maybe not.
“Pam?”
“Sorry, ah, I’m not supposed to give it out, but…, God. I want you two to get together. Really? She won’t let you visit? That was one of our rules: you had to be there, at least some of the time!”
“No, she won’t. She won’t even really talk to me on the phone. I mean a minute here and there, but not like we usually talk.”
Another silence on the line. This time Daniel resisted the urge to say anything. Let her think, let the balance tip.
He heard Pam take a loud breath. He crossed his fingers.
“That’s it. There have to be exceptions to every rule,” Pam said. “Now, promise you’ll never tell anyone. Oh, and whatever you do, don’t tell the other Barefooters. And you’ll have to burn the recipe afterward and forget everything. Brain dead, or I’ll kill you - I swear.”
Once Daniel was off the phone, promises made and abject appreciation offered up, he was on the run. It had been exciting, running from place to place, having new ideas while so much adrenalin pumped through his body. It reminded him of his first flight, the incredible rush and the ecstasy that followed. The idea for the framed cover and portion of the bestseller list had hit him right before he left to drive to Greenwich to get the cheese straws. He’d grabbed his own copy of the book and got online and printed out the list before heading out the door. They framed it while he waited, paying more than he should have in an expensive shop in Greenwich just to save time and be on the road to Hannah sooner.
Everything had gone smoothly and he practically sang while driving out to the island with the salt-scented wind blowing through the windows of his rental car. He’d been so pumped up, he didn’t let her first hesitant reaction to his arrival bother him, focusing on her second enthusiastic and sexy reaction when they’d finally embraced. He’d relished her girlish joy over his gifts, looking shy with her hands behind her back.
Her hands behind her back. She had known all along, been aware of her bare finger. How could she? How was it so easy for her to take off his ring again?
He looked at her, hurt and anger bubbling up in his throat, burning into his head. “I can’t believe it.” He was shocked at how rough and low his voice sounded.
Her face twisted in apology, lips turning down. “Oh, honey, I-“
“No,” he said, shaking his head hard once. “I don’t want to hear it. I really don’t. You’ve gotten everything that you wanted. You wanted to be alone. I left you alone. You said this was about you and your mother, and I believed you. What an idiot.”
“No! You’re not-“
“No, it’s my turn. I’ve been there for you. I’m here now, just asking for a little bit of you. Just a little bit. A drink, a laugh, a hug. Not much. And you can’t even wear my ring.” His breath caught and he forced down the threatening wobble in his voice. “You don’t want to marry me, do you? Just say it.”
“I do! Daniel, please-“
“Then where’s the ring? Where is it?”
“It’s…, I just…please understand…”
Daniel turned away, unable to look at her pleading face another minute. He looked at the tall tasseled grasses that flanked either side of entrance to the d
ock and felt another pang. How he’d loved this place when they’d come this summer. How he’d felt like he was coming home. It wasn’t just that the island was beautiful in a natural rough way that was just his style; it was the warmth of everyone, the humor, the blatant athleticism and partial nudity of its inhabitants in their swim trunks and bathing suits. He loved the moist salt air that clung to everything, the silvery minnows darting through the murky shallows, the briny-sweet taste of clams on the half shell eaten sitting on the steps of Pam’s house.
“I can’t do this anymore, begging you, waiting and being ignored,” he said, turning back to her, and then pointing at the box in the boat. “Keep it. I’ve got the recipe in my pocket, so I’ll just burn it and forget it when I get home. Can you hand up my bag?”
“You - you’re not going to stay?”
Her mournful voice was a lasso, pulling him. He shook it off. “No. I’m done. I’m not forcing myself on you another day. You want to be alone, fair enough. All I can say is-“
He forced himself to look deeply in her eyes even though it hurt to look at her at all. “You need to decide if you want me in your life, Hannah. I won’t wait around forever.”
“But I do!”
He flicked a look down at her left hand. “Do you? You have a funny way of showing it. Can I have my bag?”
She made a little whimpering sound as she went to pick up his little duffel bag. He tried to harden his heart, but just that sound alone killed him. He had to get away, or the tears would come, whether he wanted her to see them or not. The barriers were breaking down. He rarely cried and never in public, and of all people Hannah was the last person he could stand witnessing his weakness, the very source of his misery.
He took the bag from her and straightened up. “Can I get out?”
“Oh! I forgot to lock the gate!”
“Good. Lock it when I’m gone. Goodbye Hannah. I’m not going to call you. You call me. When you’re ready, if you ever are. But don’t call me unless you’re sure. Don’t call unless you’re ready to wear my ring and be a part of my life forever, not just when it’s convenient.”
Her lips opened and shut, but she didn’t say anything. He watched a tear roll down her cheek. He tore his eyes away, turned on his heel and walked up the dock, the hollow thumping of his feet on the boards making his throat ache even more, remembering the free feeling of his bare feet on the boardwalk only two months earlier, Mean Green in hand, laughing uncontrollably at Hannah’s mother’s lewd jokes, decorum thrown to the wind.
Chapter 30
“Who was that? Answer me!”
Phil focused on the approaching island. Just get away, before Rose found out who it was on the dock. The farther away they got, the less likely she’d recognize the O’Brien girl.
“Phil!”
He turned and looked back at the dock. Just a toy now with two tiny dolls on it.
“Are you going to answer? Am I a ghost here?”
He looked over at his wife. The tracks from her fingernails on her forehead and cheeks had healed to a dark pink, the scabs falling off two days before. Rose’s face was shiny from the antibiotic ointment she applied to the wounds hourly. It was too much, too often, but she wouldn’t listen to him and his silly warnings.
“No, you’re not a ghost. I hear you.”
“Who were those people? Are they staying on the island?”
Now he had no choice. He had to lie. He couldn’t chance it with the truth. “Nah, I bet they’re just here to close up one of the houses. No one ever comes out here now.” That part was true, anyway. He turned away and focused his eyes up-island, steering the boat homeward.
“Well, aren’t we going to go to Jones? Why did we turn around?”
Phillip cursed himself. It was his idea, taking a walk on the boardwalk and the beach at Jones Beach - a way to drag her off of that porch and away from the magazines and her cell phone. She’d packed a battery-operated charger this year and had been spending the last week sitting on the porch either on the phone to Dr. Omin or Jackie. Both of them were filling her head so full of nonsense, it spilled out of her mouth whenever she talked. Jackie-said-this and Dr. Omin-said-that and beauty inside, beauty outside and she was never never never going to get old and aren’t-you-recycling-that?
He kept his focus up-island, finally spotting their dock. Almost home, safe. “I think I ate something bad. I’m not feeling well.”
“Oh, no! What? Was it that polenta do you think?”
Phillip nearly laughed. The dry tasteless polenta from last night he’d pushed around on his plate? He’d only been able to choke down a few bites. “I’m not sure. Just not feeling too good. We’ll do Jones another day.” Another day never. He wasn’t taking any more chances.
“You know…” Rose looked back at the receding shore. “That looked like Hannah O’Brien.”
He glanced at her and shook his head. “Oh, no, I don’t think so.”
“No, really. That was Hannah O’Brien. What is she doing here?”
“No, it’s not her!”
“What are you shouting about? It’s her. And I’m guessing her boyfriend. Why are you denying it? Do you know something?”
“No…” He tightened his lips and forced himself to focus on their dock which was zooming up on the left.
“You do! You know something. I can tell!”
He shook his head again. “No, I don’t.”
“How long has she been here?”
Suddenly, he was flooded with impatient anger. Couldn’t she just take his word for it? Did everything have to be a battle? “Goddamn it, Rose! Stop it!” He cut the motor and pulled up the boat sloppily against the dock, having to lean and grab the edge of the boards to pull the boat closer. He could feel her piercing gaze on him, a burning sensation, as he tied up. He didn’t want to lie to her any more than he had. He just wanted her to drop it.
“So, you’ve met her, huh? You two had a nice little conversation, didn’t you? Did she giggle and jiggle for you? Did you like that? I bet you did. Some young beautiful girl like that. Just like her mother.”
Phillip leapt out of the boat and turned back to face her. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to the bathroom. You can sit there and make up things all day long if you want. Need a hand up?” He reached down, offering his hand to her.
She sneered at his hand, her shiny pink-striped face twisting. “I don’t need a hand up. I grew up on the water. You, on the other hand, were afraid of boats when I met you. Tiptoed around in them like a little girl. Of course, I didn’t say anything at the time. Didn’t want to hurt your tender male ego.”
He looked down at his wife. What had happened to her? He hated to admit it, but the woman he loved, the vibrant proud woman he would have given his life for gladly, was gone. What was left was a bitter hateful crow, angrily picking at life and finding it wanting, her outraged cawing painful to hear. He turned without comment and walked up the dock, heading toward the house and away from her.
Chapter 31
Hannah fell down on her hands and knees and simply stared at wooden floor for a second, her mind racing on wildly although her body had come to a stop. She was sweating and panting as if she’d been running.
No, it couldn’t be. Where was it?
She dropped down to sit on her right hip and survey the damage. Pam’s living room looked like a Nor’easter had torn through it, tumbled piles of clothes everywhere, books splayed open here and there, her neat plastic baggies filled with toiletries emptied out on the floor, the items strewn about. Her engagement ring, which she thought was in her suitcase, was nowhere to be found. Hadn’t she put it there? She tried to replay the events of that first day she arrived in her head, but all she could remember was her discomfort with starting and maneuvering Pam’s boat, her first visit to the Barefooter house. She knew that she’d taken the ring out of the pocket in her purse, she’d already checked there. But that was it. She thought she’d put it in her suitcase late that night before fa
lling into bed, so exhausted she was immediately asleep and powering into her dreams.
Her face felt tight, the dried tears rigid on her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried that hard, wrenching sobs that made her whole body convulse. She’d cried watching him open the gate again and pull out of the lot, cried locking it, cried all the way back to Pam’s, barely able to see where she was steering the boat and finding herself going off-course again and again. The whole time she’d berated herself for letting him see her left hand. But what would have happened now, if he’d come back here with her? The plan had been to quickly slip the ring on while he was preparing their Mean Greens in the kitchen. But the ring wasn’t where it was supposed to be. How long could she have gone on hiding her hand? And where the hell had she put it?
She got back on her hands and knees and crawled over to the suitcase and started patting it down again, digging through each of the zippered compartments, willing herself to feel the ring’s hard round presence.
“Come on! It’s got to be here…”
Her cell phone rang, jangling out the default ring. She paused and sat back on her heels. Should she answer it? It wasn’t someone that she knew, or at least not a number she’d programmed into her phone. No, she didn’t want to deal with it. She leaned forward again to continue her search.
Then she jerked, looking up and realizing who it could be. Was it Daniel? Maybe his cell phone was dead. Maybe he was calling from a pay phone over at Jones Beach. What if he’d changed his mind, wanted to come back? Or maybe he just wanted to talk to her and a few words would make things right again.
She scrambled to her feet and ran for the phone, which was sitting on the kitchen table, and snatched it up. “Hello?”
“Hi, Hannah? It’s Mr. Harris. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
Hannah swallowed hard. Mr. Harris. Oh, God. She’d avoided him so well up until now, ignoring the overdue rent in her only recent communication: a note left in their mailbox right before leaving for Captain’s saying she’d be back soon, was away seeing family. It wasn’t a complete lie. This island was like family, every house a familiar face, the gentle thump of waves against the boardwalk a mother’s heartbeat.