When Judge Hearne stated, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,” Jack gathered Holly to him in a huge hug, kissed her briefly, then pulled back and winked. The way her father used to wink at her sometimes. Katy jumped up and down, clapping, and Henry said, “Time to break out the champagne.”
It had all been simple and beautiful and, as Katy inevitably announced, “Perfect.” Henry poured champagne for the judge, Jack and her and a glass of ginger ale for Katy. When she begged to have a sip out of Holly’s glass, Holly gave in, but stopped her firmly when she tried to glug down more.
Henry had made lobster salad for their wedding lunch and had set up a little table in the shade on the side of the porch where they could sit and eat, looking out over the water. Judge Hearne took off his robe, revealing a lobster-red golf shirt, and helped himself to a huge plate. He then proceeded to regale them for half an hour with tales of his fishing exploits, before stopping mid-sentence, checking his watch and announcing he had a golf match to play in.
After he’d wished them the happiest of marriages, he left and Henry chuckled, saying, “Nice man, the judge, but those fishing stories are fifty percent wishful thinking and fifty percent more wishful thinking. I took him out with me once and he was a nuisance. Managed to hook himself in the thumb and hook me in the ankle. A real liability on a boat. Anyway, what’s the plan, you two? When are you off to Vermont?”
“We’re leaving late afternoon.” Jack had his arm around Holly and squeezed her shoulder. “Holly and I are going for a sail in the Sunfish after lunch. I’m going to show her what a good teacher she is and what a good learner I am. We’ll go for a nice, long, relaxed sail and then come back and hopefully get going in time to make it to the inn for dinner.”
“That sounds like a good plan. What do you think, Mrs. Dane?”
It took Holly a second to realize Henry was addressing her; when she did, she smiled, touched her gold wedding band with her left thumb, and reached up to put her hand over Jack’s.
“I think it’s an excellent plan. What about you, Katy? Are you all right with Jack and me going for a sail on our own?”
“Yes.” Katy nodded, rhythmically patting the head of Bones, who was lying at her feet. “Bones, you can go see Jack now. Go on. It’s OK now.”
Bones didn’t move and Holly was surprised to hear the anxiety in Katy’s voice when she said again, “It’s OK, Bones. You can go see him now.”
“What are you talking about, Katy? Why is it OK for Bones to see Jack now? I don’t understand.”
“I thought now Jack can say.”
“Say what?” Holly looked over to Jack, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged.
“Say about being the Explorer.”
“What?” Holly’s heart dropped from its great height with a crash.
“He is, isn’t he?” Katy’s eyes were beseeching.
“Sweetheart.” She looked at Jack again, then at Henry.
“Princess.” Jack went over to Katy, knelt down on the porch in front of her. “You’ve got the wrong end of the stick.”
“What stick?”
“I mean . . .” He took her hands in his. “I’m not an explorer, I’m afraid. Just a waiter. A good waiter. A very good waiter. But I don’t explore. I stay at home. With you and your mother. Remember I told you when I first met you I’m not an explorer. That’s OK, isn’t it? You like waiters, don’t you?”
“But I thought . . .” Katy bit her lip. “I know you are. You are.”
“I’m your stepfather now, princess. Which means I’m a special kind of father. Who loves you very much.”
Holly thought Katy was going to burst into tears. Instead she made a funny face, screwing her lips to one side, and then looked over at Henry.
“Henry, can we play Ping-Pong now?”
“Of course, Katy.” Henry went over to her, picked her up in his arms. “But I think we’d better get changed out of these fancy clothes first. I have your shorts and T-shirt in your room upstairs. Why don’t you run up and change?” He put her down on the porch. “Off you go—skedaddle.”
She ran to the screen door, opened it and disappeared into the house.
“Jesus H. Christ.” Henry rubbed his forehead. “Did you know she thought that?”
“Of course not,” Holly replied, bridling. “I had no idea.”
“Jack?”
“Absolutely not, Henry.”
“What a fuck-up.”
“Actually, she didn’t seem that bothered.” Jack was up off his knees and back at Holly’s side. “She seemed more interested in the Ping-Pong than my status as non-Explorer.”
“You think so?” Holly turned to him. “Really?”
“She had an idea, that’s all. And she found out it wasn’t the right idea. She doesn’t even know what a father means, not really. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“You don’t think I should go up to her now, explain about Billy?”
“No way. You’d just confuse her. I bet you anything she’ll be running through that door in a few seconds, desperate to get a Ping-Pong bat in her hand, with no thought whatsoever for the Explorer.”
“I don’t know.” Henry shook his head. “This whole Explorer business has to stop. It’s always been wrong. Holly, you should think about—” But he was interrupted by Katy, who bounded through the screen door in her shorts and with her T-shirt on the wrong way around. “Let’s play, Henry. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and tugged it.
“Chickpea, are you sure you’re all right? Do you want me to stay for a while?”
“I want to be with Henry and Bones. You and Jack go.”
“OK.” Holly looked at her daughter, standing impatiently, tugging at Henry’s hand, and for the first time she saw Billy in her. Her blonde hair had probably come from Billy’s side, but it had never reminded Holly of Billy—it was thicker and more platinum than his. Her eyes and nose had a slight twinge of Barrett to them, but Katy had been otherwise unmistakably Katy, her own individual genetic print. Yet when she said, “I want to be with Henry and Bones,” something about her mouth, the straight line it made, resembled Billy’s when he was being stubborn.
So Billy had managed to make his presence known, like in a fairy tale when the evil fairy godmother shows up at the party and casts a spell. For a second, when Judge Hearne had asked if anyone had any objections to the marriage, Holly had looked around, terrified that Billy might be hiding in a bush or behind a tree and would spring out and try to stop them. This unexpected reminder of him was like a thorn in her happiness, but only a tiny one, and one almost instantly removed. Katy’s expression changed; as she leaned down to pat Bones, she became Katy again.
I’ll have to talk to Jack. When we’re in Vermont. We have to face this Billy business and decide on the best way to introduce him to Katy. But it will all be fine, because we’re so happy now we can handle anything.
“Before we all go our separate ways—” Henry stood up “—I’d like to make a toast. To Holly and Jack. And Katy, of course. You deserve the very best in life, and I feel sure now you’ll have it, together. I’d like to take some credit for this match.” He smiled. “But you would have found each other again without me, I’m sure.
“Jack, I welcome you to our family. It’s a real pleasure to have such a wonderful grandson-in-law. Not to mention one who can fish. I’m looking forward to many more fishing trips. But I want us to raise our glasses, too, to the people we love who aren’t here. They’re all still a part of us and I’m sure they’re sharing in our happiness. Let’s raise our glasses to you and to them.”
They all stood, raised their glasses, and drank. Holly kissed and hugged Henry; he held her tightly, then pushed her away, saying, “Shit, sweetie, I’m too old to cry. Go. Get out into this beautiful weather and go sailing.”
After they’d changed and Jack and she had walked down to the beach in their bathing suits, they began to drag the Sunfish down to the water. Just before they reached the water�
��s edge, a memory of her mother calling out, “You forgot your life jacket, Holly. Come back,” slammed into her heart. This intense, overwhelming surge of sadness she felt should have hit when she was putting on her wedding dress, or when she was saying her vows, not when the ceremony was over and she was doing something as mundane as getting a Sunfish into the water.
But Holly had learned that grief could ambush you when you least expected it. She’d be walking from the kitchen to the living room, have a sudden memory of her parents, stop in her tracks, and find tears running down her face, from the sheer force of missing them. Anniversaries of their birthdays and deaths would always bring sadness, but the most powerful emotions came out of the blue, catching her off guard.
“Holly?” Jack had the centerboard in his hand. “Are you all right? Hop on. We’re going.”
All she could do was to hold up her hand, signaling for him to wait while she tried to get her composure back.
“Holly?”
“I’m coming.” She didn’t want to tell him what had upset her, worried that it would make him sad about his own parents too, so she stepped forward into the water, splashed some quickly onto her face, and while Jack held the boat for her, she hopped on board and grabbed the sail’s rope.
One of her parents’ favorite movies had been High Society with Grace Kelly, Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra. In one scene, Grace Kelly and Bing Crosby sail off together on their honeymoon in a boat called True Love. This Sunfish was too small to have a name; it had a blue-and-white striped sail and a fiberglass body which was as rudimentary as a sailboat could be. But as Holly watched Jack take command of the rudder, she thought of it as their own True Love.
They set off in the breeze, tacked a few times and headed for the end of the dike and beyond. Jack had picked up the art of sailing seemingly effortlessly, and Holly sat happily, soaking up the sun as they glided across the tops of tiny waves.
Sometimes when she’d go out on her own, she’d purposefully take the boat to the limit and beyond, riding the wind so hard that the hull lifted out of the water, the boat was almost perpendicular, and she was flying. There was always that moment of heady abandon mixed with fear as the sail went that one inch too far, toppling her and the boat into the ocean.
This was going to be an easy, relaxed sail, though. No capsizing, simply meandering along, enjoying a few hours of sun, salt air and post-ceremony, pre-honeymoon time. When they reached the end of the dike, Jack said, “There’s a little island up ahead and off to the right, isn’t there? I’ve seen it when I’ve fished with Henry and I’ve always wanted to land on it and explore. Do you know the one I mean? I think Henry called it Little Bird Island.”
“I know it. But I don’t want to land there. Let’s just keep sailing.”
“Why don’t you want to?”
“It’s called Little Bird but it has another name too. I’ve always been scared of going there, ever since I was a child.”
“Holly?” He shot her a quizzical look. “What are you on about? How can you be afraid of a little island?” He nudged her leg with his foot.
“Because it’s the Bad Boy’s Island.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s what we’ve always called it. My mother told me about it. There was a bad boy who lived on the road into town, just after the Point Road ends; and he used to go to that island and camp out at night.”
“A bad boy?”
“That’s what we called him. All my cousins had heard about him too. We used to dare each other to go to the island but none of us ever did.”
Jack pushed the rudder so the boat headed straight into the wind.
“What are you doing? We can’t move when we’re headed straight into the wind like this.”
“What did this boy do that was so bad?”
Clearly, he wasn’t going to move the tiller; she didn’t know why this story interested him so much, but she went ahead and explained:
“That’s the funny part. We were all terrified of him and thought he was a murderer and none of us dared ask what he’d done. You know how little kids are. We used to tell scary stories about him at night to frighten each other. One day when I was sixteen or so, I finally asked my mother what he’d done and she told me she thought he’d stolen a bicycle. But she wasn’t sure.”
“What’s funny about that?”
“It’s not funny exactly, but you know, like I said, we were kids and we’d built up this whole image of him as this evil, awful bad boy who’d done terrifying things and it turned out all he’d done was maybe steal a bicycle. Still—somehow it stuck. I mean, we kept calling Little Bird Island the Bad Boy’s Island even when we knew he hadn’t done anything horrible, and I know it’s ridiculous, but I still have a thing about it. I don’t want to go there. It feels like bad luck.”
“Bad luck? Because some poor boy who may or may not have stolen a bicycle used to camp out there? And it’s supposed to be funny that because he may have made one mistake, you branded him an evil monster for eternity? I can’t believe how stupid you were and how stupid you’re being now.”
“Jack?” Holly reeled with shock and pain. “If you feel that strongly about it, of course I’ll go there with you. It just wasn’t something I wanted to do on our wedding day, that’s all.”
The boat wasn’t moving and the sun was bearing down on her and Jack was sitting with the rudder in his hand, staring at her with the same terrible cold expression he’d had those two times when Katy had been sick and crying. Holly pulled the sheet of the sail in a vain attempt to get them moving again.
“Come on. I’ve changed my mind. That’s a woman’s prerogative, isn’t it? Let’s go there. It will be fun.” She was pleading with him now, hating the way his eyes had hardened, desperate to make amends for screwing things up. “You’re right, I was being stupid and childish.”
“Stupid and childish and worse. You were being cruel and judgmental, not to mention absurdly superstitious.”
“I was being cruel? I don’t think I was being cruel.”
“Did you ever meet him?”
“The Bad Boy?”
“No, the President, Holly. We were talking about the President, weren’t we?”
“Jack, please. I’m sorry, OK? And no, I never met him. Please can we just start sailing again and forget about him?”
“Absolutely.” He pushed the tiller as far as he could to the left, maneuvering the boat back into a position to catch the wind and pick up speed. But just as Holly was beginning to hope he’d calmed down, he tacked; the boom swinging so quickly in the other direction, it almost smashed her in the head.
“Jack? What are you doing?”
“We’re going home.”
“What?”
“We’re going home.”
“I don’t understand. This is silly. Can’t we forget it?”
“We’ve done enough sailing, Holly. It’s time to go back.”
They’d never talked about the night when Anna had come to visit, the night when he’d gone off and hadn’t come back. She assumed he’d slept on the beach, and had wanted to ask him why he had felt the need to leave. But Anna had been there and then they’d been busy planning the ceremony and that awful night faded into obscurity. She didn’t want to bring it back to life by mentioning it.
Besides, she had decided that there was a gulf between their cultures she’d just have to get used to. The English don’t like to talk about their emotions, and she would have to learn to accept that and be thankful that he didn’t overanalyze everything the way Americans did. Going out and sleeping on the beach was better than staying in and being angry. It was preferable to say nothing than say something you might regret. And he might have admitted that he was having problems dealing with a small child who cried and coughed at night. In the heat of sleepless irritation, he might have said something about Katy which she wouldn’t be able to forget.
But Katy’s crying or coughing wasn’t the issue now. The problem was, she h
ad no idea what the issue was, why he was so angry and distant.
This was their wedding day and Jack wasn’t speaking to her; he wouldn’t even look at her.
She’d prepared herself for the possibility of Billy coming and making a scene. The fact that he’d been quiet in the past week, that he hadn’t shown up at the house or called, didn’t totally allay her fear of him making trouble for them somehow.
What she would never have imagined in a million years was that the old scary Bad Boy of her childhood would come back and ruin her perfect day. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe she had been cruel to the Bad Boy. If so, he was getting his revenge on her now. In spades.
Chapter 14
No one had answered his knock on the door. Which didn’t mean he had the right to walk in, but he did anyway. His purpose for coming to the house had been well-intentioned. He was going to congratulate Holly and Jack on their marriage, show them he could rise above his feelings and make a gesture toward some kind of harmony. Having taken Anna’s advice about steering clear, he was going to go that one step further and hold out the proverbial olive branch or peace pipe or whatever it took to get himself back on track and in Holly’s good graces.
So he’d knocked and no one had answered and then he’d found himself opening the screen door. This hadn’t been part of the plan, but he couldn’t stop himself from walking in. “Hello,” he called out, but again, no one answered. He almost turned around then and walked out; he might have if he hadn’t seen the photographs. They were dotted all around the living room: pictures of Holly and Katy and Jack—a whole gallery of them, framed and on display. And not one of the ones he’d seen when he’d been before. No Mr. or Mrs. Barrett, no pictures of Katy as a baby or toddler.
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