“Nuh-uh…we’d all fit in the front.”
Nick turned to face his daughter. “We need to talk about something serious, okay?” He paused. “Mary got pretty sick yesterday. We had to take her to the hospital.”
Maddy looked in the rearview mirror. Becky’s face had lost its joy. Maddy wanted to say something to take away her fear, but knew it was Nick’s job.
“Can we see her, Daddy?”
“Well, that’s the good news. The doctor said she’s better, and we’re going to pick her up.” He reached back to caress her cheek. “And since Maddy’s her friend, too, she wanted to come.”
“And that’s why we’re in Maddy’s car, huh?”
“You got it.”
“What’s wrong with Mary?”
“Something with her heart, sweetie.”
“Did it break?”
Nick smiled. “No, baby. Mary’s strong. The only thing that could break her heart is not seeing your smiling face today.” He turned to the front again to stare at the freeway ahead.
Maddy’s own heart contracted. With her eyes on the road, she blindly felt her way along his thigh until her hand found his. Nick’s fingers intertwined with hers, and stayed that way until they reached the hospital.
Chapter Nineteen
Mary allowed Nick to help her across the deck. Then, shaking off his hand, she said, “I’m not an invalid. I can walk into my home on my own power, Nick.”
The fireboat that brought Mary from the waterfront to Salmon Beach roared to life and took off up the Narrows, leaving a heavy wake, and then silence. Maddy and Becky watched the boat until it disappeared. None of them had anticipated the orders from the doctor.
Mary, though, had already heard his final words on the subject of the steps at Salmon Beach. “You’ll need to seriously think about moving,” he’d said. “Your heart won’t stand the strain of those stairs anymore.”
Leave Salmon Beach? It was unthinkable in the extreme.
Mary stopped in the middle of the kitchen, while Nick took her small case into the bedroom. Becky’s thin arms wrapped themselves around her thighs, hugging her tightly. She looked down at the girl, smiling. “Tomorrow we’ll start work on the project we talked about.”
“What project?” Nick asked, returning to lean his elbows on the counter. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“It’s a secret, Daddy.”
Mary winked at him. “You’ll have to trust me, Nick. It’s nothing strenuous.” She bent and kissed the top of Becky’s head. “Where did Madeleine go?”
Nick looked out the glass door. Maddy stood at the edge of the deck, staring out at the water. “I think she’s having a tough time with this.”
Mary disengaged herself from Becky’s hug and turned toward the door.
“I’ll get her for you,” Nick said.
“No. Let me speak with her alone.” Mary slowly made her way across the deck until she stood beside Maddy. “We have another beautiful day to be thankful for,” she said.
Maddy nodded, then said, “What are you going to do, Mary?”
“I’m going to have a cup of tea, then lie down for a little while.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Mary smiled. “I know it’s not, dear.” She paused to pick a few dead flower heads off a marigold plant. “Madeleine, I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ll take the pills the doctor gave me, and I’ll rest every day.”
“But you aren’t going to leave the beach, are you.” It was an accusation.
“Never,” Mary stated.
Maddy finally turned and put her arms around Mary. “I don’t want to lose you. I just found you.”
“Yes, I know.” Mary stroked Maddy’s hair. She could feel it starting: a powerful sensation of knowing. “I’ll be with you as long as you need me. I promise you that, Madeleine.” She gently pushed her away. “Now, I really do need to put my feet up.”
Maddy kissed Mary’s cheek. Tried to smile.
“And, Madeleine, you have to make me a promise.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t let my human frailty interfere with what you’ve started. You have a lot of lost time to make up for. I want to see the Madeleine who’s been hiding all these years come out of hibernation.”
“I’m not sure she’s still at this address, but I’ll try and find her.”
Arm in arm, they walked back inside.
As Nick ushered Maddy and Becky out, he turned to Mary and said, “I know you’re not going to listen to your doctor. About the beach, anyway. And I’ll do everything I can to help you stay, Mary. But if it means your life, I can be just as stubborn as you can. Understand?”
“Understood. And thank you for everything, Nick. Your love is very precious to me.”
Mary closed the door behind them and sighed deeply. There was much to do, but she was worn out. She made her way to the kitchen to put the water on, and then sank into the wingback chair with her cup of Darjeeling Blend. She was asleep three sips later.
From afar, the man in her dream was quite beautiful. He seemed to float above the path as he walked, and for a moment she thought he was her John come back for her and Mary called his name. But when he stood before her, she saw he looked nothing like her husband. This stranger’s beauty didn’t diminish with close scrutiny, yet the perfect symmetry of his face was unsettling.
His lips smiled, but his dark eyes didn’t. There was a burning in them that spoke of loss, defeat. And of a buried pain.
They studied each other as adversaries. When he opened his mouth to speak, Mary covered her ears with her hands. She knew whatever he had to say would be harmful. It was then she saw why the face disturbed her so. It wasn’t perfect after all. There was a small scar above his eye. His nose seemed slightly off-center.
Mary felt the threat he posed, but it wasn’t physical. There was an emotion tied to him which she couldn’t name. And it was connected to Madeleine.
This foresight moved Mary to speak. “Go away,” she said. “You don’t belong here.”
His voice – hollow – reached her ears anyway. “I found her,” he said. “She’s mine.”
Mary woke, tears of fear clinging to the rims of her eyes. As she sat up, they spilled over her cheeks. She couldn’t comfort herself with the words “only a dream.” It seemed like so much more.
The afternoon sun glinted off the Narrows, sending sharp sparks of white light through the windows. It was the time of day Mary did her best work. Today, the light was painful, and she slowly got out of the chair to walk to the front of her house, and her bathroom.
A cool washcloth soothed her. As she hung the cloth over the towel rod, Mary tried to push the man’s image from her mind with another vision.
She reran the picture of her three friends leaving earlier, and remembered her thoughts: how like a young family they were. She loved seeing Nick with his daughter. That relationship had been forged eight years ago and it would never be broken. Not by anything less than an act of God, anyway.
Mary smiled.
Nick with Madeleine made her heart glad, but the links that connected them were so tenuous. One strong tug and they’d come apart. There wasn’t enough holding them. If they didn’t make a stronger alliance soon, what was coming would surely cause a severe rift in their collective souls.
Her smile faded.
There was no doubt in Mary’s mind something harsh and rending was on its way. She’d felt it in Madeleine’s body as she’d held her – a sudden, electrifying tremor of something irregular. She knew it from her dream. Something back from a very long exodus. Something that was part of Madeleine.
But what this thing – who this man – was, Mary didn’t know, and this clouded uncertainty made her feel powerless.
Journal Entry
July 8
It’s a little past 8 p.m., and I’m sitting out on the deck writing this. Another perfect day. It must be 70 degrees right now. Twilight is just setting in, but I won’t
have to turn on a light for at least another hour. This is what I love most about the Northwest: the endless summer nights. But the long, beautiful evenings make it hard to be alone. I always want to share them with someone.
I had Mary over for dinner earlier. She seems to be doing better, but I’ve noticed her staring at me a lot more. It’s like she’s trying to puzzle something out. Or she’s waiting for me to tell her something. I’m not sure what she expects me to say. It’s not like I have any momentous news to report. But when I ask her why she’s doing it, she just shakes her head.
I’ve taken to accompanying her everywhere. I walked her over here. Walked her home. I think a lot of the other residents are doing the same. Yesterday, I did her grocery shopping. She has a doctor appointment the end of this week. The QVII is still moored at the public dock, which means I’ll need to move her down here before Friday.
I haven’t really seen Nick since we brought Mary home. He was with Becky Sunday and I didn’t want to impose myself on them. But she’s gone now, and I miss him. I’m not sure why he goes into these seclusions.
It was interesting watching him interact with Janet. My first impression is she’s the Ex-Wife From Hell. Surely that can’t be completely true. He married her so she must’ve been someone he could love. I wonder what happened. Something he said to her sticks in my mind: “You’re reputation doesn’t exactly sparkle.” Does that mean she “done him wrong”? I realize no one’s perfect, but how could she have had someone like Nick and cheated on him?
Becky’s a sweet little girl. Funny, and smart, too. She has Nick’s coloring, and really looks like him, but there’s enough Janet in her to make her feminine. She’s a real talker. The subjects were wide and varied, and sometimes hilarious. Apparently, she’s the catcher on her Little League team, and she has the position down pat. When I asked her what catchers really say to pitchers on the mound she said, “Well, sometimes we talk about what kind of pizza we’re going to have after the game. But most of the time I just say, ‘Throw strikes or the coach is gonna kick your butt.’” I laughed out loud at that one, and asked where she’d learned those particular tricks. She looked at me kinda funny, and said, “My Daddy, of course,” as if I couldn’t be more dense. Nick wasn’t around, so I couldn’t get the lowdown, but it got me curious.
I was surprised at how easy it was for me to be around her. Not my usual M.O. with kids. Most of the time they make me nervous. When I was younger I used to say I didn’t like children. Maybe I said it for shock value. Actually, I deal with kids the way I deal with adults. It all boils down to personality. Either I like them or I don’t. Has nothing to do with their size.
But Mom’s answer to my statement was always, “It’d be different with your own. You’d love them, no matter what.”
I suppose that’s true. But if I had to analyze myself I’d say it all comes down to seeing what Mom and Dad did to Danny and then never, ever wanting to put myself in a position of doing that to any human being.
Oh, sure, there was a brief moment in my early 30’s when I wanted a daughter. I felt the need to have someone carry on family traditions, and my grandmother’s recipes. Someone to leave all my worldly possessions to. Someone to take care of me in my old age. A grandchild for my mother.
I finally came to the conclusion that none of those were the right reasons for having a child. You should create a child with someone you love; someone you know loves you. The decision to have a child comes with respect and permanence. (As much permanence as we’re allowed in this world.) I think I understood, even back then, I didn’t have that with Ted.
I admire people who do have kids. So much work and heartbreak and worry. Look at Nick. He really loves that little girl. How hard must it be for him to only see her a few days out of the month? And how hard to have such a lousy relationship with his ex that they can’t even share the everyday joys Becky must bring?
I’ve got to believe that no matter how unaffected Dad seemed about Danny leaving, there’s a part of him deep inside that’s incredibly empty. I mean, it’s not like they lost a child to a tragic accident, or a terrible illness. He didn’t physically die, so they could never put him to rest in their minds. There was never any closure – if there is such a thing.
To me – and I’d have to think, for Mom and Dad – Danny will always be out there somewhere.
Chapter Twenty
Nick replaced the receiver in its cradle, Becky’s elated voice a fresh memory. Something he could store away until their next talk. “I hit my first home run today, Daddy!”
Thrilled and proud as he was, Nick could feel the depression gaining momentum. He’d missed the latest event in Becky’s life. Another reminder of how far away she really was – not in miles, but in essence.
He stood, arms crossed, staring at the family of clay polar bears Becky had made with Mary’s help. The two of them had wrapped the figurines in white tissue paper. The presentation box had been painted white. The “iceberg” they stood on was a flat stone, also brushed with white paint and then sprinkled with opalescent glitter.
Nick picked up the biggest bear and ran his thumb along the surface. She’d done a good job. Mary had assured him that even the details – the lines to simulate fur; small, curved wires for claws – were his daughter’s ideas. He brought the figure to his face and ran it along his cheek. It was hard and cool, and didn’t bring Becky to mind. But back in its spot between Mama and Baby bears, Nick could see her dream of a family, and he felt a nerve in his temple jump.
Nick knew the path his thoughts were about to take, and he was sick of it, but felt powerless to redirect them down a better road. Before he knew it, he was dialing his sister’s number, in need of assurance and a dumping ground. But Tom answered. No, Kay wasn’t home. She’d taken the kids ice-skating. Any message? And Nick said, “Why aren’t you with them?” Then he hung up.
In the kitchen, beer in hand, he felt the restlessness beginning. The sun had just dipped behind the mountains. There was a Mariner’s game on, but he couldn’t summon up any enthusiasm for it. Didn’t really want to see Jim Kingston’s game face. Didn’t have to. It was tattooed on his brain.
Standing in front of the window, Nick looked across the beach. There were no signs of life at Jaed’s. No one was on the deck. Then a swift movement caught his eye. Chloe jumping onto the rail. If the cat was outside, so was Maddy, and Nick checked again.
He saw how he’d missed her. She sat, knees up, in a chaise, quietly reading. No. Make that writing. In her journal, he guessed.
Nick watched for a few minutes, wondering what thoughts she was putting to paper. She’d scribble something, then lift her head to look out across the water, the end of the pen in her mouth, and the process would begin again. This was where all her confidences and secrets went. Nick supposed this was how she got rid of any need to talk about the past. But she obviously thought about it. Thought about it a lot.
He almost wished he could write it all down and be done with it, but the idea didn’t appeal to him. Nick didn’t want a written account of his feelings. First of all, it felt slightly self-indulgent. And maybe more importantly, he couldn’t see leaving behind hard evidence of his weaknesses. But there were times in his life – like right now – he needed to talk. And if talking wasn’t an option a more silent, but equally cathartic, form of communication was what he wanted.
Turning away from the window, Nick knew he’d already made the decision. Fifteen minutes later, showered and changed, he headed for the front door. He opened it to find Maddy just stepping onto the porch, a tote bag slung over her shoulder.
“You’re going somewhere,” she said, her smile fading.
“Just next door,” he said.
She looked over at Number 73. “I thought they moved out last month?” Her eyes met his, and she got the joke. “Oh, that next door.”
“Looks like you already have a plan,” he said.
“It’s so nice, I thought I’d bring the QVII home, and I wondered
if you wanted to come along for the ride.”
The sky had turned a violet-blue by the time they got underway. Nick stood behind Maddy as she piloted the boat. The cool salt air streamed over them. She didn’t seem to be in any hurry, and kept their speed at twenty knots.
Her hair fluttered in the breeze, the scent tantalizing him, and he put his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. She relaxed into him. Said, “That’s nice.” He rested his chin on her head, and savored the feeling of being the only two people on the water.
They rounded the point in relative silence, broken only by the occasional comment. Once, when he pushed her hair aside and kissed the nape of her neck, she sighed so deeply he could feel it in his own lungs.
A little later, while they held a steady course down the Narrows, she placed her hand on his and softly asked, “What’s bothering you?”
“Who said anything is?” he answered, wondering how she’d known.
Maddy gave a small shrug. “You just seem kinda down. You know. Like the Sunday night blues, only it’s Tuesday.”
“How did you know about Sunday nights?”
“It’s a pretty common phenomenon. The weekend’s over. You have to go to work the next day…”
“Huh. Funny, I’d never heard of that,” Nick said.
“Then what did you mean?”
Nick held her tighter. “I never had the Sunday night blues until I got divorced. Until I only started seeing Becky every other weekend.”
Maddy slowed the engine. “Makes sense. But it doesn’t explain your Tuesday night blues.”
“Becky called me today. She hit her first home run.”
“And you didn’t get to see it.” Maddy brought the boat to a complete stop, and dropping anchor, she turned. “Nick, I’m sorry.”
“You think I’d get used to it.”
She lifted a hand to his cheek. “Why should you?”
It was fully dark now. The moon was new. Nick could barely make out her features in the running lights. He wrapped himself around her like a drowning man who’s found a piece of flotsam.
A Sea Change Page 16