Love in Maine

by Connie Falconeri

  It had taken him a lifetime to get used to his mother’s constant inspection, and even now it made his skin crawl. It had taken him weeks to trust Maddie enough to let her look at him like that. Like she was right now. But for the whole world to look at him? No way.

  And Hank could tell that Maddie was going to be out in the world. She was a part of everything. She would probably make the Olympic cut in two years for the women’s crew team. She was going to be someone public and important.

  “What is it?” Maddie asked.

  He looked back from the passing sidewalks and smiled into her dark violet eyes. “Just you.” He smiled and kissed her cheek. “I was just thinking what an accomplished person you’re going to be.”

  Her face pinched together. “So . . . why would that make your face so dark and stormy?”

  Squeezing the inside of her thigh, Hank said, “I wasn’t dark and stormy. Just thoughtful. You’re amazing, that’s all.”

  Maddie wanted to slap him. Slap him awake. Wake up! Wake up to the fact that I am this way when I’m with you, you idiot. You make me feel like this. You make me feel like I can accomplish anything when you look at me like that. But then I see that the reason it makes you so wistful and distant is that you won’t be there to share in those accomplishments, will you? Because that would be too exposed and miserable.

  Taking a deep, quick breath, Maddie turned to look out her side of the car. “Thanks.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. Thanks for thinking I’m amazing, because it’s going to be very short-lived, so you might as well revel in it now. Because when you drop me off at the train station on Monday afternoon, and drive away, and don’t wave or look in the rearview mirror, I’m going to be shriveling up inside and setting my mind to rowing as fast as I can, and studying as robotically as I can, so I can finish this chapter of my life and hope that missing you doesn’t destroy me.

  She sighed. Again.

  “Enough!” Hank was smiling. It wasn’t a fake smile, exactly. It was more of . . . an effort.

  “Okay!” Maddie tried to brighten along with him.

  “We’re here,” the cabbie called from the front seat.

  Hank pulled a few bills from his pocket and paid the fare, then stepped out of the car and held the door open for Maddie. He smiled (no effort) when she had to swing her feet out, knees tight together, and then dip her head and stand in a gymnastic attempt to get out of the cab without letting her legs split open.

  “Very funny,” she said as she passed right by him and walked straight into the glamorous restaurant.

  The maître d’ showed them to their table immediately, and Hank reached across the narrow table for Maddie’s hand. She was fumbling with her napkin and looked up to see his gorgeous, demanding expression.

  She reached her hand out slowly and absorbed the relief that passed through both of them when they were back in contact like that. She resolved not to sink into any misery about the future, and opened the menu.

  “Oh, this is heaven. Look at all this meat!”

  Hank smiled. “I figured you’d be ready to eat half a cow after spending the summer under my mother’s roof.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Maddie said, without looking up from the menu. “You figured right. I feel like I could rip flesh off bone with my bare hands.”

  “Good.”

  They ordered all the richest things on the menu—foie gras, escargots, corn chowder with lobster, then rack of lamb for Hank and tenderloin for Maddie.

  She ate every bite and loved the feeling of Hank’s eyes on her mouth while she did. Her plate was nearly scraped clean, thanks to the final swipes of bread Maddie had dragged across the surface. She swallowed the final bite and stared at Hank’s soft, tender eyes.

  “Did you like it?” he asked.

  She nodded. “So much,” she whispered. And then she was crying right there in the stupid restaurant and had to put the napkin up to her eyes and dab some of the ice water around her eyes to stop from being all splotchy and red.

  The waitress came over to clear their empty dinner plates. “Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed, mistaking Maddie’s weeping for joy. “Did you just get engaged?”

  Maddie must have looked up with the wrath of the gods shooting from her eyes. “No!”

  “Oh . . . sorry.” The woman grabbed the plates and scurried away.

  Hank was smiling.

  “How can you smile at a time like this?”

  “A time like what?” Hank asked.

  Maddie rolled her eyes. “Please don’t be coy. It’s like the giant elephant in the room—with a giant ticking bomb around its neck—which neither of us is talking about. I’m leaving on Monday. That’s three days from now.” She looked at her watch. “That’s actually two days and some, not counting when we’ll be asleep, which will be never if I can help it. Because I don’t want to miss a minute—”

  “Maddie—”

  “What?!” Her voice had gone up an octave, and the two guys at the nearest table looked over simultaneously to make sure everything was okay. She smiled and waved at them like an insincere politician. “What?” she whispered, turning her full attention back to Hank.

  “Just . . . let’s just have such a great weekend, okay? You know I can’t do anything more than that. You know I feel like shit about it, but would you rather have me make a bunch of lame promises, like I’ll call you every Sunday at four to check in, or I’ll come down to Brown for homecoming—” He jerked his head back and curled his lip at the absurdity. “Look, it sucks. I agree. Maybe I’m weak. I don’t know what the hell I am, but this is it.”

  “I know.” Maddie looked at the table and tried to be mature about the whole thing. “I’ve known all along, but I just kept hoping something else would miraculously happen that would make everything . . . possible.” She reached across the table. “I don’t want dessert.”

  “Good. Me neither.” Hank raised his hand to the very penitent waitress as she passed nearby. He asked for the bill.

  For the next three days, they clung to each other. Maddie was surprised they were able to have such a lighthearted good time—they ate oysters at B & G, they went to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum and stared at paintings by John Singer Sargent. On Saturday afternoon, Maddie asked if Hank would mind if they spent a few hours at the Houghton Library at Harvard. It would save her a trip in the fall. There was one bit of research she wanted to see in person, and it wasn’t eligible for inter-library loan.

  They decided to walk from the hotel over to Cambridge. It took about an hour, but it felt good to be out of the hotel room and near the river and just holding hands and walking along together. They got to the Houghton Library around two o’clock, and the librarian wouldn’t let Maddie into the stacks after all, because she didn’t have a letter from her dissertation advisor.

  Hank was standing to the side with his hands in his pockets. Maddie made one last attempt, but the librarian merely shook her head slowly and seemed genuinely apologetic. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t help you.”

  Maddie walked back to where Hank was standing. “Let’s go. I’m sorry I dragged you all this way.”

  “Do you really want to see this book?”

  Staring into those green eyes of his, Maddie wasn’t sure if Hank was going to whip out a gun and blow his way into the stacks or if he had more traditional means for getting them in. Maddie shrugged. “It’s not the end of the world. I just wanted to hold it in my hand, if you know what I mean.”

  “Give me a second,” Hank said, then leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. He walked over to the librarian and she smiled up at him. They spoke quietly for a few minutes, then Hank handed Madison a temporary visitor’s card.

  “How did you do that?”

  “I have my ways, Post.”

  “I’m starting to see that.”

  “The research project in Woods Hole has a reciprocal agreement with lots of libraries. We got lucky.”

  She grabbed his hand, and they walked into
the reading room of the Houghton Library. Maddie got a thrill at the idea of the place, just being under the same roof as pieces of history that were thousands of years old, papyrus scrolls and medieval books of hours. She requested the manuscript from 1610 that she was looking for and, a few minutes later, a librarian set it on one of the angled reading stands.

  Hank sat next to her and watched as she put on the archival gloves that the librarian had provided and carefully opened the book. She read the sections that were of particular relevance and took a few brief notes on a couple of note cards. After about an hour, she looked up at Hank.

  “Aren’t you bored?”

  “Not at all. I could watch you all day.”

  She took off the gloves and set them next to the book. She got up and told the librarian she was finished and thanked her for her assistance.

  They walked out, and the late afternoon sun was starting to cool down a bit.

  “You want to sit under a tree for a few minutes?” Maddie asked.

  “Sure. You getting wistful?”

  “I think so.”

  They walked over to an English oak in front of Harvard Hall. Hank sat with his back against the trunk, and Maddie slipped easily between his legs, leaning her back into his chest and looking up at the green-and-blue pattern of sky and leaves.

  The two of them were quiet, and the warm air settled around them. Their breathing was easy and gentle. To Maddie, it felt really safe.

  “I love you, Hank,” Maddie said, out of nowhere. “I don’t want to have all this time pass and not have said it out loud. You don’t need to say anything because I’m pretty sure you love me too, but you probably won’t ever say it and I think I’m okay with that.” She was crying again, not bawling or anything, just tears flowing down her cheeks. But even the tears had become such a normal occurrence in the past twenty-four hours that she barely noticed. He squeezed her so tightly, and she knew he couldn’t say it, but he could feel it, which was something. In fact, maybe he felt things very deeply, and that was why he tried so hard not to feel them at all. She reached her right hand up and touched his cheek. He turned his lips into her hand and kissed her so sweetly, and then she felt the moisture of his tears between her fingers, and the two of them just rode it out, sitting there under the English oak in Harvard Yard, their hearts breaking to the hushed rhythm of the leaves that scratched and whispered above their heads.

  When Maddie finally had the courage to open her eyes and the most intense emotions had subsided for the moment, she turned to face him. He had wiped his tears away but he looked kind of disoriented. Wrecked. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Maybe I can take your mind off things.” She smiled and stood up, holding out her hand to help him up from where he was seated on the grass. He reached overhead and took her hand, not that he needed any assistance doing anything he wanted with his body.

  “Let’s see if we can get a taxi. I want my mind taken off things right away.”

  “Thought so,” Maddie said, and squeezed his hand in hers.

  They never left the room again until they checked out on Monday morning. They ordered room service and watched movies naked in bed, and Maddie felt like they were John and Yoko during their bed-in. Neither of them really said much, Hank because he couldn’t really, and Maddie because she had said everything that she wanted to say. She had told him she loved him. So that was done.

  It was liberating to be able to shout it out as loud as she felt like when she had spent all these weeks, especially in bed, making sure that she never let it slip out. Now she had become all full of I-love-you swagger, telling him how much she loved his mouth and his green eyes and his sensitive ears and his amazing shoulders and how he knew her body and moved around her in that stealthy, knowing way. And he didn’t seem to mind all her enumerations and recitations of why she loved him. At first he looked like he was tolerating it, but after he saw that she wasn’t going to let up, he got into the swing of it. He would smile or do something that would demonstrate why said body part was indeed lovable, which usually involved touching Maddie. So everybody was happy.

  Until Monday at noon. Then, nobody was happy.

  CHAPTER 16

  Monday. At. Noon. Just the sound of it was like being penciled in by the Grim Reaper. For the rest of her life, Maddie would never schedule appointments for Monday at noon. Bad. Bad. Bad.

  The poor people at the Ritz must have thought the Park View Suite had not lived up to the unattainable expectations of Mr. Gilbertson and Ms. Post, for the dismal expressions both of them sported when they checked out.

  “It was the absolute best!” Maddie exclaimed when they asked if they’d enjoyed their stay, but she had to turn away quickly before she started crying again.

  When they left the hotel and were standing on the sidewalk waiting for the valet to bring the truck around, Maddie looked up at Hank and said, “I think I’ll walk over to North Station and take the train home. Give me a little time to decompress, you know?”

  “Oh, come on, Maddie. I’ll drop you in Weston, it’s not a big deal.”

  “Where? At the end of my parents’ driveway, by the mailbox? Or will you come up the drive and then come in and stay for dinner and pet the yellow Labrador retrievers and talk fiber optics with my dad? Or maybe you’ll stay over, and my mom will put you in the blue guest room—”

  “Maddie. Stop.”

  She looked away, toward Boston Common. This was definitely the way to go. Leave the hotel. Say good-bye. Don’t get back in the truck. Don’t have to say good-bye again. All of a sudden, she felt like she’d been saying good-bye ever since the first day she met him.

  “Hank. Let’s just say good-bye. Here. Okay?”

  He looked so tormented that she almost wanted to help him, but it was all his deal, all that torment. She’d tried to talk to him. The man simply refused. The minute the conversation turned to his time in the military or hey-what-a-coincidence-that-you-are-also-an-inventor-of-things-Ted-Lodge-sells or what kind of research have you done at the Houghton Library . . . Maddie knew all of these things were facts, but until he chose to share them, none of it really amounted to anything.

  Maddie could feel how badly he wanted to touch her, to stop her. She moved into him, dropping her duffle bag from her shoulder and hugging him as hard as she could. “I love you so much, Henry Gilbertson. Now let me go.” Her words were clear, but she had sort of exhaled them into his chest, through the fabric of his gray T-shirt. She looked up and smiled. “This is what you wanted, remember?”

  He stared at her, his eyes raking over her like a digital scanner, taking in every detail. “Madison.” The desperate way he said her name nearly leveled her; it was a plea and a defense all rolled up in one.

  She smiled and shrugged her way out of his arms. “Well,” she pulled the duffle bag back onto her right shoulder, “when you figure out why you think you can’t have me, maybe you should give me a call.”

  He smiled too, tight and sad. “I’ll try to figure that out.”

  “Good.” Maddie nodded. Agreed, she thought stupidly, glad we got that settled. “Okay, then.” She took another deep breath. “Here I go.”

  And she did.

  She turned and starting walking, and she felt like she might be able to make it to the end of the short block. After that, it would probably be conceivable that she could head north and cross the green expanse of the Common. From there, she might even be able to feel her legs beneath her as she followed Joy Street over Beacon Hill and down again—how apropos, that descent on Joy. And then she would find her way to North Station, the way she always did. And everything would be normal. By the time she got home to Weston, she would be just like she always was. Maybe even better. A senior at Brown. Captain of the crew team. All that promise.

  Maddie called her mom from a pay phone at North Station to let her know she’d be on the 1:20 train into Kendal Green.

  “Oh! Maddie! We’ve missed you so much! I can’t wait to see you, honey! Your brother is a horri
ble person for putting you up to this! I’ll be at the train station with bells on!”

  “Thanks, Mom. I can’t wait to see you, too.”

  A little while later, Maddie stepped out of the train into the leafy suburb of Weston. Her mother, Laura Post, was standing next to the old station wagon, one elbow resting on the roof. She was tall and beautiful, much fairer and more feminine than Madison, who’d inherited her father’s dark chestnut hair and strong shoulders. But it was Laura who had passed down all that unbridled enthusiasm. She waved wildly to Maddie, as if Maddie might not see her when, in fact, they were the only two people in the vicinity.

  Maddie pasted on a smile and walked to the steps that led to the parking lot. When she reached her mother, she dropped her bag and hugged her so hard she almost crushed her.

  “Oh, sweetheart, let me look at you. You are so gorgeous! Look at how long your hair has gotten, and you seem . . . softer somehow.”

  Maddie burst into tears. “Oh, Mom. I missed you so much.”

  Her mother hugged her and patted her back and let her cry it out, the two of them standing in the hot sun at the empty station. “Well, you’re home now. And now we know that e-mails on Sunday are not enough. You were a beast not to call us one time in three months. Not even to let me hear your voice.”

  Wiping at her tears with the handkerchief her mother had handed her, Maddie picked up her bag, put it in the back of the car, and walked around to the passenger side.

  “Is everybody at the house?”

  “Yes,” her mother said without taking her eyes off the road. Her mother had always been an extremely cautious driver. Laura’s twin, Maddie’s aunt, had died in a car accident when the sisters were in their twenties, and the lifelong consequence was that Laura Post drove exactly at the speed limit and obeyed every rule of the road. After she had stopped at the railroad tracks and looked in both directions, and then into her rearview mirror just to be safe, Laura accelerated across the tracks and began talking again. “We’ve finished lunch, but I made you a plate and left it in the fridge. I knew you’d be hungry.”