Maud’s eyes flew to Carley’s. “Anything. I’ll do anything.”
“I think we should have it at St. Paul’s. Vanessa went there. Will you phone the minister and make the arrangements?”
“Yes. What else?”
“This is Saturday. Let’s make it Tuesday, okay? We can have the reception at my house because there’s so much room. I have some food in the freezer …”
“We’ll need alcohol and lots of it,” Maud said. “I’ll get it. Toby can help me carry it in and set it up.”
“And maybe tomorrow you could call me and we can discuss songs Vanessa might like to have sung? Or poets she especially loved? And a scholarship of some kind, in Vanessa’s name, let’s think about that. She worked for so many good causes.” This was coming back to her, Carley realized, this list of practical details, this moving forward, step-by-step, over the mundane, specific slates of necessary errands, like stepping on stones over a bottomless pool, crossing from death back to life. She had done this before, just over a year ago, when Gus died.
Toby’s jaw was clenched. “I’ll take care of seeing that Vanessa’s body gets over to the mortuary.”
Carley stared. Vanessa’s body. “Thank you.”
“What about the baby?” Maud asked.
“I’ll talk to social services,” Harold Walker reminded her. “Because of paperwork and legalities, it will be easier to allow the baby to remain in the hospital for a few days.”
“And our nurses are wonderful,” Kiki put in. “They’ll take such good care of him, Carley, you know they will.”
For a few moments, they didn’t speak. Through the windows they could see the light draining from white to the dove gray of evening. Someone’s stomach growled hungrily, and everyone smiled at this, this humble reminder that life was going on. Needs, desires, continued.
“We should go home,” Toby said. “We’re all exhausted.”
“Carley,” Maud reached out to touch Carley’s arm, “come to our house. Have a drink with us, and dinner—”
“Thanks, but I need to be with the girls, and they’re at Lauren’s. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Kiki brought out Carley’s coat, gloves, and purse from the labor room where the morning had begun. Carley hugged them all, even Harold Walker, whom she hardly knew. He escorted her down the stairs and out to her car.
She sat in her SUV, arranged things as she always did, her purse on the floor of the passenger seat, her seat belt on, the key in the ignition, and then she paused. She was wading through time as if through high water. Cars rolled in and out of the parking lot while she sat there, and her thoughts were not racing, they were slow, and heavy with significance.
“Vanessa …” Carley whispered, looking down at her hands on the steering wheel. She set her hands in her lap and closed her eyes. At once her memory conjured up a clear image of Vanessa the day she returned to the island. The day she sat in Carley’s living room and confessed that she was pregnant. The day Vanessa said, “It may be selfish of me to want this baby for myself. But I’ve never wanted anything more. Nothing has ever felt so right.” And Carley thought of Maud in her kitchen, flushed with unabashed passion from her love affair with Toby. In her whole life, had Carley ever been selfish? It was clear to her at this moment what it was she wanted. What stopped her from taking it?
She took her cell phone out of her purse. She hit a number. She heard the electronic ring.
“Carley?”
“Wyatt,” Carley said. “Please come home. I need you.”
45
• • • • •
Wyatt arrived on Sunday afternoon. He’d left Vermont at six in the morning, driven fast, left his car in Hyannis to have shipped over on the Steamship car ferry, which took two hours, and grabbed a plane to the island, which took only twenty minutes.
Carley waited for him at the airport. She had spent the night at Lauren’s, grateful for the warmth and noise of the Burr family. She’d sat Cisco and Margaret down and talked to them about Vanessa’s death. Both girls cuddled against her, crying. Carley gave them a few moments to absorb the blow. Then she told them they were going to adopt the baby boy. Immediately Cisco and Margaret sat up, eyes wide. They peppered Carley with questions about the baby, and then to Carley’s amazement, Cisco, temperamental teenaged Cisco, actually grabbed her younger sister’s hands and together the girls jumped up and down, squealing with joy. A baby!
That morning Carley had spent on the phone with Toby and the minister and the mortician and the nurses at the hospital. She had dropped by the hospital to hold the baby for a few moments before going on to the airport.
Now Wyatt’s plane had landed.
She saw him coming toward her over the tarmac. He wore the Tibetan wool hat Margaret had given him at Christmas and a navy blue North Face ski parka. His nose and cheeks glowed with the special rosiness that came from sun on snow. When he saw Carley waiting, his mouth crooked up in a smile that was almost shy.
Suddenly, she felt shy, too. She felt as if she were being strapped into a roller coaster, the most spectacular one on the planet, and the ride was about to begin. Her heart pounded. Here was her adventure, for if all went well, she would live with this man while she raised all three children, and she would live with him when they went off to college and began lives of their own. She would argue with him, and bring him tea and ask him to rub her back. She would—she would start with the first step, the first detail, the first day, today. She would ask him to move in with her and the kids. She would ask him to help.
He came through the sliding doors into the waiting room where people gathered at the low shelf for their baggage to be unloaded. He walked up to her and stopped just in front of her.
“Wyatt.” He had come home. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth, pressing her body against his as if she could meld with him.
He held her tight.
Because it was February, the three B&B rooms were unoccupied, but Carley wanted Wyatt as close to her as possible without upsetting her daughters, so that night he put his luggage in one of the guest bedrooms on the second floor, just a door away from Carley’s bedroom. They agreed they’d talk with the girls about this later. Now was the time to focus on Vanessa’s funeral, and then, to bring the baby home.
The funeral, and the reception at Carley’s house, was a crowded, emotional affair. Half the town showed up to pay their respects. That day blurred past, full of tears and memories and laughter, and that night the girls slept in their own rooms, and Wyatt slept with Carley.
The next day Wyatt, Toby, and Frame moved all the baby’s furniture and necessities from Vanessa’s house into the guest room on the second floor that Carley and her girls had cleared out for the baby. Cisco and Margaret were all about the infant. As the days went by, Carley had to force them to go to school, to play with friends, to do homework. Maud came over every day, and Lauren, and Lexi, and even Beth Boxer. They took care of the little boy while Carley grabbed a much-needed nap. Between Wyatt and the baby, she didn’t get much sleep at night.
They officially named the baby Paul Webster, because Vanessa had called the baby Paul when he was born, and Webster had been Vanessa’s maiden name. Gradually, Paul’s hair grew longer and darker, and often, at the grocery store, or in the pediatrician’s waiting room, a stranger would say to Margaret or Cisco, “Your baby brother looks just like you!” Carley’s daughters had their father’s black thick hair, and while the baby’s hair wasn’t quite as dark, it was close. He did look like their brother, and that was very satisfying.
Wyatt helped Carley deal with all the legalities of Vanessa’s death. He put the house on the market. Carley went through the house, carrying the baby in a pack on her chest, to choose the items of furniture or pictures that were especially “Vanessa” to her. She put these in the baby’s room. Someday she’d explain them to him, when he was old enough to understand. She found a burial plot in one of the local cemeteries and arranged fo
r a beautifully carved stone. She knew Cisco and Margaret sometimes visited Gus’s plot, and she wanted Paul to be able to go somewhere on this earth to find a marker of his mother.
Carley phoned Annabel and Russell and over a crackling, buzzing connection, told them about Paul’s birth and Vanessa’s death. She told them she was legally adopting Paul. She held her breath, and after a moment, Annabel’s voice came clear and strong: “Darling. I’m so sad about Vanessa. But you are doing the right thing, adopting that poor little child.” From then on, her emails and her daughters’ to Annabel and Russell were full of news about Paul’s every cry and drool.
Sunday afternoon, Carley and Wyatt called Cisco and Margaret in for a special talk, to tell them that sometime soon, when they had time to think about it, they would be getting married, and that until then, Wyatt would be living with them, so he could help with all the cooking, and buying groceries, and picking up the girls from school.
Breathlessly, Carley waited for her daughters’ reactions.
Margaret scrunched up her shoulders as her face brightened. “Can I wear a fancy pink dress and scatter rose petals at the wedding?”
Cisco staked her claim with a glower, daring them to disagree: “I’ll hold the baby during the wedding.”
Carley and Wyatt exchanged glances. They hadn’t even had time to think about a wedding yet.
Carley said, “Those both sound like excellent ideas.”
Little by little, Wyatt began to transfer his belongings into Carley’s house. She had cleared out closets, so there was plenty of space for his clothing, but she was slightly alarmed at the amount of outdoor equipment he owned. Not just backpacks and tents, but the expensive dirt bike, a surf board, skis, snowshoes, waders and clamming gear. He was such an outdoor man. He was such a traveler. Could such a man really find happiness in a home with two little girls and a baby?
Could such a man find happiness with a woman tied down to a busy B&B?
One night in bed, Carley sat up, wrapped her arms around her knees, and asked, “Can we talk?”
Wyatt strode out of their bathroom, clad in the blue-and-white striped pajamas Carley had bought for him, now that he was living with her and the girls. “Shoot.” He settled at the end of the bed, leaning against the footboard.
She could smell the fresh scent of toothpaste. She wanted to crawl the length of the bed and kiss his mouth.
“I’ve been thinking about the money Vanessa left me.”
“Right.”
“It’s a magnificent gift. And perhaps we’ll need it someday, in case of an emergency …”
“You all are my family now,” Wyatt said. “I’ll take care of you.”
“Oh, Wyatt, that’s not what I meant. I mean, yes, we are your family now, and I’m glad, and I’m grateful you’ll take care of us, but what I’m trying to get at is—Wyatt, I don’t want to give up the Seashell Inn.”
“Okay. No one is saying you have to. But with Vanessa’s money, you don’t have to work. You have Paul to take care of now, in addition to your girls, and in the not too distant future,” he finished, teasingly, “a very needy husband. Will you have the energy for the B&B, too? I’m not trying to persuade you one way or the other, Carley, but it’s a question worth considering.”
“I know it is, Wyatt, and I have considered it. The thing is, in a way I can’t explain, the B&B nourishes me. It gives me energy. I enjoy it, every bit of it, and I’m looking forward to catching up with the news of the returning guests. I can’t articulate it, but it’s making my life broader, wider, more exciting. Why give up the B&B if it makes me happy? I’ve got plenty of help with the baby.”
“And I’ll do everything I can to help you in the summer, too.”
“You will? Oh, Wyatt, thank you!” Carley tried to crawl across the bed like a sex kitten but got caught in the covers, finally tumbling against Wyatt’s leg. “I want to kiss you.”
“That can be arranged.” Wyatt twisted on the bed, bringing his face down to hers, and pressed his warm, sweet-tasting lips against her mouth.
I can do this, Carley thought, I can have so much happiness! Then Wyatt put his hands on her body and she stopped thinking.
Wednesday evening, Toby was out on an emergency. Maud’s boys were in their rooms. Carley and Maud sat on either side of the work-table in Maud’s study, with cups of decaf sprinkled with chocolate close by. They were looking one final time at the cookbook. The printer wanted them yesterday, and since Maud couldn’t leave her boys, Carley had come here. Wyatt was with the children. All the children.
“It’s ready to go to the printer,” Maud declared.
“I agree.” Carley gave Maud a high five across the table. “The illustrations are beautiful, Maud.”
“So are the recipes.”
“Maud, I want to do another cookbook. I’ve invented a Vanessa cake.”
“Chocolate, I’ll bet.”
“Completely. Streaked with fudge, dotted with chocolate chunks, plus a few mystery ingredients.”
“Vanessa would love that.” Maud pulled out a piece of paper and held it up. “We’ve been on the same wavelength. I’m adding a mermaid named Vanessa to my next book. She’s kind of a fairy godmother.”
Tears pricked Carley’s eyes when she saw the drawing. There Vanessa was, dark hair flowing in the water, jewels covering her breasts, mermaid tail shimmering. “That’s gorgeous!”
“It’s just a sketch. I’ve got to write the story.”
“And I’ve got to invent some more recipes. Maybe I can do an entire Vanessa cookbook.”
“You’ll gain weight with that one.”
Carley chuckled and checked her watch. “No frantic phone calls! I think we’ve done it, Maud. The Great Experiment has succeeded.”
“Who would ever think it possible? Wyatt alone in a house of children.”
“Well, Cisco’s still awake, doing homework. If Paul wakes up, she’s perfectly capable of dealing with him. Although,” she added, frowning, “Paul has a cold. I think Margaret brought it home from school. He sneezes and snuffles and seems miserable. Poor little guy.”
“He’ll be fine,” Maud assured her.
“Hope so. He was sleeping when I left. Wyatt promised to phone if there was a problem.”
Maud stretched her arms high above her head. “How’s Wyatt doing?”
“He’s good. Although I’ve talked with his sister Wendy about him. She said when they were children, he used to take the heads off her baby dolls.”
Maud laughed. “Carley, all little boys do that! They take everything apart.”
“I know. Gosh, Maud, it is such a responsibility, this little boy. I want to do everything right.”
“No one does everything right,” Maud reminded her. “I don’t know why I get so frightened.”
“We all get frightened,” Maud assured her. “And you’ve had some really bad stuff fall out of the sky onto your head. It’s not surprising you’re worried.”
Carley hugged her friend. “Thanks, Maud, for everything.” She gathered her papers and slid them into her book bag. She dug her keys out of her parka pocket. “Tell me when the printer thinks he can have the books ready. We can arrange a signing at the bookstores.”
“Carley, this is going to be so much fun!”
Carley pulled on her down parka and gloves and wool cap before braving the fierce frigid wind. She shivered to her car over ice-glazed mounds and valleys of snow. Inside, she switched the heater to high. Even with the blower turned up, the interior of the SUV was still cold when she arrived home.
She used the automatic garage door opener, then hurried into the warmth of the house. She hung her parka on a hook and tossed her hat and gloves and car keys into the basket on top of the chest.
“Hello,” she called lightly. Margaret might be asleep.
The downstairs was strangely quiet. Empty. That was odd. It was only after nine. She glanced in the den. The TV was blaring away on the sports network.
“Hell
o?” she called again as she walked up the stairs.
A pounding, roaring noise came rushing toward her as she ascended. What in the world?
She ran.
Mist wafted out of the bathroom into the hallway.
“In here!” Cisco called, opening the bathroom door.
“What’s going on?”
Cisco’s hair was hanging in dripping wet hanks. Even her sweater and jeans were damp. Her face was blotchy.
“Cisco? Oh, God, what’s happened?” Carley stepped into the bathroom.
Wyatt sat on the side of the bath tub, which was filled with roiling hot water. The shower thundered full blast. Steam filled the air. Wyatt was holding Paul up against his shoulder. The baby was crying, hoarse little sobs.
“Shut the door.” Wyatt’s hair was wet, too. Water drops dripped down his crimson face. Globs of vomit slowly slid down the back of Wyatt’s shirt.
“Mommy.” Cisco took her mother’s hand for comfort. “Mommy, the baby was crying and Wyatt and I got him. We tried to feed him the bottle, and he choked, and we burped him, he stopped choking, but he started making these terrible sounds, Mommy, he was squeaking. He couldn’t get his breath.”
Carley went ice cold with fear. “Croup.” She started to reach for the baby, but Cisco’s words stopped her.
“Wyatt said to come up here and turn on the hot water. Wyatt said steam would loosen the mucus and help him breathe, and it worked, Mommy, it worked!”
Carley’s entire being longed to seize the little boy, to hold him in her arms, listen to his breathing, watch his chest rise and fall, look into his face.
But Wyatt was speaking to her as he held Paul against his chest, gently patting the baby’s back. “My sister’s baby had croup,” he told Carley. “My sister had it, too, when she was little. I remember the drill. I’ve seen my mother do this.”
Carley dropped to her knees next to Wyatt. “He vomited down your back.”
“That’s good. He got rid of some mucus.”
Summer Beach Reads Page 63