by Jean Stone
“And you?”
Lisa closed her eyes. “I only want it to end. I’m so ashamed of myself for getting involved with him. He’s not even my type. He’s flamboyant and crass. I guess I was just needy. And he was there.”
In that moment, she was no longer a Hollywood star. She was frightened and hurting, a plain old all-American girl in shorts and a T-shirt who had trusted the wrong man and was paying too steep a price. Phillip gently put his arm on her shoulders. “It’ll be okay, Lisa,” he said. “We’ll figure something out.” He didn’t know what, and he didn’t know how, but he was determined to help. The hell with the expectations that awaited him at home.
They walked for another few minutes in silence, then Lisa pointed up ahead. “There it is,” she said. “That must be the school.”
He smiled and dropped his arm from her shoulders, musing at his entanglements with his birth mother’s friends and wondering if P.J. would be walking beside them if she were still alive. Then he decided that maybe she was here; maybe it was her spirit that had been encouraging him all along.
“Should we just go in the front door?” Lisa asked.
“Follow me,” Phillip said. With renewed spirit, he climbed the stairs.
The school was not at all like the one Phillip had gone to in Fairfield—the shiny, bright, new school with sparkling windows and pristine corridors befitting the inflated tax dollars contributed by the community. Lisa, however, said it was a lot like what she grew up with in her New Jersey town. Old. A little too dark. With echoes in the hallways of too many children of too many generations.
Their first stop was the office.
“We need to speak with Melanie …” Phillip stopped, realizing he did not know her married name. “Gosh,” he said to the weather-worn woman who stood at the counter, “I’ve forgotten her married name. Bradley was her maiden name. She has a daughter named Sarah.” He tried to smile as he spoke, tried not to look as if he was being clandestine.
“Melanie Galloway,” the woman said. “She’s teaching her class right now. I’m afraid she can’t be disturbed.”
Lisa stepped forward. “If you could just tell us what room she’s in, we could wait in the hall.”
The woman shook her head. “Sorry. No civilians are allowed to wander the halls. This is a school. We have children to protect.”
Phillip wondered if the woman was a weekend warrior with the National Guard. “We’re old friends from college,” he lied, subtly taking Lisa’s hand and trying not to be distracted by her smooth, warm touch. “We’re honeymooning on the island and we’d really love to see Melanie.”
The woman scowled. “If you want to wait in the office, I could send her a message to let her know you’re here. She’s only teaching half days this week on account of her daughter broke her leg. Her class will be over in twenty minutes.”
Phillip looked at Lisa. Lisa nodded.
“Just give me your names,” the woman said, pen poised over a pad.
“Our names?” Phillip asked.
Over half glasses, the woman peered at them. “I presume you have names.”
Lisa laughed. “We really planned to surprise her. Maybe we’ll just wait outside on the steps.”
“It’s up to you. You’ll know her when you see her. Melanie Galloway hasn’t changed since she came here as a student herself.”
Phillip did not mention that unless she hadn’t changed from when she was in the hospital nursery, chances were they would have absolutely no idea what she looked like.
Outside on the stairs, Lisa sat on the concrete and put her face in her hands. “This is hopeless,” she said. “We’ll never recognize her.”
“Yes we will.”
“How? Do you think she looks like Jess?”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll just look for a woman our age with a little girl on crutches. There can’t be too many of them, can there?”
Lisa smiled up at him. “You are really quite brilliant, Counselor.”
He turned his head so she wouldn’t see him redden. He did not tell her that that was how Jess had spotted Melanie; better that she think he was brilliant. He smiled up at the cloudless day and wished he could capture this feeling and hold on to it forever, wished he could reach out and hug P.J. right now and tell her how grateful he was to have been born.
“Did you ever wonder about your father?” Lisa asked suddenly.
“My birth father?”
“Well. Yes.”
Looking back to the sky, he answered, “P.J. told me about him, that he was a boy she’d dated in college, that he wouldn’t admit he was … responsible.” He smiled at the memory of that sunny day when they’d sat in Central Park and P.J. told him about Frank. He smiled because he knew that her words were enough, that Phillip did not need to know the man. He turned to Lisa now and asked, “What about you?”
She laughed. “Mine is a long story for a different day. I was thinking how nice it will be for Melanie. To know both her parents.”
Phillip nodded just as the large door opened and children began scurrying down the stairs. Lisa stood up and moved next to him: together they scanned the heads for a little girl on crutches, for a mother protectively helping her child.
But among the young faces and old faces of the students and teachers, there were no kids on crutches, no legs sealed in plaster.
And then they stopped coming. The door closed behind the last of the crowd. And Phillip stood staring at Lisa, and Lisa at Phillip.
“Maybe her daughter didn’t come to school today,” Lisa said. “Maybe she walked right past us and we didn’t even know it.”
“Maybe,” Phillip replied, feeling less brilliant than he had in ages, and embarrassed that Lisa had witnessed his failure.
She couldn’t let them do it. From across the street, Karin stood behind a thick-trunked old oak tree and watched the two of them scan the crowd, no doubt looking for Melanie, no doubt looking for Sarah.
But it was not the right way. Melanie needed to learn this from Jess, to learn it from Richard. Not from a couple of kids, whoever they were. Not from a woman named Ginny who was trying to use sex to lure the truth out of a lonely old man. No, Mellie should not learn this from them. Jess and Richard would be kinder, more gentle. It would hurt Mellie less.
She smiled now at how clever she’d been. As soon as she’d realized what these two kids were up to, she’d called the school office and told May Weston, the receptionist, to have Melanie get Sarah and wait for Karin in the school cafeteria, that Karin wanted to see them, that they should not leave the building until she arrived. As always, Mellie would do whatever Karin asked.
And thank God May Weston ruled the school—and had since practically the turn of the last century—like a secret service agent. Thank God May Weston was an islander, and despised the tourists as much as Karin did.
She leaned against the tree and waited and watched, until at last the pair gave up and started back down the road. Then she crossed the road and headed into the school. She’d have to remember to bring May some sea glass the next time she was around. Just as soon as all these damn people left this damn island and life was back to whatever was normal. She would have to find a way now to hurry that along.
“If you’re worried about leaving me here with Dick Bradley, don’t be,” Ginny said to Jess. “I’m in the best hands I could ask for unless they were Jake’s, and that’s pretty impossible, so I might as well be grateful for what I’ve got.”
Jess walked to the window of the room where Ginny lay prone, unable to move more than her lips. “I can’t believe this has happened to you,” she said.
“I can’t believe a lot of things,” Ginny said. “Like I can’t believe what you’re telling me about Melanie and about Richard, and that you’re actually going to leave here and do as he wishes.”
“I don’t have much choice, Ginny. I don’t want to ruin Melanie’s life. Or Richard’s either, for that matter.”
“So they hold all the
cards, is that it? Shit, kid. I thought you stopped letting people dictate your life when you got rid of your husband.”
“You talk as if you’re any better. You still haven’t come up with a plan to take care of this mess with your stepson, other than deciding he should be killed.”
“I’ve changed my mind about that,” Ginny said. “I decided to have him throw his back out instead. I think it’s more painful.” She groaned and squinted her eyes. “Those damn pills Dick’s doctor gave me only last half the time they’re supposed to.”
Jess went back to the bed. “Oh, Ginny, I’m so sorry. I’m being so selfish and you’re in so much pain.”
“No problem, kid. But even though I think you’re being a jerk for not wanting to meet Melanie, for not wanting her to know the truth, I really don’t want you to hang around on account of me. I may be here a while.”
“I’ve seen her,” Jess said. “I’ve seen her and I’ve seen my granddaughter, and now I know what happened. It’s really hard to believe that Father did this—well, I suppose to protect me. It’s really hard to believe he cared enough about the baby to be sure she had a good life.” She twisted her emerald and diamond ring and tried to smile. It’s hard to believe, but I’m working on it.”
“And dear Daddy is dead, so you can’t ask him.”
“No. But I can be happy, Ginny, if I choose to be. Until a few months ago, I thought my baby was dead. Now I know better, and now that has to be enough.”
She told Ginny she’d bring her some tea later, after she’d had a nap. She’d wait until Phillip and Lisa came back from wherever they’d gone off to, then tell them she would catch the seven-thirty ferry out of Oak Bluffs. It was time to get back to her life: to her business and to the family that truly was hers.
An hour or so later, Jess was awakened by a rustling at the door of room number seven. She looked down and saw a pale pink envelope on the floor. She pulled herself from the bed, yawned, and bent down to pick it up. Walking toward the window, she rubbed her eyes. Then she caught her breath, and rubbed them again. But the recognition was quick: an instant flashback.
Printed on the envelope was the name Richard Bryant, followed by an address in Connecticut. She did not have to wonder what the envelope was, because she knew it was one she had addressed herself—a letter sent three decades ago—one of the letters that had gone unanswered.
She bit down on her lip and with trembling hands, opened the envelope that had already been unsealed.
But her letter to Richard was not inside: instead was a note, hand-scrawled in black ink.
Meet me after dinner in the West Chop Woods, it read. Take the entrance off Main Street. Follow the markings for the red trail. Come alone. Tell no one. We have so much more to discuss. It was signed simply, Richard.
Chapter 22
“I thought she wanted to leave tonight,” Phillip said to Ginny as he and Lisa stood in a man’s bedroom where Ginny had apparently spent an interesting night and a very painful day after. It was already late afternoon: Phillip and Lisa had spent the rest of the day walking—along the water by the harbor, past the pier and the West Chop lighthouse, clear around to Tashmoo Pond. They had walked and talked and walked and didn’t talk. Phillip had savored every moment, trying to freeze each word from her mouth, each movement of her body into his memory. He did not know why.
“She made reservations on the seven-thirty ferry,” Ginny said. “I have no idea where she is. How did you two make out?”
“We didn’t,” Lisa said. “Melanie wasn’t there.”
Ginny nodded. “Maybe it’s just as well.”
“Yeah.” Phillip glanced at his watch. “Well, I guess I’d better get down to the Tisbury Inn and pack my bag,” he said. “When Jess comes back, tell her I’ll be ready.” He looked at his shoes—Damn, he thought, why am I looking at my shoes?—then he pulled his eyes up to Lisa. “Well,” he said. “It was nice meeting you.”
Lisa nodded. “You, too, Counselor.”
He shuffled his feet a moment, then moved from one bedpost to another. “I hope your back gets better, Ginny.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
He put his hands in his pockets. “Well, then. I guess this is good-bye.”
“If you’re ever in L.A.…” Lisa said.
He smiled. “Yeah. I’ll call.” Then he took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and turned and left the room.
“You’ve gotten to him,” Ginny said.
Lisa laughed. “What are you talking about?”
“Phillip. He’s crazy about you.”
“Well. He’s nice.”
“So are you. You deserve someone like that, Lisa. Not someone like Brad. Not another jerk.”
Lisa crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “Phillip lives three thousand miles away, Mother. And we both have demanding careers. I doubt there’s much hope.”
Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Then you do like him?”
She closed her eyes. “I told you. He’s nice.”
Ginny put her hand on Lisa’s arm. “Look, kid, we all know I don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. But one thing I do know is that when you find yourself someone decent, don’t lose him. There are too damn few of them in the world.”
Lisa looked around the room. “Is that what you’ve found here with Dick Bradley? A decent man?”
“Hey,” Ginny laughed. “He’s a good nurse. Right now, that’s all I need.”
“Did someone call for the nurse?” Dick asked as he entered the room carrying a tray with a teapot, two mugs, and a plateful of cookies.
“Now that’s what I call good medicine,” Ginny said, eyeing the cookies. She tried to prop herself up; the pain stabbed her back. It was not as bad as it had been, but it stabbed her nonetheless. “Shit,” she said.
Dick set down the tray and rearranged Ginny’s pillows. She was able to half sit, half lie and the pain was not as bad.
“In another hour you can have two more pills,” he said.
“Yeah. Right. And the damn pain started again an hour ago.”
“If you’re not better by tomorrow, there’s a holistic healer on the island I can call.”
“Great,” Ginny said, taking a cookie. “Just what I need is a voodoo doctor hovering over me.”
Lisa smiled. “Ginny has never been one to want help from anyone.”
“Well, she’s got to have it now. By the way, have you seen your friend? I thought she was checking out today. Karin wants to know if she can rent the room out.”
Ginny frowned. “Jess? I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her since she went to take a nap. She must have gone for a walk.”
“I’ll go check on her,” Lisa offered.
“Take your time. It looks like Dick and I are going to have a tea party. Ah. A little afternoon delight.”
Dick blushed and Lisa laughed. “I’ll be back later,” she said.
“Oh, Lisa?” Ginny called. “You might want to look for Jess at the Tisbury Inn,” she said with a wink.
“The Tisbury Inn? But Phillip is there.…”
Ginny turned to Dick. “Sometimes my daughter is so intelligent it is truly heart-stopping.”
“Ginny!” Lisa cried.
“Like I said, you might want to try the Tisbury Inn.”
It took Phillip only three minutes to pack. He had crumpled his tie and folded his suit and decided to wear the Black Dog T-shirt and jeans. They were comfortable. They felt more real.
After zipping his bag, he looked around the room, then sat in the chair by the window. He gazed two flights down, out onto Main Street, not really seeing the crowds on the sidewalks and the slow stream of cars that jockeyed for parking spaces. To him now, it all looked fuzzy and out of sync, people going about their lives, whether happy or sad, but going about their lives.
He did not want to go back to New York. He did not want to go back to Joseph and Nicole and racquetball or even the new uptown office. He wanted to stay here on the i
sland; he wanted to run in the mornings on the quiet, dewy streets, he wanted to sit side by side with Lisa on the beach looking off at the sunrise and the sunset and everything in between. No, he did not want to go back.
He folded his hands and looked down at his city manicure—the clean, neatly trimmed nails of a corporate attorney, the soft, pale skin that had not spent enough time in the outdoors, was not accustomed to rugged, hard work, honest work, like sanding a boat bottom or chopping wood for the winter. He thought about Dick Bradley, nearly forty years older than himself, yet probably in better shape, despite Phillip’s running, despite his attempts at physical fitness. There was nothing, he supposed, as healthy as doing things naturally, as breathing the fresh salt air as you worked, instead of the air in a sweaty gym.
He wondered how fresh the air was in L.A., and if the smog was thinner up in the canyon where Ginny lived. Then he realized his thoughts were drifting back to Lisa. He got up, shook his head, picked up his bag, and decided to wait for Jess at the sidewalk café.
Just as he turned the knob to open the door, a knock came from the other side. Jess, he thought quickly, opening the door.
But it was not Jess. It was Lisa.
“Hi,” she said.
He went mute for a moment. “Hi,” he finally answered. “I thought you were Jess.”
“No,” she said. “I’m Lisa.”
He smiled. “Yeah. I know.”
“May I come in?”
“In? Yeah. Sure.” He stepped out of the way, set down his bag, and closed the door. “Did you find Jess?”
She shook her head.
“I wonder where she went,” he said, though what he really wondered was why Lisa was here, and what he was supposed to do next.
She went to the window and looked out. “Nice view,” she said.
“Main Street,” Phillip answered, as if it wasn’t obvious.
“Phillip—”
“Lisa—”
They laughed.
“Phillip, I hate to see you leave,” she said. “I have the oddest feeling that I’ll never see you again.”
A strange, light feeling rose in his stomach. “Well, there are worse fates, I suppose.”