by Katie Curtis
“So how’s your dad doing?” Andrew asked. “This has to be hard on him, his brother passing, right?”
“Yes, of course.” Anna nodded. “You know my dad. The controversy has to be somewhere. For him it is with the board of directors of the bank that my uncle was on. He thinks they gave him the heart attack, with all their stressful mandates they kept putting on him. It had nothing to do with the fact that he had a penchant for steak and Scotch, or ate a fish fry every Friday,” Anna said. She tried to make things light, because with Andrew around, everything felt intense.
“Your dad loved the heat of battle,” he said. Anna suddenly felt protective, like she had said too much. Her confused feelings about her dad’s dislike of Andrew flooded her, and she found herself feeling just as she did when he said he couldn’t come to New York. The look on his face, the sound of the waves came back to her as if it just happened yesterday.
“Well, at least he stands by the things he loves,” she said quietly. She hadn’t meant to go back there. It had only been a few minutes ago that she was happily painting, and now she was confronting Andrew about his choice seven years ago.
Andrew set down the painting he was about to carry to the car. He turned around slowly and looked at her, his face showing her that he understood what she meant.
“Anna, it wasn’t about me not standing by you,” he said. “It was about me helping my dad, about building the life I saw for me, for us. I don’t belong in New York City. Could you imagine me there for one day? I didn’t think you did either, but obviously I was very wrong.”
He went downstairs, and while he walked out to the truck again, Anna flared up at his response. What does he know about her? What did he know back then? Nothing. He was trying to blame her for wanting to leave when all she had ever done was follow him—to college, back to New Harbor. Her life was in New York, her friends, her work, Raphael. Then why did what he just said sting so sharply? She put her hands on her hips and stared out at the ocean. She felt like she would rather it swallow her up than continue this conversation. She walked out to the car with a painting and set it in the back of the truck, then turned to face him.
“If you felt like that, why didn’t you pick up the phone and call me? Tell me how you felt instead of waiting this long, when there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. Hell, why didn’t you bother to call me after I left you a message?”
The wind from the ocean was whipping at her hair, her chambray shirt. Andrew stood next to his truck holding the door open. He closed it and turned around to face her. “I never got any message from you,” he said.
Anna felt again the black wave of hurt and fear on her ride home. She couldn’t tell him what she had said, and what she had seen. She couldn’t let him know how hurt she had been. “It’s fine. Really not a big deal. I just called to catch up but obviously it wasn’t worth it.”
His eyes were so full of emotion, a part of her wanted to comfort him. Then he frowned and walked to toward his car.
“Well, I’m glad I didn’t get it. I’d probably just have to feel all over again how wonderful it is when the person you love chooses a city over you when we talked. Why would I put myself through that again? There was no changing your mind, Anna. You were going to leave. And I could never have kept up with you. It was easier to imagine you had changed, that you were a different person than the one I was in love with. But you’re here now and . . . you’re still you. I just can’t believe you’ve really picked something else over what we had,” he turned to her, his eyes looked right at her, desperate, pleading, and then a cloud came over them. “But you have. So I have to deal with that.” Andrew turned towards the water, and looked out at the ocean before he turned back to her. “I’ve got to go.”
“Wait, Andrew,” she shouted as he pulled away, but the roar of his engine drowned her out. She stood there staring as his truck disappeared from view.
Later that afternoon, Anna looked up from her painting in the boathouse and looked out at the harbor. She watched the boats rise and fall with the swells of the ocean. She closed her eyes, and thought back to a summer afternoon, when she and Andrew were on his boat. She lay with her head in his lap, the rhythm of the waves as the tide came in gently lulling her, bringing on sleep.
She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her. Patient, ardent, quiet Andrew. “Why do you love me, Andrew?” she asked, reaching up and running her hands through his hair.
He stroked her cheek, then looked up out onto the water. “Because you’re good, Anna. You’re everything that’s good and beautiful,” he said, kissing her knuckles gently. He laughed and then asked, “Why do you love me?”
Anna wasn’t sure she could answer him very well. Discovering that Andrew loved her, looking up and seeing his straw-colored hair and piercing blue eyes, his eyebrows so light they almost disappeared in the sun. He was strong and smart, beautiful and simple, and he was hers. It felt like she was inside of a dream.
“You know how a mussel is just two shells stuck together? It feels like we’re each one of the shells,” she said, and smiled up at him. “Like we’re only whole when we’re together.”
After that, Andrew started leaving mussel shells for her – in her coat pocket, on her back steps.
Anna sighed and opened her eyes, and looked down at her painting. She had intended to paint the sea, but instead she had painted mussel shells lying open on the sandy ocean floor in shallow waters, the ripples obscuring them slightly, the light bouncing off the ripples. The shades of iridescent pearl white and cobalt blue were copied from the mussel shells that sat on the table next to her. She noticed, for the first time, that each shell was the shape of half a heart.
Chapter 8
Anna stared at her computer open in front of her on her uncle’s kitchen table, a large coffee from Riley’s in her hand.
Miranda Rivera exemplifies the type of student that we need to nourish, tend, and till in order for the next generation to flourish. With her enthusiasm, dedication, and talent, she has the brightest of futures, if given this opportunity.
She was trying to get her mind off everything and writing Miranda’s letter of recommendation was the perfect excuse. She re-read the letter and changed flourish to blossom, decided it was done, and emailed the letter to both Miranda and the admissions director at the school.
She sat back with a big sigh. If it wasn’t for being able to channel her energy into something to help Miranda, she would probably still be under her covers. She didn’t know how, but everything about Andrew felt reopened and up for discussion. I tried so hard to let you go, she thought. Please stay gone, she pleaded into her coffee.
When Anna returned to her sister’s house, the late afternoon air was clear and bright, and smelled of wet dirt from the rhododendron bushes Mike had transplanted that afternoon. When she walked into the kitchen, her sister was pounding a mound of dough.
“Hope you’re in the mood for pizza,” Marie said. Henry was sitting at the island with her, tearing apart his own little ball of dough.
“Auntie! We got cheese,” her nephew said, holding up a bowl of mozzarella.
“I’m starving, that sounds great,” said Anna as she took a bite of the freshly grated cheese. “You’ll never believe who came to visit me today at Uncle Charlie’s.”
“Who?” Marie asked, wiping a bit of flour from her cheek with her shoulder. Anna noticed she had flour in her bangs but decided not to mention it.
“Andrew.”
“What? For what possible reason did he come over?
“He said he thought I could use some help. And then he sort of asked me to go out with him on his boat. But I told him about Raphael. And I think I might have blamed him for all of our problems too. Either way he did not leave happy.”
“Well, sounds like you were your normal self. I think getting Raphael up here would help you out right now. Think you could get him to come up for the fundraiser for the Foundation in a few weeks?”
“What fundr
aiser?”
“Well, we have a big gala every April, to raise money for the coming summer tuitions for kids from the city. I never invite you because I know how you feel about it.”
Anna shook of her coat and sat down. “Well, I don’t know how I feel about it. I didn’t know it was happening.”
“Well, Aunt Catherine always organizes it, I’m more of her wing man. Along with Sarah. It’s at the high school but it’s supposed to be black tie. This year’s theme is the Great Gatsby.”
“And you’ve never invited me?” Anna said, her mouth hanging open.
“Well, you did say you wanted nothing to do with the Foundation after dad asked you to help out with it.”
Anna chewed on more cheese. She started sprinkling some in front of Henry, teasing him with one of his favorite foods, welcoming the distraction.
“Is Stephen going?”
Marie skillfully spread out the pizza dough and started spreading the sauce. “He came for a few years but he’s been too busy with the restaurant since last year. So he won’t be there.” She layered toppings – artichokes and zucchini and onions – as she spoke. “It’ll be fun, you and Raphael coming would mean so much to everyone. Especially with the funeral and everything.”
“Well, I’ll have to talk to Raphael. I’m not sure if we’re up for it, but since I’m here, I’d feel bad not going. Although are you sure dad even wants me to go? He is still icing me out. No surprise there.” Anna joked, but the truth was she suddenly felt very confused and raw about everything, including her Dad.
“Never mind Dad, he’ll come around sooner or later. I think it’s good that you stayed. He’ll have to get used to you when you are always around. And I think coming to the fundraiser would be a nice step towards you two getting along.” Her sister smiled at her reassuringly. “But Andrew is another story. And I kind of already asked Liz to see if he could come to the gala.”
Anna pushed the bowl of cheese toward her sister. “I don’t know, I can’t even think about it right now. Is Mike home tonight?”
Marie nodded. “He had early morning rounds, but he’s off tonight.”
“Think he’ll let you sneak out to Shaw’s Wharf for a drink?” Anna said.
Mike walked in, muddy from the yard. “I’m sensing there’s a trade in there for me. Like free babysitting sometime while we go out?” He rubbed Henry’s head and grabbed a pile of pepperoni from the counter and popped it in his mouth.
“You should have been a lawyer not a doctor with those swift negotiation skills,” Anna answered, laughing. “That sounds like a fair trade though,” she said, hugging Henry.
While Marie put Henry down, Anna curled up on the bed she’d been sleeping on and called Raphael about the gala. As she listend to the phone ring, she flashed for a moment to Andrew climbing into his pickup truck, and then just as quickly she pushed it out when she heard his voice answer.
“Hey sweetie, how’s it going?”
“Hi hon, it’s going pretty good. I cleaned out my uncle’s house and got some painting done. How are you?“
“I am working my tail off while you are gone, and I’ve been going to the gym almost every night. Except for tonight – the guys are coming over to watch the Yankees play Boston.”
“Sounds like a dream night for you. I just wanted to ask you a quick question. My sister was wondering if you would come up for a gala the weekend after next. It’s to raise money for my mom’s foundation.”
“I’ll have to double check, but I’ll try to come up, if it’s important to you.”
Anna thought for a moment, and tried to think through how she was feeling about it. Then she thought of Miranda, and all the students who would benefit from the fundraiser, and said, “Yes. I would like to go and it would be great if you could be there.”
“Ok, love, just let me check my schedule. The guys just got here. Call you tomorrow?”
“Sure, talk to you tomorrow. Love you,” she said. She held the invitation her sister had given to her and ran her finger over the raised letters. The 5th Annual Therese McCallister Goodrich Foundation Fundraiser. She couldn’t believe there had been a party in her mother’s name for so long without her knowing about it. Though if she had, she was confident her dad would want her to run it every year. Still, she couldn’t help but feel the smallest degree of peace in this idea, peace in the knowledge that the foundation existed. That her mom’s name lived on in it. Too bad it had a tyrant for a director.
They drove into the gravel parking lot of Shaw’s Wharf, the evening air making everything feel cool and damp. The smell of wet earth mixed with the salt water, and Anna breathed in deeply. The somber sound of the harbor bell rang out mellow and low. They could hear the laughter of a small group coming up from the bar. It was Saturday night, so the bar was busy with locals—the tourists would come once the weather turned warmer. Anna was looking forward to a cold beer and time with her sister to help her smooth the rough edges of the last few days.
As they walked into the bar, Marie laughed out loud. “What’s so funny?” Anna asked.
“Well, if you wanted some space from your issues, you might have come to the wrong place.” She pointed toward the bar. Behind the long, wooden counter stood Liz, Andrew’s outspoken sister. Her blue eyes were the same, and her dirty blond hair was pulled up in a ponytail. Underneath her sweatshirt and jeans you could see her muscular, petite frame was still just as lean and strong as it had ever been. Liz had always been a runner. She was a life force. Her loud voice boomed out at the customers while she counted money for a customer’s change. And her face still held a compelling sweetness—maybe it was the roundness or the dimple on the right, but you had to love Liz, even if she was yelling at you.
“Can I help you?” she said, not glancing up until the end of her question. “Oh my gosh, what are you guys doing here?” Her shock was genuine, just as Andrew’s had been last week. She came out from behind the bar and gave them each a hug.
“Sit down and have a beer, on me,” she said, her face lit up. She poured two Pemaquid Ales and set them down. Anna took a long sip and smiled at their friend. Liz’s reception had been warm, and she hoped it would continue this way. Liz and Marie had been friends, but she knew that Liz disapproved of Anna’s choice to move to New York, to become a big-city snob. To leave Maine and her brother only added to the injury. But tonight it appeared to be long forgotten.
“Sorry to hear about your uncle, you guys. He used to come here all the time. Can’t believe we won’t see him around anymore.” Her sadness was so genuine, it once again hit Anna that her uncle was really gone. Anna looked down the row of bar stools and could just picture her uncle sitting on one of them.
“Thanks, Liz,” Marie said. Her eyes filled up a bit even as she smiled. “It’s very kind of you to say so.”
“So my brother mentioned he saw you.” Liz turned to Anna. Anna squeezed her glass a bit tighter. She smiled lightly.
“It was really great to see him. It’s great to see you too,” Anna said. “Makes me miss home.” She pushed up the sleeves of her sweater nervously and took another sip of beer. Out in the harbor, the Christina Therese sat a few yards from the dock.
“Since he’s been back he’s been really preoccupied or something. Like something happened on his last trip maybe,” Liz said. She stood with one hand on her hip and one on the bar, a motion so familiar to Anna that she had to blink to remind herself that any time had passed at all since she last saw Liz.
Anna found her curiosity stoked. “Trip where?” she asked.
“He’s been traveling around testing ocean levels. South America. Alaska. His last trip was to Brazil last winter break, for a couple of months. I don’t know, it seems like something happened down there, but he’s been so busy finishing his semester and setting up the boat for the lobster season, I haven’t had a chance to talk to him.”
It sounded to Anna like Liz was describing a totally different person than the Andrew she knew. Andrew who didn’t
want to leave Maine? Andrew, who was a lobsterman through and through, in Brazil? It made no sense. She shot Marie a glance, and Marie just shrugged. More surprises, it would seem.
“Um, what do you mean, semester? Is Andrew back in school?” Anna asked.
“No, he got his PhD two years ago. But now he teaches and does research at the DMC in Walpole.”
Anna stared at her with a blank look on her face. “The DMC?”
“DMC stands for Darling Marine Center. It’s University of Maine’s school of marine sciences. Like their marine laboratory. It’s on Clarks Cove Road, about twenty minutes away.”
“So he’s like a professor?” Anna struggled to put the thoughts together.
“Pretty much. But he’s more interested in the research. He really went to school to figure out how to make sure Maine lobstering could stay healthy and sustained. He wanted all the families who rely on lobstering to not have it be threatened by pollution, warmer ocean temps, or radical environmentalists. So he does research on it now. That’s why he had to travel, to get a bigger perspective on what was happening to the oceans all over. But he always came back for lobster season. Never missed a season. He made sure of that. Andrew says that with the seasonal fishing laws in place, we should have the Maine lobster industry for another hundred years. Says there’s lots of bugs down below. They like these waters because of the rocky ledges on the ocean floor here, from the glaciers passing through. From here all the way up through Canada. Best spot on earth. They have a whole city for themselves under Maine’s waters. Hang on one second.” A few new customers sat down at the other end of the bar, and she went over to take their drink order.
Anna picked up her beer and swallowed a large gulp. “Are you kidding me?” she said to Marie. “Andrew is the ocean’s new protector? He didn’t just drive a boat for the past seven, eight years? He went and got his doctorate?” She finished the rest of her beer in one sip. “I’m going to need yours too till Liz comes back,” she said, and grabbed her sister’s beer.