The double doors swung open and the young doctor strode through, his expression neutral.
Piper popped up and began blotting her nose. “How is he?”
“He’s doing better, but we’d like to keep him overnight.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t his heart?”
The doctor glanced at Wren. “We’re sure. You can see him and talk to him before you go tonight.”
“Was it just him overdoing it?”
He seemed to be hesitating. “Yes, that is always part of it. We’ve gotten him pretty well hydrated, and we’re working to control his pain.”
“Pain?” Piper asked.
But Wren had seen it. The way he sometimes halted in the middle of a room and grabbed his lower back. How he rubbed his knees when he sat down, and the slow way he sometimes rose from a chair. She’d wondered if it might have been arthritis, but if he caught her watching him curiously, each time he’d seemed to downplay it, and she hadn’t wanted to pry.
Having heard what she hoped to, Piper rallied. “Can we see him now?”
“Yes, you can.” He turned to Wren. “Assuming he rests and his numbers continue to rise, your father can expect to be discharged in the morning. Did you provide all your contact information at registration so we can call you when he’s ready?”
Wren nodded. “I did, but I’ll confirm they have the correct information.”
Piper grew impatient. “Can you meet me in there, Wren? I’m going to go back and see him.”
“Yeah, sure.” She began to gather her things, aware of the doctor’s presence. There seemed to be more he wanted to say. “So he’s really okay?”
Dr. Verelli ran his hand through his hair. “I had a long talk with him. He’s going to have to take it easier.”
She’d make sure he did. First thing, she was going to check him out of the motel and invite him to stay at her place. He’d have access to her car if he needed it, and she’d be able to make sure he was eating regularly. But there was something about what the doctor wasn’t saying that caught her attention.
“Thank you for all your help,” she said. “Is there anything else?”
The doctor shook his head. “Take good care of him. Rest is imperative.” He paused before adding, “Talk to your dad.”
• • •
She found Piper standing by their father’s bed. Wren was taken aback by how small he suddenly seemed in the bed. As if he had somehow shrunk on the ambulance ride over. “How’re you feeling?”
He was awake, but his eyelids fluttered with effort. “Okay for an old coot.”
“You’re not old.” Piper adjusted his blankets, mindful of the IV tubes.
The doctor had said he could be discharged in the morning, but Wren couldn’t help but wonder how.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I seem to have ruined your party tonight.”
Wren forced a smile and waved a dismissive hand playfully. “That party was already over. It just extended the excitement.”
This seemed to amuse him, and he laughed softly. “Well, all right then. Out with a bang.”
The night nurse came in and explained that they’d be moving him upstairs to a private room.
“Can we come?” Piper wanted to know.
“No, sweetie. Your dad needs some rest, and it may be awhile before they get his paperwork and transition him upstairs. We’re a little slower at night.”
This was not what she wanted to hear, but Piper relented. “Well, Dad. I guess we’ll see you in the morning.”
He turned to her. “You will.”
Wren watched as Piper bent down and kissed his forehead goodnight, wondering at the tender irony of it.
“Hey Pipe, can you grab the car and bring it around?” Wren asked.
“Aren’t we walking out together?”
Wren needed a minute alone. She wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t leave just yet. “I want to say goodnight.”
Piper glanced between the two like she was missing something, but shrugged. “Okay, I’ll meet you out front. Goodnight, Dad.”
Caleb lifted a tired hand and turned to Wren. “I don’t want you girls worrying. I won’t be any trouble; I’ll be good as new tomorrow.”
She put a tentative hand on his. It was rough and calloused. But warm. “Dad. What did the doctor say?”
Caleb shrugged and his gown shifted, falling off one shoulder. He had trouble pulling it back up.
“Here. Let me.”
When she met his eyes, they were gray and watery. A weight pressed in her middle. “Tell me, Dad.”
“Ah, Wren. My curious little bird.” He did not try to lie to her. “I’m sick, kiddo.”
As soon as he said the words, Wren realized she’d known. She’d known it in the way he stepped off the bus stairs. The way he tired so quickly and easily each time he came to the shop or stopped by the house. It had been right in front of her all week. “How sick?”
Caleb stared at his blanketed feet. “It’s cancer. Pancreatic cancer.”
Wren stared out the glass windows of his room to the nurse’s station. A middle-aged nurse was sitting at the desk, head tipped back as she laughed at something her young male coworker said. The area hummed with incessant activity: flickering screens, monitors that beeped, the buzz of fluorescent lights. She squeezed her father’s hand. Lindy’s neighbor, their dear friend Mrs. Pruitt, had lost her husband to pancreatic cancer when Wren was a teenager. She remembered hearing her mother bringing them food. What she recalled most was the speed of his decline. The swift shock followed so soon by his death.
“How long do we have?” she asked.
“Not very. A couple months maybe.”
Wren cleared her throat. “Okay then.” Tomorrow she would bring him home. She would make up Lucy’s room and get a list of all the foods he could eat, the foods he wanted to eat. When she picked him up she would do it alone, and she would find the doctor. She would collect all the information he had: his medications, his lab work. She put a hand to her head, her mind racing against her fatigue with newfound urgency.
But Caleb wasn’t finished. “There’s a reason I didn’t tell you girls. I thought I could come back and see you again, and then go home before you knew.” He paused. “This isn’t what I wanted.” Her father lay on his back staring up at the ceiling with such hopelessness that Wren did what Piper had done. She leaned over his bed and kissed her father’s head. Once, then again. “Sleep,” she whispered. “We’ll talk more in the morning. Just get some sleep, Dad.”
She was halfway through the door when she heard him. His voice was a whisper. “Promise me something, Wren?”
She hesitated. “Whatever you want.”
“Please. Don’t tell the others.”
It was a promise she was not sure she could keep. But as Wren looked at her father, fighting the sleep he needed, she gave. “I promise.”
Thirty-Two
Piper
She never should have called him. But the next afternoon when he made his way toward her across the decking at the Chatham Bars Inn Beach House Grill, Piper almost slipped off her barstool. Derek slid onto the seat next to hers, glancing around. “Are you all right?”
Piper squeezed her beer, willing her hands to stay on the icy cold bottle. “I didn’t know who else to call last night.”
“It’s okay. Luckily I was up watching the Late Show.” He looked at her carefully for the first time. “It was risky though, Piper.”
She deflated a little. “I know. I’m sorry.”
The bartender came over. “What can I get you, sir?” For a moment Piper worried Derek would go. But when he picked up the beer list and studied it, her insides stilled.
He ordered an IPA and turned to her. “You look good.”
She’d picked out her red tank and white shorts with some thought, much as she hated to admit it. But she reminded herself that her father was the reason she’d reached out to Derek. As she’d followed behind the ambulance all the way to Hyanni
s the night before, she’d realized that there was only one person she wanted to call. Risky or not.
“Tell me more about your father. Has he been released?”
Piper gave Derek the whole story as they sipped their beers together. At one point when she started to tear up, he reached over and wiped the corner of her eye gently with his thumb. He paused, but he didn’t withdraw his hand. And she’d pressed her own atop his.
“Piper, we can’t.” He looked away. “God, I wish we could. Being up here I keep expecting to run into you at every corner I turn. I look for you at the beach. I look for you in crowded restaurants . . .”
Piper exhaled. “You do? Because I do, too! All the time.”
“And now—seeing you. The way you look, knowing what you’re going through.” He let out his breath. “You’re killing me.”
Piper didn’t wish any suffering on him, but she accepted this news with more hope than she knew was wise. If neither one of them could stand being apart, maybe Derek would realize that he wanted more of her. That he needed her, the way she often felt she needed him.
“Can we go somewhere?” she asked. Then, quickly, before he could disagree, “Just for a few minutes to be alone. To talk. Because I know a place.”
Derek tipped back his beer and looked around the deck. The beach club was halfway full midday, but the kind of people he would know, if any of them were indeed here, would be vacationers like himself, and they’d all likely be on the beaches or in town with their kids.
“Piper. Stop.” His voice was a low growl, but there was something playful in it.
Whether it was the courage from the cold beer on the hot day, or the lack of sleep she’d gotten the night before, Piper seized upon it. “Please, Derek. Just once.” Then, as she ran her hand over his knee, her fingers brushing beneath the hem of his khaki shorts and squeezing, she said what always got him. “It’s just us.”
Derek stared out at the water. He didn’t answer. She waited and swigged the last of her beer as she did, willing him to say the words. When he still said nothing, Piper grabbed a ten-dollar bill from her purse and pushed it across the bar and stood. Derek reached for her hand.
“Where?”
Feeling light-headed, she snatched a paper napkin off the bar and wrote down the address. She pushed it over to him.
“What is this place?”
“Don’t worry. My family owns it. Park in the rear lot and come in the back door.”
Derek was shaking his head as if changing his mind. “When?”
Her heart flip-flopped and she hopped off the barstool. “Ten minutes.” She’d given Derek the address of the Fisherman’s Daughter. Wren was picking up their father at the hospital. She’d arranged for Ari to cover the morning, and Piper was supposed to relieve her for the afternoon. It would be just her, alone in the shop, and before she could think about her exhausted sister or her sick father or what a sacrilege Wren would consider this selfish move, Piper hopped in her car. The sand and gravel spewed beneath her tires as she turned toward town.
The shop was empty when she blew in the door, and Piper peered past Ari to the back. “Oh my gosh, how’s your father? How’s Wren? How are you?”
“He’s going to be okay, thanks. Wren is bringing him home now. So, no customers?”
“We’ve had light traffic so far, but it’s a good beach day so I’m sure it’ll pick up this afternoon.” Ari pointed to the MacBook screen by the register. “We sold a print and a sweater though. That was good.”
“Great, great.” Piper shoved her purse under the counter, her eye on the front door. “So, I’ll take over now and let you go. You must be hungry for lunch.”
Ari seemed in no rush to leave. “I brought a salad, actually. Wren asked me to show you how we’re recording inventory as it sells. Do you want to go over that now?”
A couple of women had paused at the front window and looked to be about to come in. “No, that’s okay. I think I’ve got it.”
“So Wren showed you?”
The door opened, and the women came in. Piper exhaled in frustration. “What?”
Ari was frowning at her curiously. “The inventory program?”
“Thanks, Ari. I’ve got it.” Piper needed Ari to get going. Now. And she needed to sell something to these women, fast. She sailed over to them. “Welcome to the Fisherman’s Daughter. Can I help you with anything?”
Both women were a little older than Lindy, and smartly dressed. They were looking at the necklaces together. “No, thank you,” one said, with a bright smile. “We’re just browsing. So when did you open?”
Ugh. Conversationalists. Piper needed buyers. Or get-out-ers. But guilt flashed like a reminder. This was Wren’s first day open. And this was her job. If she was going to risk everything, she could at least sell a scarf first.
“Just last night. Is there anything special I can show you?”
She directed the pair to the rack of clothing that had already been fattened up from last night’s stream of sales. Ari was good, she’d have to give the girl that.
As the women perused, Piper was relieved to see Ari collecting her things. “So, I can come back later if Wren needs me,” she was saying. “Or I can stay now, for a bit more.”
“No, no!” The words came out louder than she meant. “I mean, you’ve done so much. Last night was crazy, and you could probably use the rest. I’ll let Wren know when she comes in.”
Ari glanced around but finally headed for the door. “Okeydokey. Good luck!”
“Thanks!”
It seemed like forever that the women puttered around the shop. Finally, one selected a linen shirt. “What do you think?”
It was a lovely color, but it was a bit large. Piper glanced at the clock again. “Let me find a smaller size.”
In the end she made the sale, and no sooner had the pair exited the shop door than Piper flipped the OPEN sign in the window over. Then, thinking better of it, she hurried back to the counter where she ripped a piece of paper off a yellow legal pad and scrawled a note in marker. Back in TEN MINUTES. She raced back out and taped it below the closed sign. Then she flipped the lock, turned out the lights, and was heading to the rear of the store just as she heard a faint knock. Her chest rapped in response.
Piper opened the door. Derek stood on the back steps, looking over his shoulder nervously. “Where are we?”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him in. “My sister’s shop.”
It was dark, and they were in the back by the storage closet. “What? Are you crazy?”
Piper placed a hand firmly over his mouth and reached around and pulled him against her with the other. “No talking.”
For a moment she feared he would pull away and leave. That his common sense or a scrap of decency would get the better of him. But as she kissed his mouth, running her tongue along his lips she felt him respond. First his mouth, then his body. Without warning he wrapped both arms around her waist and lifted her up, kissing her roughly all the while. Piper let him, encircling his waist with her legs. Wrapped together they stumbled forward.
“The dressing room.” She pointed.
Crowded together in the small space, Piper coursed with energy as she fumbled with his belt and he with her button. They peeled the shorts off of each other, each one stepping out of them. Again Derek lifted her up, and Piper wrapped herself around him as he pressed her against the wall. She cried out. All summer she’d waited, not knowing if they were on or off. Loving him and loathing what they were doing simultaneously. Praying he’d choose her but knowing all the while the impossibility of it all. She tipped her head back and surrendered to it, the wave of all of it.
After, they bent to retrieve their things, laughing nervously, bumping into one another. The rush of elation ebbed, and she looked around at what they’d done. Their clothing tangled together on the floor. The twisted curtain half drawn around them. Through the opening she looked into the store. Her yellow note was affixed crookedly to the door like a
tawdry warning sign. A girl in a dress was reading it.
Derek tugged his clothes on. Piper slumped on the small ledge in the dressing room and watched him dress, feeling the exhilaration flow from her veins like she was being drained. “When can I see you again?”
Derek was looking for a shoe, his face obscured by the thick flop of brown hair. Her fingers ached to touch it. “Piper, that was—I don’t know . . . amazing. You are amazing.” He squeezed her bare knee.
He was leaving her already.
“Derek, I think I’ve fallen in love with you.” She had never said it before, not to any boy or man in her whole life. And she’d never planned to say it to Derek either. Not until he showed some form of real commitment. Not until he’d proved himself worthy. But the words tumbled out of her mouth, and instead of feeling regret she felt free. There. He knew all her secrets now.
“Jesus, Pipe.” Derek reached for her hand and pulled her toward him. She resisted, her eyes on his, waiting for him to say it back. “Come here.”
He hugged her. She could feel his heart against hers, hear his breath in her ear. She held her own, waiting.
“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked.
Piper nodded, her cheek raw against his stubble. As the tears spilled onto his shoulder, Piper stared gloomily across the shop floor. The girl at the front door walked away. The shop was dark and still.
He could still grow to love her. She felt it happening in moments like the one they just shared. Right now, this was all he had to give her, and a part of her hated herself for taking it. But she was hungry. If she could just hang on a little bit longer.
Thirty-Three
Shannon
The Hooker’s Ball was held annually at the VFW grounds under a big white tent, and it was a bit of a family tradition for the Bailey women to go. It all began the evening of the ball twenty-five years ago, when someone manning the shellfish table left their post to assist the refreshment table, whose punch bowl had overturned. Beverly, who had been waiting at the front of the line in a powder-blue chiffon dress with a hankering for fresh-off-the-boat littlenecks, soon found herself standing behind the counter handing out mussels and steamers to hungry guests. She’d had such a good time that she manned the table all night, leaving only for a quick spin on the dance floor when the band started up with Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons’s “Big Girls Don’t Cry.” From there it just seemed natural to join the board of directors. For fifteen years she worked alongside the local fishermen and -women, as well as local businesses, championing the nonprofit Fisherman’s Alliance’s goals of fisheries management and ecosystem protection. It was a passion she’d handed down to each of her granddaughters, who growing up in the community had a sound respect for the hard work and the science behind Chatham’s commercial fishing fleet. Lindy had served on the Hooker’s Ball committee, as did Shannon. Piper had helped pass out educational coloring books to the visiting families on the Chatham Fish Pier. For her part, Wren had fallen in love with one of their fishermen.
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