A Vineyard Morning

by Jean Stone

  Three vehicles were ahead of him. A month ago there would have been no one on a Sunday; no doubt people had come from the mainland for the weekend to get their houses prepped for summer.

  Staring at the back of Jonas’s SUV, Annie sat perfectly still, aware that she shouldn’t get involved, yet feeling that she was, thanks to Lucy.

  The On Time scuttled toward its berth. There wasn’t much time if Annie wanted to stop him.

  She opened her door. “Hey!” she cried, scurrying toward his vehicle. “Jonas!”

  He opened the driver’s window and stuck his head out.

  “Where are you off to on such a beautiful day?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but wasn’t sure if it was working.

  “I’m going to Boston. To see a friend. Then I’m going home. You won’t see me again.”

  A tiny knot formed in her throat for the boy who’d been manipulated most of his life. “The last I heard, this was your home.”

  He shook his head. “New York’s my home. I don’t know what made me think I could live on the island. It’s just too weird here for me.”

  The On Time arrived, and three vehicles exited.

  “Don’t,” Annie heard herself say. “Please don’t go. Not yet.” Even if she discounted the role Lucy had played, Annie knew that if she hadn’t found the skull, Jonas wouldn’t have had his life turned upside down. Again.

  He shrugged. “I have to. I can’t live with my mother.”

  The vehicles in front of his motored onto the ferry and turned off their engines; the captain hitched the safety strap, and the ferry glided away. Jonas stepped on the gas so he’d be first in line for the next trip.

  Annie knew she had about one hundred and eighty seconds to get him to change his mind. She dashed back to her Jeep, jumped in, and pulled up behind him. She got out again and ran up to his car door. Luckily, his window was still down.

  “Let’s talk,” she said. “Please? I’ll buy breakfast? Or an early lunch? At the diner?”

  He seemed to think about that for five, ten, maybe twelve seconds. In her peripheral vision she saw that the ferry was close to reaching the Edgartown side.

  “Jonas, please. I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”

  He did not respond.

  “Please,” she repeated. “Lunch?”

  Across the way the On Time was docking. It would only take a few seconds for it to unload, then load up again. Her time was running short. But maybe it would be enough for her to extend a drop of water to him.

  “I don’t blame you for the video,” she said. “In fact, I don’t blame you for anything. You’ve been a victim most of your life, thanks in no small part to your grandparents. For what it’s worth, I admire not only how you’ve handled yourself, but also how you’ve seemed to thrive. Now that you’re here, now that you’ve been reunited with your mother, please don’t let old gossip push you away. And don’t let it mess up your relationship with Taylor. I know it must he hard, but she’s your mother, Jonas. And she loves you. She always has.” Annie’s voice fluttered, as if she’d been talking about Donna.

  The On Time was reloaded and heading back to Chappy. Annie didn’t know if anything she’d said had gotten through to Jonas, any more than she had a clue as to why she was defending Taylor. She wondered how much of that had to do with Donna. After all, Donna and Taylor had both been mothers whose children were taken from them. As for Jonas, if Annie had learned anything over the years, it was that running away hurt other people. Not to mention that it often wrecked the life of the person who’d done the running. Or so she’d fantasized after Mark had run from her.

  In the few seconds she had left, Annie figured she had one more chance. “And we’re coming into season,” she said brightly. “It would be a shame if you missed this chance to get your career started. With all the summer people flocking to this ‘weird’ place, it’s a perfect time to sell your paintings and get your work known. Lucy told me that the Sculpin Gallery wants your work. And that it’s going to be at Featherstone. Most artists I know would trip over one another to try to get into either of those venues, let alone both. You’re in the right place, Jonas. The buying power here comes from all over the country; it’s radical in the summer.”

  The On Time docked; Jonas’s eyes filled with tears.

  “The diner?” Annie asked softly.

  He nodded.

  * * *

  “She killed him,” Jonas said, after Esther—the sweet, soft-spoken waitress—delivered a burger and a Coke to him, and a mug of tea to Annie.

  Annie gripped the handle of the mug. “What?” She wasn’t sure she wanted details; she hoped he wasn’t going to tell her something she’d have to tell John, and have him think that she’d been meddling in police business—again.

  “My mother killed my father.”

  Though Annie didn’t ordinarily use sweetener, she took a packet from a small silver bowl; she needed time to consider her reply. She wanted to sound reasonable. But she wanted to be empathetic. She stirred the tea, reviewing what she knew: Jonas’s life had been challenging. He’d been raised by a financial wizard of a grandfather and a social-climbing grandmother, both of whom had only wanted him in order to hold on to the memory of their son. At some point Jonas had found letters between his birth parents that revealed they’d been in love, and that his grandparents had tried to get between them. And though Jonas then knew who his birth mother was, he’d been afraid to tell anyone. Later, he’d learned that his grandparents were not the upstanding citizens that they’d portrayed. So he’d been living with Taylor for several months, apparently having reconciled himself with the fact that she, too, had been manipulated by his grandparents. But now, for whatever reason, he was convinced his mother was a murderer.

  Annie really, really hoped it was not because of Lucy.

  “Jonas,” Annie said, “are you sure it isn’t gossip?”

  He set down his burger, but kept his eyes fixed on his plate. “I really think she did it.”

  Annie stirred her tea again, then sipped. The liquid was hot and bitter. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Lifting his eyes, he looked out the window. “It started with Lucy.”

  Oh, Annie thought, a small thud landing in her stomach.

  “She’s a sweet kid,” he continued. “Smart.”

  Annie wanted to say that, in reality, that wasn’t always true. Instead, she said, “Lucy is sweet. And very smart. But with smarts comes curiosity. Which sometimes gets her into trouble.”

  “Like with the photos.”

  “And the video.”

  He closed his eyes. “I never should have done that. It was my fault, not hers.”

  Annie paused. “What’s going on now, Jonas? I’m on your side, you know.” She wished she knew how to make him believe that.

  “Taking everything off the internet was an easy fix. Other parts aren’t so easy.” Abruptly, he slid out of the booth and stood. “I need to use the men’s room.” Before Annie could respond, he went to the cash register, grabbed the key, and ducked out the doorway to the restrooms.

  She toyed with her napkin, then with her spoon, then with the handle of the mug—not unlike the way that Donna had fidgeted when they’d gone to the Black Dog. Also like Donna, Annie hadn’t been born yesterday, nor—as Earl liked to say—had she been born the day before that. Jonas’s manner, his hesitation, and the way he’d averted his eyes had given her a clear message: he hadn’t told her everything. And whatever he’d left out, was no doubt why he’d packed up his car and was running away.

  Picturing his vehicle loaded to the brim, Annie knew it looked like he was serious about leaving: first to Boston, then New York. As far as Annie knew, he’d mainly lived in New York City, on the Vineyard in summers, and, of course, in Chicago, where he’d gone to art school. Why was he going to Boston?

  She stood up and looked outside to the parking lot. A pickup blocked her view. Then, suddenly, a burst of intuition rushed at her. Gra
bbing her purse, she tossed a few bills on the table and raced out of the restaurant. She wove between the cars and trucks until she reached her Jeep, which she’d parked next to Jonas’s Subaru. But his vehicle, like him, was gone.

  * * *

  Annie climbed into her Jeep, dropped her purse and jacket onto the passenger seat, and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. Damn, she thought. She checked her watch: eleven-fifteen. Probably too late to drive up island to see Winnie; by the time she’d arrive, Winnie and her family would be well into their Sunday activities. Annie could go to John’s, but he’d no doubt be sleeping. Which meant, if she were going to be able to resolve anything at all that day, her best chance would be to find Lucy—maybe she knew what had happened with Jonas. The good news was it hadn’t seemed as if she’d run off with him.

  Pulling her phone from her purse, Annie quickly sent a text. U AROUND? I’M AT E’TOWN DINER. She sat back and waited. It would be nice if Lucy was out with friends, doing something fun like learning crocheting or bonsai tree care at the library; taking lessons on the clarinet or flute; or shopping in Vineyard Haven at Rainy Day or at Basics in Oak Bluffs. But Lucy did not seem to enjoy doing ordinary girl things.

  Annie rested her head against the seat back and wished she could stop brooding. About Lucy. About Donna. About Kevin’s wounds. And, of course, about the skull. Added to those problems now, Jonas had taken off.

  She sighed. She knew she had to leave Lucy’s behavior up to John; Lucy was his daughter, not Annie’s. As for Donna, there might be ways Annie could help with her recovery; Winnie might have some ideas about that, too, or Winnie’s sister-in-law who was a nurse. And Kevin . . . Well, Annie supposed he’d have to resolve his angst about Donna, his guilt about Meghan, and his relationship with Taylor on his own. Because Annie had no idea how to help him. As for the skull, she could not ask John for help—he’d only get aggravated with her and insist that they follow procedures. John was a great guy, but not much use when it came to circumventing the law.

  She checked her phone; Lucy hadn’t replied. Digging into her purse again, Annie took out a Tums and tossed it into her mouth. She started the Jeep, figuring she might as well go back to Chappy, just as someone pounded on the passenger window. Annie jumped nearly a foot.

  The culprit was Lucy, her face pressed to the glass. She was sticking out her tongue and waving like a five-year-old.

  Chapter 17

  Annie dropped her head again and pushed the button that put the window down. “You must be great at fright night.”

  Laughing, Lucy said, “I got your text. I was at the bookstore looking for something about the island cemeteries. They’re going to order a book for me.”

  Well, Annie thought, at least Lucy seemed happy. “Where are you headed?”

  “Restless and I were thinking about visiting my grandparents. You going back to Chappy?”

  Annie popped the door lock and lobbed her purse into the back.

  Lucy lifted the furry dog into the back seat, unhooked his leash, then climbed into the front. She had on jeans with tears across the knees and one of her dad’s fishing jackets. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail that made her look more like eleven or twelve. “Did you have lunch at the diner?” she asked.

  Once again that day, Annie didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t sure if she should tell the truth, but if she didn’t there was always a chance Lucy would find out, thanks to their living on an island. In any event, Lucy was smart enough to know that, if Annie was stalling, she was trying to hide something. So she said, “I ran into Jonas. We grabbed a bite.”

  “Jonas? Like, my friend Jonas?”

  Annie nodded. “We talked about art. I told you I’m thinking about using paintings from local artists to decorate the Inn.” She praised herself for landing upright on her verbal feet.

  “I didn’t know you wanted to use Jonas’s. That’d be cool.”

  Annie put the Jeep into reverse and backed out of the space. Until that moment, she hadn’t known it, either. But, why not? Because he was too young? Or because he was Taylor’s son and Annie still hadn’t completely warmed up to the woman? “Well, I haven’t seen any of his pieces up close, but I’d like to give it a try.” Even if his work wasn’t to her taste, surely she could find somewhere to hang a canvas or two. It might be worth it solely to be a good neighbor. And a friend to someone who seemed to need a few. “But I think he’s leaving the island. Have you talked to him lately?”

  Scowling, Lucy said, “I texted him this morning. I asked if he wanted to grab a few beers today.”

  Annie paused. She did not want to seem shocked. She tried to summon a calm demeanor, the one she’d learned to use whenever her third graders had tried to test her. “Really?” she asked quietly. As much as she didn’t want to pursue the topic, she was glad John wasn’t there. “A few beers?”

  Lucy laughed. “It’s a joke. Slang, you know? Like ‘you wanna’ hang?’ It’s a joke because I’m too young to drink. And, anyway, he doesn’t.”

  Annie wished they’d never started this conversation. She cut through the parking lot behind the courthouse and took a right onto Church Street. “I take it he didn’t want to . . . hang?”

  “He couldn’t. He said he had somewhere to go. He didn’t mention going off island, though.” She shrugged her narrow shoulders in an offhanded way that made it tough to tell whether she was ambivalent or distressed.

  The only thing Annie concluded was that she was grateful she no longer was a teenager.

  “He’s pretty messed up right now,” Lucy added.

  “I suppose that’s understandable.”

  “Yeah, too bad, huh? I mean, my parents never got along real well, but I don’t think either one of them would ever kill the other one.”

  “You don’t know that’s what happened, Lucy. Back then, the police said that it didn’t.”

  “Yeah, I know. But Jonas isn’t sure. Did I tell you that a few weeks ago his girlfriend dumped him? He really loved her, you know? She told him she’d never live on Chappy, even though he said it’s the only place he’s ever felt like he belonged.”

  And that was another surprise. Annie hadn’t known that Jonas had a girlfriend. But even more curious was that, if Chappy was the only place he felt that he belonged, why had he left—and in such a hurry? Had he left because, as she’d suspected, he was vulnerable and then Lucy had come along and . . . Yes, Annie believed there was way more to this story than she’d been told. And as much as she hated revisiting the subject, she felt an inexplicable need to play a kind of stepmother, after all. “Lucy?” she asked. “Are you sure Jonas doesn’t have a crush on you?”

  She laughed. “Seriously? He’s way too old for me. And I’m way too young for him. Jeez, we can’t even stand the same music. We’re good buddies. That’s it. Case closed. Yuck.”

  Annie’s nerves quieted. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been worrying about that. “Sorry.”

  “And not that it matters, but I told you I’ve been trying to help him. He’s a good guy, you know? Long before his girlfriend split, he was wicked lonely. His grandparents practically stole him from his mother, but he hardly saw them except on Chappy in the summers. He had a nanny until he was six—then they shipped him off to boarding school. And every time they gave him money or clothes or paid his tuition, his grandmother reminded him he was lucky that they’d taken him.” She pulled out her phone and started to text. “I can’t believe he’d leave without telling me. Unless . . .”

  “Unless what?” Annie was now more concerned about Jonas than she was about Lucy.

  “Unless he answered that woman’s email.”

  “What woman?”

  Lucy shook her head. “The one who saw the video and said she knew the truth about his father. She said Taylor only got pregnant so she could get the Flanagans’ money. When Jonas said he had letters his father wrote, the woman said Taylor must have faked them. And then killed him. You say it didn’t happen, but the co
ps never asked this woman. She’s somebody who lives in Boston.”

  So it had been a stranger—not Lucy—who’d come up with the idea that Taylor had written the letters. And Kevin had thought Lucy had dreamed that up. Annie made it onto the On Time while trying to figure out what to say next. Then, as she set the brake, Lucy’s phone dinged.

  Lucy stared at the screen. “Well, that sucks.”

  Annie handed the captain the ticket from her coupon book at the same time that Restless vaulted over the seat and plopped onto her lap, wagging at the captain as if bidding him hello. “Lucy, get the dog . . .”

  As Lucy absently reached out and scooped up the dog, her eyes did not leave her phone.

  “What happened?” Annie asked. She presumed that the texter had been Jonas.

  “He told her. He told Taylor he knew. He says he’s on his way to Boston to get proof. After that, he’ll be in New York.” Lucy’s lower lip stuck out, her forehead scrunched. “Crap. He isn’t coming back.”

  As Annie drove the Jeep off the ferry on the other side, she felt another twinge of sadness, this one for Lucy who was losing her friend—her friend and, thank goodness, nothing more. Feeling more than exhausted from the drama of the day, Annie wished she could go home and nap, which, of course, she couldn’t, because Donna was in her bed. And the noise level at the Inn wasn’t conducive to rest.

  * * *

  Instead of dropping Lucy off, Annie went into the house to visit Claire. Earl’s pickup was not in the driveway; he no doubt was enabling Kevin’s wishful thinking that the Inn would soon be open.

  They stepped up on the deck where several flats of yellow and purple pansies were lined up along the railing. Lucy unhooked the leash and let Restless roam the yard; there was no traffic to worry about, and he liked being with people too much to wander very far.