by Jean Stone
“I hope you understand your mother didn’t want either of you to know,” the woman said.
“I do,” Annie replied. “And I appreciate that you kept her confidence.”
Georgia agreed to come early the next morning and prepare the cottage for Donna’s return. “And don’t worry, dear. Our goal is to make the family as comfortable as the patient.” She added that the best thing Annie probably could do that night would be to stay home and rest. She did not need to elaborate that the coming weeks might be difficult.
Having Georgia in their corner made Annie feel better . . . as much as that was possible. So when they got off the phone, Annie cleaned up the kitchen and lay down on her own bed in the cottage. She fell asleep quickly.
* * *
Friday morning Annie woke up at seven, surprised that she’d slept through the night, startled when she realized she still had on her clothes. By the time she cleaned up and tossed some things for Donna into a canvas bag, Georgia arrived. They spent a few minutes going through the cottage one room at a time, with Georgia offering suggestions such as removing scatter rugs so Donna wouldn’t trip and buying a stock of personal items for a patient who might be confined to bed for long periods of time. She also reassured Annie that she’d see them Monday morning as scheduled, and that because of Donna’s setback, she could extend her stay through most of the afternoon. However, if Annie needed her before then, she wasn’t far away.
By the time Georgia had left and Annie reached the hospital, she was fairly sure that her frame of mind was suitably secure. Musing over how to open a conversation with Donna, she paused at the doorway to the room. That’s when she heard Earl’s voice.
Earl? Already in Oak Bluffs before ten o’clock?
It was good to know that Donna was awake. However, knowing that once Earl got to talking, he liked to go on and on, Annie knew she had to get him to leave so he wouldn’t wear out the patient. But as Annie quickly whirled into the room, she abruptly stopped. Earl was sitting by the side of the bed where Donna was lying . . . and he was holding her hand.
Really? She cleared her throat, and he withdrew his hand as if it had been in his lap all along.
It was a bit confusing, but Annie reminded herself that Earl could be that way sometimes. Mr. Reliable. Mr. Friendly. The pseudo Mayor of Chappaquiddick. She pulled a chair up to the opposite side of the bed.
“How are you doing?” she asked Donna with what she hoped was a respectful smile.
“Better. Not as weak. Sorry I gave everyone such a fright.”
“I’m just glad we came along when we did.”
Earl stood up. He seemed to have more color in his face than usual. Almost as if he were . . . blushing?
“I’ll leave you ladies alone,” he said. “I’ve got a big order to pick up at the hardware store.”
They said good-byes, and he left. Annie asked Donna if he’d woken her up and if he’d exhausted her.
She shook her head. “I’ve been awake since six. Earl is pleasant company. I don’t have many friends my own age, so it’s nice that he and Claire are here.”
Sometimes Annie forgot that Donna was older than she made herself look. That morning, however, as she lay under the scratchy, over-bleached sheet, Donna looked her age. And frail. And ill. Her clear complexion was almost powdery; the color of her eyes seemed to have faded. Were those things possible in a few short hours? Annie looked around the room, trying to frame her next question without staring at the wig that now was back in place. “Are you feeling better today?”
Donna nodded. “A little. Yes.”
Annie squirmed in her chair. “I brought you a few things. . . .” She opened the bag and took out toiletries, Donna’s silk robe, some clean underthings, and pants and a sweater for when she was released the next day, Saturday. “I hope you don’t mind that I raided your clothes.”
“Not at all. You are a dear.”
Lowering her eyes, Annie said, “I only wish you’d let us know sooner how sick you . . . are.” She pulled out a book she’d thought Donna might enjoy and the latest issue of Martha’s Vineyard magazine. She set them on the nightstand.
“The less I talked about it, the easier it was to deny it,” Donna replied. “Can you understand that?”
“I think so. But maybe we could have . . .”
Donna held up a hand, a plastic IV tube snaking up along with it. “You couldn’t have done a damn thing. The fact is, I was hoping I’d simply fall asleep, and we never would have had to have the ‘talk.’”
“About hospice?”
“And the rest.”
“By ‘the rest’ do you mean how I’m more than a little angry that my birth mother might be leaving me before I’ve really gotten to know her?”
“Yes. I suppose that’s what I mean.”
“Well, so you know, I am angry. And I’m sad. For you. For me. For Kevin.”
Donna turned her head toward the window. “Now that you know what’s really going on, are you still all right with having me stay in your place?”
“Of course I am. But we’ll put a twin bed in the living room. Earl and Kevin can take care of that. I want to stay with you, not up in the Inn. I want to be there if you need me during the night. That’s not negotiable.”
When Donna looked back to Annie, tears were in her eyes. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve made an old lady cry.”
Annie stood up, leaned down, and kissed Donna on the forehead. “My dad always said tears are caused by angel’s kisses.”
Donna closed her eyes. “I have a feeling your father was right about a lot of things.”
It was odd to have Donna mention Annie’s adoptive father, but Annie supposed it was no weirder than seeing Earl holding Donna’s hand. But Annie well knew that dying often shifted people’s perspectives.
Annie sat back down, and she and Donna began an honest conversation about hospice and expectations. Then an aide appeared with a coffee and cranberry juice and a blueberry muffin, saying they’d noticed that Donna had not eaten her breakfast and thought she might be hungry now. After the aide left, Donna begged Annie to help her eat because everyone there was so nice, and she didn’t want them to think she was ungrateful.
They both had a few nibbles, then spent more than two hours keeping the conversation real, not holding back, or at least, Annie didn’t hold back. She couldn’t, of course, be sure if Donna did, but there was no need for that to matter. When her emotions had been drained, and Donna seemed tired, Annie said, “The Louis Vuitton is incredible.”
Happiness sparkled across Donna’s face. “You’ve seen it?”
“Kevin tackled the crate with a tire iron.”
Donna laughed. “That boy has been wanting to get in there since the day it came home. I’m afraid it doesn’t hold any buried treasure, but I didn’t want him to dig around and mess up what I’ve put in there. Besides, the trunk is worth a good deal of money, and a curious boy might have marred it somehow.”
“Yes, I heard it’s pretty valuable.”
“It’s priceless to me.” Donna closed her eyes then, and softly said, “Annie, when I’m gone, almost everything in there is yours. Except in the pocket inside the lid. There you’ll find my brother’s blue ribbon from the science fair. Oh, yes, and Kevin’s Red Sox memories; he’ll be surprised I have those. And there’s a photo album for him. But don’t tell him ahead of time, okay?”
Annie knew what Donna meant by “don’t tell him ahead of time”—there was no need to ask her to elaborate. Before Donna could make any further comment, the day became more surreal: Taylor walked into the room.
“I’m checking in on the patient,” Taylor said. “Not in any official capacity, of course.” Her hair was knotted up in a large bun at the nape of her neck. She was not as attractive as when her auburn tresses spilled over her face.
Annie explained to Donna that Taylor had been the first responder.
The three of them made small talk for a while, until it was clear to
Annie that Donna was done talking. “I won’t come back later today,” Annie said as she stood up. “But Kevin will be here. And he’ll pick you up tomorrow, so I’ll see you at home.” Home, Annie thought. For as long as it would be for any of them. She kissed Donna’s forehead and told her to call her if she needed anything or wanted to talk more.
“I’ll be fine,” Donna said, her smile genuine.
Taylor followed Annie into the corridor.
“I’m glad I caught you,” Taylor said as the pair walked down the hall. “Kevin said you were here. I need to talk to you, Annie. I need a woman’s perspective, so it’s either you or Claire. I picked you.”
Annie winced, but hoped it didn’t show. She didn’t want to have to deal with Taylor or with whatever was going on with her now—she needed to make sure the cottage was ready for Donna’s homecoming. But for Kevin’s sake . . . Annie blinked. “Shall we have coffee at Linda Jean’s?”
“That would be good.”
* * *
“I thought Jonas left the island because he hated me,” Taylor told Annie after they’d both ordered coffee and Annie a tuna on rye because she realized it was almost one o’clock and all she’d eaten that day were three small bites of a muffin. “For all I know, he does,” Taylor went on. “But I had a very brief, very tense phone call from him. He said he had a message from a woman in Boston who saw that stupid video. He didn’t go to New York like I thought he might. He went to Boston to meet that woman—who claims she knew me when I was pregnant. And says she knows details about his father’s accident.”
Annie felt disinterested and detached; she wanted to tell Taylor that she was sorry but she couldn’t help, that she had enough problems of her own right then. But Annie was still Annie, so instead, she said, “Oh, Taylor, I’m so sorry.”
“I need you to try to get him to listen to reason. He’s all I have, but even if he never comes back to the Vineyard, I can’t let him ruin his life.” Taylor looked drawn, her skin blotchy, almost gray. As if she should be in a hospital room near Donna’s.
“Jonas seems like a nice young man, Taylor, but I hardly know him. . . .”
Her eyes penetrated Annie’s. “It’s Lucy’s fault,” she said.
Annie flinched.
Taylor waved her hand, dismissing contradiction. “He didn’t come right out and say it, but I think Lucy put ideas into his head. She shouldn’t have gotten involved. She egged him on in the beginning, posting the pictures, getting him to do that video. And trying to get him to do that ridiculous thing with DNA . . .”
Apparently Taylor either didn’t know or didn’t believe that the video had been Jonas’s idea. As much as Annie wanted to set the record straight, she could tell that Taylor was a woman on a mission, and was not going to back down. Besides, Annie only wanted to go to the pharmacy and pick up a few things that Georgia had suggested, then go home and get busy rearranging the cottage for Donna. Again.
“As if Lucy hasn’t done enough damage,” Taylor continued to prattle, “now she’s put together a website for him. Have you seen it? It doesn’t mention the skull or his father, but it puts Jonas ‘out there.’ On the damn internet. With his artwork, like he’s some kind of Picasso.” Taylor’s hand was trembling as she drank her coffee.
Annie had no idea where the relationship stood now between Kevin and Taylor, but if, after everything was over, they wound up being together, Annie supposed at least she should be able to feel that she’d tried to be Taylor’s friend. And though Lucy had only been trying to be nice to Jonas because he was lonely, it did appear that she’d been a catalyst. Annie tried to summon some mental energy. “What would you like me to do?” she asked before she had time to change her mind.
“Call my son. Go find him, if you can. Tell him the woman is trying to scam him. He wouldn’t tell me her name, but my gut tells me I know her. And I think she saw that video online and figured she could make some fast cash. Jonas is such an innocent.”
“Exactly what did she tell him?” Once Annie heard the details, she might get more involved than she would have wanted, but she could not walk away. Not with John’s daughter in the mix. Lucy, Lucy, she whispered to herself.
“The woman told him that even if the skull isn’t Derek’s—that was his father’s name—she had information on who his birth father really is. She said it was a guy who lived on the Vineyard. And that I told her so.”
Annie swallowed hard. “Did you?”
Taylor gripped her mug so hard her knuckles started to turn white. “No! For one thing, it isn’t true! Derek is his father, not ‘a guy’ from the Vineyard! She claims she lived in the same building where the Flanagans sequestered me until Jonas was born. If it’s who I think it is, she was nosy and always on the take. She slept with every guy she met—always married ones—then bribed them to keep her mouth shut.”
“But if she made up a lot of details, I don’t know how I can convince Jonas. . . .”
By then, Taylor’s top teeth had sunk into her lower lip.
“. . . but I’ll try,” Annie added, wishing someone was kicking her under the table. Where the heck was Murphy when she needed her? “I’ll give him a call. But I can’t go and try to find him. I’m going to be a little tied up with my mother.” She reasoned with herself that it would only be one phone call. Then she could get back to worrying about Donna’s situation. And the Inn, though the Inn might not matter anymore.
“Use Lucy’s phone. If he thinks she’s calling him, he’ll probably answer.” Then Taylor stood up. “I have to go now.” She paid her share of the bill and marched out of the restaurant without saying good-bye.
Well, you’ve done it now, haven’t you?
“Thanks a lot,” Annie whispered. “But you’re a little late.”
She could have sworn she heard Murphy chuckle.
Chapter 27
Before heading back to Chappy, Annie texted John and asked him to call when he got home. Or sooner if he could. She said it wasn’t urgent; she just wanted to hear his voice. There was no way she was going to report Donna’s prognosis in a text.
Then she stopped at Basics in Oak Bluffs and picked out a pretty nightgown and a new pair of slippers for Donna, along with a warmer robe than the silk one. She went to the pharmacy and checked items off her list, then to Stop and Shop where she picked up ingredients for several meals so she wouldn’t have to bother anyone to run errands at least for the first few days that Donna would be back. By the time she was finished she knew that school would be out, so she went directly to John’s. She saw Lucy through the window; she was in the living room, engrossed in something on her iPad.
“Dad’s at a meeting on the Cape,” Lucy said when she opened the door. Restless greeted Annie with wet kisses.
“I know.”
“He should be back on the seven thirty.”
“Well, I’m not here to see him. I came to talk to you.”
“What have I done now?”
“You sound guilty.”
“You sound like a teacher.”
“I was a teacher.”
“I know.” Lucy laughed, then invited Annie inside.
They sat down, and Annie gave Lucy a quick rundown of Taylor’s plight. “I told her I’d help. Not only because she feels this is your fault, but also because she’s been dating my brother, and I don’t want to mess that up for him if he’d rather I didn’t.”
“She’s weird.”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you really think Jonas is being scammed?”
“It sounds that way, yes.”
Lucy seemed to think about that. “Yeah, you’re probably right. He’s vulnerable.”
“He is.”
She fidgeted with the iPad. “Did you see his website? It came out really cool.” She passed the iPad over to Annie.
Annie didn’t want to waste time looking at the site, but wanted to reassure Lucy about her work in having created the site—that she’d done a good job.
“Click o
n the menu bar to see the pages. . . .”
With a small smile, Annie said, “I know about navigation.”
“Oh, sorry.”
In a matter of seconds, Annie became surprisingly fascinated by what was on the screen. Page after page, image after image revealed outstanding art. Exceptional, simplistic landscapes, magnificent blends of colors and light, painted with textures created not only from brushes but also palette knives—and all were venues on Chappaquiddick. Picasso, indeed.
“Lucy? Are these really his?”
“Duh. Yeah. He’s been working on his portfolio for years. Every summer that he’s been here with his grandparents.”
Annie was astonished. “These are incredible. Not to mention that they’d look amazing at the Inn. We could showcase his work throughout the common rooms where the most people would see them. What do you think? Would he like that?”
“Um, I think you should talk to him first, don’t you? I’m not exactly his agent. Besides, I’m not even sure he wants to think about this place right now, let alone come back.”
“Does he have the paintings with him?”
“The ones on his site are in storage in New York. Some place near where his grandparents live. I used his photos of them to create the gallery page.”
Suddenly, Annie had another reason for wanting Jonas to return. It was a selfish one, but added to Taylor’s relationship with Jonas and Kevin’s relationship with Taylor and Jonas’s future and maybe even Lucy’s opportunity to have a good friend who she might help save from being lonely, the motivation had piled up. Calling the young artist now felt necessary. And a nice distraction from the sad things going on.
“May I use your phone?”
Lucy handed it over.
And Jonas picked up on the first ring.
* * *
Annie was tired, but she was happy about Jonas. Also, she was glad she’d asked the waitress at Linda Jean’s to wrap up the rest of her sandwich—she wolfed it down on the quick ferry ride back to Chappy.