A Vineyard Morning

by Jean Stone

  “They’re beautiful,” Annie said. “Don’t you agree, Taylor?”

  The auburn-haired woman nodded. “They belong here. So does my son.”

  “We have something to show you,” Jonas said, then held a small box out to Annie.

  She took it, opened it. Inside were two silver bands. They looked like wedding bands.

  “My dad bought them,” Jonas said. “They’re engraved inside with the date when he and my mom were supposed to get married.”

  Taking out one of the rings, Annie held it to the light. She saw a date; next to that, it read “Hawaii.” “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “Derek had already bought the rings and had them engraved before the accident,” Taylor said. “I gave Jonas the rings, along with the receipt, so now he has solid proof. Derek really did want to marry me; we were supposed to be a family. And we really were going to move to Hawaii. Derek had inherited a small house from his grandfather on the big island. I’m going to go there now, at least for a while. Legally, the place is Jonas’s, but I might eventually move there permanently, as long as it’s all right with Jonas.”

  “Only if I can come and visit,” Jonas said.

  “And as long as you stay here and take care of the house.” She looked back at Annie. “My place on Chappaquiddick is now his house as well.”

  Annie handed back the ring, trying to process everything. “So you two are okay?”

  “Better than okay,” Jonas said. “Mom not only had these rings, but she’s also got a letter from my grandfather to her. He’s the one who gave her money for college and for her mother and father. But he didn’t send it to her until after they took me. In the letter, he said he hoped she’d accept the check as recognition for the love that she and my dad had for each other, and for their appreciation that she’d honored his memory by giving me to them. Which proves she didn’t give me to them for the money.”

  “I thought that they’d give you a better life than I could have.”

  Annie thought about it. “But you never used these things to prove your innocence?”

  “No,” Taylor replied. “Because I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong.” She lowered her eyes. “Please tell Kevin that I’ve gone. I wish it could have been different for us, but things don’t always work out the way we hope. He and I had fun, but I know he doesn’t want me in his life. But I do want him to be happy.” Then she checked her watch. “I’ve got to run; I’m on the two thirty to Boston. I’m flying out tonight. Good luck with the Inn. I admit I wasn’t sure at first, but it’s been nice having you around.” She started to shake Annie’s hand, but Annie stepped closer and gave Taylor a hug. She felt it was the least she could do.

  * * *

  An hour later, Kevin returned from a mission of tackling errands in Edgartown. He had a paper bag in one arm, a bunch of plump yellow tulips in the other.

  “For you,” he said, handing Annie the flowers. “Because you are my sister, and I love you, and I don’t think I ever could have managed these past weeks without you.”

  Annie fought back tears. She took the flowers and said, “I’m not sure vases are in the budget.”

  “I ran into Claire on the boat. She said a canning jar will do the trick.”

  Annie laughed. “What’s in the bag?”

  He pressed his lips together. “Mom’s ashes. I picked them up at the funeral home.”

  Annie’s laughter faded; she didn’t know what to say.

  “If you’re not too busy,” Kevin continued, “maybe we could spread them this afternoon? Before this place opens and we get too crazy?”

  Donna had wanted her ashes sprinkled in the water off South Beach. It had seemed odd because, as far as Annie knew, Donna only had been there one morning with Annie when they’d been exploring the island together, back when they’d first met. Perhaps it had meant more to Donna than Annie realized.

  She drew in a long breath. “Do you want to go now?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  She followed her brother across the room, stopping to rearrange a group of wampum on a side table. She knew it wouldn’t be the last time that she fussed with them; she hoped their guests would enjoy doing the same.

  Before heading outside, Annie stopped in the kitchen, pulled a pitcher from a cabinet, set it on the gorgeous new counter, and arranged the flowers. Then, as she turned to leave, she stopped and plucked two yellow tulips—so each of them could toss one into the waves along with their mother’s ashes.

  * * *

  The sand was cool beneath her bare feet as Annie and Kevin traversed the path that led to the dunes and onto South Beach. The light breeze and the sunshine created an Instagram-worthy morning; the tide was growing high, curling in toward shore, its ribbons of white rising from the water and kissing the earth; the pinkletinks had passed their singing duties on to the island birds, now that summer was nearly there.

  As Annie stood on the beach, the sun warmed her face; the presence of her brother warmed her heart.

  Best of all, they saw no one else, no lone fisherman, no teenagers who’d cut school, no black dogs scampering between the waves. It was only them, their tiny family, now minus one.

  “Before we do this, I have a couple of things to tell you,” Kevin said.

  Whenever anyone led with that line, Annie braced herself. “Okay.”

  He nodded, shifting the bag that contained the box of ashes to his other arm. “Jonas texted me. He said Taylor’s gone.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s for the best. My heart was never really in it with her.”

  “I know that, too. It’s fine, Kevin. She’s fine.”

  He sighed. “Remember when I asked you to pick Mom up at the boat? Remember that I said I needed time to breathe before she got here?”

  “I do.” Annie couldn’t imagine what was coming next; she hoped it wasn’t something negative about Donna.

  “It wasn’t because of Mom,” he said, as if reading Annie’s mind. He hesitated, then looked out over the water. “And it had nothing to do with Taylor. It was about me. I’d just received a call from my attorney. He told me my divorce went through.”

  Annie bit her lip. “Oh, Kevin . . .”

  He nodded again, keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon. “Yeah, it kind of sucks.”

  “Are you okay?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. Sometimes. Most times. I’ve had a few distractions, y’know?”

  “But you’ve kept it to yourself all this time?”

  He shifted the box again. “Yeah. We had other priorities.”

  She looped her arm through his and followed his gaze. “Please don’t let ‘priorities’ stop you from telling me anything again.”

  “I’ll try not to. That’s a promise.” Then he reached into the bag. Instead of pulling out the box of ashes, he withdrew a white, letter-sized envelope. “Speaking of promises, this is for you. It’s from Mom. She gave it to me when I brought her back from the hospital. The back is glued with sealing wax— she must have done that when she was still in Boston. She told me it was so I’d keep my big nose out of it.” He laughed as he handed it over. “She knew me so well.”

  Taking the envelope, Annie closed her eyes and pressed it to her chest. Donna must have written her a letter—another letter, like the one she’d sent so long ago. Annie stood very still for a moment, then she said, “I think I’ll save this for a later day, okay? Like maybe after the Inn has opened and I can take my time to read it?” She still hadn’t let Kevin and Earl remove the twin bed from her living room in the cottage; Annie continued to sleep there, wishing that Donna were asleep in the next room.

  “Whenever you want,” Kevin said. “I don’t think it has a deadline.”

  Annie tucked the letter in her pocket. Then they took turns sprinkling small cupfuls of ashes, saying silent prayers. When the box was empty, they each tossed in a tulip and watched as the last flecks of silver ash and yellow petals dissolved into the surf.

&nbs
p; Chapter 32

  The Friday of Memorial Day weekend arrived quickly, and with it came last minute scurrying and a few close calls: Did anyone buy a toaster? (No. Hence, a quick trip to Granite, the store for almost everything.) Why were there seven bedrooms but only six sets of linens? (Oops. Back to Granite.) If it rained, where could they set up the marimba band? (Harlin, their multitalented tenant and the leader of the band, suggested that they could construct a canopy on the terrace, using the tarps Kevin and Earl had used for painting; the musicians could set up under that. Everyone agreed it would be fun, rain or shine.)

  Finally, between Annie, Kevin, Earl, and Jonas (who had been eager to pitch in), they were ready. Which was good, as Claire had sent tons of invites (not “e” ones, but “real ones,” she’d said) to islanders for the Grand Opening of The Vineyard Inn. She’d already set up a table in the front foyer where she planned to greet visitors and hand them one of the Inn’s brochures that Annie had made at the last minute, thanks to her experience with the Garden Tour the previous summer.

  At eleven thirty, the tourists who’d reserved rooms arrived (early). The party was scheduled to start at one o’clock, so everyone could enjoy the afternoon, which, thankfully, the weather folks predicted was going to be beautiful. And surprisingly warm.

  Having settled the tourists and the year-round tenants into their rooms and shared smiles at their oohs and ahhs, Annie was in the kitchen, where the caterers were finding their way around. She knew she was in the way, but she was trying to avert her eyes from the backyard where Kevin and Jonas were now hauling the twin bed up from the cottage to put in the Inn where it belonged. She turned from the window; sleeping in her own bed that night would be a final sign that Donna was really gone. That, and the sealing-waxed envelope that Annie hadn’t yet opened, had been her remaining ways of holding on to her birth mother. She’d decided to open the envelope the next morning, after the Grand Opening was done. She’d be alone; John had a midnight-to-noon shift, with long days and nights in the near future, because, as of that very day, another Vineyard summer had officially begun.

  “Hey, Annie,” Jonas said as the men jostled their way into the kitchen, raising the bed over their heads, “John and Lucy are here. And the dog. They’re outside talking to a girl who wants to see you.”

  “Who?” Annie didn’t want to be distracted.

  Jonas shrugged and only said, “Don’t know. But she looks cool.”

  Kevin laughed, and they paraded past the caterers, their bounty held high.

  Annie marveled at how much Jonas had changed, how his shyness had abated now that he’d come to terms with his mother, now that he could look forward to summer and to getting his career off to a good start. Annie felt a little sad for Taylor, but glad for her that she’d moved on. Taylor had already sent a post card from Hawaii, but hadn’t written “Wish you were here.” As for Kevin, Annie could only hope that, in time, he would find happiness again.

  She excused herself from the caterers and went out to the yard.

  She saw John and Lucy talking to someone whose back was toward her. Restless, of course, was the first one to spot Annie. He bounced toward her and leaped onto her white jeans and red-and-white-striped jersey top.

  “Stop!” Annie cried. “Please! I love you, but get down!”

  John and Lucy simultaneously called off the dog; the person they’d been talking with turned around.

  “Oh!” Annie cried. “You’re here!” It was Francine—beautiful, and so grown-up—all the way from Minnesota. She was holding Bella, the dark-haired, dark-eyed child who was no longer a baby but a real little girl. Annie began to cry; so did Francine.

  “I’m here to work for the summer,” Francine said. “If you’ll have me.”

  “Of course! Your room is almost ready. In fact, your bed just walked by.” Annie knew it would give her comfort to know that the bed was for either Francine or Bella.

  “John told me about your mom, Annie. I’m so sorry.”

  “So am I. But this is a day to celebrate. Not only the Inn, but especially now because you’re home.” They hugged and cried, and Restless danced at their feet until John said, “Hey, break it up, okay? I want to kiss my fiancée.”

  Francine’s eyes darted from John back to Annie. “Did I hear him right?”

  “You did. We don’t know when yet, but you’re invited. In fact, would you like to be a bridesmaid?”

  “I’m going to be the maid of honor,” Lucy interjected, in case anyone had forgotten she was there.

  “Absolutely,” Francine said, then added, “I’m so happy for you!” They hugged again, and Restless danced some more, but Bella grew, well, restless, and wanted to get down.

  “Lucy?” John asked. “How about if you take the dog down to the beach? So these ladies can go inside and see Gramma.”

  The next hour passed so quickly Annie felt as if she were in a trance. And then the guests started to arrive. By two o’clock it seemed that half the Vineyard population was there, all of whom were thrilled with, as Earl described it, “what they’ve done with the old place.”

  Meandering around the lawn, Annie caught sight of the meadow that sprawled next to the Inn: it was filled with yellow buttercups that had blossomed just in time, as if a small part of Ellen Sutton had come to celebrate with them.

  Filled with happiness and love, Annie wove around Earl, who was talking with a couple of John’s police-officer friends; she smiled at Claire, who had given away all the brochures and now stood, socializing with people Annie recognized from the garden club; and she watched Marilyn Sunderland, who seemed to wink at Earl every chance she got. Harlin’s marimba band was a huge hit as the musicians lit up the terrace, and some of the guests began to dance. Harlin had noticeably been checking out Francine; if he had his eye on her, Annie suspected he’d have to compete with Jonas.

  Annie smiled as she thought about the days ahead; joy, after all, often was infectious.

  She also knew that joy could be interrupted in a heartbeat, which was what happened when Lucy appeared again, back from the beach with Restless in tow and something firmly set between his teeth.

  Annie saw them first. She rushed over at a decided clip, maneuvering around unsuspecting guests who were admiring the view of the harbor and the Edgartown Light. “Lucy!” she whispered, as the mallets of the marimba speeded up the tempo. “What are you doing? What’s he got?”

  Before Lucy could answer, John was behind her.

  “I’m not sure!” Lucy cried. “Restless found it on the beach—is it another bone?”

  Annie’s whole body went rigid, her heart and lungs and everything inside her dropped like a schooner mast in a nor’easter.

  Suddenly, Earl, too, appeared.

  And Kevin.

  And Claire.

  John bent down and pulled the thing from the dog’s mouth.

  The crowd grew silent, then the band stopped playing.

  John held the thing up for everyone to see. “It’s a damn plastic bottle,” he said.

  Hearty cheers rose up from the lawn.

  “Put it in the recycle bin,” John said to his daughter. “And try to stay out of trouble.”

  Looking somewhat dejected, Lucy shuffled to the bins.

  “Was it really plastic?” Annie asked as he whisked her away.

  He shrugged. “Looked that way to me.” Then he took her by the elbow, and they went back to the party.

  * * *

  Annie woke up in the morning to the sounds of island songbirds; saltmarsh sparrows, eastern towhees, and red-eyed vireos were no doubt among those who had arrived in nature’s procession after the pinkletinks had quieted. She lay in her bed again, surprised that she’d had a wonderful night’s sleep. The Grand Opening had been a big success; reporters from both island newspapers (not only Marilyn) and online Vineyard sites had been there, taking notes and looking pleased. Claire reported a head count of two hundred fifty-two, not counting the caterers or the band or the people who now
lived there.

  Taking a deep breath, Annie said aloud, “We did it.” She hoped that Donna and Murphy were both listening.

  Then she sat up, dangled her legs over the edge of the bed, and opened the drawer of her nightstand. She took out the white envelope, then slowly peeled off its wax seal. She paused a moment, then reached inside and pulled out a single sheet of paper. A small gold key was attached.

  My dearest Annie, the note read.

  You are reading this because I’m gone. I am so sorry we could not have had more time, but please know that I cherished every moment we spent together. I am so proud of you, of the woman you are. I am even more proud that you had the courage to reach out to meet me at last. I hope you know that.

  I’m attaching the key to the Louis Vuitton trunk. I will have already told you that the things in the pocket inside the lid are for Kevin; the rest is yours.

  Some time ago, when you asked about your birth father, I was deliberately vague. He and I had made a promise to each other that as long as either of us was alive, we would keep our secret. He loved you; I loved you. More than you will ever know. I hope you’ll understand that, and that you will take comfort from what you will find in the Vuitton.

  My love forever,

  Donna

  Annie waited a moment, then drew in a long breath. She crouched to the floor in front of the trunk; her hands and her legs were trembling. Still, she found the strength to insert the small key into the brass lock and turn it once. Click.

  Slowly, she raised the lid. And stared at two stacks of what looked like very large notebooks.

  Before taking them out, she reached into the pocket of the inside lid; she pulled out a small blue ribbon: FIRST PLACE, DORCHESTER ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, 1956. Then she took out a brochure: RED SOX-YANKEES LINE-UP, MAY 17, 1990. Along with it was a ticket stub. And then there was a photo album. She opened it; the first page read: Kevin Raymond MacNeish. That’s when Annie realized that Donna must have taken back her maiden name after her divorce and changed Kevin’s name to hers. She’d been an amazing woman.