A Vineyard Summer

by Jean Stone

  After a short pause, Francine softly said, “Okay.”

  Then Annie felt her heart flutter. If Claire didn’t survive, what would happen to Francine and Bella? Stop it. Murphy’s voice suddenly broke into Annie’s thoughts. Don’t be an idiot. Be strong. You know how to do that.

  God bless Murphy. Annie’s guardian angel.

  Francine said she’d pick up Bella at the cottage on her way home from work. They rang off, and Annie watched for the bus while she moved the stroller back and forth. She hoped Murphy was right, that she’d find the strength to help everyone she cared about get through whatever would happen next. Then she decided to do what she did best in times of stress: She made a mental list of everything on her mind. Long ago, she’d learned it helped her feel less overwhelmed by providing a false sense that she could regain some control.

  That day, the list was short but potent:

  • Her deadline loomed.

  • She’d soon be homeless.

  • Her boyfriend’s thirteen-year-old daughter needed an abortion, and there was no way Annie could help.

  • He’d gone to be with his daughter, and was sleeping with his ex for all Annie knew. (Until then, she hadn’t realized that possibility had been in the back of her mind.)

  • His mother had had a stroke, so Annie would need to help her out. And help Earl. And Francine and Bella. And John from a distance.

  • The girl she’d found unconscious on her lawn now claimed she’d been poisoned, most likely by her brother. Which was definitely NOT any of Annie’s business.

  When the bus arrived, she didn’t feel less overwhelmed; she reverted, instead, to feeling numb. She lifted Bella, then jostled the stroller up the stairs behind them. A young man offered his seat; Annie thanked him and squeezed between other passengers. But, for once, rather than being put off by the crowd, she was glad for the company, glad to have Bella sit on her lap and wave at the other passengers, glad that some waved back. It helped stave off a strong urge to cry, not because of her issues, but because of Claire. Annie did not want her to die. It was, she knew, that simple. And it made her feel that sad.

  Chapter 10

  By the time Annie returned to the cottage and had situated Bella on the floor atop her favorite quilt with a sippy cup of apple juice that Annie had diluted (as per Francine’s research on the Internet), she knew there was at least one thing she could quickly cross off her list: She could go to the Littlefield house, gather a few things for Fiona, deposit them back at the hospital tomorrow, and be done with the matter. Fiona could go to the police and handle her own quandary as to whether or not she’d intentionally been poisoned. Annie had no idea whether or not the girl was capable of doing that, but she refused to worry about it.

  Then she looked over at Bella in time to see that she’d pulled herself up from the floor and was standing, hands clinging to the cushion of the love seat, laughing.

  “Look at you!” Annie cried. “What a big girl!” She clapped her hands.

  Bella smiled and giggled and then thumped down, her fall cushioned by her thick diaper.

  Annie bent down and scooped her up before any crying could begin. “You stood up all by yourself! We need to celebrate. Let’s go on an adventure! We’ll take a walk next door to the Littlefield house. You remember that house, don’t you?”

  In less than five minutes, they were out the door, Bella riding on Annie’s right hip while grasping her sippy cup. A large shopping bag dangled from Annie’s left hand, and her phone was tucked into her pocket, not that she’d need it. But Earl’s comment about always having his with him had resonated, and Annie wanted to be prepared in case Colin Littlefield returned. Not that he’d have malice on his mind, but Annie knew that stranger things could happen than a brother trying to poison his sister—even on the celebrated island of Martha’s Vineyard. She reminded herself that the word celebrated needed to be spoken with one’s tongue firmly fixed in one’s cheek.

  She went the long way—up the driveway and out to the road—to avoid cutting through the cluster of scrub oaks and taking the path that bisected the Flanagans’ lawn. No sense running into leftover wedding guests or Roger himself. Otherwise, Annie might be tempted to ask Roger how well he knew Colin, and if he thought the Littlefield son might have tried to poison his sister. Then she told herself—again—that just because she’d found Fiona on her lawn did not mean she had to save her.

  In less than a couple of minutes, she ducked into the sunroom of the cavernous house, scooted through the kitchen, and made her way to the massive butterfly staircase in the front foyer. Standing at the foot of the stairs, she called out, “Hello?” Not surprisingly, there was no answer. She hadn’t seen any cars in the driveway, and there were no visible signs of life on the main floor—not a set of keys, a few pieces of junk mail, or a lone cardigan tossed over the sofa in the gathering room. It was easy to tell that the house had once been beautiful, lovingly built, tastefully appointed. Now, however, it had been stripped of elegance, of its family and harmony, if there had ever been any. The house, like Fiona, seemed neglected.

  Annie shook off her gloom and dashed up to the second floor.

  The room Fiona had indicated was the same one where Francine and Bella had once stayed. Where they’d once squatted, to be precise.

  “Here we are again,” Annie said to the baby. “Remember this place?” She stood in the center of the large space and took a slow breath. Christmas seemed so long ago; so much had changed since then. “In many wonderful ways, thanks to you!” she said and kissed Bella’s cheek, then set her down on the thick carpeting.

  Fiona’s clothing was in the closet; Annie pulled a sundress from the rack and tossed it, along with a nice pair of sandals, into the bag. She took clean underthings from an open suitcase, then went into the bathroom and selected a few toiletries.

  When she was finished, she gathered Bella and headed out the door. On the way, she spotted a paperback novel on the nightstand; she grabbed it, dropped it into the bag, and did not take it personally that the book was not one of hers.

  The mission complete, they were halfway down the staircase when Annie’s phone rang.

  “Damn,” she said, instinctively clenching her jaw as if she’d been caught in the house where she did not belong. Reminding herself that this time she was there at an owner’s request, she rearranged her bundles (Bella included), reached into her pocket, pulled out the phone, and answered.

  Wonder of wonders, it was Kevin, her brother.

  “Any more dead bridesmaids lurking around?”

  Annie laughed and continued down the stairs. “She wasn’t dead! Though now she believes her brother tried to poison her.” She flicked her eyes around quickly, in case Colin was lurking under the stairs or around the corner. He was not.

  “Hmm,” Kevin said. “I’m afraid I haven’t known you long enough to want to poison you.”

  “Good thing.” They spoke with ease, almost as if they’d known each other a long time. Annie retraced her steps through the kitchen and the sunroom, out the door, and onto the lawn. “How are you? What are you up to?”

  “I’m okay. Not much going on in Boston, though. I was thinking that it might be a good time to visit the Vineyard. And you.”

  “Me?” she asked. “Here?” Well, of course he meant her and of course he meant there. What was Annie thinking? She was thinking of the million things she had to do in such little time. “Well, September might be best,” she said. “Like after Labor Day. I think you’d enjoy it more once most of the tourists have gone.” She briefly wondered if she’d still live on the island by then.

  Kevin’s laugh was warm and friendly. “The truth is, I decided I needed a dose of energy, the kind that comes from large crowds and plenty of sunshine. It’s kind of lonely in Boston right now, but don’t tell anyone I said that. People might think it’s weird that a forty-two-year-old man misses his mother. But the truth is, she’s been gone too damn long!”

  So Kevin was lonely.
Annie certainly knew what an empty, disconnected feeling that was. She walked to the driveway, then back up to the road. It would be nice to see him again, to get to know her half brother better. “When are you thinking of coming down?”

  He laughed again. “Actually, I’ve done more than think about it. I’m in Vineyard Haven. I just got off the ferry.”

  She stopped, pitching Bella forward, causing her to let out a scream. Annie bounced her and smoothed her hair, trying to ease the noise. “Oh,” she said. “Well. Welcome.”

  “Is that a kid I hear?”

  “Don’t worry, she’s not mine, I’m babysitting. Bella belongs to all of Chappaquiddick. There’s never a dull moment here.”

  “Well, you won’t have to babysit me. For one thing, I brought my pickup. For another, I made a reservation at a place called the Kelley House. I was lucky to get a room; they said they’d had a cancellation. Is it far from you?”

  Bless him, Annie thought. Kevin was considerate. And he definitely was lucky to get a room at the last minute in July. “The Kelley House isn’t far at all,” she said. “It’s right over the channel from Chappy. Are you headed there now?”

  “I don’t know where I’m headed. I’ve never been here.”

  “You lived in Boston your whole life and never made it to the island?”

  “Nope.”

  Annie tried to think fast. “Okay, first, park your vehicle right there in the ferry lot. Then go into the terminal and grab one of the green maps on the rack by the door. You probably have GPS, but, trust me, that map is invaluable. It gives a clear picture of the whole island, so you’ll always know where you are.”

  “Great. Someone just pulled out of a parking space, so I’m pulling in.”

  “You must have been born under a lucky star,” she said with a snicker. “Once you have the map, go to Edgartown and get checked in at the inn. I have a few things to take care of here, but I can meet you for dinner. You’ll see a restaurant, the Newes, on the ground floor of the Kelley House. It’s a pub. Nothing like the kind of hotel restaurants you might be used to. But I think you’ll like it.”

  “Sounds great, Annie. Thanks.”

  “No problem. I can’t wait to see you. I’ll meet you there by seven, okay?” They said goodbye and Annie stared at Bella. “Doesn’t anyone realize I’ve become accustomed to peace and quiet? Why are they trying to screw up my schedule?”

  Bella didn’t answer; she simply threw down her sippy cup and wriggled on Annie’s hip as if she wanted to get down. Annie lowered her to the ground; Bella grabbed hold of Annie’s leg, pulled herself up on her two chubby, rubbery legs, and took a step—a real step!—then plopped onto the lawn.

  * * *

  It was six thirty before Annie was able to start dressing for dinner. Francine had stopped by to pick up the baby: They’d had a long talk about Claire. They speculated about her prognosis, and about how they might need to rearrange their lives in order to help her once they knew the kinds of help she’d need. And though Annie tried to show Francine that Bella—at only ten months old!—could now take a single step, the baby would not cooperate. She merely sat down on the floor and laughed. At least Bella was nearing her first birthday by laughing almost in equal measure to crying.

  Finally alone, Annie dressed in a pink linen dress and white sandals and unpacked a white linen sweater she’d nearly forgotten she owned. For a place that was accustomed to dressing “down” nine months of the year, the streets of Edgartown had become a runway of summer fashion.

  She brushed her hair: It was long now, below her shoulders, longer than she was used to. So far, the strands of silver that skated through it seemed to be fairly well under control. Which was good, as she had neither time nor extra cash to invest in having it colored. Maybe someday, she thought, as she put on a pair of wampum earrings—pale-lavender and deep-purple shells that John had given her for her birthday.

  She had pulled her hair into a ponytail and was tying it with a pink ribbon when there was a knock on her door. Rushing from the bedroom, she hoped it wasn’t bad news about Claire. Her heart quickened and then, through the screen, she saw John.

  “Hi,” she said, opening the door, eyes wide, anxious.

  He smiled; she relaxed. “My mom’s going to be okay,” he said. “At least for now. All her vitals are under control. She has slight paralysis on her right side, and she’s having trouble speaking, but her prognosis is really good. The doc says she was lucky the EMTs got to her as soon as they did.” He closed his eyes. A lone tear sneaked from each corner.

  Annie stepped forward and threaded her arms through his, enveloping him in a long, deep hug. “I’m so glad. I feel terrible that it happened right after I left her.” She rubbed his back, then said, “Please, come in off the porch.”

  “We have tourists to thank,” he said, moving past her into the living room. “A couple of women were walking by, admiring the gardens. They saw her collapse; they called nine-one-one right away.”

  “Did anyone get their names?”

  He shook his head. “Not that I heard.”

  She made a mental note to post something online and in the newspaper to let the tourists know they really were appreciated, despite the unending lines in Stop & Shop and the traffic snarls at the Triangle that they caused.

  “She’ll be in the hospital a few more days,” John continued. “Then, if all goes well, she’ll go to rehab.”

  “You know I’ll do anything to help.”

  “As if you don’t have enough on your plate? Like finishing your book and finding a place to live?”

  “It’s fine, John. I’ll get it all done.” She grinned. “And I have a visitor, too. Though I don’t know for how long or to what extent I’ll be expected to play hostess.”

  His brow furrowed. Then he looked at her dress. “Oh. You’re going out.Which must be why you haven’t asked me to sit down.” As if, after six months of dating, he needed an invitation. “Well, you do look really nice.”

  “Why, John Lyons, are you jealous?”

  “Not if you tell me your old maid aunt is in town.”

  “I don’t have an old maid aunt. In fact, I don’t have any aunt that I know of. But you’re close. My brother has come to the Vineyard.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Half brother, Kevin. I told you about him.”

  He nodded. “Right. Sorry, I’m kind of in a fog. The guy’s in construction, isn’t he?”

  “He was. He sold his business when his wife left him.”

  John nodded again. “I keep forgetting you have a family now.”

  “Sometimes, I do, too. Speaking of families”—she checked her watch—“oh, damn, I do have to go. But I’d love to tell you about Fiona Littlefield. I saw her after I left your mother’s room.”

  “How is she?”

  Annie bit her lip. “I have an idea. Can you join us? Kevin is staying at the Kelley House, so I’m meeting him at the Newes. I can tell you about Fiona then. And he might like to hear her story.”

  John checked his watch, too. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you go? I’ll run out to the house and pick up a few things for Mom. Then I’ll join you there. That way you can have some alone time with him first.” He kissed her. Nicely.

  “But what about Lucy? Shouldn’t you head back to Plymouth?”

  “They can wait until tomorrow. I want to be sure Mom is settled.”

  Annie nodded, embarrassed to feel relieved that he was there.

  * * *

  Kevin was exactly as she remembered, though he now sported a summer tan. “Golf,” he explained when Annie commented on it as he stood up to greet her. “Too much time on my hands.”

  They hugged; they sat.

  “So,” she said after they ordered wine and perused the menu, “what do you think of our little island so far?”

  He smiled. His hazel—not green—eyes were exactly like hers. His hair was a shade lighter and his shoulders much broader, but their long-legged gait
s were nearly identical. Annie was still getting used to the fact that she strongly resembled her birth mother; now, in the dim light of the restaurant, she could see she resembled Kevin, too. Or he resembled her. However that went.

  “It took me a while to navigate the traffic from the boat, but I suppose it’s a trade-off. There has to be some downside to living in paradise, right?”

  “It’s not like this off season. Sometimes it can feel like a ghost town. I have a friend who says the only people here then are the sane ones.” The friend was Earl. She thought about him, and about Claire, and hoped they were both going to be okay. “The truth is, he’s more than a friend. He’s the caretaker of the property where I’ve been staying, and I’ve been dating his son, John.”

  “Nice!” Kevin said. “You have someone in your life.”

  She nodded. “I went a long time without anyone.” She didn’t know anything about Kevin’s marriage or his ex-wife; nor did she know how much Donna had told him about her two marriages. But though Annie didn’t intend to hold anything back from her brother, she wanted this evening to be about him. About them. “I have to warn you,” she said, “now that you’re here, I’m going to want to know it all—like how it was to have been raised by our mother. I want to know what she was like when she was young. She was still young when she had you, wasn’t she? You’re nine years younger than I am. . . .”

  The wine was delivered; they put in their orders. They both chose the flounder, which made Annie laugh.

  “Like minds,” Kevin said. Then, after the waiter left, he answered her question. “Mom was great. But I feel funny telling you that. I mean, I don’t want you to be sad. To make you feel like you missed out.”

  “Please, Kevin, I want to know. And I want you to know I had great parents and a good childhood. Not perfect, but most things aren’t.”

  He smiled again. “True. Like, don’t forget Mom and my dad split up when I was only four.”