by Lisa Duffy
“You look so much alike,” she says.
“I didn’t always. I need to show you something,” Sky says, and walks out of the kitchen to her bedroom while Maggie follows behind her.
In her room, she walks over to her desk, opens the drawer, and takes a picture out. She sits back down on the bed and hands it to Maggie.
It’s a photograph of a newborn, wrapped in a striped blanket.
“You gave me this at the other house. When we slept there.”
Maggie smiles. “I found it in the basement. You were the cutest baby. Look at those cheeks.” She touches the picture.
Sky walks over to a bookshelf, grabs a photo album, and flips the pages. She pulls out a picture and walks back to the bed, holds it up for Maggie to see.
It’s a picture of a newborn, wrapped in a blanket, identical to the first picture, except the blanket has darker stripes.
“That’s me,” Sky says. “The day after they found me in the fire station.”
“You had a copy already,” Maggie says. “I thought you might.”
She points to the one in Maggie’s hand. “Look at the back,” she says.
Maggie turns the picture over. In small handwriting on the lower corner of the picture there is a name and age of the baby.
Leo. 2 days old.
Maggie flips the picture over again and holds it up to Sky’s. Side-by-side pictures of two babies.
Almost identical.
Maggie puts her arm around Sky’s shoulders and doesn’t speak.
She should put the pictures away. Ask Leo about it when he comes back. But she can’t stop looking at the same thick black hair sticking straight up.
Eyes that look so much alike. Hers are blue now. Leo’s are dark brown. But in the pictures, they’re the same dark gray.
She’s pressed against Maggie, and she sits up straighter, but Maggie pulls her tighter.
“I’m not going to take the easy way out here.” Maggie looks at her and takes a breath. “A lot has happened since the fire. We learned about your birth mother. And Leo just found out he’s your father. He went to talk to Xavier.” She stops, doesn’t loosen her grip.
“How come I don’t look anything like him now?”
Maggie tilts her head, her eyes on the pictures. “That happens sometimes. PJ looked just like my baby picture. By the time he was your age, he was just a miniature version of Pete.”
“Do you think Leo’s coming back?” she asks.
“Of course,” Maggie says quickly.
In that chirpy, bright voice.
49
Turns out all his rushing to get to the mainland is for nothing—the condo is empty when he arrives.
No Xavier. No furniture. Not even a television.
Just moving boxes upon moving boxes lining the walls. Nearly every single item in the house packed away, meticulously labeled in Xavier’s handwriting.
He calls Xavier’s phone, but it goes straight to voice mail. He sends him three texts over the course of two hours.
I’m at the condo.
Where are you?
Call me ASAP!
Finally, after midnight, when he can’t keep his eyes open anymore, he lies down in bed, the only remaining piece of furniture in the entire condo.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep when he opens his eyes to the front door clicking shut, then footsteps walking toward him. The light flicks on, and he blinks, and Xavier is standing over him, a backpack over his shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” Xavier asks. “I’ve been trying to call you since I landed!”
Leo glances at his phone, dead on the table. He’d rushed out the door without a charger and couldn’t find one in the condo.
“Landed from where?” Leo says, standing and walking into the kitchen. His head is pounding, his mouth dry. Xavier follows, watches him open the cabinet for a glass, only to find it empty.
“Here,” Xavier says, grabbing a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. “From LA. I didn’t bother to tell you I was going. It was a quick trip.”
“I thought you weren’t going until October.” He glances at the boxes, then at Xavier. “But obviously I don’t know anything anymore. When were you going to tell me we were moving? You were moving, I should say.”
“I’m not going at all,” Xavier says. “To LA. The scope of it kept growing and growing. It was obvious I’d be out there more than I originally thought. I told them I didn’t want the project.”
“What? Why? You’ve been trying to sell that pitch forever.”
Xavier shrugs. “I have other things I can work on. Local things.”
“Local to where?” Leo asks.
Xavier digs in his pocket, hands him a piece of paper. “The movers come at the end of the week. Hope I got the address right.”
Leo looks down. It’s an address with both their names. Winding Way as the location.
He stares at it. Speechless. When he looks up, Xavier is studying him.
“I thought you hated the island,” he says finally.
Xavier shrugs. “I hate being without you more.”
He wants to step into his husband, take him in his arms. Instead, he leans back against the wall, away from him.
He’s not sure if he’s giving Xavier space to hear what he’s about to say. Or distancing himself from his husband before he tells him something that might break his heart.
“There’s something you need to know,” Leo says. And then begins with the story of his father’s funeral. A bottle of tequila. A woman named Charlie.
And a baby named Sky.
* * *
When he’s finished, exhaustion spreads through his body, and he wishes his favorite couch was still in the living room so he might curl up on it and go to sleep.
But, it’s empty. Just a bare room.
“What did you do with our furniture?” he asks suddenly.
Xavier doesn’t answer. Just looks at him with the same blank expression he’s had since Leo began his story.
Suddenly Xavier blinks, his eyes filling. A crease forms on his forehead.
“Are you crying?” Leo asks, tilting his head. Xavier rarely cries. As in never.
“Maybe. Yes.” Xavier presses the heel of his hand to one eye.
“Are they good tears or bad?”
Xavier pauses. “Good, I think. Maybe a little bit of shock mixed in. But good.”
“I’m surprised. You haven’t really wanted to be part of any of this. Me and Sky. Our life—”
“Your life.” Xavier nods, as if that’s exactly the point. “Brian and Ann didn’t name me as a guardian. They named you. Only you. I always felt like the third wheel. I didn’t know your friends very well—we met once at our wedding! And then to suddenly live in their house. Raise their daughter—it was…” His voice trails off.
“A lot,” Leo finishes.
“Yeah,” Xavier agrees.
“And now?”
Xavier blinks at him. “She’s your daughter. Our daughter! Look—the past few months have been awful. In my worst nightmare, I never imagined my life without you. And then all this happened, and I was suddenly alone in this house. I hated it. But I had to stay here and feel what that was really going to be like. It was never going to be fair to you or Sky if I wasn’t fully in. Fully willing to be your partner and Sky’s parent. So that choice was already made. I was coming to the island to be with you both before you showed up tonight. This just feels… I don’t know.” He shrugs. “We can learn to be dads at the same time.”
“What if we screw it up?” Leo asks.
Xavier raises an eyebrow. “Well then it’s your fault. You’re the real dad,” he jokes, nodding to the bedroom. “Let’s get some sleep before we become parents for the rest of our lives.”
* * *
They wake up to the sun blazing through the window, the curtains packed away. Leo glances at the alarm clock and moans.
“It’s almost nine o’clock. We need to get moving—”
Xavier throws an arm over him. “Stay,” he says. “I don’t even remember what it’s like to be in bed with you.”
Leo laughs. “I forgot how dramatic you are.”
Xavier sits up and looks down at him. “I’m serious. Let’s stay here one last night. Just us. We’ll take the ferry over in the morning.”
“I don’t know if Maggie can stay—”
“I’ll call her right now,” Xavier says, standing up. “You stay right there. And our neighbor. Jim? Give me his number. I woke up with an idea, and I’m hoping he can help.”
“It’s Joe. Joe Armstrong.” Leo sighs. “You have to start getting his name right—”
“Joe—I got it. I promise.” He picks up Leo’s phone, his finger scrolling until he finds what he’s looking for. Then he puts the phone to his ear. “Don’t get up.” He points at Leo. “Hey, Joe,” he says into the phone in a friendly voice. “This is Xavier, Leo’s husband—”
His voice fades as Leo cranes his neck, watches him walk out the bedroom. He should follow him. Take a shower. Get dressed and go back to the island.
There’s a house to finish. And a child to raise. A list of things to do that seems to grow each day.
“We’re all set,” Xavier says, walking in and getting in bed next to Leo. “Maggie has everything under control, and Joe’s on top of it.”
“On top of what?” he asks, but Xavier shakes his head, presses his lips against Leo’s.
And Leo closes his eyes, leans into his husband. His marriage had almost slipped through his fingers. He lets the house that needs finishing and the child who needs raising and the list that’s growing fade into the background of his mind. There for the rest of his life.
Just not right now.
50
When Maggie tells Sky that Leo isn’t coming home for another day, there’s a long silence between them.
“Why not?” Sky asks finally.
Maggie doesn’t have the answer, given that she only briefly spoke to Xavier, not Leo, and the only explanation Xavier gave was that they had a lot of things to figure out. She hadn’t wanted to pry—things seemed a reasonable enough explanation given the circumstances—so she told him not to worry.
Everything was just fine on their end.
From the look of panic on Sky’s face, Maggie is wondering if she may have spoken too soon.
“Something to do with work, I believe,” she says breezily. “How about a sandwich for lunch?”
“Leo doesn’t work. He lost his job a month ago.”
Maggie swallows. “I meant Xavier’s,” she says quickly. “Soup?”
“I’m not that hungry. I’ll just have cereal. Did you talk to Xavier? Is he coming back with Leo?”
Worry is etched in the girl’s features. Maggie sighs, walks over, and wraps her arms around her, feels Sky stiffen and finally relax in her grip.
“I have an idea,” Maggie says, turning to the table, the paintings spread out. “How about we get these framed? You can put them in your new room.”
Sky is quiet, studying the paintings.
“Your mother was talented,” she says softly.
“Birth mother,” Sky corrects, and opens the cabinet, searching for the box of cereal.
As though it’s just another typical day.
* * *
They spend the afternoon picking out frames.
Then Maggie takes Sky for an early dinner on the harbor at a fancy restaurant with a rooftop deck overlooking the water. She called Joe to see if he wanted to have dinner with them, but he rushed her off the phone. Something about a project he was working on.
When they get home, Sky tells her that she’s going to bed. It’s not even dark out, and she wonders if Sky is upset about Leo not coming home, but Maggie can’t find it in herself to argue because she’s exhausted and the only thing she really wants is a glass of wine and to put her feet up and relax.
Tomorrow is an in-service day for teachers, so she tells Sky to sleep in and take advantage of the day off. She’s already decided she’ll get to school when she gets there.
After Sky disappears into her bedroom, Maggie finally sits at the table, but her mind is racing and she stands, paces the small room.
Something has been bothering her since dinner, and she hasn’t been able to put her finger on it until now.
It’s Agnes.
She’d been sitting on the roof deck with Sky watching the ferry unload when she thought about the lunch she never got to have with Agnes.
The lunch they had every year when Agnes would snicker and make fun of the tourists on the dock and Maggie would shush her and they’d laugh until Maggie thought her side was going to split wide open.
Before she can change her mind, she picks up her phone.
Agnes answers on the second ring.
Within the hour, they’re sitting at the kitchen table, the paintings on the table between them.
“So Leo is the father?” Agnes repeats for the third time.
“Yes!” Maggie says.
Agnes puts her hands up. “Okay, okay! Sue me for having a question or two. So where is he then?”
“He went to talk to Xavier. Look—I didn’t call you so we could talk about Leo or Sky or any of it.” She looks at Agnes. “Are you sick again? Tell me the truth.”
“No. I’m healthy. Scout’s honor.” She holds up two fingers.
Maggie narrows her eyes. “Then what’s with the circles.” She draws in the air under her own eyes. “And the weight loss.”
“Let’s see. My best friend of thirty years—really my only real friend if you want the truth—told me she doesn’t want to talk to me. And for some reason, I haven’t had much of an appetite and I can’t seem to sleep at all.” She tilts her head at Maggie, who lets out a long, ragged sigh.
“I’ve missed you too. I was just so…” She can’t find the word.
“Angry,” Agnes says quietly. “You were angry, Maggie.”
“Yes! I really was! But it wasn’t just at you. I was angry at myself, for acting like everything was fine all my life when it wasn’t. I was angry at Pete, mostly.”
“About time,” Agnes says, then sighs. “I’m sorry. I promised myself I was going to be less judgmental. About everything.”
“Everything?” Maggie’s eyes go wide.
“Grace called the other day.” Agnes plays with the cross around her neck. “She had some news. Apparently, there’s going to be a wedding. In Vermont.”
“Well then give my congratulations to Grace and Julie. Are you going to stop referring to her as the roommate?” Maggie smirks.
“I don’t have the first clue what I’m supposed to call her!” Agnes drains her glass and slams it on the table. “Fill it, will you? This conversation requires alcohol.” She shakes her head, but a smile forms on her lips.
“You’re going to the wedding, right?”
“Of course I’m going. Somebody once screamed in my face that it wasn’t about me. This person is suddenly very bossy and outspoken.” Agnes looks at her. “But she also happens to be right.”
Maggie tops off Agnes’s glass, watches her friend take a long sip. “We’ll have to shop for a dress for you—”
“Wait.” Agnes holds up a hand. “I’m not done. I’m sorry I sent that picture to the newspaper. It was a rotten thing to do. I was mad at you too. For something that wasn’t your fault. You know my marriage isn’t perfect. I married a good man, but he eats, breathes, and sleeps his work. After the MRI came back clean, I was looking forward to a summer with you. Just us. Day trips and beaches and lunches. And then you got so involved with Leo and Sky.” Agnes shrugs. “I was hurt.”
“I’m sorry,” Maggie says. “I wished you had told me.”
“I hope that picture didn’t ruin things with Pete. I heard he moved out.”
Maggie snorts. “The only thing that ruined my relationship with Pete was Pete.”
She knows it’s true when it passes her lips. She also knows th
ey were in love for a lot of years. Then something between them changed. And Pete kept telling her she was wrong. That everything was fine. And everything did look fine. On the surface. But leaving him feels right. She’s less lonely living alone than living with Pete.
“And Joe?” Agnes smirks. “You two seem to be spending a lot of time together. I think he has a crush on you.”
Maggie grabs the bottle of wine, tops off their glasses.
“Cheers,” she says, holding up her glass.
Agnes raises hers. “What are we cheering?”
“Beets,” Maggie says, remembering how Joe had grown them in his garden. Just for her. “And to men willing to try new things.”
51
The house is freezing when Sky wakes up. She left her window open when she went to bed, only a sheet covering her, and she opens her eyes to goose bumps covering her arms and legs. She wraps the blanket at the end of her bed around her and shuffles out of her bedroom.
In the living room, Maggie is standing by the far wall, tapping the round thermostat.
Sky pulls the blanket tighter around her body. “It’s only the middle of September,” she complains. “Why is it so cold?”
“New England is why.” Maggie smiles. “The weatherman said it’ll warm up by midmorning.”
The door opens, and they both turn to see Leo step into the house, Xavier pushing in behind him.
“Don’t bother,” Leo tells Maggie. “It’s one of the reasons we’re selling this place. Needs a whole new heating system.”
Xavier is in shorts and a tight T-shirt, rubbing his hands over his arms. “I’m getting one of your sweatshirts. Don’t go without me,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing down the hall.
“You’re here early,” Maggie says. “It’s not even eight o’clock. Go where?” She looks at Leo.
Sky realizes she’s been holding her breath when Leo walks over and gives her a hug, pressing his lips to her cheek.
“You two need to get dressed,” he says.
Maggie shakes her head. “I haven’t even had coffee—”