Autumn Secrets

by Katie Winters

  Nancy kept her hand splayed on Gretchen’s back, helping to calm her as they whizzed toward the safe house. Elsa gave Stan directions as they went, saying over and over again, “Not long now. We’re almost there.” It was calming to hear her say this. Finally, all of the trauma of the past thirty-or-so minutes would remain in the past. Finally, they’d made it through.

  Nancy lifted her eyes back toward Carmella’s and said, “I don’t mind that you told. I shouldn’t have kept it a secret, anyway.”

  Carmella’s chin quivered. “I am so sorry for wronging you like that.”

  “No. Listen to me, Carmella. It was a stupid thing to get so angry about. I’m just frightened about all of it, but that’s no reason to take out that emotion on you. I want you in my life, Carmella. I want our friendship to be stronger than ever, but what I want most is our mother-daughter relationship, with all its complexities. That’s what I want. And I think we can get there if you want to try. Do you?”

  Carmella nodded. She looked to be deep inside of her head, her thoughts stirring far beyond her eyes.

  But finally, she nodded as a tear rolled down her cheek. Then she spoke. “I want that, too. I want trust between us. I want to build something with you. And I think we’re capable of it.”

  Nancy draped her head against Carmella’s shoulder and tenderly traced her hand down Gretchen’s back. Her heart felt too big for her chest, like the Grinch who stole Christmas.

  Stan yanked the truck into the lot at the safe house. Then, finally, they all popped out of the truck and inhaled the fresh yet rain-filled air around them. Bruce stood at the doorway, completely drenched, and hollered for Elsa. She rushed into his arms as he said, “You weren’t answering any of my calls, and then the service ran out, and I just—” He shook his head menacingly, even as relief fell over his face.

  Their large group was like a mass of wet rats, ducking into a clean and safe space. Their hair whipped around, drenched, and their skin was sallow and pale from the chill. Down the long hallway, a few of the guests from the Katama Lodge caught sight of them and whispered to one another, skeptical. Nancy couldn’t care.

  They were safe. That was all that mattered.

  On the left wall of the foyer area, Neal had hung one of their wedding photographs. In it, Neal whispered something into Nancy’s ear as Nancy laughed wildly, her hand draped over her stomach. Nancy would have paid maybe a million dollars to know what Neal had said at that moment. Why couldn’t she remember? It seemed so perfect, now. She was so envious of that other Nancy.

  “Janine!” Henry rushed out from the main belly of the safe house.

  “Henry! I’m so glad you finally listened to me,” Janine said. She threw her arms around him as well and nuzzled her head against his chest.

  “Of course. Well, I managed to get a few great hurricane shots, but imagine my surprise when I arrived here much later than even I expected, and you weren’t here yet,” Henry told her with a slight tone of sarcasm.

  Janine buzzed her lips. “We had an adventure. Do you know Stan? He saved our lives.”

  Henry was an islander; naturally, he’d heard tell of Stan Ellis over the years. Now, though, he stretched out his hand and shook Stan’s firmly.

  “Thank you for bringing Janine up here. I can’t imagine what kind of trouble she was in.”

  “Caught the three of them flagging me down at the side of the road,” Stan affirmed with a cheeky grin.

  “You don’t say? Teaching them some of your tricks, Nancy?” Henry asked.

  Nancy winked at him, then gathered her hair back behind her head and stepped toward where the staff and women of Katama Lodge had created a unique space to wait out the storm. A battery-powered stereo system had been plugged in, and soft tunes swirled overhead, creating an ambiance of peace and serenity.

  The staff members had gotten to work. They poured wine, passed around snacks, and set up couches and mattresses with blankets and pillows. They greeted the guests warmly and asked them their comfort levels as the women fell into these same pillows, turned to one another, and began to gossip and dream.

  There was such a contrast between this space and the one outside. It nearly gave Nancy whiplash.

  Toward the far end of the room, she collapsed on a red couch. One of the staff members almost immediately delivered her a glass of wine and asked if she needed anything else. “A towel, maybe?”

  Nancy laughed dryly. “I feel too exhausted to do anything but sit here and drink this, I’m afraid.”

  Janine, Elsa, and Carmella stepped out from the foyer. Cody held Gretchen and bobbed her around as she slept. He conversed with Bruce and Henry, men who had fast become his friends. As Elsa, Carmella, and Janine neared Nancy, the same staff member approached with glasses of wine. Mallory also stepped out from the bathroom, baby Zachery in her arms, and greeted her mother warmly.

  “Cole and I got here a little while ago,” she told her mother. “We were terrified when we figured out you weren’t here.”

  Elsa exhaled and sipped her wine. “We made it. What about Lucas?”

  “He’s here. We broke up last night but then got back together a few minutes ago,” Mallory said with a bright, silly smile. “I don’t know what to do about it. I can’t get rid of my love for him.”

  Elsa slid a tender hand down her daughter’s shoulder and said, “Love is complicated, isn’t it?”

  “The most complicated and beautiful thing of all,” Mallory agreed.

  Carmella and Janine sat on either side of Nancy on the couch. Soon after, Elsa joined them. They sat in silence for a moment, all of them drying out yet still slick. Soon, they would have to find dry clothes; soon, they would move forward from this peace. But just then, they had to roll through this strange and nuanced emotion.

  They’d all just lived through something enormous. Perhaps it was so big that it didn’t even deserve words.

  “I love you three,” Nancy finally offered. “My daughter and my two stepdaughters. I feel more grateful than I can say that I have you in my life. I have made almost every single mistake. I honestly don’t deserve you.”

  “We’ve all made mistakes,” Elsa insisted.

  “Well, I have,” Carmella said with a laugh.

  “Let’s not point fingers. Not at ourselves or one another,” Janine said.

  “Maybe we should make a pact,” Nancy suggested, looking from one to the next. “Not to blame and to do everything, going forward, with love and empathy.”

  Janine placed her hand in the air between all of them. One by one, like a sports team, they placed their hands over Janine’s, then counted to three and whipped their hands in the air, giggling. Several of the Katama Lodge guests glanced their way, confused, before turning back to their wine and snacks.

  Sometimes, when Nancy peered into these women’s eyes, she wanted to tell them just how little money she’d had until only about a decade before. She wondered what these judgmental women would make of her if they’d only known that really, she had been something of a beggar in New York City— sometimes selling purses at the side of the road.

  Life was so varied. You never knew what would happen next.

  But you had to have belief in the power of change. Nancy knew that.

  “I wonder how long we’ll be in here,” Janine said thoughtfully.

  “Sometimes, these storms last for twenty-four hours,” Elsa breathed.

  “I guess we’d better think of something to do with all these women,” Nancy said.

  “You don’t think wine and conversation will be enough for them?” Carmella asked.

  Nancy considered this. She watched as the women’s conversations grew more and more intense, as their wine glasses were filled, as the air overhead seemed wildly provocative and charged with some kind of hope. In a sense, it was the perfect ecosystem for these women, as they were women who’d come from all states and all walks of life— if only to commune with women just a little bit lost, like them.

  Chapter Eighte
en

  There was an ever-present sense of danger. The air was sinister, even as women gossiped and laughed into the night. They clutched their wine glasses with tense fingers and glanced toward the far door, which was latched tight and overly thick against the winds and rain. Around eight, several of the staff members gathered in the kitchen area and began to make a multi-course meal out of the supplies the safe house had been stocked with, plus the vegetables and fruits and dairy they’d brought over from the Katama Lodge itself. Anxious, Nancy walked through the kitchen and listened to the bright and orchestrated language between the chef and her kitchen staff members. Regardless of the state of the world or how close they were to the end of it, people needed to eat, and the chef wanted to ensure that this meal was unlike any other.

  Nancy again checked her phone for any sign of the state of things outside. This was a stupid move; after all, the weather had only ramped up since their mad dash into the safe house. It would probably be another few days before internet service returned.

  It was strange, being at the safe house like this. In a way, Nancy was grateful, as she knew all the people she loved most in the world were right there, between those walls (besides Alyssa and Maggie, who both were safe from this hurricane, at least). Still, it was isolating to be away from all the other islanders, all of whom were probably latched away in similar hiding places, praying for the end of the hurricane.

  Once, just after Nancy had met Neal in Thailand, she’d asked him about tropical storms and if they’d ever had their way with Martha’s Vineyard. His eyes had grown shadowed. “It’s difficult to remember them after they happen. I think that’s how a lot of trauma is. You hunker down and get through it, and then after, you can hardly believe it was you who had the clarity of thought to save yourself and others. I don’t know if you know what I mean.” Nancy had nodded, tears in her eyes, and explained that she knew far more than she could even let on. Hadn’t most everything in her life, pre-Neal, been a sort of a storm?

  The meal was immaculate, something oddly magical in the midst of so much strife. More Lodge staff members set up long tables and dotted them with glowing plates, bright silverware, wine and water glasses. Nancy hovered near the doorway between the kitchen and the larger room until finally Elsa came and dragged her to the table to sit alongside the rest of them. “You’re going to tire yourself out,” Elsa scolded. “Come on.”

  Just beneath the bustling conversation and the clinking of the silverware, if you listened, really listened, you could make out the ravenous howling of the winds from Hurricane Janine. Nancy furrowed her brow as she latched onto that sound, her fork raised over her plate. Janine splayed her hand over Nancy’s elbow and whispered, “I hear it, too.”

  “It sounds just awful out there,” Nancy said under her breath.

  “But we’re in here. We’re safe,” Janine returned. “Don’t focus on anything else.”

  Nancy nodded as fear continued to wrap around her heart and drag it down. She scrunched her nose the slightest bit, then added, “I just wish Neal was here. He always knew what to do.”

  Janine, who’d never met Neal, nodded, furrowing her brow. “But you’ve done everything right. I know you wish he was here. I know you love him with all your heart. But we don’t need him to keep these women safe. We’ve done everything we can.”

  After a pumpkin-cream soup, Lodge staff members whisked the bowls away and returned with salads, fresh with plump tomatoes and vibrant spinach greens and walnuts and gorgonzola. Nancy was surprised to feel her appetite rising.

  Off to her right, Bruce and Elsa sat side-by-side, their shoulders touching. Bruce murmured into Elsa’s ear, and Elsa nodded and gave him a playful, half-secret smile. Beside Janine, Henry sat and described more of the shots he’d taken for the documentary— a project that seemed never-ending, at least in Nancy’s eyes. She had met several “New York City artist types” when she’d lived in Brooklyn, and they had all always had a project to discuss, much like Henry. The difference with him, of course, was that he had a good heart and left his arrogance at the door. That was essential.

  The main course was a rich barbecue chicken with herb-crusted potatoes. Some of the women at the table murmured that they hadn’t had anything so “sinful” in over five years. One turned and spoke directly to Janine, her head doctor, and asked if this sort of meal wouldn’t knock back her health plan for several months.

  Janine gave the woman a crooked smile and said, “Well, to be honest with you, I believe in moderation above all things. And today, as the world rages outside, I think we can take a moment to fuel ourselves, nourish our minds, and relax about silly things like food rules.”

  The woman’s eyes widened with surprise. Soon after, she tore into her barbecue chicken with a large appetite, then joined into whatever gossip swirled around her, beaming with life.

  Just before a honey-based dessert was served, Nancy stood and clicked her fork against her glass gently, just loud enough so that the women turned their attention toward her. They knew Nancy as the owner of the Lodge, the woman whose husband had started the movement. Their eyes glittered with respect.

  “Good evening, everyone. Thank you for being so responsible and kind in the midst of so much havoc. We can say it over and over again, but it’s true every time: we can’t control the weather. I wish we could. If I had it my way, we’d all be at the beach right now, sipping mimosas and doing yoga. But alas! We’re here in this safe house, which my husband, Neal, arranged for the women at the Lodge. I am so grateful for his foresight. I feel him with us here and now watching over us, making sure we’re in good spirits, fed and safe.

  “Since we’re all trapped in here together for the foreseeable future— at least until tomorrow and maybe into the next day, depending on the state of things outside ...”

  At this, several of the women yanked their heads around to one another and muttered with alarm. Again, Nancy clinked her fork against her glass.

  “Don’t worry, everyone. Really. I promise you. Where we are now is the safest place on the island. We will consider the state of things hour-by-hour and ensure you a safe journey, either to another place on the island or off the island and back home again. This will all seem like a bad dream.

  “But in the meantime, I’d like to ask us all to do a little experiment before dessert. I’d like everyone to stand and say something they’re grateful for, here and now, while the world shifts and turns with the chaos outside. I think it’s essential for us to remind ourselves of what we love and what we need, and how incredible our lives are. It’s a part of our practice at the Katama Lodge, and I’d like to bring it here, to the Katama Lodge’s safe house.”

  There was silence at the table. All eyes continued to blink up at Nancy, incredulous. After a pause, Nancy gave them a soft smile, then said, “Okay. I can kick things off. I don’t mind.” She swallowed, then proceeded. “Many of you probably don’t know my backstory. You know me as Neal’s wife— a woman who has supported him in all things at the Lodge for the previous twelve or so years. Naturally, my life took a very sharp turn in January of this year, when Neal passed away. I was devastated to lose him. If I’m honest, I sometimes miss him so much, my stomach hurts. None of you are strangers to loss. I’ve been in conversation with many of you since you arrived at the Lodge. I’ve heard your stories and your heartaches. It’s something we, as women and as people, all share. Sorrow is something that stitches us all together.

  “But what many of you don’t know about me is that I wasn’t always Nancy Remington, Neal’s wife. I met Neal rather late in my journey. Prior to that, I was something of a vagabond. I traveled across the world with very little money, sleeping in slum hostels and bad hotels and on people’s couches. People used me and abused me over the years, and I never thought that I deserved anything better than what I had.

  “I don’t mean to complain. I mean only to illustrate just how grateful I am, now, for what I have. Neal Remington showed me that I am worthy of so much m
ore than my past. But beyond that, I want to say that I’m grateful for that past because it shaped me into who I am today. It made me braver than I ever thought possible. And maybe I needed every single one of those hard days, if only so it led me to some of the most beautiful ones of my life.

  “I also want to say just how grateful I am for my family. No matter what happens next, the fact that I have my Janine and my Elsa and my Carmella here with me means the world.” Nancy lifted her wine glass toward each of the women around her as her eyes filled with tears. Outside, the wind thrust itself against the safe house, and a shiver ran down Nancy’s spine.

  “Okay. Who’s next?” Nancy said with a funny laugh as she swiped a tear from beneath her eye. “I think that’s enough blubbering from this old lady.”

  In the wake of her speech, several women stood to preach their gratefulness.

  Janine stood to say how grateful she was for her newfound relationship with her mother, along with her daughter’s recent marriage to the love of her life. “It’s a strange thing to realize that the children you brought into this world have the strength and power to go off on their own and make these huge, life-altering decisions. But my Maggie has this way about her. She doesn’t even glance back with a hint of regret.”

  Elsa’s gratefulness extended over her daughters, Alexie and Mallory, her son, Cole, her sister, Carmella, her father, Neal, her stepmother, Nancy, and her newfound stepsister, Janine. “I lost my husband last year, and I thought I might never be happy again. It just goes to show you that optimism is one of the greatest things you can harness to change your own life. I never want to forget that again.”

  After Carmella and Mallory said their own words of gratefulness, several women from the crowd took their opportunities, as well.