After a long, horrible pause, Graham spoke once more.
“Your husband’s words saved me when I was in my early twenties. In prison,” Graham murmured softly. “I was doing three years for robbery, and I found one of his books in the library. I read it over and over again. It took me away from myself. And when I got out of prison, I bought the rest of his books. I read them obsessively. When I went back to prison a few years later, I even tried to write my own book in the style of Peter’s, but it was impossible. He was a master.
“When I read The Taking of the Vineyard, one of his last books, I became fascinated with the romantic relationship within the pages,” Graham said. “It seemed clear that the protagonist was Peter and his wife was — well — you. He wrote you in such a way that it captivated me. He wrote you as the most regal, strong and beautiful woman — both powerful and soft in all the right ways. You could feel how much he loved you within every word he wrote.”
Mila’s tongue felt so heavy in her mouth. She couldn’t look away from him. She felt totally awestruck.
“Through his words, I fell in love with you. And then, when I learned that Peter had died, I grew fascinated with what that might have been like for you. I wanted to know if you’d remained just as he’d written you. Maybe in a way, I wanted to walk around in his shoes. I stole that car which was one of his favorite cars, he always said and I came here. It didn’t take long to find you on one of the apps. It’s so typical these days, I guess. Women get lonely.”
Mila’s smile was crooked. “Women get lonely,” she echoed. It was such a stupid thing to say. After all, didn’t everyone get lonely?
They held the silence for a moment. Mila laughed again as Graham’s eyes dropped toward the empty space on the table between them.
“Tell me, Graham. Am I as Peter described me?”
Graham took a long moment to think. Mila felt mesmerized by the entire situation. She was, in some ways, a memory for this man; through Peter’s words, she had helped him through some of the darker periods of his life. It felt crazy.
“He described you perfectly,” Graham replied as he stared at the desk. “And I can see it in your eyes. You’ll always be in love with him. You’ll never let him go. And I won’t, either.”
Mila walked back into the foyer. As she made her way outside and stood, the rain spilled from the overhead clouds and smashed itself across the pavement. A moment later, Liam appeared beside her and asked if she was all right. It was only then that she realized she was shaking.
“I’ve just felt that so many people have wanted me to move on from Peter and build a new life,” she said softly. “I don’t know what to make of any of this. Of course, this Graham guy clearly has serious issues and needs to be dealt with, but Peter’s stories live on in him. It shows the power of Peter’s words. And it’s like he’s still here, somehow. I can’t explain it.”
Liam nodded. His eyes showed his understanding. “All I can say is that we’ve taken him off the streets. With the record he has, he’ll be back in prison in no time.”
“He’s probably a very lost human being,” Mila said somberly. “But then again, aren’t we all?”
Liam’s eyes were bright. For a moment, she had a sense he would reach out and hold her tight. But they just remained like that, standing side-by-side as the rain poured down. How strange all of this was and how strange that really, you could live through anything.
“Thank you. I think I have some closure, in a really weird sort of way,” Mila said finally.
“I hope you’ll be more careful with your online dating choices in the future.”
Mila laughed. “As careful as I can be. But can you ever really trust anyone?” With that, she ducked out into the rain and walked as it lightened to a sprinkle. She felt totally free.
Chapter Sixteen
The Katama Lodge and Wellness Spa was located along the Katama Bay, toward the southernmost tip of the island. Mila stepped out of her car and into the soft light of the morning. She felt fresh and lithe, as though she had recently dropped weight, and she scanned the tree-tops as birds fluttered and latched, greeting her to this safe haven.
Jennifer had agreed to meet her at the Lodge later that morning for spa treatments. Prior to her arrival, however, Mila had arranged for an acupuncture appointment with Carmella. As Mila entered, Carmella stepped out from her office and greeted her with a warm smile. Her dark hair shined, and her skin glowed with boisterous health — something Mila had helped her with, as Carmella was a frequent visitor to the salon. The women had kept up a steady friendship over the years; although they’d never gotten tremendously close, as Mila had buckets of love with her other friends. Mila had always sensed that Carmella was a bit on the lonely side, however, especially as she didn’t tend to get along well with her sister, Elsa, and she’d always spoken as though she was a bit of an outcast in the rest of her family.
“Mila!” Carmella greeted with a huge smile. “It’s so good to see you.”
“And you as well, Carmella.” Mila grinned. “I can’t tell you how much I need this appointment. I’m so tense and wound up these days.”
Carmella led Mila into the back room, where they sat between cups of tea and gave one another their full attention. Carmella explained that they’d fully opened the Katama Lodge and Wellness Spa a few weeks prior, in the wake of her stepmother’s daughter’s arrival to the island.
“How is Janine?” Mila asked.
Carmella considered this. “I really like her. She’s been through hell and back, a lot like the rest of us, I guess. But she sees Martha’s Vineyard as a new chapter in her life.”
“I can’t imagine what the island must look like to someone so new,” Mila said.
“I know. Can you imagine not growing up here?”
“Not at all. It’s made me who I am,” Mila said.
As Mila splayed herself back on the table, Carmella prepared the tiny needles. Soft, soothing music eased from the stereo system, and Mila gave focus to the ceiling above her.
“Have you tried online dating, Carmella?” Mila asked.
Carmella chuckled lightly as she drew Mila’s sleeve back beyond a little point, just along the inside of her elbow. “I don’t know. I’m not very vulnerable. I feel like you have to be more open to things, to people, to experiences, in order to date.”
Mila felt the tiniest prick from the needle. Immediately, she felt herself fall deeper into a sort of in-between state. She wasn’t fully conscious and she wasn’t fully unconscious. It was like she was floating in-between.
“I know what you mean,” Mila breathed. “It’s hard to remember that it was like that back in the old days when I first met Peter. I guess I just felt so open to the possibility of a possibility. And now...”
“Now that life has shown you just how dark it can get—” Carmella said with a smile.
“Exactly. Right now, I’m just taking it one day at a time. It’s time to really discover who I am and what I want to do with my life in the remaining years that I have left. I have to learn how to be brave in who I am, in a way. I’m slowly learning.”
“I guess that’s the only thing we can do— is try. And keep trying, again and again,” Carmella said.
Mila closed her eyes as Carmella stuck her with another needle. The very first time she’d done this, Carmella had explained that this was a very old tradition, especially in Asia; that they’d studied the mechanisms of the body in such a beautiful and intricate way that they’d found this way to open flow, comfort, and ease within one another, with only needles. It was a remarkable feeling. She felt free. It was one of the most ultimate releases.
“When was the last time you really felt like yourself?” Mila asked Carmella then.
Carmella sniffed. For a long moment, she allowed silence to fall between them.
“To be honest, I don’t know if I have in a long, long time,” Carmella tried. “My stepmother made me feel like a worthy member of my family, as backward as that sounds.
And when my father divorced her, it felt as though all the air got sucked out of me. I couldn’t breathe. And I ran away to the southwest to train in acupuncture, the way she had. But after it was over, I didn’t have anywhere else to go but here. Maybe I should have been braver. Maybe I should have found a way to something else. But I thought that maybe my family would welcome me back. They did, in a way, but they also didn’t. And I’ve floundered in that feeling ever since.”
When the acupuncture was over, Mila set her feet tenderly back on the ground. Carmella placed the needles in a sterilizing serum and then shoved her hands in her pockets. It was somehow so intimate, this exchange. Mila found herself telling Carmella about the man who’d fallen in love with her through Peter’s words. It was a difficult story, but Carmella took it in stride.
“Your life was someone else’s fantasy,” Carmella pointed out.
Mila hadn’t thought of it like that. She nodded. “It’s hard to believe, especially when I think about it for what it was. Every day, you know, I woke up and brewed a big pot of coffee and got the kids around for school and asked Peter if he would pick up the dry cleaning and yada yada yada — it was all a routine until it wasn’t. And it’s just so funny to me that this man, Graham, built it all up in his head to be this joyous and beautiful thing—”
Carmella stitched her brows together. “But wasn’t it joyous and beautiful?”
Mila’s throat tightened.
After another pause, Carmella added, “I mean, it was, wasn’t it? Every single boring minute. All the boring minutes that added up to your life together. Maybe those moments didn’t make it onto the pages of one of Peter’s books. But they were your life together. And nobody, not this guy who became obsessed with you or any of Peter’s other readers, can possibly know what it was like, day-in and day-out. It’s personal and it’s your gift from the universe.”
Mila felt the immensity of her words, then. She also felt, behind them, the sadness that lurked in Carmella’s own life. All the minutes and days Carmella had spent largely alone. Mila had never even heard of a single small relationship that Carmella had had. Probably, she felt even more like out of sorts than Mila did.
“Thank you for saying that,” Mila replied softly. “Really.”
Before Carmella could answer, there was a knock at the door. Elsa appeared in the crack, announcing that Jennifer had just arrived and was ready for their spa treatments. Mila reached out and gripped Carmella’s hand. No words had to be said; her heart filled with endless gratitude. And she prayed that one day, Carmella would know what it meant to pass the time with someone who she truly loved and who truly loved her.
Chapter Seventeen
When Mila arrived home that night, she stepped into the kitchen and listened to the sound of the rain outside. She hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, and the kitchen was a soft grey, utterly calming. She still felt the effects of the acupuncture, and she closed her eyes tenderly and breathed a sigh of relief. A voice in the back of her mind reminded her to take everything one day at a time.
There was the flash of a pair of headlights. Mila blinked through the drizzle to find Harry’s car in the driveway. Her heart surged with excitement; it was a rare thing to have Isabelle all to herself on a summer night. She stepped lightly toward the hallway so that she could change into her pajamas. She wanted the perfect uniform for a night-binge of ice cream and chick flicks, as this was Isabelle and Mila’s way.
But just as she reached the center of the hallway, she heard Harry’s voice just outside. It was louder, more volatile than she’d ever heard it; it sounded much more like a man’s voice than previously when Harry had just been a school friend turned high school boyfriend. Mila halted in the shadows and listened. She couldn’t stop herself.
“I just don’t know what you want from me,” Harry snapped. He was stationed on the front step; the two of them had moved out of the rain to bicker beneath the overhang on the porch. “I mean, first you tell me to go to whatever college I want to, and then you insinuate that because I chose Ohio State, I don’t want to be with you anymore.”
Mila’s heart pattered strangely in her chest. In some way, she had sensed this conversation would come all summer long. Now, just two weeks before Isabelle was called for Welcome Week at Tufts, the time had come.
“It’s just that there are eight million other schools that are closer. And you always knew I wanted to go to Tufts. I’ve talked about Tufts since we were like thirteen,” Isabelle countered.
“I know! But my dad went to Ohio State, and it’s always been his dream that I follow in his footsteps.”
“Um, yeah, but Tufts is close. It’s basically right up there. Ohio State is literally in Ohio.”
Isabelle said the word “Ohio” as though it was hell itself. Mila chuckled at her sass. She knew it came straight from herself.
“Isabelle, I’ve told you over and over again that I want to make this work, no matter what,” Harry returned.
He still sounded so angry; Mila wondered how this argument had begun.
“And I’m telling you that I think we’re kidding ourselves if we think this is possible,” Isabelle countered.
Mila’s heart sank into the pit of her gut. Wow. Was this really it? The breakup after so many years of dating and companionship?
“Let’s at least talk about this more,” Harry pleaded. “I don’t want it to end like this.”
“Harry, come on. You’re going to get to Ohio State and see all these beautiful blonde Midwestern girls, and you’re going to forget all about me.”
“That’s just not true,” Harry spat.
“Harry! We’re eighteen years old!”
“Yeah? My parents met when they were eighteen. And your mom married your dad when she was twenty-two. That’s not so far away.”
“Sure. I know that. But the world has changed since then. I want to give us space to grow and change and become whatever it is we’re supposed to become. And I’m not totally sure we can do that together,” Isabelle finished.
After that, there was only the sound of the rain. Mila peeked around the corner of the hallway to witness Harry and Isabelle in one another’s arms, there through the glass of the front door. Harry shook against her; Isabelle seemed to be his stronghold. What would he do without her?
He would live, Mila thought then. He would find a way to live, just like the rest of us had to.
When Isabelle opened the door, it screeched so loud that it sent shivers down Mila’s spine. She hustled into her bedroom, grabbed a sweatshirt, and then returned to the kitchen area to find Isabelle standing alone in the dark. Mila’s heart shattered into a million pieces for her daughter, especially when she caught sight of the streams of tears as they swept toward her chin.
“Izzy,” Mila murmured her name from the mouth of the hallway.
Isabelle turned to face her mother. Her shoulders slumped forward. “I didn’t know you were home.”
Mila nodded. “Yeah. I’m here.”
“You probably heard us, I guess.”
Mila stepped toward her daughter. Isabelle’s chin quivered with sadness. Mila knew this was the easiest point of all of it — that the real pain would come when Isabelle awoke to a new day and realized that she didn’t have her best friend at her side anymore.
“I have ice cream,” Mila offered softly. “It won’t help. But it’s at least something.”
Mila spooned them large bowls of chocolate chip cookie dough. They sat out in the steaming humidity of the back porch as the rain continued to patter. Isabelle traced through the events of the previous weeks with Harry — how they’d bickered frequently about long-distance, how she’d demanded of him why he’d picked Ohio State when there were so many other choices, when she’d asked herself if she really still loved him or if it was just out of comfort, now.
“How do you know when something is meant to last forever?” Isabelle asked softly.
Mila considered this. “I don’t know if anything ever reall
y does.”
Isabelle heaved a sigh. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“But it shouldn’t make you afraid,” Mila told her. “It should make you excited. Every day, you can wake up and choose what and who will be in your life. Like, every day, me, Olivia, Camilla, Jennifer, and Amelia all choose one another. We are one another’s best friends, but those friendships morph and grow and alter over time. If they didn’t, we wouldn’t be allowed to become the new and vibrant people we are today.”
Isabelle’s eyes rimmed with tears again. “I just always pictured us doing all of it together, you know. College, getting married, buying a house, and having babies. All of it. I couldn’t see it with anyone else.”
“Maybe all that will still happen,” Mila told her. “But with this breakup, the two of you are allowing yourselves the space for imagination. What would you do with your life if you had only yourself to rely on? Ask yourself that. And remember that over the next four years, your only real job is to find yourself. And learn a thing or two, of course.”
Isabelle smiled and leaned over so that her head nestled across Mila’s shoulder. “I love you, Mom.”
Mila’s heart felt squeezed. “I love you, too.”
“I hope I didn’t just make the biggest mistake of my life,” Isabelle said.
“I don’t think you did. It was a necessary step, but a painful one.”
“Ugh. The most painful,” Isabelle agreed.
They finished their ice creams then portioned out the slightest bit more, as they both agreed that they wanted tiny tastes as they watched a movie. Throughout, Mila caught herself watching her daughter’s face. When a funny part happened in the movie, Isabelle actually cracked a laugh — something Mila thought wouldn’t have been possible, given the circumstances.
Maybe everything would be all right. And if it wasn’t, Mila would be Isabelle’s light in the darkness — every step of the way.
Chapter Eighteen
4152 Witchwood Lane Page 11