Extraordinary

by Nancy Werlin

  They’d talked about it? Phoebe didn’t remember that. She could swear Ryland had told her he had found an apartment and was going to live there; that it would be his own space, a place where Phoebe could come. But if he said otherwise . . . she’d been so upset about Mallory. Ryland might have said stuff that she just hadn’t taken in.

  “No. I don’t have an issue with it,” Phoebe said. Because of course he couldn’t abandon Mallory and their mother. She had never meant that. “Office, apartment, whatever. I don’t care. Just tell me what’s wrong. Something is.” She ducked her head, her nose almost in her teacup. “Have you changed your mind about me? I mean, well, about us? Also,” she finished, “I’m not stupid. Okay? Don’t call me that.”

  She waited, her head down.

  “Are you crying, Phoebe?” Ryland sounded affectionate. At last. But was it the wrong kind of affection? Was she losing him too?

  “No.”

  She wasn’t. She would not cry.

  Suddenly Ryland was holding her hands again, as he had at Natalie’s Café. “Phoebe, look at me.”

  After a few seconds, she did.

  He said, “I won’t lie to you. I’m having second thoughts. I’ve been selfish. I’m attracted to you—of course I am. You’re so sweet.” Ryland’s hands squeezed hers, and unconsciously, Phoebe squeezed back. “But this can’t be about what I want. I’m too much older than you for that. It has to be about what you want. And I don’t believe you really know. You’re uncertain, aren’t you? Admit it. You go back and forth in your mind.”

  She could look at him again now. It was easy to look at him. Oh, he was beautiful. “No, no—”

  “Phoebe. Be honest. Maybe you want to be here with me, but also, you don’t. Not completely. You have doubts.”

  For a moment, Phoebe sat frozen. He knew! How could he know? But he did.

  A breath later, she knew why he knew. It was because he understood her. He truly did. Fully and completely, he understood her.

  Later, she would think that this was the moment she came completely to believe that Ryland did really care about her. Because how could he be so sensitive to her ambivalence if he didn’t? He really must love her, because he had hesitated. Because, in the end, he had waited for her to be the one to reach out to him. For her to make the decisive move. For her to make the invitation.

  Which, in the next moment, she did, all her doubts and fears falling away like leaves detaching from a tree as it succumbed to autumn. She opened her arms so he could come into them.

  “I love you, Ryland,” she said.

  “And I love you, Phoebe,” he said. “I only want what’s good for you.”

  “That’s you,” she said, sure now. “You’re what’s good for me.”

  And then he kissed her, and it was just like the first time, only more. Much more.

  chapter 19

  “What do you mean, Phoebe? You have to come to Nantucket with us tomorrow.”

  It was later that same night, and Phoebe’s parents were staring at her as if she had sprouted wings before their eyes and was flapping them madly.

  Phoebe avoided their gaze and instead addressed herself to her dinner plate, where she was using her fork to sculpt a little mountain out of buttermilk-mashed potatoes. Jay-Jay had given her too much. She needed to lose weight; Ryland had said so again that afternoon, very gently, very kindly and lovingly.

  “I’d just rather stay here during spring break. I have a couple of papers to write and I’d focus better here at home. You guys should still go, though. Actually, I was thinking you’d probably really like some time alone, without me. And it’s not like I’d be here all by myself or anything like that. There’s Jay-Jay.”

  Phoebe knew she was talking too much, and also that she was doing a bad job of making her case. The problem was that Phoebe loved the Rothschilds’ home on Nantucket, adored everything about the island, looked forward to each and every vacation there. In fact, Phoebe had used to say that one day she was going to move permanently to Nantucket. So there was no way on earth that the Phoebe her parents knew would have decided to do schoolwork instead of going there.

  But of course, as of today, Phoebe had become someone who was not quite her parents’ Phoebe any longer. Today Phoebe had become a woman in love. Ryland’s Phoebe. And if she stayed home, she would have one glorious week in which she could see Ryland alone, for hours and hours, every single day. Time in which things could develop the way they should, slowly and surely and naturally. He had told her there was no rush. But somehow the very fact of his saying that, and even the way he had said it, had made her feel like there ought to be a rush—a sort-of rush, anyway—that he would be disappointed if Phoebe delayed too much—

  Her heart sped up to think about it. All she would have to do, in order to spend all that time every day with Ryland, was tell Jay-Jay she was working at the library.

  She waited tensely. Her parents were looking at each other. Then Catherine spoke.

  “We don’t need time without you right at this moment. You can bring your homework and do it there. Phoebe, really. You can’t impose on Jay-Jay. You know that. Next week is his vacation time too.”

  “I do know that.” Had her parents always treated her like such a child? Phoebe tried to speak calmly and reasonably. “I’m eighteen. I don’t need a babysitter. And I didn’t mean that I expected Jay-Jay to cook for me or anything. I just meant that he lives here too, so I won’t be alone in the house. I know you’d worry about that, even though there’s no reason to.” Having fluffed her potato mountain up, Phoebe now flattened the top of it. “I’m just suddenly not in the mood to go to Nantucket, okay? What’s the big deal?”

  “But yesterday you said that you and Benjamin were going birding on Sunday,” said Drew. “There was some rarity he wanted to show you.”

  “A painted bunting.” Phoebe grabbed at the opportunity to change the subject even temporarily. “It’s not rare-rare, exactly, but they’re not usually seen this far north. They’re really colorful. I like the showy birds.” She was babbling again and not helping her cause, but she couldn’t stop. “Benjamin thought it might hang around a couple more days. But, you know, it’s not like I need to see it. He’s the real birder. For me, it’s just something I do when I’m there. And today I realized I don’t want to go to Nantucket right now.”

  “Why?” asked Drew simply.

  Phoebe found she had nothing to say. She met her father’s mild brown eyes. Finally, she muttered, “I just want to stay home.”

  Catherine had her elbows on the table and her chin cupped in her hands. “I have an idea. Why don’t you invite Mallory?”

  Phoebe blinked.

  “I know, you’ve always said you like to have time alone with Benjamin on Nantucket, but maybe it’s time for a change. Invite her.”

  “Mallory’s not interested in coming.” Phoebe ducked her head again and smashed the potato mountain with her fork. “She never has been. She likes to stay with her mother.”

  “Why not try again? She might have changed her mind. Her brother’s here now.”

  Phoebe compressed her lips. She didn’t want Mallory with her on Nantucket. She wanted Ryland. She could just imagine them, hand in hand on the beach, in the evening, with the sun sinking below the horizon and a giant flock of tiny sandpipers sweeping along the surf in their magical, synchronized formation.

  Instead of her sneaking up to his apartment, she could be showing him all the places and things she loved. Benjamin could take them out on his little sailboat. Or, better, she could borrow Benjamin’s boat and take Ryland out herself. And he could have the room next to hers, and even though they would have to behave themselves—actually, she would want them to behave themselves—

  “No,” Phoebe said. “I’m sure Mallory can’t come.”

  “Ask her,” Catherine said pleasantly. Firmly.

  Phoebe was suddenly furious. Why wouldn’t they just take her word for this? She looked straight into her mother’s
eyes, and spat: “Are you going to make me?”

  Then she was shocked at herself.

  But she didn’t take it back. She didn’t apologize. She couldn’t! It was time they understood she was a grown-up. Wasn’t it? And so, heart in her mouth, she stared defiantly at her mother while her mother stared back, obviously stunned. Stunned and hurt at the vicious expression she’d just seen in Phoebe’s eyes.

  Phoebe braced for what would happen next. But it wasn’t what she expected.

  Catherine’s face transformed. Between one second and the next, she looked her age and more; her skin all at once seeming paler and more crinkly than it had been; and with more and deeper lines graven between her mouth and nose and around her eyes.

  Phoebe was going to win. She recognized it in that moment. She was going to win by having hurt Catherine, by having stabbed her mother in a way her mother had never expected. And so, in this moment of shock, Catherine was going to back down and let Phoebe do as Phoebe wanted. And Phoebe would not only escape having to ask Mallory to Nantucket, but she’d even be allowed to stay home.

  And this knowledge was like a blow. Phoebe could not in that moment have articulated the reason for her dismay, could not have expressed why it was that she simply could not bear to see her indomitable mother defeated, to realize that she had been the one to defeat her.

  She only knew that she would do anything—anything at all—to take that look of betrayal from Catherine’s face.

  So before Catherine could say a word, Phoebe scrabbled in her pocket for her phone. “All right,” she said, and her voice cracked. “All right, yes, I do want to go to Nantucket. I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t mean it.”

  “And Mallory?” Catherine still looked old. So old and vulnerable. And so worried.

  “I’ll invite her,” Phoebe babbled. “I don’t know if she’ll come, though.”

  Now Catherine looked like she was recovering. “I’ll be the one to ask her. Okay? So she’ll know she’s really wanted.” She pulled out her own phone.

  Now all that Phoebe could do was pray Mallory would say no.

  But, incredibly, she didn’t.

  CONVERSATION WITH THE FAERIE QUEEN, 10

  “Ryland, you say there is some emergency?”

  “I am sorry, my queen. I require your help.”

  “What has happened?”

  “Despite the ending of her friendship with the girl, my sister has gone with her to an island.”

  “What? But she was finished with her! What is she thinking?”

  “My sister has been too long in the human realm and in human guise. I fear she has become confused about her loyalties. I fear she thinks to warn the girl and stop her from giving us what we need.”

  “She would destroy us all? Just when we are getting so close?”

  “I don’t know. Not for sure. But I fear so. My queen, she loves the girl. She aches at being separated from her. And she is so much younger and less experienced than all of us. She is not much older than the girl herself. And despite her training and her heritage— forgive me, my queen—my sister is selfish.”

  “But the girl has chosen you of late over your sister. She has even claimed to love you. Cannot you command her loyalty? Take her from your sister?”

  “I am trying! But I need your help. We must open another portal, on this island.”

  chapter 20

  Nantucket Island, located off the coast of Massachusetts below the arm of land called Cape Cod, was a place whose beauty stirred Phoebe to her soul. On the next day, as she stood on the outside passenger deck of the ferry, she couldn’t help feeling some of her usual joy at returning, even though the past few hours of travel had been a polite nightmare of superficiality between her and Mallory, and she had zero hope of things improving.

  Mallory was by her side now, silent as stone. She was wearing an enormous down-filled coat and had her gloved hands tucked into her armpits; for though it was a balmy April day on land, here on the ocean, the air was frigid. They had had nothing to say to each other during the trip, even though they stood together the entire time, neither making the move to join Phoebe’s parents in the cabin. Phoebe supposed that Mallory was no more eager to pretend to be friendly in front of Catherine and Drew than she was. They’d have plenty of time ahead of them this week to do that anyway.

  Why on earth had Mallory said yes? Phoebe couldn’t imagine how she was going to handle being with her this coming week. Though maybe Benjamin’s presence would help things. Benjamin with his goofy grin and his surprising ability to be still and quiet. She would invite him to be around as much as possible.

  It would also be a way to stab Mallory covertly. She’d see that she had never been Phoebe’s only good friend. She would see that Phoebe and Benjamin were also almost like siblings.

  Nantucket loomed bigger and bigger as the ferry approached it.

  “We’ll be docking soon,” said Phoebe.

  Mallory made a little jerking movement with her head that probably meant: Yes, I have eyes.

  “I’m glad you were able to come.” Phoebe tried to sound warm. “I hope we’ll have a nice week.”

  Mallory gave Phoebe a look. The ferry whistle sounded.

  “Can’t we try to be polite?” said Phoebe. “I mean, we can at least manage that, right?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Phoebe couldn’t stand it. She demanded, “Then why did you come, if not to try to make up?”

  Mallory grabbed Phoebe’s arm and pulled her around so that they faced each other. “Because I wanted to. I’ve always been curious to meet your friend Benjamin, for one thing.”

  Phoebe shook herself free. It wasn’t hard, as Mallory’s grip had slackened. She turned her back and started walking. It was time, anyway, to get in the car and drive off the ferry onto the island.

  Catherine and Drew’s place on Nantucket was often a surprise to their guests, who came expecting something much grander. After all, there were homes on Nantucket that cost twenty million dollars, homes that overlooked beaches and conservation land, homes with separate guest cottages and every amenity you could imagine.

  But the Rothschilds’ house was not like that. It was a three-bedroom cottage with weathered clapboard shingles and a detached single-car garage. Drew had bought the house as a single man at the age of twenty-two, using his graduate school tuition money as a down payment.

  “What can I say? I fell in love with the island. Living here felt more important than school.” He told Mallory the story over dinner. “So, I was working as a waiter at three different restaurants during the tourist season to afford the mortgage payments. Then Catherine came to Nantucket to visit friends. We met. One thing led to another, and I told her the house was my dowry. She told me it needed a new roof, a remodeled kitchen, and an extra bathroom. And here we are.”

  They were at the round table in the kitchen while Phoebe cooked omelets for them one at a time. She had volunteered for this because it would keep her busy at the stove and she wouldn’t have to talk. And it worked perfectly, until the doorbell rang and she heard a voice call, “Hi, it’s Benjamin. I saw your car.”

  Benjamin Michaud came into the kitchen as though he were a member of the family. And all at once the room felt lighter to Phoebe, easier, and she thought she might just get through the evening after all.

  “Hey, Pheeb.” Benjamin smiled his sweet goofy Benjamin smile, and made a little motion with his arms like he wanted to hug her but wasn’t sure he ought to.

  “Hey, Benjamin,” she said, and put out her arms. He hugged her shyly.

  Nobody could have been more different from Ryland. She couldn’t help thinking this. Benjamin was still teetering between boy- and manhood; with brown, long-lashed eyes and a gangly, skinny body, and enormous ears sticking out beneath his ratty old Red Sox baseball cap. Looking at him, Phoebe had an impulse to hug him again, but didn’t. He was always hungry, though, so she said, “I’m making omelets, want one?”


  “Yes. Sure. Thanks.” He went to shake hands with Drew and—with no shred of shyness this time—to hug Catherine.

  And then all Phoebe’s plans of making Mallory jealous of Benjamin came crashing down. It was because of how Benjamin was looking at Mallory. Mallory with her silky hair, her deep-set eyes, her faultless skin; her slender curves; her willowy grace.

  Benjamin had grown to nearly Mallory’s height, Phoebe realized, as Mallory unfolded her long legs and stood up to shake hands with him. It made Phoebe feel positively squat.

  Unbelievably, Mallory was checking Benjamin out too, and not subtly, either. She actually smiled, for the first time all day, while Benjamin hunched his shoulders as they shook hands and said hello.

  Phoebe set her teeth. If Mallory messed with Benjamin, it would be to play with Phoebe’s mind. And it would mean Mallory was what Ryland had said she was—hard, mean, and jealous. Not that Phoebe had doubted it!

  Fuming, she turned back to the kitchen counter and reached for the egg carton to start Benjamin’s omelet.

  Things didn’t get much better. After dinner, in the living room, all the talk was about the bird that Benjamin had spotted and wanted to show Phoebe.

  “Do you want to go look at him with us tomorrow too?” Benjamin asked Mallory.

  “You can borrow my bike if you want to go, Mallory,” said Catherine.

  Phoebe sat tensely. She had never known Mallory to express any interest in birds.

  “Sure,” said Mallory, and smiled lazily at Benjamin.

  In her head, Phoebe counted slowly to ten. Then she jumped up. “Well, I should go check on the bikes and make sure they’re set for tomorrow. Benjamin, you want to help?”

  Benjamin didn’t move. “No, but you can come get me if you need me to pump up a tire or something.”

  “Right,” said Phoebe. She went outside to the garage by herself.

  The bikes were fine. Phoebe thought for a second about slashing the tires on both of her parents’ bikes so there’d be nothing for Mallory to ride. Then she was shocked at herself. Had she gone completely around the bend? No, she hadn’t, and she wasn’t going to start in slashing bicycle tires or anything else.