by Nancy Thayer
“I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore. I told him it couldn’t happen between us. He went back to New York the next day.”
Sebastian didn’t speak. He lay so still that Keely was afraid he’d fallen asleep. Could he really be so indifferent to her?
“Sebastian…say something.”
Sebastian turned toward Keely, pulling her against him so that her face nestled against his shoulder. He held her tightly, as a man would who was about to jump from a burning building. “I know you needed to tell me. But no more talk of Gray, okay? I can’t get through this summer without you. I can’t get through my life without you, Keely. I love you.”
Keely smiled and hugged him tightly. “I have been waiting all my life to hear you say that.”
“And what about you?”
“What? Oh, Sebastian, you know I love you.”
“Still, it’s nice to hear.” He took her face in his hands. He kissed her slowly, firmly, for a long time.
“Okay,” Keely whispered. She felt in Sebastian’s body how he was struggling to control his breathing. She sensed his alarm, and she recognized how he calmed himself as he held on to her, not speaking, preserving his pride, not moving but lying pressed against her, making her his, making the two of them one. She held back her own tears. Oh, how she loved this man, and she respected his confession and his need. She would never betray him.
Keely returned home early in the morning. By noon, she’d written so much and so quickly her back ached and she had a twinge in her neck.
She stood up and stretched. At that moment, her phone buzzed.
Juan Polenski. Her editor.
“Keely, how are you?” he asked.
“I’m good. Well, pretty good. Life has gotten complicated here—”
“Sorry to hear that, but I don’t have much time. Listen, I’ve read your first three chapters, and I love them. How soon will you have the revised book finished?”
Keely laughed. “Wait, Juan, give me a moment. Wow, I’m so glad you like the book!”
“So how close are you to the end?”
“Um, I’ve still got a long way to go, Juan. I mean, I only started revising this spring. I’m working on it, but I can’t see finishing it before January.”
“How about November?”
“What?”
“If you get it in by November first, we can rush production through and have it ready for next summer.”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I can do that.”
“I know you can do it, Keely. Poor Girl comes out in July. We need Sun Music for next summer. Readers want more of your books.”
“Good to know! It makes me want to get back to work.”
“Great! Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
The moment they disconnected, Keely plunged back into her book.
* * *
—
She was lost in her fictional world when Sebastian called.
“Keely, could you come over now? And help me with Dad? Maybe sit and talk to him?” The urgency in his voice was compelling.
“Of course. I’ll come now.”
Keely found her bag, dropped the car keys in her pocket, told her mother where she was going, and hurried out to the car. She parked in front of the Maxwells’ house, not blocking any of the cars in the drive, and hurried up the slate walk. Sebastian opened the door before Keely could knock.
“Keely.” Sebastian pulled Keely into the house and hugged her tight. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad to help, Sebastian,” Keely said. And thought: Also, I hope I don’t meet your mother or your sister while I’m here.
He took Keely by the hand and led her along down the hall to the dining room. “All you have to do is sit by Dad’s bed and talk. Not fast. Be slow and not too loud. He’s not deaf. It’s like his brain is asleep and we have to wake it up but we can’t do it all at once.”
“Sebastian,” Keely said, stopping still before the door to the dining room. “Where are you going to be?”
“I’ll be around. Probably in the kitchen. I’ve got to talk to Mom. If you need me, just yell.”
Sebastian quietly escorted Keely into the dining room. A hospital bed sat majestically where the long dining room table had been. In the middle of the bed, Al Maxwell sat supported by a number of pillows, wearing striped pajamas, covered to the waist by a light blanket. Near the bed was a table littered with medicine bottles, tissues, a water pitcher, and a glass. Al Maxwell’s eyes were open, but unseeing.
“It’s so dark in here,” Keely said.
“Dad can’t tolerate bright light yet. We’ve got the shades down and the curtains drawn. Things need to be muted for him.”
“Got it.”
“Dad, look who’s come to see you!” Sebastian spoke cheerfully, moving Keely in front of him. “It’s Keely. You remember her. She’s come to say hello.” Still with a light, cheerful tone, he continued. “Keely, why don’t you sit here in this chair. This is where we sit when we want to talk with Dad. Dad, I’m going to do some household chores, but I’ll be around. Keely wanted to have special time with you.”
“Hello, Mr. Maxwell,” Keely said.
Sebastian squeezed Keely’s hand and whispered, “I’ll be in my room.”
It took a moment for Keely to gather herself. It was bizarre to see the powerful Al Maxwell reduced to this silent, still, disconnected invalid.
She flashed on a day years ago when Mr. Maxwell, so strong and powerful, told Keely she should drop out of college to help her mother. He’d had no compassion for Keely then. And her heart burned with old anger…but it was tempered now, with sympathy.
She spoke quietly, as if everything were normal. “You might be surprised to see me, Mr. Maxwell. Usually I’m in New York. But this summer I’m living with my mother on the island while I write my new novel.”
Al’s eyes slowly moved to fasten on Keely’s face, but he showed no signs of recognition. Keely wasn’t certain that he even understood what she said.
“I’m so sorry about your stroke, but Sebastian assures me that you will be better soon. I guess we all need to let you rest, and I won’t sit here blabbing on and on like I used to.” She sat silently for a while, but his eyes remained on her, and she began again. “Do you remember the time you drove me and Isabelle to the Justin Timberlake concert in Connecticut and we were so excited we chattered away like a pair of monkeys and you told us we were driving you mad? You said you would pay us to be quiet for just five minutes. And you did!”
Keely laughed at the memory. Al Maxwell didn’t react.
What could she say that would interest him? She didn’t know what she was doing. Should she ask him questions? Or simply sit droning on and on?
“I’m having such a good time being back on the island. Spring is so wonderful here. I never knew Sebastian did scrimshaw. I was at a gallery opening with my mother a few weeks ago, and I was astonished by a display of the most gorgeous scrimshaw, and—”
Nothing Keely said elicited any response, not so much as a blink, from Mr. Maxwell. In the corner of his mouth, on the side that drooped, a bead of saliva shimmered.
“I hope I’m not irritating you, blabbing on and on like this. Maybe you want to sleep? Are you comfortable? It must be odd to wake up in the morning and find yourself in the dining room. You look good, so that’s positive, right?”
She stole a glance at her watch. Not even ten minutes had passed. As she talked, Keely thought maybe he didn’t like being stared at constantly, so she let her gaze circle the room, spotting the familiar fireplace with the Victorian mantel and the marble clock. When she looked back at Mr. Maxwell, his eyes were closed.
She’d bored him right into sleep. Should she keep talking? Or let the poor man rest? Should she sit here with him? Was it necessary for someone to be with hi
m at all times? Her throat was dry from talking. Rising, she tiptoed from the room, down the hall, and into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She was at the sink drinking when she heard Sebastian and his mother in the living room.
“…can’t go on like this!” Donna Maxwell was saying. “We had booked a cruise down the Danube! We were going to see Austria and Hungary! Now—now what do I have to look forward to? Taking care of an invalid all my life?”
Keely froze. She shouldn’t be hearing this conversation. But she couldn’t tear herself away.
“Mom, it won’t be for the rest of your life. And we’ll all help you.”
“All my life—all my life!—I have done nothing but take care of other people. Feed people, and with only the healthiest ingredients! I’ve always been the mother who helped on school trips. I baked probably three million birthday cupcakes! I’m fifty-eight years old! Do you think I wanted this when I was your age? When do I get to have something for myself?”
“Mom—”
“How can you possibly understand? You’re young. You’re beginning your life. I’m facing old age and white hair and wrinkled skin and arthritis. I want to have fun while I still can move without a fucking cane!”
Keely’s hands flew to her mouth to cover her yelp of shock. Mrs. Maxwell said fucking! For one weird moment, she thought: I can’t wait to tell Isabelle!
“Mom, let’s work something out. I mean, you should go on that cruise. We can hold down the fort.”
“Go on a cruise alone?”
“Well, take a friend. That would be fun, wouldn’t it? Take Mary Ellen.”
“I can’t go on a cruise when your father is ill, Sebastian. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Donna Maxwell began to sob, great wrenching, hiccupping sobs so heartbreaking that Keely felt guilty overhearing them. Quietly she left the room, carrying her glass of water with her.
Al Maxwell was still sleeping. At least his eyes were closed. Keely sat in her chair. Should she continue talking? She’d heard that people should talk when someone was in a coma, that they could hear even if they couldn’t react. But Isabelle’s father wasn’t in a coma. Maybe he needed to sleep. Maybe she should hum very quietly, so he knew he wasn’t alone. Sebastian hadn’t given her sufficient instructions. Probably he didn’t know the perfect thing to do, either.
As Al Maxwell slept, saliva began to dribble out of the drooping side of his mouth, down his chin, and onto his pajama top.
“Oh, man,” Keely said under her breath. Now what was she supposed to do? The dribble continued. His pajama top darkened with moisture.
Should she dab at his chin? Even as a sleeping invalid, Al Maxwell intimidated Keely. Touching his face while he slept seemed too intimate an action for her. She quietly pulled some tissues from the box, patted them into a tidy square, and very carefully laid them on the pajama top to absorb the saliva. Her hands shook as she performed her small task. She was afraid she’d accidentally jar his chin and wake him. If he opened his eyes and glared at her, or worse, displayed shock at her leaning so close to him, she’d have a heart attack!
She settled back in her chair. For a few minutes, she watched Mr. Maxwell sleep. She wished she’d brought a book to read. If she had her laptop with her, would she be able to write? Would that seem offensive to Sebastian’s father or to Sebastian? And what about Donna Maxwell? It made perfect sense to Keely that after a lifetime of tending to others’ needs, Donna Maxwell craved some special time for herself. Still, Mrs. Maxwell had sounded so spoiled, so indignant that her husband had had a stroke that might prevent her from going on a cruise.
Maybe all her life Donna Maxwell had wanted to go on a cruise. Maybe she had been only acting the part of perfect mother, and she couldn’t keep up the pretense any longer. Maybe Donna Maxwell was a big fat phony!
Or maybe Donna Maxwell was like everyone else, her selfish desires restricted by duty and the need to be who she seemed.
Another thought followed: All her life Keely had envied the Maxwell family. Now she realized how fortunate she’d been to have the mother and father who’d raised her.
Tears came to her eyes. She missed her father. But while she sat there near Mr. Maxwell, she allowed herself to be with her father again, in memory. Her father had not been wealthy in terms of money, but his life—his wife, his daughter, his friends, this island—had been a fortune to him.
After an eternity, Sebastian came to relieve Keely.
“Did he sleep the entire time?” he asked in a whisper. “You don’t have to stay with him when he’s sleeping. I’m sorry I didn’t explain it to you, but we’re only figuring it out ourselves. Keely, thanks so much for being here today. This isn’t how I wanted to spend time with you—”
“I was glad to help.” Keely hugged Sebastian. She wanted to tell him how liberated she felt. The powerful Mr. Maxwell could be weakened like everyone else. But she couldn’t say that to Sebastian; it would sound vengeful. “Take care.”
* * *
—
“How was Al?” Eloise asked when Keely walked in the front door.
Keely flopped down on the sofa across from her mother. “Oh, Mom, I’m such a terrible human being. Mr. Maxwell wasn’t like himself at all. He was like a zombie.”
“Well, he would be, wouldn’t he? The poor man has had a stroke.”
“I know, I know. He looks fine, except one side of his face droops. But he has an expression in his eyes like no one’s home. I tried to be entertaining, I tried to talk about stuff from my childhood, but nothing interested him. I felt guilty and bored and useless. And wait till I tell you what I overheard Mrs. Maxwell say!” She gave her mother the full, dramatic account.
Eloise frowned and nodded to a private thought. “She should go on that cruise. She’s got a long and difficult time ahead of her.”
“Because recovering from a stroke can take, like, months?”
“Of course. And while it’s necessary to help stimulate the brain cells as soon as possible, before the brain loses its functions, sleep is the great healer.”
“Mom, maybe you could talk to the Maxwells about this. You know so much, and they seem overwhelmed.”
Her mother smiled. “Keely, I’m sure they have plenty of professional help and all the medical advice they need.” Raising the remote, she changed channels on the television. “Look, a rerun of Monk. I do love this show.”
Keely glared at her mother, mentally challenging her to look away from the television and pay attention to her. But Eloise was locked in.
“I’m going for a run,” Keely said. It was late in the afternoon and she was too cranky to sit still.
She returned home sweaty, exhausted, and still cranky. To her surprise, her mother wasn’t in the living room. Keely followed the sound of her mother’s voice to the kitchen.
“Absolutely not,” Eloise was saying, her voice firm but friendly. “If you insist on paying me, I won’t come.” Seeing Keely, Eloise smiled brightly and held up a finger: one moment. “All right, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“What’s going on?” Keely asked when her mother put down the phone.
“That was Donna Maxwell. She asked me to come help Al. She said they’ve hired a couple of licensed practical nurses, big strong men, to help Al bathe and dress in the morning. She likes the people working with Al to heal his mind, but she thinks that since Al has known me for so long, he might feel more comfortable with me.”
“Donna called you?”
“Yes. Why are you surprised?”
“Because Donna is so…snobbish.”
Eloise said, “Illness makes us all equal.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“Oh, yes, and I know I’ll be able to help Al.” Eloise moved around the kitchen with light steps. “Go shower. I’m making spaghetti and a big salad for us for dinner.”
So Aloysius Maxwell, who had been uncharitable and condescending to Keely and her mother when Keely’s father died, Aloysius Maxwell, who coldly refused to help George Green’s widow and daughter, that same Aloysius Maxwell was now in need of the most basic help, would be aided and carefully tended to—for with her patients, Eloise was always careful and tender—by George Green’s widow.
And Eloise Green would regain her sense of value in the world and the priceless and ordinary day-by-day pleasure in her work.
Real life was like a plot by Dickens, Keely decided.
* * *
—
Late in the afternoon, Keely and her mother sat in the backyard, sipping lemonade and enjoying the shadows that cooled the patio. Keely had bought a birdbath, and for long minutes at a time, both women laughed softly together, watching the lovely birds splash.
“Mom, I don’t know what to do,” Keely said.
“What’s your problem?”
“Sebastian. Well, not Sebastian. I’m in love with him and I think we’re serious, very serious. But Isabelle is like a shadow looming over us.”
“You should call Isabelle,” Eloise said.
“She should be the one calling me. She’s the one who married Tommy the moment I stepped off this island. And I did call her last year. She was too busy to talk.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. You and Isabelle were so close. So alike. Passionate, intense children. I’ve never known how to make things perfect for you, Keely. Now, I guess, you have to decide things for yourself. Can you be with Sebastian if you are estranged from Isabelle?”
“I don’t know,” Keely said. She was close to tears. “But Sebastian or no Sebastian, I hate being without Isabelle!”
“Isabelle is a good girl—
“She’s hardly a girl.”
“You two will always be girls to me. But okay, Isabelle has a good heart. She’ll come around in time. I suppose all you can do is wait.”
