A Vineyard Christmas

by Jean Stone

  John handed her a glass of wine. “I kept the stereo on the same station where you had it. You’re a jazz aficionado?”

  She sat down, squeezing in beside him, his sturdy build and casual sprawl filling more than half the sofa. “Sometimes. You?”

  He laughed. “Nope. I’m a country music boy.” His honesty was endearing.

  She clinked her glass to his. “Well, here’s to music of any kind. And to solving Bella’s brief, but mysterious past.”

  They took a drink, and then he asked, “You have no kids. That’s surprising, watching you with Bella. You seem like a natural mom.”

  “Me? Well, hardly. Except for when I was a teacher, if that counts for anything.”

  “Did you want kids? Couldn’t you have them?” Then he pressed his fingertips to his forehead. “Jeez. I can’t believe I asked you that. Sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  Annie was startled by the question, but not offended. In fact, sitting in the cozy room, watching the fire glow and hearing the quiet jazz, she decided to tell him.

  “I did want kids,” she said. “But my first husband died too young. Our lives together had hardly started. And my second husband—well, I thought we both wanted them. I was wrong.” Then she told John about the abortion, and decided to add something she’d never told anyone because it had been too humiliating. Like the letter from her birth mother, Annie hadn’t even told Murphy. They were the only two secrets she’d kept from her best friend.

  “When a couple of years had passed,” she said, “I broached the subject about having kids with my husband again. That time, he agreed to try. But it never happened. I blamed myself; I figured the abortion had left me unable to have kids. I stayed with him, though, hoping God would forgive me. As for Mark, well, he was more interested in making money. After he disappeared, I found an old insurance document stuck in with his papers. It was a printout for a surgical procedure. A vasectomy. He’d had it soon after my abortion. But I never knew if he’d found out what I’d done.”

  The room was silent; Murphy, apparently, had no comment.

  John took her hand. “God, what a creep.”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  “And then he disappeared?”

  “We were together almost ten years. I wasn’t happy, but I was too confused to realize it. He left me with a ton of debt. That’s when I started writing. I was lucky it worked.” Her hand felt nice inside of John’s. Nice. Safe.

  Then he leaned over and kissed her. On the lips. Before she’d barely had a chance to breathe. She touched the corners of her mouth and laughed. “Well, that was unexpected.”

  “Unwanted? Or just unexpected?”

  “Just unexpected.”

  “Good,” he said. “Because I’ve been wanting to do that since the first time I saw you.”

  The kiss had been gentle, sweet, arousing. It had been a long, long time since she’d felt that way. And yet . . . and yet . . .

  “John,” she said, “I think you’re terrific guy.”

  He groaned. “And here comes the ‘but.’”

  “But nothing,” she replied. “But nothing at all. Except maybe can we take this slow? I was so burned by Mark . . .”

  “I don’t burn.”

  “I believe that about you.”

  “For what it’s worth, I was burned, too.”

  “I thought as much.”

  He took a drink. “Okay. Slow is fine.”

  She nodded. “Thanks. Because I don’t want to make any more mistakes.”

  They sat watching the fire while Thelonious serenaded them. Then John said, “Do you have some idea of how long you mean by ‘slow’?”

  Annie laughed again. “You are such a man.”

  “Yup. That I am.”

  “And once we start . . . well, this is a small island.”

  “Yup, it is.”

  “A small town, really.”

  “Yup, that, too.”

  “There are so many things to consider. Once people know . . . well, they’ll know.”

  “Yup, they will.”

  She took another sip of wine and smiled a real, honest-to-goodness smile. Her heart began to pitter-patter, which was so much nicer than thumping. “How about now?” she asked. “Have we waited long enough?”

  Before John could reply, footsteps clomped across the porch, and someone knocked on the front door.

  * * *

  It was Earl.

  “Come in,” Annie said, because what else could she do? The pitter-patter had slowed; reality had intervened in the form of a red-and-black-checkered wool shirt and a scruff of day-old whiskers. “Would you like a drink?”

  “No, thanks. I promised Claire I’d get right back after I talked to you. I didn’t mean to . . . interrupt.”

  She dragged one of the kitchen chairs to the living room. Earl sat, and Annie took the rocker across from John.

  “Talk about what, Dad?” John asked.

  Annie reminded herself there were no longer any secrets, that Earl was not going to tell her something that might hurt. She hoped.

  “About the girl. Francine. What’s she going to do when they release her? And what’s going to happen to Bella? If the Thurmans don’t take her, will she be handed over to the state?”

  John leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees in a way that seemed to help him think. “We haven’t gotten that far, Dad. This only fell into place today. But Francine’s history might be a problem. Because of the suicide attempt.”

  Earl took off his cap and smoothed the brim. “Well, your mother and I . . .” He looked at Annie. “Claire and I have a proposition. Our house is pretty big, you know. Too big for the two of us. And our granddaughters seem to be at the age when they’d rather stay off island. Maybe someday that will change, and we sure hope it does.” He looked at John, then back to Annie. “But right now it seems to Claire and me that Francine and Bella might need a place to live. We figure it would help them if they had a solid home, and we’ve got that. Annie, you can spend a lot of time with Bella if you want, but we know you’ve got your soap-making. And, of course, your writing.”

  Oh, Annie thought. Right. My writing. I must get back to that one of these days. At least her editor hadn’t called to bug her; she must have gone away for the holidays.

  “We’re around most of the time. Maybe Francine could get a job in Edgartown. Start a new life, you know?”

  Annie was speechless. She remembered John’s remark that people only moved there if they were in hiding or wanting to change their life.

  “Well, Dad,” John said, “that’s quite a generous offer. Have you considered that she might have lots of emotional baggage?”

  “Everybody’s got some of that, son. And besides, this was your mother’s idea. Sometimes she gets depressed, hanging out with an old coot like me. I think it would be good for her to have Francine and the baby to fuss over.”

  Annie almost asked, “Hey, what’s wrong with me? Why can’t they live with me?” But she knew Earl was right. The cottage was too small for both Francine and Bella, and unless the Thurmans stepped up, which seemed fairly doubtful, Earl and Claire had the best arrangement for them. Not to mention, it was time for Annie to get back to her life and her career. Besides, she’d see them often. And she could always babysit. Maybe John would join her, and, while Bella was asleep, they could sit in the living room and kiss as if they were schoolkids.

  “I’ll tell you what, Dad. How about if you and Annie go to the hospital tomorrow and see what Francine thinks? If she agrees, I’m sure we can at least work out something temporary.”

  Earl nodded and got up. “Annie? How about if I pick you up at eleven?”

  She agreed.

  Earl smiled, looked at John, and said, “I hope Francine wants to do this. It would be nice for me, too, to have some young energy scampering around the house again.” He said goodbye to Annie, patted John on the shoulder, then went outside and climbed into his truck.

  * *
*

  “Well,” Annie said as she closed the door, “that was a surprise.”

  “Not really. Not if you think about my dad. And you might not have seen my mom’s best side yet, but she’s a lot like him. Wanting to help most anyone who comes along.” He stood up, went to her, and slipped his arms around her waist. “I do think their idea is a good one for everyone concerned. Now . . . where were we?” He leaned down and kissed her again.

  Annie lingered that way a moment, feeling the pitter-patter rise again. Then she pulled away and smiled. She touched his mouth with her finger, tracing the outline of his lips. “I believe we were discussing if we’d waited long enough.”

  “And?”

  “And . . .” she stepped back, sliding from his grasp. “And I think your father’s timing was perfect. I do need a bit more time.” She paused. “Okay?”

  “Nope. It’s not okay. It sucks.” But to his credit, he smiled. “So I guess I should leave now?”

  She folded her arms. “I guess. Are you working tomorrow?” His eyes were still on hers; it was hard to let him go. But Annie knew she had something else to do. Something more important.

  “Noon to eight.”

  “Okay. Then . . . well, I guess we’ll talk soon?”

  He gulped the last of his wine and put on his jacket. “Count on it,” he said.

  She bit her lip and watched him walk toward the door. Then he stopped. Turned. And took her in his arms again. And kissed her for a long, long time.

  * * *

  After John was gone, Annie waited awhile. She’d decided to catch the On Time crossing at nine o’clock, which gave her enough time to get over to Earl and Claire’s first. Earl warned her to be careful not to miss the last ferry heading back, but they both knew her mission shouldn’t take long.

  Bella was sleeping soundly when Annie carried her into the hospital. She hadn’t bothered with the basket; she didn’t want to have to keep resettling her.

  Like the baby, Francine was asleep.

  Annie had scooted past the nurses’ station undetected, and now she stood watching the girl. Moving closer to the bed, she leaned down, then rested Bella near Francine’s arm. Without opening her eyes, Francine reached out, put her arm around the baby, and drew her close. Bella never even whimpered.

  Annie sat in the chair where she’d sat before.

  Several minutes passed before Francine awoke.

  “Bella?” she whispered.

  “It’s her,” Annie replied. “I think she wanted to see you.”

  Francine looked over at Annie. “You know the truth now, don’t you?”

  Annie nodded. “About Stephen and your mother, yes. But I was hoping you’d like to tell me about her. I have a feeling the two of you were close.” She drew the chair closer to the bed.

  “My mother died.”

  “How?”

  “She got sick after Bella was born. It was a bad infection. She was forty-one—not too old to have a baby, but she had a heart condition. The doctor said the combination contributed to her . . . death.”

  “And you were left alone.”

  Francine smoothed the hair on the crown of Bella’s head. “She smells so sweet, doesn’t she? Like she hasn’t lost that new baby kind of smell.”

  “You’re right. And she is beautiful.”

  “My mother didn’t want Stephen to know. But I didn’t know where else to go. I couldn’t support her on my own. It’s winter . . . I was hardly making any money.”

  “What about your mother’s sister? Her husband owns the Sunrise Café, doesn’t he?”

  Francine shook her head. “He sold the restaurant last spring. My mother’s mother—her name was Bella, too—well, she got Alzheimer’s, so Aunt Marty went back to Minnesota to look after her. My uncle sold the Sunrise and started another restaurant out there. I stayed and worked for the new owner; there was no way me and my mother were going back to Minnesota.”

  “What about your mother’s father?”

  “He died a few years ago. My other grandparents did, too. But that grandpa was not very nice.”

  No wonder the poor girl felt alone.

  “Well,” Annie said, “I wanted to come tonight to tell you that I’ll be back tomorrow. And I’ll be bringing someone with me. He’s a good man; his wife is a good woman. They have a wonderful idea about your future. And Bella’s, too.”

  “What?”

  Annie smiled. “I’m going to leave that up to him to tell you. But I wanted to let you know ahead of time. It can change your life—in a good way—if you say yes to him. If you think you like it here on the Vineyard. Okay?”

  Francine looked at her. “Why is everyone being so nice to me?”

  With an exaggerated shrug, Annie simply said, “Oh, honey. Why not?” Then she took Bella from her. “We’ll be here before noon. For now, I must get this little one to bed.”

  As she started to leave, Annie stopped and turned back. “Francine? There’s one more thing that I’ve been curious about. Why did you come to the holiday fair? Did you know I’d be there?”

  She shook her head. “I Googled Stephen Thurman on my phone and found out his address. It wasn’t too far from the center of Edgartown, so I took the bus into town. Then I walked from there.”

  “Carrying Bella.”

  “In her basket, yes.”

  There was no need to mention that the bus usually went all the way to South Beach and probably drove right past Scallop Cove Road. Or that the original basket had been a danger to Bella. “So, Stephen wasn’t home?”

  “Nobody was. But I saw a lady walking a dog—a yellow lab. She told me Stephen’s wife was at the fair, selling her baked goods. She said it was at the school, so I found my way there, too. But when I saw his wife, I chickened out. She was so nice and seemed so friendly, and I knew I’d freak her out.”

  So the reason Bonnie Thurman had recognized Annie was because she, too, had been a vendor at the fair. “Was that when you decided what you were going to do?”

  Francine shook her head. “I read a lot. There’s not much else to do on the Cape in the winter. When I heard those ladies talk about your books, I realized I’d read a couple of them. But not your first. Not the one about you being adopted. That’s when I got the idea.When I left the fair, I went to the library.”

  “And you found out where I lived.”

  “You said you were on North Neck on Chappy. I found a big house that was unlocked, so I camped out in there and checked out the neighborhood the next day. Your place wasn’t hard to find; you said you were in a cottage, and yours was the only one on North Neck that had a car in the driveway. Where somebody obviously was living. I couldn’t believe you were right next door.”

  Francine was clever, there was no doubt about that.

  “I was going to wait until Christmas Eve to bring her to you,” she continued, “but when the blizzard came, I knew I was stuck. It was cold in the big house, too cold for Bella, so I had to stop procrastinating and bring her over to you. I almost knocked on your door and asked if I could stay, too, but . . .” She did not finish the sentence.

  Annie smiled. “And then you stalked me.”

  “I didn’t mean to. But when the blizzard was over, your car disappeared overnight. I got scared. I thought you took Bella away.”

  That must have been the night Annie had stayed at Winnie’s.

  “The next day you came home, but then you left with some guy in a pickup. I broke in to get food . . . I was so hungry. That’s when I saw Bella’s basket tossed into the back seat of your car. And I figured you really did get rid of her. That you’d taken her to Boston or somewhere and left her at one of those hospitals where nobody asks any questions.”

  “Oh, Francine . . . I am so sorry. That basket got wobbly. I bought her a new one . . .”

  “I bought the red bow because I thought it made it special. And that it made Bella look special, too, so you’d want to keep her.”

  Annie’s eyes quickly filled with tea
rs. “Oh, Francine, she is special. You have no idea how special she is to me.”

  “It’s okay,” Francine said. “None of this was your fault.” Her big eyes got teary, too.

  “It wasn’t your fault, either,” Annie said, then walked back to the girl, picked up her hand, and squeezed it. “Everything will be fine now. You’ll see.” It was clear that Francine was as much a victim as little Bella. Annie knew they both would be well cared for in Earl and Claire’s home.

  Then she said good night and made it back to the On Time for its ten o’clock crossing, one more mission checked off her list.

  Chapter 31

  “My wife’s a real good cook,” Earl told Francine the next day after he had explained the plan. “She didn’t come today because she said she didn’t want to smother you. And I’m the one who knew about Bella first. Well, after Annie, of course. Taylor tried to figure it out, but, well, you’ll get used to her. And Claire already loves the baby. She made her the new white sweater you might have seen her in.”

  “I love her, too,” Francine replied. “She’s all I have, you know.”

  “Not anymore,” Earl said. “If you wanted to be lonely, you came to the wrong island.”

  The girl smiled; she had a lovely smile. Annie was glad she’d come to see her the night before; glad she’d prepared her for something good that was finally going to happen.

  “The doctor says I can be discharged as early as tomorrow,” the girl said. “Is that too soon for me to come over? If it’s okay with the police?”

  Earl’s smile was warm and welcoming, as Annie knew it would be. “You let me worry about the police. You’re over eighteen, so there’s a good chance that, in time, you’ll get custody of Bella, if Thurman doesn’t want her. But let’s look on the bright side: a new year starts tomorrow. Seems like a perfect time to start a new life, don’t you think?”

  She lowered her eyes. “They want me to come to the hospital three times a week for counseling. On account of what I did. Or rather, what I tried to do. To myself.”