“Grandam’s,” Isis said of the sign. And as they got out of the car in a half-moon area that was thick with wood chippings, the roar of a motor came from behind the house.
Hayley trailed Isis up stairs that appeared to be built along the side of a garage. They followed the roar of the motor. This took them along a balcony and around the corner of the building, where a deck overlooked a working area so littered with debris that Hayley had to wonder how anyone moved among the logs, blocks of wood, half-finished sculptures, discarded lumber, assorted chain saws, awls, hammers, handsaws, nails, screws, bolts, and buckets of paint. In the midst of this, the Martins’ grandmother was applying a very large shrieking chain saw to an enormous upright block of wood. She wore major earphones to protect her ears, overalls and a long sleeved T-shirt to protect her body. She had goggles on her eyes and a hard hat on her head.
Hayley had to smile. Palo Alto, she figured, had malls and at least one Starbucks if not half a dozen. But she’d bet her life there was no one within a hundred miles of the place remotely like Isis Martin’s grandmother.
When Nancy Howard paused for a moment, switched off the chain saw, and stepped back from her work, Isis yelled, “Hey, Nance!”
Her grandmother looked up. She removed her earphones. “Where in God’s creation’ve you been?” she demanded. “Where’s your brother?”
“Getting ready to run. We were at the market. This is Hayley Cartwright.”
“Bill’s daughter,” Nancy Howard said. “You look just like his mom.”
“Whatcha doing?” Isis asked her grandmother.
“Now that is one hell of a stupid question. What does it look like I’m doing? This’s that Sills Road project I was telling you about. God knows why they want a bear—nothing stupider, you ask me—but if that’s what they want and they got the dinero to pay for it, a bear it is.” She used her teeth to pull the sleeve of her T-shirt back and she looked at a man’s watch on her wrist. She said to Isis, “Two hours. There’s clean-up work to be done down here and I want you and Aidan back to do it. Got it?”
Isis said to Hayley, “Servitude. How much happier can that possibly make me?” And then to her grandmother, “Aye aye, Captain Howard, sir.”
“And keep your eyes on Aidan,” Nancy added.
Isis muttered something that Hayley couldn’t hear. She waved gaily, however, called out, “Will do,” and led the way back to the front of the building. Hayley saw that the house itself was on the opposite side of the property. It was afflicted with the same amount of debris that appeared to be everywhere else, but there were finished wood carvings nearby, attempting to decorate something that looked like a garden in extremis.
Aidan came out of the house. He’d put on running shoes, but that was the extent of his changing his clothes for a run. While he came toward them, Isis led Hayley into the open garage where two bikes were leaning against a wooden trailer. She said to Hayley, “Grab one of these. We ride, he runs.” And to Aidan, “Go on, then. We’ll catch up.”
He shrugged and jogged off down the driveway as Isis rolled her bike out of the garage. It was an ancient thing with wheels like doughnuts, and Hayley’s bike turned out to be the same. These belonged to Nancy and Linda-the-lesbian-lover, Isis told her. They possessed only one gear, but they were the only things on offer.
The two girls set off, and they soon caught up to Aidan, who was cooperatively jogging along the side of the road. But within two hundred yards of Nancy Howard’s driveway, Aidan leaped off the road and disappeared along a trail into the forest. Isis saw him go but made no protest. She merely continued heading toward the beach, as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Hayley came up alongside her. “Shouldn’t we follow him or something?”
Isis cast a look over her shoulder in the direction her brother had taken. “No way is he about to put up with that. And anyway, he’ll just go in there and smoke if he managed to steal some matches from Grandam. We’ll meet up with him on the road later. Far as Grandam knows, we’ll be glued to him like a second skin. Come on. Race you to the beach, okay?”
The girls made quick work of getting down to Maxwelton Beach, a community comprising the large homes of people made wealthy by the Northwest’s tech industry and old beach cottages that had long been the summer places of generations of families from over town who came to the island only when the weather was fair. A ball park and tiny playground gave the community a place to gather, and a boat launch offered them the opportunity to set a course into Useless Bay if the tide was high enough.
It was to this boat launch that Isis rode with Hayley following. There at its edge, she dropped her bike to the ground. She waited for Hayley to do likewise, and together they walked onto the beach.
It was mostly very wet sand, some driftwood, a lot of mud, and half a dozen tidepools. Here, there were walkers with dogs, moving along the vast expanse of Useless Bay, which horseshoed from tree-rich Indian Point in the south all the way north to Double Bluff Light. This was marked by the great tan bluffs of sandy earth that gave that spot its name.
Isis said to Hayley, “I want to show you something. I got the best idea . . .” and she set off down the beach in the direction of Indian Point. Not one hundred yards along, however, a large sign told potential beach walkers that the property beyond it was private and they were to keep off.
Hayley pointed this out to Isis. Isis pooh-poohed the warning, continuing on her way. She said, “No beach c’n be private. No way does that happen in California. You c’n be a movie star or something and you can’t keep people off a beach in front of your place in Malibu.”
“Isis!”
The other girl stopped walking. She said, “What?”
Hayley stumbled for words. “It’s . . . Things’re different here. The beach is private.”
“That sucks. I want to show you something.”
“Someone’s going to come out and yell and—”
“Good grief. Like we’re scared to get yelled at?” Isis continued on her way. “Let ’em call the cops if they don’t like it. We’ll be out of here before the cops show up.”
“But if it’s private property . . .”
Isis stamped her feet. “Hayley! Cowgirl up, for God’s sake.”
Hayley looked to her left, feeling furtive. The closest houses appeared uninhabited. More of them would become so as autumn deepened. And anyway, they were separated from the beach by a canal of wetland, so what was the big deal, truly, if she and Isis merely walked by them? It wasn’t like they were burglars. They were just two girls strolling along the beach in the sun. So she followed Isis.
Some way along, the canal of wetland ended. At that point, Hayley and Isis came to a vacant lot, then to a tiny beach cottage listing to the right, then to another vacant lot with a chain across it. Isis stopped walking at a final house that was larger than all the rest. To Hayley’s horror, the other girl walked right up to this place. It had a low wall separating a small yard from the beach and she climbed over it. She said to Hayley, “No big deal. I’ve been coming since June. The place’s for sale. It’s empty. Come on.”
At least, Hayley thought, as she followed Isis, the other girl didn’t proceed through some open window or push in a sliding glass door. What she wanted Hayley to see was a fire pit and its accompanying seating area along with a covered in-ground spa and the kind of outdoor kitchen one saw featured in magazines.
“Isn’t this the coolest ever?” Isis asked. “This is exactly what I’m going to have when Brady and I are married. Course that’s not happening for years because he’s got to do medical school and all that, but when he starts making piles of money, it’ll be the beach for us.” There was a stack of beach chairs abutting the house, and Isis went for one of these as she talked.
Hayley watched her, incredulous, as Isis brought a chair over to the fire pit, went for another, sat down, and gestured Hayley
to do the same. She put her feet up on the river stones of the fire pit’s edge and continued chatting. “Course, I wouldn’t tell Brady any of this. You won’t say anything, will you? He’s gonna come up if Aidan ’n’ me are still here at Christmas.” Isis was digging in her purse as she spoke and she seemed finally to notice that Hayley hadn’t joined her. She said, “I’m just babbling. It’s ’cause I’m nervous. How are you? You look so nice today. That color is perfect for your complexion, which is also perfect and I know perfect ’cause my mom’s a dermatologist. And anyway . . . ” She finally found what she was looking for and she brought out a slim chrome box from which she took out a cigarette.
Isis caught Hayley’s look of surprise and said, “I used to smoke. This’s electronic. You ever see one? Watch.”
It took no lighting at all but when she sucked on it, the tip of it glowed and what it emitted looked like smoke but was instead vapor that bore no scent. It gave her a hit of nicotine, Isis said. Unfortunately, she was still addicted. This was how she dealt with the addiction. It had been her mom’s idea.
“My parents know everything about me,” she confided to Hayley. “Sex with Brady and two other guys before him, smoking, diet pills till I got caught, weed also till I got caught. Oxycontin once. Just once. We talk about it all ’cause the one thing they don’t need is more than one kid who likes to keep secrets.”
• • •
WHEN THEY RETURNED to the spot on the road where Aidan had disappeared into the trees, the boy himself was waiting for them. He joined them wordlessly and they trooped back to Nancy Howard’s house. There, Nancy’s partner, Linda, had arrived. Isis declared that she didn’t know Linda’s last name and didn’t want to know it but what she did want to know was why Linda didn’t at least remove that mustache of hers. Then she bundled Hayley into the car while Aidan silently made for the house and his bedroom, where Isis said he had “a cache of Hustler magazines under the bed.”
True to her word, Isis drove Hayley home. The drive to Smugglers Cove Farm and Flowers was a long one from Maxwelton Beach, but Isis kept up her chatter all the way. When they got to the farm, Hayley told her friend just to drop her at the end of the driveway, but Isis said that no way was she going to do that, and she turned right in.
She said, “Is all of this your family’s? I get it now. You didn’t want me to know you’re rich. Wow, what kind of barn is that?”
“It’s for chickens.”
“Chickens? In a barn that size? Who would’ve thought. My mom never told me there were places like this up here. It’s just like Little House on the Prairie.”
As she was talking, they were bumping along the road toward the house. In the distance, Hayley could see that her dad had come out of the big barn where the tractor was kept. He was dragging himself across the farmyard, demanding that his legs work as they used to work while the walker helped keep him upright. Seeing his struggle, she felt a pain in her chest.
“Mom never says one nice thing about Whidbey Island,” Isis was continuing. “What my grandam says when Mom starts going on about Whidbey is, ‘You never knew when you had it good, Lisa Ann.’ Lisa Ann’s my mom. Are you aware of how many Lisas there are in her generation? Only like a billion. It’s why she named me Isis. Like, how many Isises are you gonna run into in one lifetime? I tell her if she hates her name she should have changed it to Chloe or something ’cause there aren’t any Chloes her age. Or Beulah.” Isis laughed. “It’s not like there’s ever going to be a run on Beulah.”
Hayley watched her dad. He’d reached the big sycamore tree that shaded part of the house. He paused there and took note of the car’s approach. He lifted a hand to wave and Hayley held her breath. But he didn’t fall.
Isis stopped the car and said, “Anyway thanks, Hayl. You’re the best. I hope I didn’t talk too much. Like I said, it’s just nerves. Thanks for putting up with me.”
Hayley’s dad stumbled. Hayley bit her lip. She grabbed the door handle and said, “Got to go. See you in school, okay?”
Then she was out of the car and over to her father. Behind her she heard the sound of Isis reversing the car, turning, and steaming off happily down the driveway.
• • •
HAYLEY KNEW BETTER than to offer her father help. But she walked with him and told him about her day as they inched toward the back door. There were two steps to be negotiated and Hayley took her dad’s arm. He said, “I’m not an old fart, Hayley,” and shook her off. Thankfully, the door opened and Hayley’s mom came outside.
She wouldn’t take “leave me be” from her husband. She said, “Don’t be silly, Bill. I’m not intending to let you fall and break a leg.” He relented and they got him inside. But from there, he worked his way through the kitchen to the back of the house, where the downstairs bathroom was.
This, apparently, was what Hayley’s mom had been waiting for because once the bathroom door closed, she said to Hayley, “Sit yourself at that table because you and I are going to talk.”
Hayley did so. She saw that on the table lay the catalogues from Reed College and from Brown University, so Hayley knew that not only had Tatiana Primavera spoken to her mom but her mom had also gone into her bedroom and rooted through her things.
“Exactly what is going on?” Julie Cartwright demanded of her daughter.
Hayley went for dumb. “Huh? I got those at school. Miss Primavera—”
“I know all about Miss Primavera and her recommendation that you apply to either Reed or Brown. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a fine idea because there’re scholarships available and you have the grades and there’s also work-study and low-interest loans and financial aid but none of that”—she slapped her hand on the table when she said none—“is going to make the slightest bit of difference if you don’t get your butt in gear. So you better have a very good story about why you haven’t even begun your senior essay.”
“I’ve begun it.”
“Have you indeed. And when did you intend to let Ms. Primavera have a look at it?”
“It’s too complicated, so far.”
“I’m supposed to believe that?” Julie demanded. “Let me see. A string of perfect grades in every English class you’ve ever taken since seventh grade and suddenly an essay to accompany your college applications is too complicated? Do you actually want me to believe—”
“Mom,” Hayley said.
“Do not ‘mom’ me. The last thing I need is for you to become one more thing I get to worry about.”
Hayley heard the tremor in her mother’s voice and as if to underscore this, the toilet in the downstairs bathroom flushed, the water ran, the door opened, and her father’s walker scraped the jamb. He swore in a low voice, but it carried to the kitchen. Both Hayley and her mom looked in his direction.
“I have,” Julie Cartwright said quietly, “quite enough to handle.”
“I’m not going to college.”
“What kind of game is this? Is this Seth’s idea to keep you on the island?”
“Seth has nothing to do with anything.”
“You think that’s so? He’d love it if you stayed right here on this farm and never gave a thought to going anywhere, to college or even to the mall.”
“Hayley’s not going to college?” Brooke had slithered into the room from beyond the dining room, where the living room lay. In there, Cassidy was watching something on television. It was too loud, as usual.
“Your sister and I are discussing something,” Julie Cartwright said to her middle child. “This is private. And you’re supposed to be spending time with Cassie.”
“She won’t turn it down,” was Brooke’s reply, “and it’s Hayley’s turn to watch her anyway.”
“Brooke, I told you—”
Fiercely, Brooke pulled a chair out from the table. “And I’m telling you that I’m sick of watching her and I’m sick of doing stuff Hayley’s
supposed to be doing like helping at the market and I’m sick of cleaning chicken shit out of the—”
“Brooke Jeannette, another demonstration of that kind of language and you know what happens.”
“What?” Brooke demanded. “Shit shit shit. What’re you going to do? Wash my mouth out?” That said, she flung herself out of the room. She stormed down the hall toward the back of the house. Hayley and her mother both heard the crash as she ran into her father.
Bill Cartwright cried out. Brooke shrieked, “I’m sorry!”
Hayley said to her mom as she hurried from the kitchen, “I can’t go off island and I won’t go off island.”
PART II
South Whidbey High School
Djangofest
FIFTEEN
Only three rehearsals were necessary to bring Parker Natalia up to speed on what Triple Threat would be performing at Djangofest. So when the first day of the festival rolled around, the young Canadian was ready. He was also eager to show up the members of BC Django 21.
Seth couldn’t blame him. He and Parker had heard that group jamming beneath the bandshell at Useless Bay Coffee House, a trendy coffee and bean-roasting establishment on Second Street in Langley. The sound carried over to the front garden of South Whidbey Commons across the street where Triple Threat was going over their program, so every one of the Triple Threat members had an earful of how good those guys were.
BC Django 21 had replaced Parker with a girl. Seth saw Parker’s shoulders slump when he got a look at her and a listen to her music. Loyally, he said to Parker, “You’re just as good, man,” but Parker didn’t buy it. He wandered off, looking completely bummed. Well, Seth thought, Triple Threat would give him plenty of opportunity to show his stuff.
The slot of 5:00 at the high school was reserved for groups who weren’t going to bring in a crowd, but the organizers had reckoned without the vast Darrow clan. There were five original Darrow brothers among the immediate family of Seth’s grandfather, and all of them had remained on the island and had produced large families. These families had also remained on the island, marrying into other island families until the Darrow connections were so numerous that people had stopped trying to keep track of them. One thing was certain, though. Every individual with a drop of Darrow blood in his veins showed up at the concert, along with Seth’s employer, his fellow builders, and his friends.
The Edge of the Shadows Page 8
