Healing Tides

by Katie Winters

  “What about the Lodge?” Elsa finally asked as Zachery cooed his own opinion below.

  “I just don’t know if we should reopen right away,” Nancy said. “I’m not sure how we could even manage it. Not without your father.”

  Elsa nodded somberly. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. It just terrifies me, not having him there at the Lodge. And everywhere else, too.”

  “I know.” Nancy exhaled drearily. “It’s been my home for ten years. It gave me new life after— well.”

  Elsa knew quite a bit about Nancy’s previous life. She had shared a lot with Elsa about how she had struggled with money and alcohol; that she had a daughter she no longer spoke to over in Manhattan; that Neal had helped her heal and become the woman she was today. That he had taught her, she was worthy of love, even after so much torment.

  “We’ll find a way to reopen, maybe. Someday,” Elsa murmured as she zipped up Zachery’s onesie.

  But the concept of “someday” no longer seemed so certain, not after so much had been taken from her.

  The funeral home was a one-story building with plum-colored walls and plush rugs that gave the slightest bit when you walked over them. Elsa held the baby on her chest and shifted her weight as Nancy spoke with the funeral home directors about the coming hours of the visitation. Elsa had had a similar conversation with the very same men six months previous; it was as though they read from the same script, every time, regardless of who had died. She supposed she couldn’t blame them for this. They’d probably found a formula and decided to stick to it. Everything had a formula, even saying goodbye.

  When Nancy finished her conversation, she stepped back and splayed her hand over Zachery’s tender head. “He’s being so good,” she said, as though she wasn’t sure what else to say. “Have you heard from Carmella?”

  Elsa made a guttural noise in her throat. She had hardly seen her sister since their father’s passing. She’d, of course, called her from the hospital after they had rushed him there; she’d listened to the silence as her sister had processed the news of his death. Carmella had come to the hospital eventually, but she’d kept a wide berth from everyone. When Nancy had approached her for a tearful hug, Carmella had shed no tears. The woman was cold. She’d always been that way.

  “I’m sure she’ll make it eventually,” Elsa returned as she flared her nostrils. “He was her only dad, after all.”

  Nancy’s lips twisted slightly. Admittedly, Nancy and Carmella had never been particularly close. Carmella had adored her stepmother before Nancy, Karen — a woman who had said some of the cruelest things Elsa had heard in her life. To Aiden, Elsa had referred to Karen as “my ex-wicked stepmother.” As a contrast, Carmella and Karen had been thick as thieves.

  Of course, the minute Neal had divorced Karen, Elsa was pretty sure Karen hadn’t bothered to keep up with Carmella. She had wondered what Carmella thought about that if she felt abandoned at all. But it wasn’t like Carmella would ever open up to Elsa about something like that.

  Islanders began to arrive just after two. In the first group, Mallory and her fiancé, Lucas, appeared dressed both in black. Mallory’s cheeks were already stained black with eyeliner from crying. She took baby Zachery in her arms as she thanked her mother for babysitting.

  “There’s already so many people here,” she whispered as she eyed the crowd.

  “Your grandfather was well-loved across the island,” Elsa affirmed.

  “People have been stopping me in random places all week, telling me how sorry they are,” Mallory said. “At the grocery store and at the gym and at work. It’s nice, but it’s also overwhelming. It’s destroying me. It makes me want to burst into tears every single time.”

  Elsa rubbed her daughter’s upper back as an older gentleman approached her. Elsa recognized him as Wes Sheridan, another icon on the island. He owned the Sunrise Cove Inn. As both Neal and Wes had been around the same age and both in the hospitality sector in a general sense, they had been close over the years.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Elsa,” Wes said. His eyes glowed as though he tried to keep his tears at bay. “He was such a great man, your father.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Sheridan,” Elsa replied.

  Beside him, Wes’s three daughters stood in black dresses. They were each uniquely beautiful, with similar features that manifested across wildly different personalities. Elsa had never known them well, but the island knew their names — Susan, Christine, and Lola. They had arrived back to Martha’s Vineyard after years away, and the island had welcomed them back with open arms. Elsa knew that the Sheridans had experienced their own share of heartaches. Their mother, Anna, had died in a boating accident when the girls had been teenagers. Assuredly, they carried that pain with them always. Elsa knew she would do the same for Aiden, for her mother, and for her younger brother, Colton, and now, again, for her father, Neal.

  Elsa and Nancy continued to greet members of the community. Elsa grew fatigued; her eyesight blurred. So many folks seemed to want to talk her ear off about what Neal had meant to them; for whatever reason, she didn’t want to hear it. She wanted to toil in her bed alone. She wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep without dreaming.

  Just past three, a full hour after the visitation had begun, Carmella sauntered into the funeral home. Elsa felt her presence like a black hole. She wore dark sunglasses and a bohemian black dress with a pair of trendy boots, and her hair hung gloriously down her back as though she was headed for a date rather than her father’s funeral. Elsa’s eyes burned toward her sister, and Carmella stopped dead toward the far end of the visitation hall.

  “I’ll be right back,” Elsa told Nancy, who was in the middle of a conversation with the woman who owned the flower shop in Oak Bluffs, Claire.

  “Where have you been?” Elsa demanded of Carmella in a strange hiss.

  Carmella arched her eyebrow and didn’t bother to remove her sunglasses. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  “It’s not exactly cool to come late to your father’s visitation, FYI.” Elsa crossed and uncrossed her arms. She was reminded of once when they’d been teenagers when Elsa had caught Carmella sneaking out of the house. Elsa had sounded just like this; cold as ice, older and stiffer.

  “Whatever, Elsa. Just let me grieve my father in peace.”

  “We have to be there for each other,” Elsa muttered. The last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene.

  “Yeah? The way you were there for me when we were younger? When Mom and Dad were happy to let me rot in my guilt?”

  Elsa rolled her eyes back. “You’re so dramatic. Dad was nothing but a saint and you know that.”

  Carmella ripped off her sunglasses at that moment. Her eyes were tinged red. Elsa was taken aback. Maybe she’d half-expected her sister not to even bother to cry.

  “Dad loved you to pieces. That’s true,” Carmella whispered, so low that Elsa had to strain to hear. “But he thought I was second-hand trash, and you know that.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Elsa breathed.

  “All these people in this funeral home just loved him. They’d never believe how cold he was to me. And it’s not like you paid enough attention to notice.”

  Elsa’s cheeks burned hot. She glanced again toward the front of the visitation room, where her father’s coffin shone from the soft light from the hanging lamps.

  “This isn’t the time or the place for anything like that,” Elsa finally hissed back. “And besides, you’re forty-one-years-old. Don’t you think it’s time to grow up? Get over the damn past?”

  Little dimples formed in Carmella’s cheeks as she smirked. Elsa swam in resentment. She couldn’t remember the last time she and her sister had had a pleasant conversation. Even though they were coworkers at the Lodge, they made sure they hardly saw one another and stayed in their own space.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go say goodbye to my father,” Carmella hissed through her gritted teeth. “I don’t mean to bear my truth
to you here. I know it’s too hard for you to hear.”

  Carmella brushed past Elsa after that. Elsa turned as her chest caved in. From there in the back, she watched as Carmella stood stone-faced in front of the casket. What was it that Elsa wanted Carmella to do? Did she want her to break down? Did she want her to admit all she’d done wrong?

  Years ago, at their mother’s funeral, Carmella hadn’t cried, either. Elsa had been enraged with her until she had discovered that throughout the ceremony, Carmella had scraped her fingernails across her upper arms so much that she’d bled all over her dress.

  But that had all been such a long time ago.

  They were adults now. The past was the past. And Elsa knew in her heart that the two of them would never see eye-to-eye. It was impossible.

  Chapter Three

  Present Day

  THE KATAMA LODGE AND Wellness Spa had been reopened for a full week. Elsa sat at the edge of her desk and blinked through the enormous bay window, which reflected back a picture-perfect view of Katama Bay. She had kicked off her heels, as she’d grown so accustomed to wearing slippers around the house, and her tights strained against her stomach. After all, the sweatpants and jeans she had taken to since the Lodge’s closing the previous January had been particularly forgiving, and she’d let herself indulge.

  Apparently, the time for all that relaxation, mourning, and the darkness of living in the aftermath of so much horror was meant to be over. The past six weeks had been a whirlwind. Nancy’s real daughter, Janine Grimson, had recently arrived from Manhattan after a particularly horrendous situation. Her best friend since childhood had had an affair with her very famous, very rich husband, and news of Janine’s “mental collapse” had been all over the tabloids. Nancy had been up in arms in the wake of it. “Do you think I should write her? I could tell her to come here? Oh gosh, what do you think I should do? I don’t know if she could ever forgive me!” Finally, Nancy had, of course, written her, and Janine had accepted Nancy’s invite to stay with her on the island and of course, this had ultimately flipped Elsa’s life upside down.

  It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy for Nancy. Nancy had craved a reunion with her daughter since her arrival to the island over a decade ago. It had come up in conversation frequently. Now, here she was: a stepsister Elsa had never really wanted. And somehow, Janine had convinced them all to reopen the Katama Lodge and Wellness Spa.

  In some respects, Elsa thought, how dare she? After all, it wasn’t like Janine knew any of the hardships Elsa and Nancy had been through the previous year. Elsa had lost her husband and then her father. The pain was still so fresh. Sometimes, the thought of putting one foot in front of the other filled her with dread. Now, she had a jam-packed working schedule, overly tight skirts, and a whole host of phone calls to make. The Katama Lodge was back and the world was thrilled about it, regardless of what Elsa’s opinion was. All Elsa wanted to do was sleep.

  There was a knock at the door. Elsa jumped up, pushed her feet into her heels, then opened the door to find Janine. Janine wore all white; her face was fresh and clean and tanned from her long runs on the island. Her smile was electric and probably the result of some super-expensive, teeth-whitening job over in Manhattan.

  “Hi! What’s up?” Elsa forced herself to sound upbeat.

  “Hey! I just wanted to let you know, Jennifer Conrad is at the front desk. She says she has a meeting with you, but you haven’t answered your phone?”

  “Shoot.” Elsa yanked open the door wider and hustled through the hallway. Jennifer, that red-haired, long-legged beauty, who ran the social media firm in downtown Edgartown, along with her mother’s bakery, the Frosted Delights, awaited her, briefcase in hand. “Jennifer! I’m terribly sorry. I left my phone on silent after yoga class. Silly mistake.”

  Jennifer was easygoing. She waved her hand to and fro and said, “I do that stuff all the time. Don’t worry about it.”

  Elsa could smell the lie. Women like Jennifer Conrad didn’t make mistakes like that. Even still, she was grateful for the pass.

  “Good to see you again, Jennifer!” Janine said as she hustled past. “I just have another appointment I have to get to. Good luck on the social media strategy!”

  “Good to see you too, Janine. Still on for that wine later this week?” Jennifer asked.

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” Janine returned.

  Of course, Elsa thought. Janine burst into her world and immediately, Martha’s Vineyard took to her with friendliness and love. Meanwhile, Elsa’s heart grew darker; her depression cloud was turning into a storm.

  “Thank you for coming in today,” Elsa said as Jennifer sat across from her. “I’ve been a bit lax on the social media side of things, and I would love your help. As you know, we’ve been off the grid for over six months. We need to get back out there.”

  “Of course,” Jennifer returned. “And in fact, I’ve been in conversation with a number of highly influential social media personalities who would love to spend a night or two here at the Lodge, and you know, show the world what it’s like. Like here, we have Debbie Walter. She’s forty-two and a popular mommy-blogger, who frequently writes also about the benefits of putting your needs higher up on the list of to-dos, despite having children. She has over a million followers.”

  Elsa nodded and furrowed her brow purposefully as a way to appear interested. In truth, Jennifer’s voice grated on her ears.

  Jennifer continued on with the meeting, highlighting how she wanted to boost their social media numbers up twenty-five percent over the course of four months. Elsa couldn’t help but remember what her father had once said about social media. “It’s the garbage dump of our society.” Even still, she knew social media was here to stay, the only way forward. She had to play along, especially if she was going to have continued success as the public relations manager at the Lodge.

  After Jennifer left, Elsa wandered from the office toward the dining area, where a number of Lodge residents sat in cozy robes and sipped green tea and spoke in low tones about where they’d been, what they’d gone through, and what areas of their lives they wanted to improve. Throughout her career at the Lodge, Elsa had always loved this part the most — helping others kick-start their paths forward.

  But she now found that it irritated her a great deal — especially when she heard things like, “I just couldn’t love my husband anymore.” What the heck did that mean? Her husband had died! She still loved him with all her heart and soul and mind. How could you just stop loving someone you had vowed to love forever?

  She knew this was her cross to bear, but it seemed to grow heavier by the day.

  It was just after two in the afternoon. Elsa’s stomach threatened to eat her from the inside, so she stepped into the kitchen to check on the chef, Cynthia, who said that she would whip her up a soup and salad combo in no time. Cynthia had worked for the Lodge several years before, and Nancy had had the good idea to ask her back. She was a warm and welcoming woman of just over fifty, slightly overweight — which made you trust her all the more, as she worked as a chef. She was trained in all matters of nutrition and paid attention to the detailed instructions lent to her by Janine, often concocting entire meals for specific patients based on their needs.

  “You look a bit tired, Elsa,” Cynthia commented now as she sliced through a red onion. “Are you sleeping all right?”

  In truth, Elsa hadn’t slept properly in well over two years since Aiden’s diagnosis and the beginning of her own personal hell on earth.

  “Oh, just fine. I forgot how difficult it is to keep up with everything at the Lodge. That’s all.”

  Cynthia arched an eyebrow as she fluffed several spinach leaves into a large bowl. “I have to say. I like that, Janine. She’s a wonderful part of the new Lodge. Suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised since she’s Nancy’s daughter.”

  Elsa made a small noise in her throat. At that moment, Janine whipped past the window between the kitchen and the greater dining room. She pause
d at a table and placed a gentle hand on the top of another woman’s shoulder as she pointed out something on her nutritional chart. Janine very much gave off the air of genuine kindness; nobody was an afterthought.

  But of course, Janine was no Neal Remington. Nobody was.

  “Not to say that your father isn’t dearly missed,” Cynthia said hurriedly, as though she could sense the words as they spun through Elsa’s mind.

  Elsa took her salad and soup to her office, where she ate somberly and gazed out at the water. There was something horrific about feeding herself in the midst of a depressive episode. Something in the back of her skull demanded of her, why do we keep doing this? Why must we keep ourselves going like this? What’s the point?

  There was another rap at the door. Elsa called, “Come in!” and Nancy rushed in, her smile electric.

  “There you are.”

  “Yep.” Elsa placed her fork in her salad bowl and blinked at her stepmother, the woman she had loved so dearly over the past ten-plus years. She felt childish in her resentment. She needed to fix it. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, I wanted to let you know that we’re having a bit of an incident. Carmella got into a little spat with one of the guests.”

  Elsa’s nostrils flared. “What happened?”

  Nancy strung her fingers through her hair. “It’s not a big deal. The woman wasn’t even one of Carmella’s acupuncture patients. Apparently, she was very rude to Carmella at the front desk and insinuated she was some kind of secretary. You know how Carmella bristles at any sign of lack of — shall we say, respect...”

  “I’ve told her over and over again. She has to think of the guests first,” Elsa muttered. “Gosh, she can make a mess like nobody’s business. She was the one who wanted to reopen the Lodge so bad! And this is how she handles it?”

  “I offered the woman several free massages and yoga sessions,” Nancy continued. “Carmella’s calmed down, thank goodness.”

  “We’re supposed to be a place of calm and relaxation,” Elsa said. She stood, her soup untouched, and pointed herself toward the door. “I have to talk to her.”