by Mary Carter
“We’re getting good at it,” Ellen said. She glanced at Brad, then lowered her voice. “Should we start making a baby quilt?”
“Definitely not,” Elizabeth said with a derisive laugh. She looked at Bailey for support. “Am I right, or am I right?”
“Mom,” Brad said. “Would you go inside and get more lemonade?” Brad had fabulous hearing. Even when immersed in another task several feet away, he was still listening, watching. It used to flatter Bailey; now it just comforted her, knowing he always had his ear out for her.
“Why would you say that?” Bailey asked. Because he didn’t have such a great childhood himself?
“Brad’s too much of a child himself,” Elizabeth said. “And of course—”
“The lemonade, Mom?”
Elizabeth stopped talking and stood up. “One day a time,” she said, heading into the kitchen.
“Do we even have lemonade?” Bailey asked Brad.
“No,” Brad said.
Things were so much easier for Bailey with her mother around. She helped strip and wash sheets and towels, cook meals, and it seemed every time Bailey turned around her mother was cleaning either the kitchen or one of the bathrooms, singing to herself as she went. Her mother always seemed to truly enjoy domestic life. Did Bailey? She didn’t think so. She certainly wasn’t singing, or even whistling. There hadn’t even been any ghostly activity since her family arrived. But the best news of all was delivered by the Coast Guard. They dropped by with what they said was their last attempt to replace batteries and wiring, and before they knew it, the light was back on and shining. It was cause for celebration. Everyone stood by the river, gazing at the light, toasting with a bottle of champagne that Brad bought in town.
“You’re so lucky, Aunt Bailey,” Joyce said. Even Thomas seemed impressed. Elizabeth was standing near Brad, her arm hooked in his. He’d been hanging awfully close to her lately, as if trying to monitor her every word. Bailey had thought about the conversation out in the rowboat several times since. She knew Brad was embarrassed by Elizabeth, but Bailey of all people knew what the woman was like. What was he so afraid of?
“This is a good sign,” Meg said. “The light coming back on.”
“This is actually decent champagne,” Jason said. He held the glass out and eyed it. “How many bottles did you buy?”
“One,” Brad said.
Jason’s satisfied look turned to one of pure horror. “What time does the liquor store close?” he said.
Brad looked at his watch. “About an hour ago,” Brad said. Jason and Faye exchanged a look.
“We’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy,” Jason said to Faye.
“Wrong, Toto,” Faye said. “We are in Kansas, and—”
“That’s the problem,” they said in unison.
“We have wine in the house somewhere,” Bailey said.
“Who’s the good-looking young couple in the tent?” Jim asked. Bailey had forgotten all about Jake and Angel. In fact, she hadn’t seen them around at all lately. Bailey filled them in, leaving out the bit about Jake having a crush on her and Angel on Brad.
“They met here and fell in love,” Bailey said.
“You should put that in the brochure,” Faye said. “Now. The light is on, the champagne is gone. I think I’m going to head to the house and read. Did you just hear me? Read? My God, what is the country doing to me?” She and Jason belted out a laugh, then the two of them turned and headed for the house.
“We’ll find the wine, don’t worry about us,” Jason said over his shoulder.
Meg, Ellen, and Bailey stayed up long after everyone else went to bed. Bailey brought out a bottle of wine that she’d kept secret, and the three of them sat talking and enjoying it. The stars were out, and even the chill in the air was comforting as long as you had a shawl or a sweater, which, thanks to Ellen, they all did.
“I’m kind of looking forward to winter,” Bailey said. “I don’t think we’ll have many guests, and I’ll finally get to be alone with my husband.”
“He seems to be doing better,” Meg said. “I mean, I haven’t heard him talk about any of that near-death stuff.”
“Ever since I smashed Aunt Olivia’s urn and a deck of cards flew out instead of her ashes, he’s stopped obsessing,” Bailey said.
“What?” Ellen said. Bailey filled them in, leaving out the bit about the séance and purposefully throwing the urn. Luckily, they were too curious about Olivia’s whereabouts to question her story. “Where are the ashes?” Ellen asked.
“We have no idea,” Bailey said. “But Brad thinks it’s some kind of message from Olivia.”
“Seriously?” Meg said. “Like what? She scattered herself?”
“I didn’t say he was cured,” Bailey said. “Just slightly improved.”
“What did Elizabeth mean about Brad not wanting children?” Ellen asked. “Is it true?” Bailey should have never given her mother more wine. Half a glass and she would say anything.
“Of course not,” Bailey said. “You can’t believe a word that woman says.” Was that what Brad was so worried about? That his mother would start saying things like that? Or was it something more specific?
“I think she has a crush on your ferry captain,” Meg said. “What’s his name?”
“Jack,” Bailey said. “Except that it’s not.” Ellen and Meg cocked their heads and Bailey explained the joke.
“Kind of weird, isn’t it?” Meg said. “That you don’t even know his name?”
“I guess,” Bailey said. “If we lived anywhere else. But around here, it’s a little more laid back. People are free to be who they want—or not to be.”
“So what does Brad say about having children?” Ellen said. “Does he want them?”
“We know Mom certainly wants more grandbabies,” Meg said. “Mine are teenagers now, so they don’t count anymore.”
“Hush, you,” Ellen said. “You know how much I love Joyce and Thomas.”
“Then what’s with the pressure? I’m sure if Bailey wanted children, she would have had them by now.”
Bailey felt a familiar angst rise in her, but then she realized she was the one who had given Meg that impression all these years. Any time anyone in their immediate family mentioned children, Bailey acted like it was her that was waiting. Had she been trying to protect Brad all these years, or herself?
“I hope mine turn out like Joyce and Thomas,” Bailey said. “They’re so perfect.” Meg and Ellen exchanged a look. Bailey realized what she’d done. She’d completely forgotten about their trouble with Thomas lately. He’d been so well-behaved here she was starting to wonder if they had been exaggerating his problems. The look between her sister and her mother told her otherwise.
“What?” Bailey said. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” Meg said quickly.
“Meg.” Apparently Bailey wasn’t the only one shielding her family from truths.
“Nothing, really,” Meg said. “It’s just Thomas. He’s been—I don’t know. Such a boy lately, I guess.”
“Meg,” Ellen said. “It’s more than that. Just because he’s a boy. That’s making excuses.”
“Would somebody please fill me in on the details?”
“He’s been violent lately, okay?” Meg said. “Are you happy now?”
“Of course not,” Bailey said. “Why would you even say that?” Meg looked on the verge of starting a fight herself, but Bailey saw tears lurking. Maybe the bottle of wine hadn’t been such a good idea. The more they drank and relaxed, the more they were starting to unravel. Bailey leaned forward and studied her sister’s face. There was no humor there.
“What do you mean violent?”
“He’s been in several fistfights after school,” Ellen chimed in. “Hanging around the wrong boys. Smoking pot and getting tattoos.” Bailey almost choked on her wine. Coming out of anybody else’s mouth it wouldn’t have been that shocking. Listening to her mother say it with a straight face was another story. “He
stays out late too,” Ellen continued. “Meg can’t get him to come in.”
“All right, Mother,” Meg said.
“What does Andy say?” Bailey asked.
“He’s tried talking to him, we’ve both tried.”
“You’ve tried, darling,” Ellen said. “But that husband of yours has been MIA.”
“Andy’s been traveling a lot this year,” Meg explained.
“And that’s part of the problem,” Ellen said. “Boys especially need their fathers.”
“Well, what would you have Andy do, Mom? We’re lucky he even has a job in today’s market.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all this before?” Bailey said.
“You’ve had your hands full,” Meg said. “And I don’t want anyone thinking bad of him. He’s a good kid, you know? He’s still a good kid.”
“Of course he is,” Bailey said. “I had no idea. He seemed a little quiet, but he’s been great here.”
“So far,” Ellen said.
“Really, Mom,” Meg said. “It’s not like he’s going to start a fight with anyone here. It’s just that school.”
“He’s not in school during the summer, and he’s been in a fight almost every week,” Ellen said.
“Every week?” Bailey said.
“Last week he sent some boy to the hospital and now he’s going to have to go to court,” her mom said.
“Oh my God. Meg. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Don’t blame Mom. This is serious. I can’t even imagine Thomas beating someone else up, let alone putting them in the hospital.”
“I know, I know, okay?” Meg said. “Maybe going to juvie is what he needs.”
“Maybe he should stay here for the rest of the summer,” Ellen said.
“I thought you said he had court,” Bailey said.
“It’s in two weeks,” Meg said. “He does seem happier here.”
“Yes, that’s it. He should stay here!” Bailey said. And that’s when she realized, microseconds too late, that she was the one who shouldn’t have been drinking the wine.
Chapter 31
In a marriage, you learned to predict how your spouse was going to react to any given situation. It was probably an ancient survival instinct, like animals in the wild growing thick pelts to keep their bodies warm. After so many years of being together, Bailey was confident in her “Brad-reading” skills. From the little things, like the fact that he would order bruschetta in every restaurant, stop to talk to each and every elderly person they passed, and floss his teeth after dinner, to the big things, like whenever anyone brought up a political issue without actually having facts to back up their positions, they were in for a barrage of cold, hard facts from Brad, delivered with a passion five times bigger than theirs, to the knowledge that whenever she brought up the subject of having a baby, she knew he was going to find an ingenious way of changing the subject. Bailey thought she had a pretty good handle on Brad Jordan’s moods, his moves, his basic patterns of interacting. But this, she never expected. Turning down one of her close family members? When she put up with an entire near-death, co-lighthouse-owning, sleep-eating, spandex-wearing, dog-abandoning committee? And it was only for the last two weeks of summer. From the way Brad was acting, you would have thought she’d asked him to adopt Thomas as their own.
Bailey sat on their bed while he paced, and defended his argument against having Thomas stay. Bailey was trying to give him her full attention, but she was distracted by Tree, who was sitting at the base of the stairs leading up to the tower. He was gazing up the spiral staircase and whining. He’d been doing this a lot lately and they had no idea why. There was no way they could carry the big shepherd up the stairs, and he cried as if he were dying to go up, but he’d yet to put even a single paw on a single step. Brad whistled and pointed to the bed. Tree stopped whining, and gracefully leapt onto Bailey’s side of the bed, where he stretched out as if he owned it. Seconds later, he was snoring. Males, Bailey thought. She’d never been able to fall asleep that fast. Brad continued talking.
“Don’t you think we have enough on our plates? Should we just keep piling on more?”
“It’s not like he’s moving in with us forever. It’s only a couple of weeks.”
“It’s too much responsibility.”
“It’s not like we’d have to babysit him every second, Brad. He’s sixteen.“
“Sixteen,” Brad said. “Sixteen.” He stopped pacing for a second and looked out the window as if the number sixteen were hovering above the Hudson River. “Sixteen,” he said again softly. Brad actually looked as if he were about to cry. Just when Bailey thought they were getting past things, settling in. If he started up about the light again, Bailey was going to hurl herself off the tower. “Sixteen,” Brad said again. Somehow, his button was stuck.
“I think we’ve established that,” Bailey said. What was the matter with him? Just a few hours ago he was throwing around a football with Thomas.
Brad turned from the window and fixed his intense gaze on Bailey. “Do you think everything happens for a reason?” Brad said. “Or is everything just one big cosmic joke?” This one lifted Bailey off the bed.
“Since when did my nephew become a cosmic joke?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean, then?”
“Never mind.” Brad headed for the down staircase, then stopped at the edge. Slowly, he turned back to face her. “There’s nowhere to go.”
“What?”
“This is our house, and I just want to go to the kitchen, or the living room, or the museum, and yet I can’t, because there are people everywhere. There are always people everywhere.” Brad went to the dresser, and for a split second she thought he was going to sweep everything off it, including a mirror propped against the wall, but instead he just put his head down on its hard surface and groaned.
“Yes,” Bailey said. “Sometimes it sucks.”
Brad lifted his head, then walked over to where Bailey was standing and took her in his arms. “You tried to warn me,” he said. “You told me this was a mistake.” Bailey pulled away. Now he sat on the bed while she started to pace. She couldn’t let Brad panic. Panic was bad. Panic was dropping everything and running again. And this time, panic would leave them homeless and broke. Was this all because she’d invited Elizabeth? From the minute he’d rowed her out in the middle of the Hudson River to warn Bailey not to listen to anything his mother had to say, he’d been acting funny.
“You’ve had a long day,” Bailey said. “Why don’t you rest? I’ll go downstairs and keep the crew entertained. You can write in your journals, or go through weather maps, or just take a little nap.”
“I hate the weather maps, Bailey. I’ve just been pretending to like them.”
“Okay.”
“Did you hear me say you were right? This was a mistake. This was one big, colossal mistake.” It was happening, Brad was entering panic mode. She would have to go easy on him. She wasn’t even going to point out that it was ludicrous to use “big” and “colossal” in the same sentence. Go with colossal, she would have said. It’s a stronger word and renders “big” obsolete. Instead, Bailey sat down beside him and put her arm around him.
“You need to stop thinking this instant. You’re tired.”
“I’m not just tired,” Brad said. “I’m bored. I’m bored to death out here. You were right. Manhattan is where it’s at. I miss Manhattan, don’t you?”
“So we’ll go for a visit. Stay with Aunt Faye, or Jesse, or at a hotel.”
“You could get your job back, right? Faye would take you back.”
Bailey concentrated on her breath. In, out. In, out. She thought about suing the psychiatrist who came for the weekend and failed to see that her husband needed help. Bipolar. Manic-depressive. Was that him? The words were thrown around too much these days. Besides, she didn’t want a medicated husband. He had his quirks, but she’d alwa
ys just chalked it up to Brad being Brad. But this, she hated to see. He was truly in a state of turmoil. It made it impossible to be angry with him.
“Stop worrying. Stop thinking. This is our home now.” At first Bailey was just saying it to calm Brad down. But as soon as the words came out of her mouth, she knew it was true. She liked living here. She liked new people coming in and out, bringing their stories, and their weird questions, and their quirks, and having a few laughs or even arguments at the breakfast table. She was starting to notice little things too, like, so much for dogs—people actually looked like their luggage. Angel had pink bags, and Vera had oversized bags, and the horny old couple had green bags. It was fascinating. Maybe she could get Brad to blog about that. She for one certainly wasn’t ready to give it all up.
She didn’t even mind the strange noises at night anymore— an intriguing mystery never hurt anyone. She liked looking out at the light spreading its beam across the river at night, and imagining all the other nights in history that it lit the way for ships going by. She liked their morning walks with Tree running up ahead or lingering behind; she liked noticing the birds, and plopping fish, and blooming plants. She liked knowing answers to questions guests asked and researching the ones she didn’t, then eagerly anticipating a future guest asking the question again so she could get it right this time.
She was looking forward to fall. Then winter. Then spring. She felt as if she were a part of something. She didn’t even have the urge to go into town much anymore. She was just . . . content. For the first time in a long life of moving around, she felt as if she truly belonged somewhere. And here, not even a year into it, Brad was starting to freak out again. Maybe life was just one big cosmic joke.
“I might have had my doubts at first, but this life isn’t so bad. We’re here. We’re doing it. We’ve put so much into this. We’re going to be just fine.”
“We could let someone else on the committee run it,” Brad said. “Kim would be my first choice. She was the most stable of them all, don’t you think?”
