The Beach at Painter's Cove

by Shelley Noble

  “Me, too?” Griff echoed.

  “Once we get to town, we’ll all blow bubbles. Are we all ready?” Fae looked back to find Issy and Steph standing in the doorway. Neither moved, indecisive, wanting and not wanting, two of a kind, the real Whitaker gene.

  “Well, I am,” Chloe said, stepping between them. “Come on, you two. You can’t wig out on us.”

  Fae reached into her huge tapestry bag, found several more long scarves, handed one to Chloe, then stood at the bottom of the steps holding out the other two like the offerings they were. She could already feel the excuses forming in both of their minds.

  “You can’t leave Chloe to take care of both of these children by herself,” Fae said so softly that her words must have carried on the breeze, because Issy started.

  “I’ll just get my wallet.” She disappeared inside.

  Fae lifted one scarf up to Steph. “Didn’t you read my book last night?”

  Steph shrugged, but she was caught. She came slowly down the steps, but instead of letting her take the scarf, Fae tied it around her head, the long tails trailing down her back.

  “The Gypsy Bride.”

  Steph rolled her eyes but she continued out to the wagon.

  Issy had so much to do, so much that she was going to march down the sidewalk with Aunt Fae, Raconteur and Fading Picture Lady, blowing bubbles and reinforcing the common thought that not only were the Whitakers philanthropists and art patrons, but were just a little loony to boot.

  When Issy was little she didn’t mind it. She loved coming to town with Aunt Fae. Mainly because it made her a Whitaker. She didn’t remember ever calling herself a York. Maybe because no one, including Jillian knew if she was really a York or the product of one of Jillian’s wild Hollywood nights. There had been plenty of speculation, the media had a field day, Issy had been clueless then. She was barely four when her mother dropped both her and Vivienne off at the Muses for good.

  From that day forward, Issy was a Whitaker. Vivienne was a York and she never let anyone, especially Issy, forget it.

  Well, today was not the day to break a family tradition or rain on anyone else’s parade. She took money and a credit card out of her wallet and hurried back outside.

  It was only a few blocks to town. They passed houses and businesses and by the time they reached the parklike town square, they’d been joined by others, children and adults and pets. Fae stopped to hand out bubble wands along the way. And by the time she dropped her tapestry bag on an empty space of sidewalk, they were surrounded by tiny floating rainbows.

  Everyone spread back to give Fae space while she took chalk and rags from her bag and laid them to one side. Pulled out a green gardener’s kneepad from the wagon and placed it in front of a blank piece of sidewalk. Knelt on it and reached for a piece of chalk.

  The crowd settled around her, some looking over her shoulder, others sitting on the grass. The bubbles continued to fill the air.

  “Once there was a farmer who took his young son to market day.” As she talked, she began to draw. “It was late when they left the market and the man pulled his sleepy son up behind him on the old farm horse.”

  A curve appeared on the sidewalk. A sweep of brown chalk. The horse? An oval of pink. Dots of blue and more dots of orange and brown.

  “‘Hold tight, my son, and do not fall, for I won’t stop once we enter the forest.’”

  Story and picture progressed together. Not one word was lost as she leaned over her drawing, and she never stopped the flow of chalk as she spoke.

  Issy recognized the story, or at least the subject matter. A Goethe poem about the Elf King, who stole sleeping children and killed them for his revenge. Not exactly a story for impressionable young children. But often Fae appropriated characters from other stories for her own tale.

  Issy glanced around; no one appeared to be afraid. No young mother was dragging her screaming children away. Griff and Mandy were practically breathing on Fae’s neck.

  At first Issy let herself be beguiled by the story. Why not? Shouldn’t she soak up every bit of memory before it was gone forever?

  Fae’s words buzzed in the air around her as fanciful dark trees began to surround the man and his son.

  “‘Do you not see him, Father? He’s come to steal me away.’”

  Gradually she noticed that Steph wasn’t watching the drawing, but the crowd.

  “‘I see no one.’ ‘Hurry, my father. He draws near.’” Fae drew their cloaks flying out behind them, the horse straining forward.

  What—or who—was she looking for? Issy started watching the crowd, too. Steph had said her mother was going to call on Saturday. It was Saturday. As far as Issy knew, she hadn’t called. Is that why Steph was scanning the crowd?

  “‘Look, my son. Ahead I see a light.’” Fae crawled along the edge of pavement and a sunburst of color was sketched above the horse’s head.

  “‘It’s he,’ cried the boy.”

  The crowd leaned closer as another figure appeared before them, tall, lean, with flowing hair.

  “‘I come not to harm you, boy, but to show you the way home.’” Fae drew an arm and a pointing hand. And at the very top, a triangle turned quickly into a little cottage with light filling the windows and door.

  “And the father and son rode toward it, safe and happy to be home.”

  The story ended. Fae rested back on her heels. The drawing was finished. An entire story in one scene. It had all happened seamlessly. Story and drawing, separate but together.

  And a story that had a tragic ending, in Fae’s hands, had been made happy again.

  No one moved, held there by the spell she had cast.

  Steph sighed.

  Issy stepped close. She didn’t know kids, but she did know about missing your mother. “She’ll be back soon.”

  Steph’s head snapped toward her. “Who?”

  “Your mom, isn’t that who you’re looking for?”

  Steph shook her head.

  Issy frowned. “Then who?”

  “The Elf King.”

  Boy, had she read that wrong, Issy thought as they walked back to the Muses with their ice cream. The vote had been unanimous. Dessert before lunch. And since there was no one around to say differently, that’s exactly what they did.

  But Issy’s mind was on Steph rather than ice cream. The girl was just too hard to read. Had Fae even mentioned the Elf King in the story? She tried to remember what she’d been reading at Steph’s age and drew a blank. It certainly hadn’t been “Der Erlkönig.”

  Fae seemed distant, Issy thought. But she remembered that sometimes it took a while for her to come back to the world after story hour, she became so involved in the story. She’d cast a spell over her audience. Even the sullen Steph. Looking for the Elf King among the people watching. Afraid that she, too, was about to be snatched from her family?

  Or maybe she was just being sarcastic. It was hard to tell with almost-teenagers. Issy didn’t come into contact with them very often.

  It was only natural, Issy supposed, that Steph should get captivated by Fae’s magic. Issy had grown up with Fae’s stories and they never ceased to fill her with wonder. Fae had a real gift for storytelling, for drawing, though not much talent for—or maybe it was just a question of a lack of interest in—coping in the day-to-day world.

  Magic wouldn’t help them much now, Issy thought, though she’d be totally happy if Fae could conjure up someone to show the Whitakers the way home.

  Chapter 10

  After a late lunch that no one really wanted thanks to the ice cream, Issy and Fae drove to the hospital. They didn’t talk on the ride over. When they got out of the car, Fae said, “I hope she’s feeling better.” And fell silent again.

  Leo was feeling more than better. Actually she was a little irritated. They found her sitting in a chair, fully dressed and ready to go home. Her hair was swept up in her usual twist and Issy wondered how she’d managed it or if she’d conned one of the nurse’
s aides into doing it for her.

  “The doctor discharged me hours ago.”

  “Why didn’t you call?” Issy asked.

  “I did. No one answered. I left a message.”

  “You know today was story hour,” Fae told her. “We were all at the park.”

  Issy didn’t mention that Leo should have called her cell. She probably didn’t know Issy’s number. And Fae didn’t have a cell or a landline. Something they might have to negotiate in the coming days.

  Leo struggled out of the chair.

  “Just a minute, Grammy. Are you sure Dr. Prasad said it was okay for you to go home? Did he leave instructions?”

  Leo turned to Fae. “I need to go home. Wes will wonder where I am.”

  “Yes,” Fae said. “I did make sure the flowers were watered and the weeds pulled. I told you I would. No cause to fret.”

  She’d stepped in between Issy and Leo to say this and it sounded more like an admonition than a reassurance. And it really didn’t make any sense. Had Leo just said that Wes missed her?

  “I’ll just go talk to the nurse,” Issy said, and left the room.

  “Yes,” the nurse said. “I think she wore the doctor down, poor man. But he said she’s fit as long as she takes it easy. He left instructions for you and said to call him anytime.” She handed Issy several sheets of paper. “He phoned in two prescriptions. The directions are on the top page. The pharmacy said they would deliver them.”

  “Thanks.” Issy read them and made a quick call to Chloe to apprise her of the situation and to ask her to get the kids to help her prepare Mrs. Norcroft’s rooms for Leo.

  “I’m on it. Are you going to be able to get Leo into the SUV?”

  “I didn’t think about that. I think so. It’s not one of the really high ones.”

  “I’ll call Ben to come and help her out.”

  “Don’t interrupt his work. You’ve both done way more than I could possibly ask.”

  “Nonsense. Now let me go round up my cleaning crew.” Chloe hung up.

  Leo balked at having to be taken out of the hospital in a wheelchair. That it was a hospital rule did nothing to change her mind. But she lifted her chin and held the blue-flowered cane the hospital had issued her like a scepter as they proceeded down the hall.

  Issy and Fae walked behind her.

  “Like members of the court,” Fae said under her breath.

  With help from a male nurse and a little maneuvering, they installed Leo in the front seat. Ben was waiting to help her out of the car when Issy came to a stop at the front door of the Muses.

  She went up the porch steps leaning on Ben’s arm, but when she reached the foyer and Chloe and the children met her with “We fixed up a nice suite downstairs for you,” she recovered completely.

  “Thank you, dears. You’re all so thoughtful.” She smiled at them, cupped Griff and Mandy’s cheeks. Stopped in front of Steph, who was wearing another Leo outfit, with Fae’s scarf tied around the waist.

  “Where did you get that old thing?”

  “I like it.” Steph crossed her arms as if she expected Leo to rip it off her. But Leo took her by the shoulders and whirled around. “I remember buying that. It was here in the village, when Agnes Starling decided to open a boutique. Poor Agnes. In those days hardly anyone came through town. There were so few full-year residents that I always made a point to pick up something whenever I was in town. She moved away once her children were grown. I don’t know what happened to her.”

  “Aren’t you getting tired, Leo?” Fae asked.

  “What? Not at all. Issy, take this child to the mall and buy her some clothes if she needs them.”

  “I don’t need them. I like these clothes.”

  “You’re a darling,” Leo said. “And, Chloe, Issy says you’ve been holding our little household together in my absence, and on your weekend off.” She took Chloe’s hand and squeezed it affectionately.

  “We all appreciate it and I’m sure Mrs. Norcroft will when she returns. But you needn’t have bothered for me. I told Issy and Fae that I had slept in the same bedroom since the day I married Wes—except of course when we were traveling or when the bedrooms needed repainting. And I’ll sleep in my own room tonight.” She somehow skirted the little group and was reaching for the banister when Issy dove to stop her.

  “Grammy, the doctor said, no stairs.”

  “He said,” Leo said, shaking Issy’s hand away, “that he didn’t want me running up and down the stairs all day like a teenager.”

  She started her sweep up the stairs, Issy and Ben both following behind her. She made it almost to the top before she had to rely on the cane. And had to stop on the landing to catch her breath. Then ignoring both Issy and Ben, who had come to a stop on each side of her, she walked down the hall to her room.

  “I think I’ll take a little rest before dinner,” she said, and closed the door in their faces.

  “And you wonder where your mother and the madcap Amanda get their dramatic flare.” Ben gestured to the stairs. “Shall we?”

  “Incredible, just incredible,” Issy said as they walked back down the stairs to where the welcome-home party was still standing in the foyer.

  Chloe laughed. “Kids, you have just experienced what it’s like to be bowled over by a pro.”

  “Mandy’s probably taking notes,” Ben said under his breath.

  Issy smiled. She probably was. Griff had already wandered off. He’d found a bag of wooden blocks, broken metal soldiers, and some early die-cast cars. He’d been occupied with them ever since. Hadn’t once complained about there being nothing to do.

  And, Issy noticed, he hadn’t once reached for his game tablet.

  Chloe clapped her hands together. “I’ll get dinner. Anyone want to help?”

  Mandy shook her head. “I’m tired. We cleaned for hours.” She managed to slump and sigh on the last word. She wandered off.

  “Are you upset about the clothes thing?” Issy asked Steph, who was scowling again. She shook her head.

  “So no trip to the mall?”

  This headshake was fast, sharp, and meaningful.

  Issy didn’t know what it meant exactly. Or why. But if it was important for Steph to wear those old clothes, it was fine by her.

  “Will you stay for dinner, Aunt Fae?”

  “What? Oh, I should be getting home.”

  “There’s plenty,” Chloe said as they started back toward the kitchen.

  “And there’s happy hour,” said Ben, who had wandered off and met them as he stepped out of one of the many pantries. “A 1997 Margaux. I think Wes would agree that having Leo home is worth a little celebration.”

  “I’m sure he would,” Fae said. “I will stay for a quick glass.”

  They all went to the kitchen, including Stephanie, who Fae swept up as she passed. “You can show us all the hard work you put in for Leo this afternoon. She appreciates it. She’s just a creature of habit.”

  They all detoured to Mrs. Norcroft’s rooms. They were spotless, even the windows had shed their normal coating of salt rime.

  “Nice job,” Issy said, probably too brightly. The emptiness of the rooms hit her unexpectedly. The furniture was all there, the same dresser and side table. The same overstuffed chair. They were rooms Issy knew well. She’d fled to them when Vivienne had goaded her one too many times, when one of the adults made a careless remark, or when her feeling of otherness was more than she could handle.

  Fae was sensitive, but she was often away. And Mrs. Norcroft was neutral ground. She didn’t despise Issy the way Vivienne said the others did. Or if she did, she never let it show.

  “I should visit her while I’m here,” Issy said. “Let her know that we don’t believe any of it.”

  “Believe what?” Steph asked.

  Issy bit her lip. She’d just done what so many adults around her had done. Just accepted Steph’s presence and didn’t caution her tongue.

  “Just a misunderstanding.”

/>   “You mean about the stealing.”

  “How did you know about that?”

  “I overheard Mom and Dad fighting about it. It’s amazing what you learn when adults forget you’re around. I think I’ll go read my book now. And in case you’re wondering, I won’t be listening at keyholes.”

  “Good, ’cause we’re going to be talking about you,” Ben said.

  “Ben!” Chloe exclaimed. “You’re incorrigible. Don’t listen to him, Steph. He’s just an overgrown kid.”

  Steph turned a very smug, exaggerated smile toward him, then left the kitchen.

  “Those kids could all use a good—”

  “I can hear you,” came through the closed door.

  “To the moon, Alice.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing, go read your book.”

  He rummaged in the drawer, found a corkscrew, and went to work on the bottle. “She’s beginning to grow on me.”

  “She needs our help,” Fae said.

  Chloe placed four wineglasses on the counter and Ben poured. “How so?”

  “She’s not living her own story.”

  “I know better than to question that one,” Ben said, and raised his glass. “To Issy being home, to Leo being out of the hospital, and to fixing the mess so they can stay that way.”

  They all lifted their glasses, though Issy had gotten stuck on the fact that he thought she was here to stay. Did they all think that? That she’d taken the first excuse they’d given her to come home again?

  Ben seemed to realize the implications of what he’d said, and choked on his wine.

  Chloe, conveniently on her way to the pantry, whacked him on the back. “What he means, Issy, is that we’re both so glad to see you and hope to see a lot of you while you’re here.”

  She made a comic face at her brother, who blushed bright red. Issy decided it was because he was choking.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded. “That’s what I meant,” he spluttered. “Better with plants than with words.”

  “If that’s not the truth,” Chloe said. “Remember when Lissa Jenkins got her . . .”