The Beach at Painter's Cove

by Shelley Noble

Stephanie crossed the room without acknowledging anyone and blatantly ignoring her mother, sat in the chair she’d been using for her reading, and picked up a book.

  Issy stole a glance at Vivienne, who had been looking at the same page of an old issue of Town and Country for the last twenty minutes.

  “It seems like the rain is lessening,” Leo said.

  The lights went out.

  Screams of “Mommy!” pierced the darkness. “Mommy!”

  Someone lit a lantern, handed it to Vivienne, who held it awkwardly in front of her as she went to collect her children.

  The rest of them sat in darkness. No outside lights, no lights from afar, no stars or moon, just dark.

  “This is nice,” Fae said as the room slowly began to take on shapes of dark and darker.

  “I was watching that,” Griff complained as his mother carted him on her hip into the parlor. Mandy trailed alongside, clutching at Vivienne’s belt.

  “But I was watching it,” whined Griff.

  “The electricity is out. There is no television or lights.” Vivienne’s voice was soothing, but it had no effect on Griff. She placed the lantern on the coffee table and slid Griff down to the floor. “Can someone get some more light?”

  “But I want to see it,” and he started to cry.

  “Play a game,” Jillian said, and blew out the match that she had just used to light the storm lantern on the reading table beside her.

  Issy was so astonished that she stared at her.

  “It won’t work without television,” Mandy said. “And he never lets me play anyway.”

  “Don’t you know any regular games?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Leave Jillian alone,” Vivienne said. “She doesn’t know any children’s games.”

  Jillian raised an eyebrow. Issy couldn’t really see it in the lantern light but she felt it.

  There was a brief standoff between mother and daughter, then Jillian said, “Of course I know a game. I used to play with you and Issy.”

  “Really, Jillian? I don’t seem to remember any games. I just remember being here with a famous mother somewhere else.”

  “Do you really know a game, Gran—Jillian?” Mandy slid off the couch and came over to Jillian’s chair.

  “I want to play.” Griff followed Mandy.

  Jillian sighed. “I do. I hope I don’t screw this up,” she added to no one in particular. “Okay, hold out your hands.”

  They held out their hands.

  “Just one. The left one.”

  Mandy held out her left hand. Griff watched then held out his left hand.

  “Okay. Now look at your palm. No, like this.” She turned Griff’s palm to face him. “Now you—here, come around like this.” She pulled them both around to stand on either side of her chair.

  She held up her own hand, fingers splayed. Everyone looked on to see Jillian York play a child’s game.

  “Okay, take your other hand and count your fingers.”

  “What? That’s not a game.” Mandy put down her hand.

  “Sure it is. It’s called the Oops game.”

  Issy started. Steph closed her book and sat up.

  “Griff and I will demonstrate. Point to each finger and follow me.” She pointed to her pinkie. “Griffin.” Next finger. “Griffin.” Next. “Griffin, Griffin—” Then a slide down the slope between index finger and thumb. “Oops Griffin.” Back the way she’d come. “Oops Griffin, Griffin, Griffin, Griffin.”

  “Now you try.”

  Griffin bit his lip; it was slow but he got it done, and had barely finished his last “Griffin” when Mandy interrupted. “I can do it faster. Watch.”

  “Mandy, Mandy, Mandy, Mandy, Oops Mandy, Oops Mandy, Mandy, Mandy, Mandy.”

  “Very good.” Jillian stifled a yawn.

  “Let’s do Mommy,” Griff said. “Mommy, Mommy . . .”

  “Let’s do Aunt Issy, ’cause her name is Oops and it will be Oops, Oops, Oops, Oops, Oops, Oops . . .” Mandy and Griff dissolved into giggles.

  “I’ve created a couple of monsters. I’d forgotten this part. The giggles.”

  Issy gripped the arms of the chair she was sitting in. Steph jumped up. “That’s not nice.”

  Jillian frowned. “It’s just a game.”

  “Aunt Issy wasn’t a mistake. She’s the best aunt anybody could have.”

  “Of course she is. What is all this mistake business? You said that before.”

  Steph looked to Issy, clearly torn. Issy couldn’t help her; she was paralyzed with humiliation—again.

  “Issy said you called her Oops because she was a mistake.”

  “Ridiculous. I never said such a thing. This was Issy’s favorite game and she giggled more than those two put together. She loved it so much she called herself Oops Issy and it caught on. Issy’s wrong if she thought that.”

  But Issy noticed she didn’t look her way.

  “Mom said it, too.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Uh-huh,” Mandy said. “You said it was Aunt Issy’s fault that Jillian gave you away.”

  “I didn’t give them away. What utter nonsense.”

  “I’m sure you misunderstood,” Leo said.

  “Nuh-huh,” Griff said. “She says you did give her away because Aunty Issy was a mistake.”

  Jillian turned to the others. “Is that what you all think?”

  “Well, it’s true,” Vivienne blurted out. “Everything was fine until she came.”

  Issy just sat there as snippets of memory crowded before her mind and passed on like an old-fashioned newsreel, the good-byes, the newspaper headlines, the taunts by Vivienne and then her schoolmates, egged on by her sister. The recent talk about saving them from Hollywood. The game. Oops Issy. It sounded so familiar and then she saw it. She was wearing a pink dress with lots of ruffles, sitting on Jillian’s lap, laughing, and holding out her chubby fingers, and saying, “More, Mommy.”

  “Is that why you left us with two old ladies we barely knew? You drove away without a backward look. I was happy with you in Hollywood. People were nice there, we did fun things. It was awful here. I wasn’t like the other girls anymore. Their mothers picked them up in nice cars and wore tennis outfits and took them to the mall.

  “I just had an old witch in a broken-down station wagon smeared with paint and making a spectacle of herself while all the kids laughed at me.

  “I just wanted to be a normal kid, go to the mall, sit down with a family and not a bunch of crazy artists arguing about things I didn’t understand and who didn’t care about children or know how to talk to them.”

  “Maybe I should take her back to Hollywood with me,” Jillian told Issy under her breath. “She certainly has the flare for drama.”

  “We had no idea,” Leo said, rising from her chair, but collapsing back on the seat. “I’m so sorry, dear. You’re right. We had no idea how to raise children.”

  “Bullshit,” Stephanie said. “You and Aunt Fae are great with children. We’ve had a great time here, haven’t we?” She looked wildly at Mandy and Griff, daring them not to agree. She didn’t have to.

  “We love you, Grammy,” Mandy said, and ran to hug her. “You, too, Aunt Fae.”

  But Fae was looking out the window.

  No doubt longing for her cottage.

  And Issy saw red. “Yeah, they were so bad at raising children that you dumped your own children on them and it’s twenty-something years later. But did they turn you away? No, they took them in and it nearly killed Leo.”

  “No, no, Issy. It was a silly accident, my fault for not paying attention.” Leo’s hand went to her chest and Issy gaped in horror that she’d just given her grandmother a heart attack. But Leo just shook her head. “Mine.”

  “No, Grammy,” Issy said. “It’s Vivienne’s. Isn’t it, Viv? You robbed her of millions of dollars, destroying the family legacy. So you have your revenge on us all.”

  “I did
n’t. Why won’t you believe me? I didn’t know what Dan was doing. He stole from me, too. He took everything. I have nothing left.”

  “The hell you don’t. You have a family that accepts you even after all this.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what do you mean? You willingly jettisoned your children, but according to you, that’s what this family does.”

  “I didn’t. I was always going to come back for them. Not like . . . like . . . our mother.”

  “Stop it. Stop it, both of you.” Jillian rose to theatrical heights before their eyes. “I know you blame me for everything that went wrong in your lives. Though until Dan’s sleight of hand I would say that neither of you had anything to complain about. But before you fling around any more accusations, let’s start back at the beginning and get it right. I’ll tell you exactly what happened. Hollywood is a hard enough place on adults who have their wits about them. But it eats children alive. I saw it and knew I had made a big mistake. Not having you but having you and thinking I could also have Hollywood.

  “I was gone for weeks, sometimes months, at a time and left you with nannies and nurses. Do you remember those times?

  “Probably not, but I did. I remember the screams and the tears, and the flailing each time I left, the pitiful little voices begging me to come home until I couldn’t stand it. And I knew one day I would leave town and the drugs and money and all those devouring things would move in to take my place, and I knew I had to choose.

  “Well, I chose. I chose Hollywood. And your father for my sins. You wanted to know all this. Well, here it is all laid out with a bow.

  “I didn’t get motherhood. It was a publicity stunt arranged by someone else. But I got acting. So I brought you to the most wonderful place on earth with the most loving interesting people I knew; crazy, wild, nonconformists but with true hearts, something else you rarely find in L.A. Something I may have lost most of along the way.

  “Vivienne, I’m sorry you think you had a rotten life. And I’m sorry if you, Issy, think you were a mistake. But trust me, your life was a lot better here than it would have been with me.”

  She walked slowly over to where Leo sat and knelt down. “I’m sorry, Mother, to have caused you so much anguish. I was selfish. I still am. I meant to tell you before, but this seems as good a time as any. My agent called yesterday. She has a part for me and I’m afraid I have to leave as soon as the storm lets up.

  “I’m sorry if I set this all off. Greed and desperation brought me here.” She stopped, smiled. “We’ve welcomed a lot of desperate people at the Muses, haven’t we?” She glanced around the darkened room. “But once I got here, I realized I was home.

  “Issy, do what you have to do to keep the Muses in the family. I’ll see what I can do to get George off your backs while you figure it out.” She stood and walked from the room, managing to hit all the hot spots of lantern light, Issy noticed—but didn’t realize—until many minutes later.

  Vivienne was crying, balled up on the sofa like a little girl. Leo struggled out of her chair and went to sit beside her.

  “Now, now,” she said, and to Issy’s amazement, Vivienne melted into her shoulder while Leo rocked her and stroked her hair. Issy motioned to the children and led them into the central hall, snatching up a lantern as she walked past.

  “Whoa,” Steph said.

  “Is our mommy crazy?” Mandy asked with real fear flickering in her eyes.

  “No, hon. Just a little upset. Let’s get out the ice cream and eat it all before it melts.”

  Fae bent her head and pushed her shoulders into the storm. The wind had died down; the storm was passing off the coast. She couldn’t wait any longer. All her life, happiness had been just beyond her reach, a tantalizing gift not given, but nothing could be changed. She’d been a fool to think it could be.

  Upstairs in her bedroom, Jillian hauled out her designer suitcase and packed in the light of one candle. Her agent had called. With a character part, the aging neighbor of one of the bright young stars of the day. It was a good part as character parts went. She’d said she’d think about it. She’d meant to call her agent tomorrow and say no. But she’d just called her back and accepted.

  In her bedroom down the hall, Leonore floated in the cool blue water of the cove. She couldn’t see him, but she knew Wes was on the other side, waiting for her.

  Chapter 30

  Leonore stood at the crest of the knoll as the sun rose above the horizon. She wasn’t alone, she was never alone out here.

  Another storm, not so bad, this one. Not like some we made it through. There doesn’t seem to be much damage, not to the house. Oh, but to the Whitakers, my dear. They are so unhappy. Well, Vivienne is unhappy. I suppose you know that you were wrong to place your trust in Dan.

  Ah, we were wrong about so many things. But how can you always choose wisely when you’re having so much fun and when you love and are loved so deeply. Is it wrong to love that much?

  I know it must be wrong for you to be there and I, here.

  Can you see little Issy? She’s finally come back and is trying desperately to save the Muses. I should tell her to go, not let herself be encumbered by the past, but we did that once and she almost didn’t come back at all.

  Remember the first time we met? Of course you do. The day was so warm, the sun beating down on the rock and the water so cool and inviting. I didn’t know you were there, not consciously, though I must have felt you waiting in the wood. I stood with the rough granite heating my feet. Dropped my shift; it had little owls on the fabric.

  Then I stretched my arms to the sky, lifted my whole being, and dove. Were you watching me then? Worried that I stayed under so long? I was always a good swimmer. I swam the width of the cove before coming up for air. And there you were. Socks and Birkenstocks. I fell in love before my eyes even traveled to the rest of you.

  Was it like that for you, too? Of course it was. Though I miss hearing you say it. And I know you’re waiting for me. And when I get there, you’ll be there with your hands outstretched to take mine. And lift me to you, safe and untroubled again.

  Just reach out my hands . . . like this . . .

  Issy braced her arms on the kitchen counter and watched the coffee drip into the glass carafe, thankful that the electricity had come back on during the night. She hadn’t slept well; too much stuff was going on in her brain, worrying about her family members who after her confrontation with Vivienne had scattered in the dark to their own rooms.

  So much for a cozy familial camp-out in the parlor. It had ended in disaster. Issy wouldn’t be surprised if Leo kicked them all out when she woke up this morning. It was pretty clear that her grandmother was tired of them all.

  Part of that was Issy’s fault. She’d inadvertently brought down Jillian and George’s wrath on her grandmother and Fae’s heads. Vivienne was out of her control, but she could have tried to be more sympathetic. And what? Let their feelings fester another ten years, another twenty, until they were both left virtual orphans? Their children without relatives. Maybe this was for the best, just get it over with.

  At least she had finally come home to the Muses, met her nieces and nephew. Maybe even bonded a little with Steph. Gotten to know Jillian just a bit, and stupidly, ridiculously, learned the most important thing of all—that she’d gotten her name Oops from a game and not because she was a mistake.

  She almost laughed out loud. How could a grown woman live under such misapprehensions? In the early-morning light, it didn’t seem possible. Or why it could have mattered so much.

  Someone came in, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Steph. What are you doing up this early?”

  Stephanie padded into the room. She was wearing jeans and one of Fae’s old tie-dyed T-shirts and Issy wondered if this was the beginning of the reconciliation with her mother. Because reconcile they must, somehow.

  She came to stand beside Issy, not looking at her but staring at the slow-dripp
ing coffee. The kid didn’t even drink coffee.

  “You want breakfast?”

  Steph shook her head.

  “Anybody else up?”

  Steph shrugged.

  “Well, I expect Fae will be up in a bit.”

  “No.”

  Issy turned to look at her.

  “She went home last night. I mean to her cottage.”

  “Are you sure? During the storm?”

  Steph nodded. “I told her it was dangerous and she said she couldn’t wait any longer. To at least give her that.”

  Issy frowned. “At least give her that? Do you know what she meant?”

  Steph shrugged, but her mouth twisted and she turned away. Her back lifted in a deep breath. “I made her take my cell in case we needed her, or . . . vice versa.”

  Issy checked her own phone in case she’d somehow missed a call. Nothing. “She must be okay.”

  “I think it stinks.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Jillian came through the doorway.

  “Wonders never cease,” Issy said.

  “Excuse me, miss, but I’m often on set by this hour and that’s after two hours in hair and makeup, so don’t give me a hard time. But I’d kill for a cup of coffee.”

  Steph got down another mug. “Here, Jillian.”

  “Thank you, dear.” She sighed. “And you may call me Grandmother if you like.”

  Issy and Steph stared at her.

  “Alas. I wasn’t ready to confess last night, but the part I’m called for is a supporting role. A character part of a retired CEO and neighbor to the star. Damn her. No, really, I’ll be nice. I have to accept that my ingenue days are over.”

  “Well, Mother . . .” Issy tried the word on for size. “You are over sixty.”

  Jillian shuddered dramatically. “Gracefully,” she intoned as she walked over to the fridge for the milk. “Gracefully, will I go into that dark night of maturity.”

  “I doubt it,” Steph whispered to Issy.

  Jillian turned and laughed. “You, my dear, are a Whitaker through and through.” She pulled out a chair and sat down. “I thought I’d find Leo here.”