No Secret Like Nantucket (A Sweet Island Inn Book 5)

by Grace Palmer

  “No electricity where you’re at?” he teased.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  Brent noticed her voice was strange—soft and slow, almost like she’d just woken up.

  “What is she saying?” Mom whispered.

  Susanna turned to Rose. “Will we eat cake again when Aunt Eliza gets here?”

  Trying to tune them out so he could hear Eliza, Brent half-turned away, pressing a finger to his other ear. “What’s going on? Everything okay?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Well, no.”

  Brent listened as his sister relayed everything. In classic Eliza style, she recounted the day’s events as though she were reading from a time log. Like she’d taken notes prior to calling him.

  When Brent hung up, the reality still not quite having sunk in, the words didn’t come out as cleanly.

  “The baby is in the NICU.”

  Mae gasped, hands clapped over her mouth.

  Holly and Sara looked at one another, communicating wordlessly over the heads of everyone else at the party.

  Rose moved towards Brent, laying a hand on his elbow as he stared down at his phone like it had more answers left to give.

  “She had to have an emergency c-section this afternoon,” Brent mumbled.

  Mae was standing up, her body tense like a too-tight bow string. “Is she okay?”

  Yes. Well, no, Eliza had said.

  Brent didn’t think his mom would want to hear that.

  “Eliza and the baby are okay, but they’re at the hospital,” he said. “She didn’t call because her phone died.”

  Instantly, the mood of the party shifted. Everyone moved with an anxious excitement, gathering their things to go to the hospital. No one had suggested it out loud, but going to see Eliza seemed like the only reasonable thing to do.

  “I was supposed to watch Winter,” Holly whispered to Pete as they hurriedly dumped the trash from the tables into the dumpster. “I can’t believe Oliver didn’t call.”

  “I’m sure they were busy,” Pete said.

  “Yeah, but they island didn’t lose cell coverage. He could have sent a text.”

  “I’m sure Winter is fine, Hol.” Pete laid a hand on his wife’s back, soothing the tension from her shoulders. “There’s nothing you could have done, anyway.”

  A few feet away, Dominic was offering the same assurances to Mae. “…You couldn’t have known.”

  “But I did know,” Mae protested. She pressed a hand to her heart and smiled, though her eyes were filled with bitter tears. “I can’t believe I was so worried about this party when Eliza was in surgery.”

  “I can’t believe we have three birthdays on the same day,” Sara said, staring at the remnants of the cake as she passed by with a bundle of half-deflated balloons. Brent could practically see her wheels turning as she imagined whether she could get away with making one cake for three conjoined birthday parties.

  “A mother knows when her kids need her. I should have tried harder to find her.” Mae sighed and straightened her spine.

  As she passed Brent, she rubbed his shoulder. He wondered if she’d sensed anything from him today.

  He wasn’t selfish. He knew Eliza was and should be his mom’s main concern.

  But still, he wondered.

  Everyone was heading towards the side gate, working their way to the cars in front of the Inn, when Grady called out from behind them. “Hey! What about the presents?”

  In the commotion, they’d left Grady with a half-opened gift on his lap. The poor kid couldn’t catch a break.

  Pete sighed. “Bring them along. You can open them in the waiting room.”

  He jogged back and helped his son carry the boxes to the car, and then the entire crew loaded up and headed to the hospital to see what on earth had happened.

  14

  Eliza

  Neonatal Intensive Care Unit—The Nantucket Cottage Hospital

  The NICU felt like a world unto itself. Like the teddy bear-covered linens and pastels could swallow reality. Only the coming and going of the nurses showed the passage of time.

  Someone in scrubs with a yellow Pediatrics badge came into the room every fifteen minutes to check on Summer. After eight nurses had come and gone, Eliza finally remembered her phone.

  Oliver retrieved it from the charger in the post-op recovery room and handed it over to her. As soon as Eliza powered it on, the phone began to vibrate nonstop.

  Brent called four times, Holly called once, and her mom had texted her three times.

  Eliza went to call Brent back, but her thumb hesitated over the button.

  “I should have called sooner,” she mumbled aloud.

  Oliver squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t feel bad about anything. It’s been a long day.”

  “Yeah, but still—”

  “No. If anything, I should have made the calls. Out of the three of us,” he said, pointing to himself, Eliza, and Summer, “I’m the only one who didn’t give birth or get born today. What’s my excuse?”

  She knew she should call her mom first—Mae deserved to hear the news before anyone else—but Eliza took the coward’s path and called Brent back instead.

  She wanted to talk to someone who wouldn’t freak out and throw her off kilter again. Someone she didn’t feel like she’d let down.

  Brent picked up after the first ring. “Hey, sis. Long time, no hear. You’re missing a great party.”

  There were muffled voices in the background and a rustle against the mouthpiece that sounded like wind.

  Brent was outside with other people. A party, apparently.

  It took Eliza a few seconds to register what her brother meant. When she did, her stomach turned with guilt.

  The birthdays.

  Eliza had forgotten about her mom’s birthday party. And Grady’s.

  “Hello?” Brent asked.

  “Hi. Sorry, hi,” she said, shaking her head to clear it. She’d apologize to her mom later. If nothing else, Mae Benson was forgiving. Right now, Eliza needed to focus and relay the facts. “Sorry I missed your calls. My phone was dead.”

  “No electricity where you’re at?”

  She glanced at Summer. At the beeping machines and flashing lights. Her daughter was surrounded by more electricity than Eliza had ever seen before.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  The voices in the background of the call faded. Eliza could picture her brother pacing away from the party to better hear her.

  “What’s going on? Everything okay?”

  “Yes. Well, no.” She sighed and launched into it. “I had a doctor’s appointment this morning and they did a scan to check on the baby. Something had gone wrong. I’m okay, and Summer is… she’s here. I had an emergency C-section a few hours ago. Now, we’re in the NICU. The doctor is worried about her lungs right now, so they are monitoring her. Oliver and I are both here, which is why we aren’t at the party. Sorry again for not letting you know sooner.”

  Eliza didn’t know what she expected Brent to say, but he responded with a measured, “Okay. See you soon.”

  Then, without waiting for her to say anything, the line went dead.

  “How did it go?” Oliver asked nervously.

  “It’s my mom’s birthday,” she said. “And Grady’s.”

  “Oh, right. The party. I knew I was forgetting something.”

  She rubbed her daughter’s hand between her fingers. “And now Summer’s, too.”

  “Guess this is the last year we’ll be able to claim we forgot,” Oliver chuckled. “Did your brother say anything else?”

  “‘See you soon,’” Eliza repeated with a shrug. “Then he hung up.”

  “Okay…” Oliver frowned. “I expected more, to be honest.”

  So had Eliza.

  But then again, she’d dropped an information bomb on Brent, and he’d never been the fastest processer.

  And secretly, perhaps, that was why Eliza had called him. She knew he wouldn’t freak out because he’
d be too stunned to formulate a response right away.

  Her mom would have cried. Or asked too many questions.

  Holly would have jumped into action, trying to help.

  Sara would have gotten nervous and passed the phone to someone else.

  And Eliza didn’t feel capable of handling anyone else’s emotions. She had enough trouble figuring out where to stash her own.

  “Three birthdays on the same day,” Eliza muttered, mostly to herself.

  “That’s got to be a record.”

  “I just hope Grady won’t be bothered by it.”

  Oliver looked down at Summer and smiled softly. “How could anyone be bothered by anything to do with this little one?”

  “He already has to share his big day.”

  Oliver waved away her concern. “Grady will love her. And so will everyone else.”

  Eliza had her doubts. She’d nearly come to blows with two other girls in Mrs. Johnson’s third-grade class over whose name should come first when the class sang “Happy Birthday” to the three of them. It came down to a fiercely contested rock-paper-scissors tournament. Had Jessica Ratley won, or was it Mariah Munes? Eliza couldn’t remember.

  She glanced at their daughter again.

  Over the last few hours, the shock of seeing Summer connected to tubes and wires had worn off. Even the squeaky gurney wheels, distant mechanical beeps, and whispering nurses had become a comforting ambient noise.

  But Summer’s size still shocked her every time. My sweet pea. My plum. My pumpkin.

  Not so big as a pumpkin, though. Not by a long shot.

  Wanting to let her know someone was there with her, Eliza and Oliver never let a second pass without one of them stroking her arm or holding her hand. She felt impossibly fragile beneath their touch.

  “Her fingers are so small. Like Tic-Tacs,” Eliza said, counting them off one by one.

  “They aren’t going to fall off,” Oliver teased. “She had ten when she was born, and she’ll go home with ten.”

  Home.

  It should be an anchor Eliza clung to. A promise of good things to come, of the normalcy she’d been craving all day.

  But really, Eliza was riddled with guilt because she didn’t know if she even wanted to take Summer home. Not when she was still so small.

  The glass encasement Eliza had at first hated now seemed like the only place her delicate little girl would be safe. She wasn’t ready for whatever came next.

  At that, another memory bubbled up from nowhere at all.

  The day Eliza had moved into her room at UPenn, her mom had cried and cried. Mom clung to Eliza on the wide lawn in front of the Rodin College House. Eliza’s room was on the first floor, blinds open. She knew her roommate, Alisa, could probably see their spectacle. Eliza tried hard not to be embarrassed.

  “I’m planning to bus and ferry back in just a couple months for Thanksgiving,” Eliza had muttered, patting her mom’s back. “Plus, Dad bought me a plane ticket for Christmas.”

  “Thanksgiving!” Mom’s eyes had gone wide. As if it was a prison sentence, not a holiday.

  Alisa’s parents had barely stayed ten minutes after helping her move into the eighteen-by-eighteen-foot room. Almost like they’d been glad to see their daughter be independent.

  It had been hours since Eliza’s parents had helped her unpack, and there they were still—lingering.

  “If we’re going to catch our flight, we should go,” Eliza’s dad said, trying to gently peel Mom away.

  Mom stroked Eliza’s golden hair in a way she hadn’t since she was a little girl. “If you want us to stay another day, we can. We can get a hotel room. Take you out for dinner. Walk around campus with you. Do you know where all of your classes are?”

  “My sister can only watch the kids for today. And I’m not sure she could handle Brent much longer than that, anyway,” Dad had said. “Nor would she ever forgive us if we made her.”

  “Yes, go be with the little kids.” Eliza was no longer a child. She didn’t need her parents the same way Brent and Sara did. “Besides, classes don’t start for another week and the R.A. said there would be a pizza social in the lobby.”

  “That’s great,” he’d said with a clap. “You’ll get free food and make new friends. Every college kid’s dream.”

  Mom had hiccupped and shaken her head. “My baby is in college. I can’t believe it.”

  “Believe it.” It came out more like a demand than a joke. She papered it over with a pat on her mother’s back.

  “The thought of you alone in the world is the scariest thought I’ve ever had,” Mom had admitted—more to herself than to Eliza. “But I know you’ll be fine.”

  Back then, Eliza had rolled her eyes at the hysterics.

  Now, she understood. Looking down at her daughter laying inside the incubator, Eliza understood completely.

  She knew Summer would be fine. But that didn’t ease the ache beneath her ribs. It didn’t settle the yawning pit of worries that opened up in her stomach when she thought about strapping her tiny daughter into the pink car seat they’d bought.

  “We should get one of those ‘Baby on Board’ signs for the car,” Eliza blurted suddenly.

  “We never had one with Winter.”

  Oliver was leaning back in his chair, his head resting against the low headrest in a way that set his neck at a strange angle. He’d have a kink in it in the morning.

  “Winter was different. Bigger.”

  “Summer will get bigger, too.”

  “But until then.”

  “Can we talk about this later?” Eliza could hear the exhaustion in his voice. “This seems like a later discussion. We have enough to worry about.”

  Eliza knew he was right, but she couldn’t turn her brain off. “And baby gates. We need baby gates.”

  “We have baby gates.” Oliver sounded exasperated now. “The cabinets are baby-proofed, and we have those locks on every doorknob. I feel like I’m robbing a vault every time I try to open the closet.”

  “I still think we should get the sign for the car.”

  Oliver leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Are you okay, Liz?”

  “Fine. I’, fine,” she said again because the first one hadn’t sounded as convincing as she’d wanted. “Just trying to plan for the future.”

  “Well, stop.”

  Eliza turned on Oliver. “We need to make sure everything is ready.”

  “I can tell you right now it’s not,” he said with a weary chuckle. “Nothing is ready because we thought we had four more weeks.”

  “I know! That’s why I’m trying to get ready now.”

  Oliver sighed and reached out for Eliza’s hand. She pulled away at first, but he insisted, chasing her down and sandwiching her fingers between his. “Right now, your only job is to relax and recover. And stare at our daughter.”

  “But—”

  “No,” he said firmly. “No buts. Relax. Recover. Stare. I’ll do everything else.”

  Eliza couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. All of Winter’s old baby clothes were still in boxes in the attic, and Eliza hadn’t had time to wash them yet. The nursery was in disarray, one side of the crib laying in the middle of the floor where Oliver had abandoned it after Winter had run off with one of the screws in her fist.

  They didn’t even have diapers yet.

  But before Eliza could say anything, there was a knock at the door.

  Ginny smiled in at them, her brunette ponytail bouncing around the side of the door frame. “How are you feeling?” she asked, pressing her stethoscope to Eliza’s inner arm and glancing up at the goofy giraffe clock hanging above.

  Eliza had grown to hate the tick-tock of that clock. She wanted to rip it off the wall.

  “Fine.”

  “What’s your pain level?” Ginny gestured to the chart on the wall, where a line of ten faces ran the gamut from smiling to tears.

  Eliza felt just south of neutral. The corners of her mouth were turned
ever so slightly downward. Not a frown, not a straight line. “A six, probably.”

  “That sounds about right. We’re fifteen minutes past time for more pain meds.” Ginny grabbed a cup of pills from the tray she’d rolled in and handed it to Eliza.

  Eliza had heard Ginny got married not long after graduation—to a boy two years older who played trombone in the marching band—but Eliza didn’t see a wedding ring. Not even a tan line to show where it might sit on her finger when she wasn’t at work.

  “I’m about to leave for the night,” Ginny said, glancing at the clock again. It was getting late. Winter would already be asleep by now. “My replacement will be here in fifteen minutes, but until then, I wanted to make sure you were up for visitors.”

  Not a second later, Eliza’s mom appeared in the doorway.

  She looked older than Eliza remembered. Her eyes were bloodshot like maybe she’d been crying. And did her hair have more gray in it? That seemed impossible. But who knew anymore?

  Regardless, Eliza’s mom was here. Familiar and comforting and here. Finally.

  It felt like a weighted vest had been lifted off her shoulders. Like her lungs could expand for the first time all day.

  “Mom.”

  Her mother rushed into the room and towards Eliza, stooping awkwardly to hug her where she sat in her wheelchair. She buried her face in Eliza’s neck and squeezed tight.

  “Honey. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.”

  Ginny gave Eliza a small wave and slipped out the door quietly.

  “You had emergency surgery,” Mom chastised.

  “To save the baby, not me.”

  She smoothed her hand over Eliza’s forehead and assessed her from head to toe, taking in the wheelchair with a scrutinizing eye. “Do they have you on pain medication?”

  “I just took some.” Much like that day at UPenn, Eliza suddenly wanted to push her mom’s hand away, but she was trying to be generous. She just needed a second to absorb the sudden intrusion. “I should have called, but my phone died.”

  “You were busy, honey.”

  “Yeah, but you were supposed to be in the room, and—”