by Sarah Morgan
He’d built the Morton’s boat a few summers before and a library for Sandra Telford. She hadn’t stopped boasting about it, although she’d whispered that she’d hidden the silver while he was working.
That comment had annoyed Nancy. To the best of her knowledge there had been just the one incident, many years before, where Scott had taken a boat that hadn’t belonged to him. The boat had been returned without a scrape or a scratch, but the police had been involved.
Everyone made mistakes, didn’t they? She’d made major mistakes.
She’d snapped at Sandra and received a curious glance in return.
If Sandra remembered that and happened to notice Scott’s pickup parked outside, she’d probably put two and two together and make six.
Funny to think she and Sandra had once been close. They’d sat side by side in school and told each other everything, two people who had naively thought they were confiding in each other but in truth had nothing of importance to share. Then Sandra had married Bill and Nancy had married Tom and they’d drifted apart.
“I’m only mentioning it now because things have happened that will mean it won’t stay a secret for much longer. I’ve never thanked you properly for what you did—” She broke off. “Or for not talking. You could have made things very awkward for me.”
He reached up to the window and his shirt pulled tight over the muscles of his arms and shoulders. “Why would I have done that?”
“Because that’s what most people would have done. One person tells another, then it trickles through the community and before you know it, the trickle is a stream and the stream flows faster until it bursts its banks. Privacy on an island this size isn’t easy.” Although it was possible, if you worked at it. “That’s probably the reason you choose to live on the water and not on land.”
He didn’t comment on that, but she saw a gleam in his eyes that could have been humor.
In all the weeks he’d been working on the house, she’d never once found his presence intrusive. She didn’t know exactly when he was going to turn up, but she never complained when he did. And it wasn’t only because the work he was doing needed doing so badly, it was because she liked having him around. It made her feel less alone, which made no sense at all because she was an intelligent woman and perfectly aware that she’d never been more alone in her life.
Perhaps she felt comfortable with Scott because he already knew everything there was to know about her, all the parts she’d successfully hidden from everyone else. He knew her failures and her weaknesses. Having nothing left to hide was surprisingly liberating.
She stared at the room they’d been working on. “There are so many imperfections in the walls of this place.”
“Not every imperfection needs fixing.” He wiped his palm on the faded fabric of his jeans. “Sometimes you have to accept the flaw and live with it.”
Were they still talking about the house?
One of the reasons she’d employed him was because he understood the difference between restoration and renovation. He respected the unique details of the original building.
“It’s old, but it has good bones. Like me.” She made the joke, and then felt awkward.
“If you’re worried about the walls, you could paint something to hang there.”
Her heart bumped hard. “I haven’t painted since that night.” Something else she hadn’t told her daughters. Occasionally she spattered paint on her fingers so that Jenna didn’t ask questions. The truth was she hadn’t been to her studio in five years. The drive that had powered her whole life, her existence, was gone. And she missed it. She missed its healing powers, its ability to transport her to a different place. Painting had been a sanctuary, and now her life felt bare and cold.
She turned back to him. “I’ve often wondered why you helped me that night.” She knew she’d never forget it. Not a single, hideous moment. It had been a night of surprises, all of them bad.
He wiped his hands on the cloth he kept tucked into his jeans. “I sailed a boat. I didn’t save the world.”
He’d saved her world.
“You sailed a boat in a hurricane. There was no one else in the air or on the water.”
“If I hadn’t done it, you would have found someone else to take you.”
She knew she wouldn’t.
She’d been desperate.
Scott Rhodes had been her last resort and despite his casual, dismissive treatment of the subject, she suspected he knew that.
“Why did you do it?” It was something she’d asked herself repeatedly, mostly when she was trying to distract herself from everything that had happened. She thought about the mountainous seas and the terrifying howl of the wind. At the time it had seemed as if nature had been reflecting her mood. “Why did you risk your life for me that night?”
“You paid me.”
“Hardly enough for you to risk your life.” She eyed the rip in his jeans. “And you’re not driven by financial interests. You have no responsibilities. No mortgage. No family.”
“You needed help.” He turned back to the wood, smoothing the surface with his hand, his movements slow and sure.
He’d been the same that night. Everything about him had been calm and measured. She’d been terrified, not only by the storm sent by nature but by the one going on inside her, and by the knowledge that the truth was about to be exposed, despite all her efforts. Something about his steadying presence had helped her hold her emotions together.
“You’re kind, but you prefer to let people think you’re moody and a little dangerous. It’s your way of keeping them at a distance.” And she could understand it. There were plenty of people she’d like to keep at a distance. Maybe she should start saying less and scowling more.
She sank onto the chair and saw his quick frown of concern.
There it was again, the kindness he tried to hide.
“We might have to postpone some of the work we were planning. My daughter is arriving soon.” And because there was no one else she could confide in, she confided in him. “I have to tell her the truth. I’ve dreaded this moment. I really hoped it would never come.”
He put down the plane and straightened. “I assume you’re not talking about the state of your window frames.”
“I’m talking about the state of my life. It’s going to be a shock for my daughters, particularly Lauren. She’s been living in England for the past sixteen years.” It made her heart ache to think of what her oldest daughter must be going through right now. “It’s ironic, don’t you think? Just when I think I’ve reached a stage in life where I have no one to worry about but myself, my daughter’s world collapses.”
How much should she tell the girls? How much could she hold back?
The truth came in different sizes, didn’t it? She could tell an extrasmall truth, veracity’s equivalent of a size zero, or she could perhaps offer up a medium. Let’s face it, the whole truth and nothing but the truth—an extralarge truth with a side of blunt—would swamp everyone.
Scott had stopped work and there was a deep furrow in his brow. “How has her world collapsed?”
She sensed she had his full attention and wondered why.
“Her husband died a few weeks ago. It was sudden. And complicated. Turns out he owed a great number of people a large amount of money.” Were they cursed as a family? First she’d been widowed, and now Lauren. How much should she say? What if Lauren didn’t want the whole community knowing her private details? Not that Scott could be described as chatty even at the best of times.
“She’s coming home permanently?” There was a roughness to his tone that hadn’t been there before.
“She needs support.” Should she have insisted on going to the funeral? Lauren had put her off and Nancy hadn’t been able to decide if her presence would make things worse or better. She’d been in an agony of indeci
sion. “She has a child. My granddaughter is sixteen. It’s a terrible age to lose a father.”
His jaw tightened and he seemed about to say something.
She waited, perplexed by his response, but instead of speaking he turned away suddenly, leaving her with the feeling that she’d said the wrong thing.
The problem with not knowing someone well was that you had no idea which subjects to broach and which to avoid.
She knew little about Scott’s family history, although his lifestyle didn’t suggest the presence of a warm, loving family lurking in the wings. She’d heard rumors of foster care and a troubled upbringing.
Maybe he’d lost his father, too. Maybe that was it.
“My daughter is arriving on the ferry this afternoon. Could you give me a ride? I know it’s a lot to ask, but the garage still has my car.” Maybe she was overstepping, but it seemed like the best solution to her. Greg was working and Jenna couldn’t possibly take more time off. “She’ll have luggage and you have room in your pickup. I’ll pay you, obviously. Or maybe I should get a cab—”
“I’ll do it.” He picked up his tool belt. “I don’t want payment.”
“I insist that—”
“I don’t want payment.” Something in his tone stopped her arguing.
“In that case, thank you.”
Once again Scott would be by her side while she tackled something she was dreading.
This time they weren’t sailing into a hurricane, but she knew there was every possibility that the landscape of her life would be entirely altered by what was about to hit.
12
Lauren
Sanctuary: a place of refuge
Lauren stood on the observation deck of the ferry and stared across the choppy sea. The water reminded her of grief, slapping at the boat, pummeling, swirling.
The other passengers, less preoccupied by their own problems, had chosen warmth over the view and long since vanished below deck to the snack bar to avoid the frigid squalls of air.
It was like a slap in the face, and Lauren needed that.
“Marriage can be whatever we want it to be,” Ed had once said to her. “There are people who believe in fairy-tale romance who end up in the divorce court a few years later crushed under the weight of crumbling expectations. Then there are people like us who are honest about what we want.”
How about the debts, Ed? Why didn’t you mention those?
How could there be no money? Ed had been good at what he did. The best, some had said, and yet somehow he’d managed to lose everything he’d ever worked for.
She’d tried to concentrate as words and phrases floated past her, although the look on James’s face had been enough to tell her how bad the news was.
Trying to get higher returns for the fund.
Acquired several private companies.
Lack of liquidity.
All the money tied up in the company.
Lost all his capital.
It had been Jenna who had pointed out that she still had the house, and Lauren who had to confess that Ed had taken another mortgage. He’d mentioned a temporary lack of liquidity. What he hadn’t mentioned was how serious it was.
According to James, there was unlikely to be anything left when the debts had been paid. It would take a while to untangle everything, but right now it seemed they would be lucky for the estate not to be declared insolvent.
Apart from that last day, there had been no signs that anything was wrong.
She hadn’t known the person she’d lived with for more than sixteen years.
The cold wind whipped at her hair and slid down the collar of her coat, but she didn’t notice. In the long list of things wrong with her life, being cold was right at the bottom. The feeling of numbness that spread through her had nothing to do with the weather.
She’d had to borrow money from Jenna to cover their journey from England to Martha’s Vineyard and right now she didn’t have the means to pay her sister back.
The seesaw of emotions was making her dizzy. One minute she was angry, the next she was devastated. Anxiety formed a tight band around her chest.
She missed Ed horribly, but she’d barely had time to process her emotions. Life was sweeping her along like a river in full flood. She was gasping for air, swirling, grabbing at anything she could but still couldn’t reach the safety of the bank.
She hadn’t only lost Ed and the house and the life she’d had, she’d lost her vision of the future.
Only now was she realizing how excited she’d been about this new phase in her life.
To support her daughter she would need to find a job that paid immediately. But what could she do?
“Do we have to stay with Grams?” Mack was slumped over the rail, watching the sea churn beneath them. “How long for?”
Until I can’t stand it any longer.
She killed the thought because she was truly grateful to have somewhere to go. Staying with her mother might drive her insane, but it would give her a chance to regroup and plan her future.
“I thought you loved The Captain’s House and Martha’s Vineyard?”
“This is different. This isn’t a holiday.”
And didn’t she know it.
“I know you’re coping with a lot. First Dad—”
“Ed.” Mack had refused to call him anything but Ed since the night of the funeral and it made Lauren feel sick with guilt.
“He was your dad.”
“I don’t have a single morsel of his DNA.” Mack glared fiercely at the water. “Does he have blue eyes?”
“Excuse me?”
“My real dad. Blue eyes?”
Lauren swallowed. “Yes, but being a father is about more than DNA. Ed was your father in every single way that mattered.” She was too tired for this conversation. Her head throbbed from lack of sleep and too much crying.
“Newsflash—the whole egg being fertilized thing matters, Mom, otherwise the rest doesn’t happen.”
“Your dad loved you. Love is showing up, honey. Sticking around.” Do you hear that, Ed? It’s about sticking around. Checking that your heart is working okay. Going to the doctor. She knew it was irrational to be angry with Ed for dying, but that didn’t seem to help. The words if only were stuck in her brain like an earworm. “He was there when I was pregnant with you, when you were born, when you cried in the night. He was the one sitting at the school concert when you sang solo, and the one who was right there talking to your teachers.”
Mack thrust her jaw out. “I’m calling him Ed.”
Lauren felt helpless. She was terrified of saying something that would make a bad situation worse. “I know it’s difficult for you, leaving London in the middle of a very important school year—”
“Are you kidding? That’s the only good thing about this. I don’t have to take those stupid exams.”
But those “stupid exams” were important.
What if she’d ruined her daughter’s life? “You’ll go to school here. There are good schools on the island.”
“But they don’t know, right? They don’t know everything that has happened?” Mack’s horrified tone said everything about the way she was feeling.
“No. It’s up to you how much you tell.”
“I won’t be telling anyone anything. It’s going to stay a secret. It shouldn’t be a problem. I learned from the best.”
Lauren felt as if her heart was splintering into pieces. “Don’t say that. It’s important to talk to the people you love.”
“You’re seriously saying that to me? If Aunt Jenna were here right now she’d be doing that word thing she does where she gives you a definition. Hypocrisy—when your mom tries to get you to do something she doesn’t do herself.”
It required superhuman patience to hold on to her temper. If circumsta
nces had been different she would have called Mack out for her brattish behavior, but she knew her daughter was mixed up and miserable and taking that misery out on the person closest to her.
She gripped the railing. She felt dizzy and wasn’t sure if it was lack of food or whether she was coming down with something. Could hypocrisy make you dizzy?
She’d wanted to be everything her own mother wasn’t. Attentive, interested, loyal and, most important of all, present. Why hadn’t anyone told her it was harder than it looked? Why hadn’t anyone told her that what constituted “good” parenting wasn’t always obvious? She’d taken her own mother as an example and promised herself that she’d do everything differently. In the end she’d made her own set of mistakes.
“I know you feel I did the wrong thing. I’ve made decisions you disagree with, but I do want us to keep talking. I want to know how you’re feeling, even if it’s hard to hear.”
“I feel like crap, okay? And I don’t want to talk.” Mack’s jaw lifted and her expression was combative. It had been the same since the night of the funeral.
Lauren wanted to wrap her daughter in her arms and hold her while she cried and talked it out, but Mack had turned into a porcupine. She had a feeling that if she hugged her she’d be pulling needles out of herself for the next month.
“Mack—”
“A person is entitled to privacy, right?”
“There’s a difference between privacy and secrets, Mack. When you make new friends—” please let her make new friends “—you might find it helps to talk to them.”
“Yeah, like you did? You didn’t even tell Aunt Jenna about my real dad. I saw her face the day of the funeral.”
“Don’t model yourself on me. I’m starting to think I need a complete do-over.”
It had been a long and punishing few weeks, most of which had passed in a blur of meetings with lawyers and Ed’s accountants. The list of people he owed money to grew every day. She felt stupid for not taking a closer interest, but she knew she wasn’t stupid. She’d trusted her husband. Was it naive to trust the man you were married to?
How could he have hidden something so enormous from her? Why? How long had he had problems with the business? When had it all started? What had gone wrong?
